The Second Ones III: Masters of War
By Anna Otto and Rachel Ehrentreu
annaotto1@aol.com & firephile@aol.com

"J'embrasse mon rival, mais c'est pour l'etouffer."

("I kiss my rival, but it is to suffocate him.")

		Neron, 'Britannicus'

"I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall."
	
	Bob Dylan, 'Hard Rain's Gonna Fall'

Rating: R (very strong R)
Classification: XA
Spoilers/Timeline: After The Beginning, nothing happened yet.
Disclaimer: everyone you recognize belongs to CC and company, and 
everyone else is ours, probably invented with evil intentions.
Archive: only with our permission.

Summary: Scully's new alliance brings her closer than ever to 
the truth while Mulder, Spender and Jody make their way to a 
place where rest may or may not await them.

Warning: This particular chapter may contain objectionable material. 
We will not disclose its nature, but if certain things make you 
queasy, maybe you should skip?

You may find the previous parts and all chapters at

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

or write one of us and we will send them over.


Part 1/9


Mulder:

The dread of walking along the idyllic shore, knowing that soon 
paradise would turn into hell, was as familiar as the act of 
breathing.

Inhalation and exhalation, one always followed another in an ancient 
rhythm, perfected over the years of evolution. Once the rhythm was 
broken, death was inevitable. And this time, I was too tired of running 
away, too weak to resist the black waters that moved towards me 
inexorably, each wave like an appendage of an octopus.

The last intake of air, and I would be ready to succumb to the water's 
relentless call.

The last intake of air, and death would receive me, and let me forget 
what I couldn't forgive in this lifetime. I was no longer afraid, for 
death was a natural part of life, a fateful and welcome conclusion to 
its cycle. 

The last intake of air, and I savored the sweet taste of oxygen for 
the too short a time. I dived headfirst into the ocean, welcoming the 
darkness, only to discover that though my eyes could no longer see 
the light, though my chest no longer rose and fell with the flow of 
air, though my blood no longer received oxygen necessary to sustain me, 
I still existed.

I could still feel.

I could still think.

But I no longer lived.

And I realized that I caught nary a glimpse of the horrors yet to come. 
I didn't know the meaning of fear until now. Because life without breath 
was possible.

But it was worse than death.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, a woman's hand was on my chest. For a mercilessly 
short second of oblivion, before I woke up fully, I hoped that I was 
seeing Scully's thin fingers, trembling slightly in the cold air. Even if 
it were nothing more than a dream, I ached to see her so badly, that I 
would settle for a mere flash of her face. To brush against her fingers, 
to touch her shoulder in a perfectly unrehearsed gesture of familiarity 
was a luxury I rarely allowed myself before, and something I didn't 
believe I'd be able to have again.

I raised my hand, covering my eyes for a few more seconds. An ideally 
flawed childish logic: if I couldn't see them, they wouldn't find me. 

"Mulder?"

Dammit, it almost never worked. 

"Jody," I replied inaudibly. "Where are we?"

"Illinois." She stared at her hand on my chest with obvious confusion, 
and I raised my eyebrows in a mute question. "I thought...no, it's not 
possible," Jody shook her head, snatching her fingers away.

"What is it?"

"It seemed...your chest wasn't moving. No," she smiled nervously. "It was 
probably just a trick of light."

Past the roar of cars passing us on the outside, I tried to focus on the 
sound of air inhaled and exhaled. I breathed deeply, then released the air 
with deliberate slowness. How silly of her. How silly of me to dream of... 
I opened the door, practically falling out of the car. I've been here 
before, I've been here before, god, please let it stop, I found myself 
chatting silently, fervently, as my intestines ripped themselves open and 
bile mixed with blood was expelled from my mouth. 

Once there was nothing left, I leaned against the cool metal of the car, 
not quite ready to climb back inside. We were at the gas station in the 
middle of absolutely nowhere, Illinois, USA, and I'd be damned if I knew 
how much time had passed since we left the hospital or how close we were 
to the desired goal.

But I knew with a vengeance that we were on the right track. 

I raised my head, only to be confronted by Jody's pale face, distorted 
either in fear or in anger. "You really did stop breathing, didn't you?"

Well, how about bringing me a glass of water or some tissues and 
interrogating me afterward? "You're being ridiculous."

"I know what you dreamt of," she spit out the words like they were 
bullets, destined to hit the target. "It would be really hard to lie to 
me."

She was right, fuck that cosmic link. "Where is Spender?"

"Your 'cousin,'" Jody pronounced mockingly, "went to get some food and 
directions. I guess he was getting tired of driving by nothing more than 
my feelings."

"Speaking of the devil," I muttered, as Spender walked out of the store, 
carrying packages and a map. "What time is it?"

"3 a.m.," he replied stiffly, starting to sort through his purchases.

He must have really been in a hurry to get here. Wherever the hell this 
was. "You want me to drive?"

Spender regarded me for a long moment. "Not really. Go clean yourself up 
and we'll get out of here."

"No. Let's go back," Jody demanded suddenly, her voice acquiring a steely 
edge that I never imagined she possessed. "This isn't right."

"Stop this hysteria," I turned my back on her, starting to fuss with 
whatever Spender brought, hoping that one of the bags held some cups of 
scalding, fresh coffee. 

She grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to turn around and face her. "Mulder, 
I know you feel this is the right way. I know because I feel it too. But 
maybe we should both wake up for a moment and think like lucid, rational 
adults! You could have died today! You could have died..."

I held her now quivering shoulders as her voice turned into hiccups and 
sobs, as her fists pounded my chest. 

Spender stared at her, wide-eyed and alert. "What are you talking about? 
Jody?"

"Nothing," I waved my hand, trying to distract his attention. "She just 
had a bad dream." As did I, and then we both woke up, the sun was shining 
brightly, and all was right with the world.

"I can't change your mind," Jody whispered, hopeless words like a bitter 
breath against my ear. "I'm afraid. Something terrible is about to 
happen."

The words of reassurance melted on my tongue before I could speak them. 
Instead, I gestured to Spender to open the car door, settling Jody inside 
as if she were a sleepy, tired child, whose eyes were drooping shut of 
their own volition. If she were very lucky, she would get some rest.

And if God weren't just a big cosmic joke, we wouldn't be in Illinois 
right now. 

"Mulder, wait!" Spender called after me as I stumbled in the direction of 
the restrooms. "What was that all about?"

I didn't turn around as I closed the door behind me, groping the wall for 
a light switch. I studied my face in the spidery web of a broken mirror. 
Bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks, and wrinkles on my forehead. This madness 
was really cramping my style. Quickly, I dropped my gaze toward the sink 
and splashed water on the face I couldn't bear to look at. 

Didn't she understand? Everything terrible that could have happened to me, 
already had. My work was out of my reach, my partner was now my enemy, and 
I couldn't even close my eyes for fear that I'd see yet another nightmare. 
If this road led me straight to hell, it couldn't be worse than the place 
I lived in right now.

I grabbed a few tissues and made my way back to the car. "You need to 
rest," I tossed to Spender. "I will drive while you're sleeping."

"There is no way - " he began and then stopped, apparently deciding it 
was fruitless to argue with an escaped psych patient. "Mulder, are you 
sure this is a good idea?"

He sounded so uncertain, so plainly out of his league that I couldn't 
help but grin at him slightly. "Look, you don't have to come if you 
don't want to. I can drop you off at the nearest airport and you can 
fly back home..."

His eyes searched mine, as if in their depths, he could find the answers 
to all questions that plagued him since birth. Sorry to disappoint you, 
buddy, I'm just as clueless as you are right now. "No, I'll go."

He offered me a cup of coffee that I gratefully accepted. I haven't had 
this blessed poison since after the OPR hearing. I turned the key in 
ignition, unerringly choosing the course due west. 

After all, who needed maps and directions, when stars led the way?

* * *

The white-hot sun of Nevada hung high in the sky, visibly turning the 
grass into burnt brown. I rolled down the window of the old Ford that 
Spender appropriated before we left Missouri. While at first I thought it 
prudent to disguise our trail, waiting for our faces to be plastered all 
over the newspapers and TV sets any moment, I was finally coming to the 
conclusion that there was no search being conducted. Intellectually, I 
realized that it was nothing more than wishful thinking. If the search 
was not going on in the open, it was certainly going on in secret, and 
sooner or later, we would be caught, no matter how many cars and license 
plates we switched.

"Do you think she is looking for you?" Spender asked suddenly, as if 
reading my thoughts, his tone almost shy.

Scully, whose courage and faith would give her the strength to forgive me 
and the determination to find me. Scully, who would weep from the 
debilitating pain when I touched her. Scully, who should have moved on 
with her life, leaving me in that gray area of failed quests and tainted 
memories, otherwise known as the past. 

Scully, who was still a partner in my heart, even if her presence could 
turn my world red and black.

"I hope not," I replied calmly. "It would be disastrous. What about your 
father?"

"My father," Spender grimaced, his self-deprecating smile somehow 
incongruous on the suddenly vulnerable face. "He would probably be 
interested in finding you, and her," he nodded at Jody who sprawled on 
the backseat, writing something in a notebook. Another letter to her son 
that would be put in an envelope with a stamp and a meticulously detailed 
address, and would never be sent. There was no comfort that I could offer 
to her, and I watched her slip further and further away from us, from the 
reality, with resignation and powerlessness.

"They're not interested in us," I shook my head, tearing myself away from 
such exhaustive thoughts. "Only in where we will lead them to."

"Speaking of which," he fiddled uselessly with a broken air conditioning 
as he spoke. "Where is it we're going? We're almost at the California 
border. Are you sure you didn't just want a vacation? You know, warm sun, 
blue ocean, white sand..."

"I've had some months' long vacation from the work I was supposed to be 
doing, Spender," I cut him off. "It's not like we worked ourselves to 
death checking up on fertilizer purchases."

He flexed his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "I 
never wanted to work on the X-Files, Mulder," he spoke softly. "It just 
happened."

I tried to curb down the blind anger that flared up with his words. This 
man's only fault was passivity - the desire to please his father and his 
superiors, or simple stubbornness and inability to admit that he was the 
wrong man for the job he was offered. 

Besides, it was just too hot to argue.

"I've spent my time in the department chasing down any leads on my 
mother's disappearance," Spender continued, oblivious to my internal 
debate. "I wasn't successful, as you can see. I wasn't successful at 
a great many things. I wish I could fix all that went wrong, Mulder... 
and I'm still trying," he threw me a sideways glance. "If that is 
enough."

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. I knew with a doomed 
certainty that I'd never be able to step back into the Hoover building, 
much less into the basement full of files that I restored, that were a 
monumental part of my life.

"Take the next turn-off to the west," Jody spoke suddenly, without raising 
her head from the letter. 

"Yes," I grabbed a map, trying to pinpoint our location. "There should be 
a ramp to California S.R. 152 soon." Spender followed instructions 
obediently, and I chanced a smile in Jody's direction. "So, you don't 
think we're going the wrong way anymore?"

She shrugged, her haunted green eyes watching the approaching horizon. 
"It's already too late."

"Too late for what?" our chauffeur asked, sharing an anxious glance with 
me.

"To become what we were before," she whispered, turning to writing once 
again. 

"Well, shit," Spender summarized eloquently as we crossed the border 
between the two states. "Where does this route lead to, anyway?"

Ignoring a chill that settled inside me with Jody's words, I followed a 
white line from the brown of Nevada to the blue of the Pacific. 

"To the place where we can rest."

* * *

The town of Freedom, California, boasted a population of fifteen thousand, 
but only a few people were visible on the streets. A proud sign pointed 
travelers to the "Visitors Information and Gifts," a tiny wooden 
house with a broken window that was never properly repaired.

"This is it," Spender looked around with mock appreciation. "This is where 
you wanted to come. Charming. Wish you were here."

I kicked a stone, trying to ignore him. Something seemed amiss, as if the 
magic compass that led me on a string like a puppet suddenly broke, 
leaving me stranded at the last possible minute.

Flicking my eyes to Jody, I noticed that she was surveying the 
surroundings with the same half-surprised, half-betrayed expression. 

"I'm starving. I propose we start screaming at each other after we eat," 
Spender proclaimed defensively and started walking towards the store. "Are 
you coming?" he half-turned, seeing that neither of us was following. 

I shook my head, leaning against the hood of the car. Jody glanced at me 
apologetically and followed Spender. Well, at least one of us could 
stomach the idea of food. 

I turned my back to the store and waited for them, idly watching several 
girls swinging on the sets of a distant playground. Brightly colored 
dresses and braids flying with the wind, not a care in the world and life 
for the pure joy of the moment. I averted my gaze, feeling like a spy. 
Behind the rooftops and trees, I could almost make out the azure of the 
ocean, and I wondered if we could at least stop by the beach before 
we turned around and left. Or maybe, we could just stop for tonight and 
rest after this mad drive across the country.

If I was honest with myself, I was tired of running, tired of looking for 
something intangible. 

The occasional laughter that wind brought to me from the playground 
stopped suddenly, and I turned to look where the girls had gone. Only one 
of them was still swinging the set, clutching the ropes with childish 
determination and pushing higher and higher, as if she was trying to 
achieve a perfect ninety degrees angle with the earth, or gain enough 
energy to fly out and touch the sky.

Her hair was dark and long, just like Samantha's, the blue dress just like 
the one that she wore the day when she fell off the swing and broke her 
collarbone. The memory was scratching to break through, prompting a 
familiar tug on my heart. So many years and so many other tragedies, but 
it still hurt so much, just to hear a crack of that bone, just to see her 
sprawled on the grass, crying from the pain. 

A gust of wind, and the swing was flying higher than some rooftops. A 
shriek of terror, and the blue dress was suddenly lifeless, covering a 
still form on the ground. I felt dizzy, multitude of colors dancing in 
front of my eyes, as if I were watching TV with poor reception. The 
reality was always so much worse than the nightmares.

And I still couldn't move.

"Mulder," Spender sounded out of breath as he appeared in front of me, 
momentarily obscuring the view. "Did you see where she went?"

I pushed him away. "Who?" 

"Jody," he was looking around, bewildered. " I was talking with the owner, 
and suddenly she looked like she saw a ghost. She flew out the door, and - 
you didn't see her?"

There was no one left on the playground. The swing was perfectly still, 
and the girl who fell might have never been there. "Samantha!" I bolted, 
running towards the spot where I could have sworn I just saw my sister. 
"Samantha!"

"Oh hell," I heard Spender curse, his footsteps heavy behind me. The 
playground was empty, the streets were deserted - where could she have 
gone?

"Where is she?" I grabbed him by the lapels, pulling him closer to my 
face. "*Where* is she?"

"Mulder, I told you, I didn't see where Jody went!" he shoved me away. 
"You were out there, how could you not have noticed? God, and that owner, 
he kept talking about the best water in town..."

"Jody," I repeated, slowly, trying to assimilate the name. "I don't know. 
Samantha was here, and she fell, and I -"

"Mulder, Mulder, listen to me!" Spender was screaming, plainly terrified. 
"Jody is gone! Do you understand? She is gone! We have to find her! And 
your sister can't possibly be here!"

I stepped away, feeling for some point of support. God, this couldn't be 
happening. I looked around wildly, taking deep breaths. I was going to 
hyperventilate. The air was sickening enough to make my stomach roll.

The movement across the street caught my eye. Blue dress, flickering like 
a light, asking me to follow. 

And I ran after it, seeing nothing else, hearing nothing else, just like 
I've done for so many years. Things never really changed.

* * *

Why did the sun have to be so obscenely bright?

The beach could have been lifted from the commercials of the Caribbean 
cruises, or straight from my nightmares. I could no longer run, having 
exhausted my energy. My shoes sunk inside the deep white sand, and I could 
barely lift my feet, but still I walked. I couldn't stop now. Not when the 
goal was so close in sight. 

I wouldn't succumb.

A thin, lanky body was sprawled on the ground, wet black hair obscuring a 
gray face. I sank to my knees, beyond comprehension, beyond feeling. 
"Jody," I whispered, searching for a pulse or a whisper of breath. "Wake 
up." I couldn't admit the cold truth - wouldn't accept the reality of her 
stillness, the evidence of her death. Carefully, I lifted her eyelids, 
seeing the familiar brilliant green already fading away. 

The wind gathered speed, and I glanced upward, at the dark clouds 
obscuring the perfect blue sky. The storm was coming. I picked my friend's 
body up, knowing that I had to get her away from the shore, to the 
firm ground where the turbulent waters wouldn't disturb her sleep.

"Fox," a small voice called to me, and I turned around to see a familiar 
girl in the water, struggling with the coming waves. Her frame wasn't 
strong enough to resist the pull of the ocean, and the tide was carrying 
her farther and farther away from land. 

I looked at Jody's lifeless face. I couldn't help her now, but I could 
still help my sister. Or if it wasn't my sister, I could help the little 
lost girl who would drown unless I pulled her out. Gently, I settled 
Jody's body on the ground, making a promise to come back.

Then, I walked into the ocean. I swam to the distant cries of my sibling, 
or of her apparition. What did it matter? When the water turned darker, I 
didn't feel surprised. When the rain started falling out of the sky, I 
knew that its color would be red. Still, no dreams could prepare me for 
this day, for this moment when the black water squeezed my chest, pushing 
the air out of my lungs and blocking the passage to more. 

I reached my fingers, feeling so close to the little body that thrashed 
helplessly against the waves, yet so appallingly far. There were only 
inches between us, but I couldn't stay above the surface for much longer. 
The beast that lived inside this ocean was already pulling me down to the 
bottom where he devoured all his victims.

Another desperate plunge, and I gripped the small hand, bringing her 
closer to me, if only for one moment. These were Sam's eyes, Sam's lips - 
Sam's hair bound in braids. It was her, it was blissfully her, and I 
laughed from happiness that I found her, and I wept from my impotence to 
save her and myself. 

One... more... breath...

My sister's tiny body was wiggling in my hands, and to my horror, I 
realized that she was growing... changing shape... becoming an adult woman 
with eyes black like the ocean, and skin white like alabaster. Still 
unmistakably Samantha, she gripped me tighter and pulled me up from the 
water with surprising strength. 

Her face approached mine, as if for an incestuous kiss, and the horror of 
this reunion was suddenly revealed to me. It couldn't be her. It was her. 
Feeling my resistance, she broke away and studied my terrified expression. 
A smile twisted her features, and now it was Melora, her eyes colder than 
I'd ever seen them, her blood-painted mouth on a collision course with my 
own. 

The lips closed around mine, and I twisted in her grasp, begging for this 
pain to stop. She inhaled my last breath, pulling the air and life out of 
me while her tongue ran against my teeth, teasing and tasting. All 
around, the rain fell in red splashes, mixing with the black waters of my 
nightmares.

I wept as Melora's mouth and hands suddenly abandoned me, the pain of 
being separated from them unimaginably sharper than the pain of being 
possessed by them. Weak, I fell back, gasping for air, and feeling that 
none of it was making its way inside my lungs. I closed my eyes and sank 
inside the ocean, succumbing at last to what was always my fate.

I died.

End of Part 1/9


Part 2/9

Scully:

I crossed off another day on my mental calendar.  Five days, was it
possible it had only been five days since the world slipped and was
permanently altered to me?  Six days since Mulder disappeared, at
least nine days since I last saw him and as for the last time we 
worked together...I'd lost count.

Five days ago I was informed in no uncertain terms that AD Kersh
refused to drop the charges against Mulder and I knew he was getting
advice from some "friends". This gave me the opening I needed to
turn my personal cause into a manhunt.  

"Sir?" I stood outside Skinner's door, he'd asked to see me when I got
in.

"Agent Scully, please have a seat."  He looked weary and he reached
for two Tylenols and swallowed them, then sat down himself.

"How did your meeting go, Agent Scully?"

"What meeting, sir?" I asked innocently, knowing full well what he
meant.

He mimed a cigarette and I blinked, "Oh that meeting -- fine. Sir,
there is something I want to talk to you about.  Regarding Mulder's
case, is there any way to...?"

"My hands are tied."

"I understand that -- I want to be in charge of the investigation."

"Agent Scully, I'm afraid that's impossible.  Agent Denton has already
been assigned and is preparing a search as we speak."

"But Agent Denton's never even met Mulder.  I know him better
than anyone else, I'm the only one that can find him."  Even if this
wasn't true anymore -- I still wanted to believe it.

"Even if no one else was assigned to this case, I would still deny your
request.  You are in no shape to head any investigation."

"With all due respect, sir, I am.  Diana would be working with me.  I
know we could find Mulder."

"And you want to find him so that he'll face trial for the attempted
murder of Assistant Director Alvin Kersh?"

My silence was my answer. 

"Agent Scully..." Skinner's voice sounded hollow. "If he's found he 
will be tried.  Are you prepared to hand him over once you find him?"

"Yes." 

"And Kersh already approved your request?"

"He did," I lied easily, Kersh would have never approved of me being
in charge of this investigation, but I wasn't working under the FBI on
this anymore, anyway.

I sensed he no longer had the strength to argue. "Do you need Bureau
resources?"

"I have my own resources, sir," I looked at him meaningfully and I
felt he understood.

His knuckles rapped on the wood of the table nervously. "You remember 
our talk on this subject.  Did you follow my advice?"

"Yes, sir - they need me more than I need them."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I wish you luck, Agent."

"Thank you."

"I will inform Agent Denton of the change, Agent Scully - do not let
me down here.  If you do not bring Mulder back for a trial, both of our
asses are in a sling."

I nodded slightly, "Yes, sir."  Even if by now I was wondering what
finding Mulder would accomplish, I needed to see him again, on a
purely emotional level.

I went home, packed, and arranged for my mail to be picked up by a
neighbor. Then I went off for my real debriefing - to meet Diana at
Jeremy Larson's house.

It was another one of those meetings I knew I'd never forget.

* * *

Larson answered the door with dry eyes and a cool demeanor, a great
change from our previous encounter.  Behind him stood a stranger
with dark blonde hair, his face hidden by shadows.

"This is Jack Smith," Larson motioned towards the stranger.  Jack
took a step forward and stared at me with intense gray eyes.  "Jack is
in charge of travel and security, and is our most knowledgeable person on
what we're up against -- he should be a great help to you," Larson
explained.  He then turned towards Jack, "Smith - this is Agent Dana
Scully..."

"No introduction necessary.  Nice to finally meet you, Agent Scully." 
His deep voice was at odds with his appearance, it almost sounded as if
he had been exposed to some sort of a chemical.

"And this is Agent Diana..."

"We've met - nice to see you again, Jack," she cut Larson off quickly.

"Diana," Jack nodded in her direction and I wondered why every
man seemed to have a past with her.

If Larson was aware, he made no indication as he led us into the living
room.  

It was decorated in the style that was common for people living in 
Georgetown - simple, yet elegant.  Larson didn't have to
flaunt his wealth -- it was obvious in tiny details.  Leather couch,
expensive art work on the walls, beautiful flower arrangements -- 
I could almost forget what he was. Almost.  

I must have been staring at the wall for too long because Larson 
turned to me and pointed at the painting that held my attention. "I notice 
you have excellent taste. That's an original Thomas Cole, it's called 
'The Voyage of Life: Old Age'."  That explained why it looked so familiar, 
but I could only barely remember the art history course I took in college. 

"What is that one?" I pointed to the picture next to it.

"Ah, that is in the same series and is titled, 'Manhood'.  My Jody is in
that stage, while I am sailing towards heaven."  I showed no emotion
at his words but they were so human that I felt sorry for him despite
myself.  He looked away for a moment and then addressed the group,
"We should get started - Smith?"

Jack looked up, slightly startled, and cleared his throat.  He opened a
file, "Right, sir. Jeffrey Spender's car was recovered by team six about
two hundred miles from the hospital.  We found some blood in the backseat 
and are pretty confident that it will match the blood from the hospital
corridor.  Unfortunately, the night nurse never regained consciousness
and died yesterday.  On the plus side, our man was disposed of and as
always cannot be traced back to us, especially since the only person
who suspected us is now sitting in this room."

A strong pang of hatred flared up and then died out just as quickly. 
The cool way they talked about people dying, disposing of bodies...but
he did kill the night nurse, and, no, I couldn't start thinking like them.

"Are you all right, Agent Scully?"

"I'm fine.  Please continue."

"As for the pattern of bodies - well there isn't one.  Over the past few
weeks there have been at least ten cases of temporary insanity and
murder.  In all of the cases, the suspects claimed they remembered
nothing about the crime itself and were usually disoriented and scared
when captured, standing or sitting near the victim."

"Same area of country?" I asked, opening up the briefing file.

"No, all over."

"Why are these important?" I flipped through pages, looking for an
answer which probably didn't exist.

"We believe it has something to do with the chips...or people like
Melora, we're honestly not sure.  Cops couldn't get anything out of
these people, and they won't answer any of our questions."

"Let me try, I might be able to get through to one or two of them, get
more information."

"Excellent idea, Agent Scully, proceed at once," Larson announced,
standing and leading us towards the door.  "Contact me the minute
you find any information."

"Of course, sir."  For some reason calling him Mr. Larson felt wrong
and I needed to treat him like my superior - which of course, in effect,
he was.

"Yes, sir, we will assist in any way that we can." Diana promised.

"I will start the travel arrangements immediately,"  Jack said while
putting on his coat.

As we left the house it was clear I now had two partners whether I
liked it or not.

***

"I told them already -- I don't remember," Susan Berkovitz looked at
the mirror which Diana and Jack stood behind and then stared at me
pleadingly.  Her fingers tapped against the table top in a rhythm that
echoed the pounding in my head.

"Can you think of any reason why you would want to kill your
husband?" I tried again for what felt like the hundredth time.  

"Agent Scully, we all have wanted to kill our husbands at one time or
another, but...I would never...I loved him!  I've been over and over it
and there's this large gap in my memory and..."  Tears dripped down
her face and she raised her cuffed hands, trying to hide her sadness.

At least I was finally getting somewhere. I'd interviewed three people
so far and none of their cases were connected to ours at all. Their acts
of madness all had a cause: one was an abused wife, another was a
husband having an affair and the other was a son who killed his
mother because she threw away his collection of baseball cards. But 
Susan Berkovitz...she had no such cause and effect, her act of
violence, stabbing her husband thirty eight times on the floor of 
their kitchen, was entirely unplanned -- and her remorse seemed genuine.

"Susan, you need to tell me the truth, any information at all, any
strange feelings...did you feel any pain at his touch?"  It was a wild 
guess and I knew it.

She peeked through her fingers. "How did you know?" she asked softly.

I resisted the urge to drop my eyes. "What happened, exactly?"

"I...don't know.  One day he was kissing me goodbye before he
went off to work, and I felt this sudden pain in my head. It 
disappeared once he left, but when he came home and kissed me, 
I actually whimpered in pain.  A few days later, whenever he 
came near me, the pain was so bad that I wished I would die."

"So you killed him?"

"No! It didn't happen that way...one day...the pain...it was
unstoppable and then I blanked out and when I woke up I was holding
a knife over his..." she bit her lip and tried unsuccessfully to hold in
her tears.

"I believe you." And in that instant, I did. The clarity of this 
situation was not comforting. "Have you..." a few weeks ago I would
have never thought of even asking this question, "ever experienced
missing time?"

Her gaze met mine and she lowered her head.  "It was...a while ago, 
I've tried - to forget.  Tom never believed me."

"May I?" I stood up and walked around the table. Her brown eyes
tracked me as I got closer. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to
look at your neck."

She moved her light blonde hair to the side and I sucked in a breath as
I looked at her pale skin - there was a definite subcutaneous scar to the
back of her neck.  I closed my eyes  - somehow I knew I would find the
small mark.  

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Berkovitz," I turned and walked to the
door.   Diana and Jack walked out of the small room and faced me as I
reached the hallway.

"What happened in there, Dana?"

"Diana, she has the chip - it's connected.  Somehow, it's connected
and...I fear this is only a small part of what will happen."

"Are you saying more people will die?"

I took a deep breath, "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I'm afraid you're right Agent Scully." Jack put down his cellular
phone. I hadn't even realized he had received a call.  "I just received
word of a murder not too far from here, the police found a man standing 
near the body and looking at a gun in disbelief.   All he is saying is 
'I have to be somewhere, I need to be somewhere, I can't be here 
anymore.' "

"We have to go there," Diana said after a moment.

"You'd better do that interview, Diana, something tells me I won't be of
much help."  I finally accepted what was going on, but had no
idea how to stop it.

The idea of causing another person to curl up into a ball and try to get
away from me was enough to make me want to forget about the whole
deal.   But I'd already promised my help - and there was also the
intensely personal reason that I tried to push away to the back of my
mind.

***

This time, Diana was on the other side of the glass.  A very fidgety
young man sat across from her and kept looking around anxiously.  I
could hear everything perfectly from inside the booth.  Jack stood near
me, and I couldn't stop shaking for some reason.

"Are you all right, Agent Scully?"

"I'm fine," I whispered and stared out of the glass. I wondered when
our conversations started to fall into a pattern.

"State your name and occupation please," Diana's voice filled the
room.

"Daniel James Cooke, police officer.  I need to be somewhere, this
can't be happening, I have to be somewhere."  

"Please calm down, Mr. Cooke.  Now, do you remember what
happened last night?"

He nodded fervently. "I couldn't concentrate around Cindy.  Her
words made no sense and I was drowning, I was drowning and I heard
someone say 'we will not succumb' and then I couldn't breathe and I
had the gun in my hand and...I have to leave here, I can't be here.  I
have to be somewhere."  If he could have he would have stood up and
started walking around -- he was such a ball of nervous energy.

"Mr. Cooke, please calm down, I'm not going to hurt you.  Do you
remember what happened next?"

He shook his head violently, "No and I want to get out of here.  Where
is Cindy?"

Diana glanced towards us for a moment and then looked back at Mr.
Cooke.  "She died several hours ago on the way to the hospital."

"No, I just wanted her to get away from me! I didn't mean to hurt her,
oh God...mom'll never forgive me.  I was driving her back from a
friend's house and the scream, oh God the scream when I touched her. 
I need to be somewhere and she was trying to stop me and we were
going in the wrong direction and her scream it dragged me back under
and I couldn't breathe and..." he started rocking back and forth, his
words becoming incoherent.  

Suddenly, his eyes focused sharply. "It's dripping...down the walls," 
he whispered, horrified.

It was like a repeat of the OPR hearing. I felt tears sting my eyes,
this was too painful, I couldn't watch it.  

His head suddenly jerked up, "There's one of them near here -- isn't
there?  He started walking towards the mirror, Diana was unable to
stop him.  "Stop tormenting me!  Leave me alone!" he screamed and
threw a chair through the mirrored glass.  I gasped as Jack dropped us
to the ground, and the chair flew over us, hitting electrical equipment.
 
I clutched my head and tried to stop the pain. Oh God, it was worse
than ever. Jack covered me with his body, but I was still in
agony. I could barely make out Diana's voice over the commotion.

"Mr. Cooke, step back or I will shoot you."  

Luckily, the room was soon filled with police officers who restrained
Mr. Cooke and tried to stop his progress forwards.  I glanced up in
time to hear him say,  "We will not succumb." He looked directly into
my eyes and I saw him being led away.

Diana reholstered her gun and walked towards us.  

"Dana?"

I bit my lip, sitting up gingerly. "I'll be fine." 

"Interesting, I didn't think they were so powerful," Jack mused,
staring at the cracked mirror.

"Didn't think who were so powerful?" I asked, standing up.

"No one - nothing.  Research has shown this kind of...sensitivity is
only followed by one thing."

"What?" Diana was now behind us, she'd walked around without me
realizing it.

"A break-out attempt.  Mr. Cooke could lead us right to where we need
to be."

"Mulder," I whispered, involuntarily.  I looked up at Jack and Diana
with a new sense of purpose.  "Mr. Cooke must escape, we must allow him
to escape.  He's the key."

"I agree," Diana backed me up. "But how do we arrange it?"

"It's already arranged.  We just have to sit and wait.  A stakeout -- 
he'll run out soon enough." Jack smiled slightly.

***

I checked my watch and leaned against the car door. It was already 
3:15 AM, when was Mr. Cooke going to escape?  Stifling a yawn, I 
flipped through the radio stations.  Didn't seem to be much 
selection in this part of Illinois.  I flipped it off in disgust 
and looked out the window. We had been sitting in this small car 
for at least ten hours.  Jack lay sleeping in the back, 
"conserving his energy" he'd said.  Diana was reading a book on 
market research, most likely trying to figure out where to invest 
the blood money from the Consortium and I turned to look at the 
station with binoculars again.

"He's not going to escape tonight," Diana announced, dropping her
book on the seat next to her.

Jack sat up and blinked a few times, "Yes he will.  He just has to get
up the nerve, the signal needs to be at its peak, and that should
happen soon."

As if on cue, we saw a man running from the police station.   He
glanced around nervously and started down the road.

"Why isn't he being chased?" I whispered.

"Jack, did you drug the cops again?"

"Could you think of a better idea, Diana?  Now drive, but slowly, we
don't want to frighten Mr. Cooke."  

Diana shot him a look that could freeze lava and slowly drove from the
police station.

Following him was not easy, and after about two miles he suddenly
veered off into the woods. 

We quickly pulled over to the side of the road.  "Dana, you'd better
wait here.  You could get hurt,"  Diana said while climbing out of the
car, but at that moment there was a loud bang and a thin scream.

I jumped out of the car and ran into the woods, forgetting how dark it
was and almost falling over tree roots a few times.  I pushed branches
out of my way just as I heard another scream.  I followed the noise 
and reached Mr. Cooke...and an older woman.  The moonlight 
illuminated the scene.

Mr. Cooke lay on the ground and a woman stood in shock near him.  I
quickly surmised from the gun in her hand and her expression that she
was the shooter.  I leaned down and checked his pulse. He was gone.

"Where am I?" She looked at me and then over at Mr. Cooke in terror. 
"Danny?" She whispered and fell to her knees.  "What just happened?
Did I...oh God Danny, baby..." she cradled his head in her lap and
rocked back and forth. "How...my poor baby." Her voice cracked.

"What are you doing out here?"  I leaned down towards her.

"This was our special place -- I came here to think and I
don't...remember what happened next."  I could tell she didn't even see
the blood that covered her pants and hands.  Her movements caused
her neck to become exposed, and I saw a very familiar mark. 

I closed my eyes against the blood rush and looked down at the woman
again.  "Was he your friend?"

"He was my son."  She glanced at me and then turned her attention
back to the limp body.

Mother, daughter, and son. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to
put her under arrest.  Diana and Jack came out of the shadows and
turned on a flashlight.

"Those bastards destroyed an entire family," I whispered to no one.  
The only person who would care was long gone and now it might not
even matter to him.  

"Agent Scully, what happened?" Jack asked while Diana handcuffed the
woman and called the police station, something I was unable to do.

"I don't know.  But I do know that we killed this man," my shoulders
drooped in resignation.  "If he had stayed in jail, he would still 
be alive."  

"We let him escape so he would lead us to the meeting place.  He was
dead anyway."

"No, if we hadn't interfered he would not be lying dead in his mother's
arms right now!"

"Remember why we're doing this, Agent Scully.  You want to find your
partner.  We want to find this meeting place.  Sometimes unscrupulous
methods are the best."

"This didn't get us anywhere -- we're back at the beginning."  I
realized my hand was sticky and when I lifted it I saw that it was
caked in blood.  "Too many deaths."

Jack's phone rang. "Hello?" he flipped it open. "Yes - okay, I'll tell 
them, yes we'll get right on it, thank you, sir." When he hung up his 
eyes were darker.  "They've found at least a hundred more bodies, this 
time there's a pattern, west.  Each is further west than the other, we 
know what direction they're heading."

"Of course.  The ocean...they must be headed towards the West Coast,"
I realized suddenly, that's what their dreams must have said.  And only
more people would die unless we did something.

Diana pulled a map from her pocket and opened it.  "Any ideas where
on the West Coast?"

"No," I admitted reluctantly.

"We could follow the trail of bodies..."

"Yes, we could." And one of those bodies could be Mulder's. I walked 
into the shadows to mask the tears running down my face. 

"Dana, I'm sure that Fox is safe, wherever he is,"  Diana's voice 
faltered slightly.

"I hope so," I whispered and walked back slowly towards the car.

The rising sun painted the air in bloody colors.

End of Part 2/9

Part 3/9

Spender:

Last night, I dreamed a dream...

No, wait, that was something that Mulder would have said. That is, if 
he ever talked about his nightmares. I didn't dream. My sleep remained 
mostly undisturbed, save for an occasional black-and-white image that 
I'd never be able to recall once I was awake. 

Jody screamed last night, prompting my hands to almost fly off the 
wheel of the car in sheer fright. And Mulder, sitting right next to 
me, struggling with his own exhaustion, just gazed at me tiredly. His 
eyes were asking a silent question: "Aren't you used to that yet?"

Never. I could never get used to that. Not even after several days in 
the company of two people who were no longer in control of their lives 
or their conscience. They perceived me as an outsider who was watching 
the horror show in perverted fascination. But whatever detachment I 
might have initially possessed was long gone. 

I started this journey because I needed the truth. Somewhere along the 
way, I realized that I wanted the answers as much for their sake as 
for my own. 

I paused in my ruminations, stopping for a brief second and catching 
my breath. I'd been running around the streets of this town for close 
to two hours, without a sign of either Jody or Mulder. Divide and 
conquer, I considered dully. They couldn't have run that far. 

This town was only so large. Fifteen thousand people. I used to be 
with the FBI. I could find them. 

The chill that just touched the hairs on the back of my neck had 
nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the unexpected gust 
of wind.

It sounded insane, but I thought that Mulder and I would have made 
good partners if we were paired at the FBI. We mistrusted each other 
just enough to keep us on our toes, and I could play a good skeptic 
just as well or even better than Dana Scully. I'd be upset if I lost 
such an annoying traveling companion. And Jody still had to get a 
chance to send all these letters to her son.

Maybe I was out in the sun for too long. Or maybe I just needed to sit 
down and think through my options. Running around the town with my 
tongue hanging open certainly wasn't helping any of us. 

Something - someone? - hit me from behind, and I stumbled forward from 
my precariously balanced position, barely regaining my footing. A 
young blonde woman whizzed by me, as if I was invisible. "Hey, 
watch it!" I shouted after her. "Damn."

She stopped, obviously hesitant, and took a slow step forward. I shook 
my head, disgusted, and turned away. 

"Wait," I heard a small scared voice calling to me. "Where're you 
from?"

I shot her an annoyed look over my shoulder. "Maybe an apology would 
suffice."

"Whatever. I'm sorry," she offered, not sounding sorry in the least. 
"You're not from around here, are you?"

I turned around, finally facing her. She was small and nicely shaped, 
and much younger than I'd initially judged her to be: seventeen or 
eighteen, at most. "How can you tell?" I asked, giving in.

The girl snorted. "Stupid question." 

I took a few steps in her direction, and she matched them, walking 
further away from me. "What are you scared of?"

"I have to go - if they notice that I missed the meeting..." she 
whispered, hugging her shoulders. "I'm sorry about your friends."

"What're you talking about?" All this cryptic bullshit was enough to 
give me a headache. "What do you know about this?"

"Check the beach," she tossed as she started running from me in the 
same mad tempo that gave her enough momentum to almost knock me down. 
"Or better, leave!"

I shrugged, watching her go. "Catch you later," I muttered. 

Down the street, I could see a patch of blue. Mulder and Jody seemed 
terrified of the ocean. Would they have really gone there?

And if they have, why was I suddenly so afraid of finding them?

* * *
 
Before my father left us, before my mother decided that aliens were 
the new God, we vacationed once in Florida. I was about five and I 
remembered a week in sunshine state as a series of rapid images, burnt 
into my conscience: building a castle in the sand with my mother, a 
salty kiss of my father after he came back from the swim, a bunch of 
kids laughing noisily nearby. 

Funny how I never went back to the ocean. Perhaps, I was afraid that 
I couldn't recreate the sheer happiness of those few moments when the 
childhood was forever and the warmth would follow me back to the 
dreary, wintry D.C.

Her black hair clashed with the fine white sand, and relief washed 
over me when I saw her stir. 

"Jody!" I shouted. "Thank God I found you."

She sat up unsteadily, and fell down almost immediately, like a broken 
doll. And not for the first time, I felt the stirrings of terror 
pushing at my subconscious. In several steps, I reached her side, 
unable to refrain from a slew of questions. 

"Are you hurt? What possessed you to come here? Did you see Mulder?" 

Her eyes were open wide and dry as they met mine, yet the pain 
reflected in them made me stop abruptly. "Jody," I sat down on the 
sand, cradling her in my lap. "What happened? Can you speak?"

For several heartbeats, I waited for her to reply, and she lay quietly 
- too quietly - staring up at the sun. Suddenly, I was convinced that 
we weren't seeing the same sky, or hearing the same beat of the ocean 
waves. And as I noted her steady chest in rising fear, I knew - I knew 
- I knew... "You aren't breathing," I whispered softly. "You aren't..."

Without the slightest realization of my actions, I pushed her off my 
lap. She turned away, her mouth opening obscenely. Wavering between 
disgust and concern, I watched helplessly as she retched over and over 
again, as if she were trying to purge something that wouldn't be 
expelled. 

"It's inside me," she fell down finally, losing her strength. "It 
hurts so much."

"Listen," I knelt beside her, hoping that some words would sink in her 
mind. I didn't know what transpired here, but if she was alive, she 
was supposed to be breathing. And if she wasn't breathing, that made 
her dead, and in that case the one seriously in need of medical 
attention was no one else but myself. "We need to get you to the 
hospital. And then I will come back here and look for Mulder, all 
right?" That was good. I wasn't sure if talking was helping her, but 
it was certainly helping me. "You with me?"

Jody extended a shaking hand in the direction of the water, obviously 
trying to attract my attention to something, and I glanced there, 
wondering what she was seeing. And my heart leapt in initial relief, 
shattering just as quickly with the comprehension that no one so 
still and silent could possibly be alive.

The waves lapped Mulder's body gently, and I walked to him slowly, 
abandoning the unbreathing woman for a moment. What would I say to 
Scully when she asked me how he died, I wondered nonsensically. I 
wished that I could say that he looked peaceful - at rest, at last, 
all of his questions answered, all of his passions drowned in the 
salty water. 

But his gray face was anything but peaceful, and his clenched fists 
reflected the struggle he must have gone through before death finally 
claimed him. 

I didn't remember why I started the CPR on him. Perhaps it was for the 
sake of my own conscience. Perhaps I couldn't imagine facing Dana 
Scully after watching her partner die and doing nothing about it. 
Perhaps it was only an automatic reflex - or something drilled into me 
during the FBI Academy. 

I worked until I felt an initial kick of the heart. I might have 
laughed then, exulted at this small victory. I would have laughed 
longer had I heard a movement of his lungs, but they remained 
stubbornly silent. "Breathe, Mulder," I chanted, pushing again. 
"Breathe, dammit!" 

One more time, I tilted his head and pinched his nose, taking a gulp 
of air. My mouth closed around his, and I exhaled, wishing that I 
wasn't encountering a strange resistance from his body. Perhaps his 
lungs were full of water. Still, I completed the recommended cycle, 
once again positioning my hands over his breastbone. 

"One..." 

I pushed.

"Two..."

I pushed again.

"Three..."

I glanced over at his face, encountering dark eyes, at once familiar 
and alien, watching me with curiosity. 

"Fo..."

I didn't have a chance to finish as he gripped my hands with 
surprising strength, pinning me down to the ground. 

"Don't," his voice was low and dangerous, in a way that I've never 
heard before.

"Ww-what?" I stumbled, terrified. This wasn't the man I used to know. 
And his chest wasn't moving, just as Jody's.

"Don't push that thing," he waved his hand in disgust vaguely, "inside 
my mouth."

"What thing?" I whispered. "Mulder, I was simply doing CPR," I shook 
my head. "I was sure you were dead."

"Air," he explained. "It makes me sick to my stomach."

Abruptly, he released me and stood up, towering over me. "You're 
coming with us," he said, as if making a decision. "There's still a 
chance for you."

I took a few steps away from him, only to bump against Jody who met my 
eyes emotionlessly. "Mulder," I chanced a small laugh. "Jody, come on. 
I'm very glad you're alive, but this isn't very funny."

He watched me as one might scrutinize a particularly interesting 
specimen of a bug. "There is a meeting in progress. And you're making 
us all late."

With that, he began walking towards the town. After a few steps, he 
turned around, smiling cruelly. "Did I mention that there were 
repercussions if you didn't follow?"

Jody extended me a hand, and I took it silently, allowing her to lead 
me. I didn't know whether it was wisdom or simple cowardice, but 
after Mulder's words, I had little doubt that there was no other 
choice left for me.

* * *

"The time of unrest is now," the man who pronounced the words appeared 
young, just a boy, but the gravity of his voice betrayed that 
impression. "It is the time of war, and of suffering. It is the time 
when oceans turn black, and tears flow freely. It is the time of our 
hardest test, and of our ultimate victory."

The crowd sighed as one, and I turned my head cautiously, surveying 
the room. Judging by the torn-out fixtures on the walls, it used to be 
an indoor basketball court. Now it was filled with hundreds of people 
whose attentions were focused solely on the speaker. 

"The gray warriors will not have a chance to conquer this planet as 
they have conquered so many. For now we have the means to resistance. 
We can withstand the poison that they will infect us with. We can find 
their agents masquerading as humans, and we can rid the Earth of their 
influence."

If I concentrated hard enough, I could make out a shadow, morphing a 
few feet behind the boy on the makeshift stage. I watched it in 
fascination, letting the words drift over me, still struggling to 
assimilate the events of this afternoon with my worldview and failing 
miserably.

"For we have been given the greatest gift," the speaker's voice 
resonated in a sincere wonder. "The one race who was able to resist 
the conquerors is now in alliance with us. Every day, we become more 
and more like them. Every day, the chosen ones spread all over this 
land, creating others like us. And every day, we are given the chance 
to survive."

And every day, I would regret my decision to come to Freedom, 
California.

"Today, our army has received two new soldiers. So step closer, 
newcomers, and let us welcome you to our ranks."

"No," I whispered as Mulder and Jody stood up, walking up to the 
stage. There were tears burning behind my eyelids, and I lashed out 
at myself internally. There was no reason for me to care whether 
these two people lived or died.

Or if they became less than human.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. "No," I repeated softly. 

Even after everything that transpired, I still watched with surprise 
as Mulder, then Jody, embraced the shadow. 

"They aren't seeing what you're seeing," I heard a soft whisper in my 
ear. "Imagine being reunited with someone you've lost, someone you 
don't think you will ever see again. That is what it's like for 
them."

Instead of answering, I watched her chest for a minute in silent 
wonder. For once, I wasn't admiring the size and firmness of breasts, 
but the way air moved in and out of it, the rise and fall of the 
healthy human lungs. "Tell me I'm not imagining this," I whispered to 
the blonde girl I remembered from this morning. "You aren't one of 
them."

"Do I look like one of them?" she countered. "Name is Leigh."

"Jeffrey," I offered her a hand and Leigh shook it surreptitiously.

"I'm surprised you're still functioning," she grinned humorlessly. 
"I thought I was the only one who could resist."

"Resist who?"

Leigh granted me a scornful look. "The aliens? Little green men? Only 
they don't look like little green men - they just look like anyone 
that you wish to see."

"But not to you," I concluded.

"Or you," she sounded somewhat sad. "It's the greatest reunion in 
history of mankind and we're not invited. Did I mention that I'm glad 
you're here?"

I closed my eyes, listening to the words still pouring from the stage. 
"I want them back," I whispered, surprising myself with my urgency.

"They're lost," Leigh's voice cut me deeply, and I wanted to close my 
ears, to not hear this. "You have to accept this."

"It's not possible," I shook my head stubbornly. "They were..."

"Your friends? Lovers? Colleagues?" her words were mocking me, and I 
moved away from her only to feel her small fingers pulling me back. 
"They are *not* what they were. They will never be what they used to 
be. Their lungs are sealed tight to prevent the flow of earthly air. 
Their eyes aren't seeing the same colors. Their only goal now is to 
prevent this colonization or war or whatever it is from happening. Of 
course, in saving us from 'the gray warriors,' they're conquering us 
in their own way. You *will* listen to me," her nails dug into my 
thigh, and I almost yelped. "This guy on the stage was my friend. We 
were just two teenagers about to start our senior year, on the road in 
California and having fun. Then we came to Freedom and the first thing 
he did was chase after a ghost of his girlfriend who died the year 
before. The second thing he did was stop breathing. The third thing he 
did was become a spokesperson for 'Saviors and Company.'"

"You got here by accident?"

"Yes," Leigh confirmed. "Now, are you going to leave with me or not?"

I stared at her, horrified. "No, of course not."

Her eyes tracked to Mulder and Jody, then back to me. "I know how it 
feels. But I'm trying to tell you what would be best."

"I can't leave without them." 

"Fine," she pulled back. "You've made your choice."

"We have one more potential soldier with us today," the voice from the 
stage announced. "Jeffrey Spender."

I jumped in surprise and fear.

"Come closer," the boy intoned. "You needn't be afraid."

Leigh's fingers squeezed mine encouragingly. "I don't think it will 
work," she whispered.

The crowd divided to allow me passage, and I had just enough time to 
wonder what this 'it' could possibly be. In a few steps, I found 
myself face to face with Jody and Mulder. I watched them for any sign 
that they could be coming back to their senses, to no avail. The boy 
pushed Jody closer to me, and she walked the remaining inches between 
us like a marionette wanting to disobey the strings. 

Her hands wrapped around my shoulders, her mouth was suddenly 
dangerously close to mine, and the agony in her eyes was undoing me 
at the seams. "Jody, you don't have to do this," I whispered, somehow 
knowing what was coming next.

"Not me," she replied hollowly. And then she kissed me.

She was a beautiful woman. A woman that, in different circumstances, 
I'd love to date or spend a night with. A woman whose lips were 
sucking the breath out of me, filling my lungs instead with pure, 
undiluted pain.

I twisted and writhed under this torture device, begging for release 
that seemed to come too late. In a minute, I was lying on the floor, 
choking and gasping. In the midst of this madness, one thought was 
circling through my mind over and over, like a broken record. "It 
didn't work," I laughed hoarsely. "It didn't work!"

The crowd seemed listless. The boy whirled on me, furious. "You're a 
traitor," he hissed. "Just like Leigh."

"You failed," I repeated senselessly, too relieved to feel the flow of 
oxygen restored to my body to realize what I was saying. "Leigh said 
it wouldn't work."

"You talked to her?" the boy threw a glance at the amorphous figure 
behind him. "Search the room and bring her to me. At once!" he 
screamed when no one seemed to move.

There were a few minutes of chaos during which I lay on the floor, 
feeling somehow safer here than in the standing upright position. 
Mulder's arm was supporting Jody who seemed as shaken by this 
experience as I was. The boy's eyes were scouring the room for a sign 
of Leigh.

"Ted," someone approached him respectfully, fearfully. "We searched 
everywhere. She is gone."

* * *

"She'll never make it," Mulder spoke calmly. "With as many soldiers as 
we have here, we can have the town circled and sealed in no time," he 
half-turned to the shadow as if searching for approval. My stomach 
twisted as his eyes grew warmer. Who was he seeing? Was it Samantha? 
Scully? No, Scully was probably the 'agent masquerading as human.'

Ted seemed to draw strength from Mulder's words, and faced the crowd 
once again as an assured leader. "If Leigh escapes, she will tell 
everyone of our existence. We cannot let that happen yet. We still need 
more warriors to face the world."

There were several shouts of approval from the crowd. 

"Our lives depend on your speed and diligence. She must be found."

The doors opened, and the boy threw up his hands. "Go!" With a final 
exclamation, he jumped off the stage and ran towards the exit. Mulder 
was already walking after him, but Jody seemed torn between following 
them and staying behind. Finally, she ran over to me and offered me a 
hand. After some hesitation, I accepted her gesture and let her pull 
me to my feet.

"Are you all right?" Jody asked softly, and I hoped that it was 
concern shining in her eyes. 

"I'm fine," I grabbed her shoulder when she turned away. "Jody, tell me 
you're still who you are. Please."

She faced me silently, morosely. After a while, I let my hand fall 
away just as the last fragment of hope shattered inside me. "Please," 
I begged her in a whisper.

"You will come with us," she declared. "It isn't safe to leave you 
here. You could escape just like that traitor Leigh."

"Jody," my voice fell. "What color are my eyes?"

If she was puzzled at this non sequitur, she didn't show it. "White, 
of course," she watched me carefully. "If you don't walk on your own, 
I will drag you."

I nodded, accepting this for now. I could always leave, I told myself 
- I still had a car at the Visitor's Information booth. Automatically, 
my hand went to check my pocket, searching for a key. When all I 
encountered was empty space, I gasped, feeling as if the earth itself 
split open under my feet. "Noooo," I moaned in denial. This was too 
much. 

What if Leigh took them? I felt lighter momentarily, for at least they 
weren't lost - they would serve to let this girl get out of this 
hellish town. Of course, she could have simply asked instead of 
stealing them from me - 

I felt someone's frosty eyes studying me and lifted my head up, 
already terrified of what was probably my second betrayal in this 
evening.

"She took his car," Mulder made a quick calculation. "I know how to 
find her."

Soon, a large number of 'soldiers' were running in the direction 
of the visitor's booth, and I was trying to keep up with them. They 
seemed faster than ordinary people should have any right to be, and 
though I thought of myself as fit, I could hardly match their pace.

Dammit, Mulder, why couldn't you let her go, I asked him internally. 
She had already lost her friend. She didn't have to lose herself.

Please let her get out safely, I begged God or aliens or whatever was 
the new power ruling over this universe. It is not a selfish wish, so 
just let her get out.

In the thickening darkness, I couldn't make out where we were going. 
Suddenly, we were on the asphalt road leading out of town, and I 
realized that instead of chasing after her, they wanted to meet her 
head-on. I was pushed aside when about a dozen of them clasped hands 
and spread across the road like a live chain meant to stop anything 
in its way, not by the strength of the design, but by the natural 
fear of killing a fellow human. Ted and Mulder stood in the middle. 

As if in a trance, I watched the approaching headlights, recognizing 
our old beat-up Ford from a distance. I still wasn't sure if I wanted 
Leigh to plow straight through them or to turn around. She sped up a 
few feet before the chain and for a few moments I was certain that 
she would not stop. 

I chuckled. She was a formidable young woman.

Suddenly, I heard the wheels spinning off the road and seconds later 
there was a deafening crash as she drove into a tree.

I should have known.

I was about to run up closer to her, to make sure that at least she 
was all right, even if the car was dead, but several pairs of hands 
were already restraining me from behind. Powerlessly, I watched as 
Ted approached the smoking vehicle and the fallen, bloodied form of a 
girl.

Leigh crawled out of the car awkwardly, holding on to the damaged 
doors, and I realized that she must have broken her leg, not to 
mention suffered a concussion. "Ted," she brushed the dirty blonde hair 
from her face. "Please let me go."

"I can't, Leigh," he seemed genuinely regretful. "You're a danger to 
us all. I kept you alive as long as I could, but I can't protect you 
anymore."

"I won't tell anyone about this place," she sounded resigned. "I just 
want to go home. I just want things the way they were before. You 
remember, Ted, don't you?"

I was suddenly struck by how normal he looked. A perfect American boy 
with light brown hair, gray eyes, shapely mouth, and muscular build. 
A boy who could have extended a hand to his old friend and offered to 
drive her to the nearest hospital. The same boy who just now struck 
her across the already-bruised face. "You betrayed us."

"No," she gasped, pained. "You can't do this to me. I love you."

"Then you won't mind if I give you a kiss, Leigh?" Ted leaned closer 
to her and she tried to crawl backward, unsuccessfully. "One kiss 
goodbye."

Horrified, I watched as she nodded, and I tried to shake off the 
hands that held me, because I couldn't let this transpire, not in 
front of my very eyes. 

His lips touched hers, first tenderly, then fiercely - and she seemed 
to respond, initially, kissing him back with all the passion of a 
denied lover, with eyes open wide to watch his face.

And I knew that I pitied her just as much as I admired her. For though 
she was a formidable woman, she was still just a woman.

It seemed to go on forever, and suddenly, Leigh went limp in his arms, 
lips still slightly parted. He lowered her beside the car with 
surprising gentleness. Mulder's hand fell on his shoulder. "You did 
the right thing," he offered as if in sympathy. I was trying to make 
out their faces, but they were hidden in the shadows; just like my 
very life seemed suddenly shrouded in a burial cloak.

The boy stood - then motioned for a few people to come closer. "Burn 
the car. And her," he added coldly, already losing interest in the 
corpses of both. He walked up to the amorphous shadow. "I had to kill 
her," he spoke. "She was a threat."

I didn't know what answer he received, but he nodded, straightening up 
his spine. As he passed by me, I thought I heard him whisper, "I 
remember, Leigh."

Or maybe, it was only my imagination.

End of Part 3/9

Part 4/9

Diana:

Jack Smith wasn't his real name, of course.  I once knew his real name,
he shared it with me during some wild night and, of course, I promptly 
forgot it. No need to know names in this line of work.  It was in Germany,
or France - I don't remember anymore.  We went through so many
countries it all blurred together.

We were partners, spying on the Russian operation in East Germany. 
We took side trips to other places, romantic places, and in those brief
moments of freedom we could almost pretend we weren't dancing with
danger and that the names on our passports were our own.

But that was long ago, before I was transferred to Washington and
assigned...and Jack remained behind.  That wasn't even his name
then, it was...Mark or was that Arnold? Either way, he never forgave
me for leaving him in Germany alone.

He was the absolute last person I wanted to spend any time with and so
far I'd managed to stay as quiet as possible.  I sat in the back this time
- could not be in the same section as he - and glared at the back of his
chair.

"How much further is it, Jack?" Dana looked ahead at the empty road
and tried to make sense of a map unfolded on her lap.

"I'm not the one with the chip." I wondered why his soft voice was
replaced by a Humphrey Bogart impression.

"This has nothing to do with that -- where is the morgue in this
godforsaken town?"  Dana was obviously losing her patience and she
leaned heavily against the car door.  "Look, Jack, this is the last
body..."

"If we don't find something here we won't find anything." I finished,
having heard this speech at least three times over the past three days. 
But each time more bodies showed up and Dana actually seemed
surprised when she was confronted with yet another one. 

"Wait -- here it is," she pointed towards a small building with a
clearly marked parking lot.  We parked and Dana turned towards me. 
"I just need to ask a few quick questions and get the autopsy results -
you two stay here."  Obviously payback for the Cooke incident.

She stepped out of the car, opened the front door and disappeared into
the building.

Jack turned around in his seat to face me, "So, how is life..."

"I don't want to talk to you - and you sure as hell don't want to talk to
me," I set about ignoring him, and turned towards the window.

"I should be the angry one - not you."

"I refuse to be drawn into this conversation."  But my resolve was
already weakening.

"I remember when you were more talkative."  He took a piece of gum
from his pocket and started to chew it silently.

"That was at least ten years ago."

"Diana..."

"Why are you here?" I had to know: he could be spying on me, easily.

"Our smoking friend summoned me - from my post in Russia - I might
add - to assist on this mission. Besides, I couldn't resist the
opportunity to meet Agent Scully - surveillance cameras do not do her
justice."

I almost laughed, "Your motives are usually simple."

"I'm sorry - we're not all as cunning as you." 

I was about to retort when the door opened and Dana sat down, anger
clear on her face.

"What happened?" Jack asked.

"The suspect escaped already and the victim had this in her neck,"
she held out a small familiar chip.

"Do they know where the suspect went?" I asked, turning the chip over
in my hand.

"Last report said she was spotted on a highway I-80," Dana said.

"Twenty or thirty bodies were found on that same road..." I was
interrupted by a newsbreak.

"Scientists and detectives are baffled over a new psychosis that is
plaguing the nation.  It seems to cause violent outbursts and memory
loss.  Symptoms include lack of sleep, disturbing dreams or
unexplained pain.  If you show any of these signs please report to a
hospital immediately."

"How did that get leaked to the media?" I demanded, already knowing
whom to blame.

"They must have put the pieces together - our interviews, the FBI
involvement, the escapees."  Dana had a look of almost panic in her
eyes, undoubtedly worried about how this would effect our investiation.

"They only have a small piece to a giant puzzle - we're still in 
control," Jack pointed out calmly.

I sighed angrily - spending almost a week with Jack was starting to get
to me.  I had specific orders and part of me hoped they conflicted with
his.  He sounded enough like our boss to make me uneasy.

"This won't hurt us, oh security expert?" Dana asked, and I was sure I
heard a slight sarcasm in her tone.

"It can only help."

"What were you saying about I-80?" Dana reminded me.

"It heads directly to the California coastline."

"That's West," she stared towards the horizon.

***

Around eleven Dana suggested that we stop for the night.  But we got 
three motel rooms - I didn't want to spend another moment with Jack and
didn't trust him to be in the same room as Dana.  When he suggested
that I share a room with her, I reminded him I needed my privacy.

Beds are a gift from God, I decided as I lay down.  Even ratty beds in
an old motel were like heaven to my abused back.  Car seats were
never meant for long trips - give me a plane any day of the week.  I
closed my eyes and imagined myself back at home in the Watergate.

Soon my stomach interrupted my thoughts of sleep, and I ran to the
diner attached to the motel only to find Dana sitting at the counter,
sipping coffee and moving an omlette around on her plate.

"Dana?"

"Hello Diana."

"I thought you were tired."

"More exhausted than tired," she admitted.

"I was just...in desperate need of food," I smiled slightly and she
returned the gesture weakly, staring into the mirror behind the counter.  
"Are you okay?" I noticed something seemed off about her.

"I'm..." she started and then sighed softly, pushing a lock of hair
behind her ear.  "The victim today with the chip -- she was only five
years old."  Dana stared into her coffee cup, watching the cream
swirl.

"Horrible."

"The worst part is the suspect that escaped - it was her mother."  When
she finally looked up, her eyes were glassy.  "Diana - how can we stop
this?"

I suddenly wanted to reassure her that everything would change and
the murders would stop - but I couldn't feed her what would be an 
outright lie.

I settled for sitting down next to her and gently placing a hesistant
hand on her left shoulder.  She glanced up in surprise and then
relaxed.  I lowered my hand back onto the counter.

"I don't think we can."

"I know," she said softly, "I just keep seeing Melissa Cooke cradling
her dead son."  She finally ate a piece of the omlette instead of just
playing with it.

"I'll have the same," I told the counter-person who ran off to fill my
order.  "You know, Dana, it's hard to forget an image like that, but
in your years with the X-Files you must have seen worse."

"I have seen worse - a lot worse.  But this is different," she
refused to elaborate, finished her coffee, paid for her meal, and left
the diner swiftly.  

I ate my eggs in silence.

Later that night I was awoken by strange noises on the other side of
the wall.  "Oooh Baby! Yes right there..." A woman's voice screamed.

"God - you're incredible," a muffled man's voice.

"Yes! Harder - oh God oh God..." the same woman moaned.

It took me a moment to realize they were coming from Dana's room. 
Please tell me she wasn't stupid enough to sleep with Jack.  That
would be just perfect...I jumped out of bed and pulled on some clothes,
then walked to the next door.

It opened to reveal a clothed Dana Scully, her hair slightly
mussed from sleep. "Diana? Did something happen?"

"No, I heard some noise - wanted to make sure you were okay."

She actually blushed: it was true what they said about light skin and
red hair. "I'm fine."

"I thought...no, nevermind, it was stupid."  And then my tired mind
made the connection. Dana was watching a pornography movie.  "It's
none of my business I don't care," I started walking away.

"Wait - Diana...it reminds me of him," she admitted softly and
reluctantly, probably trying to make the situation better.

"Really?" I turned back towards her, waiting for her to explain.

She nodded, "During our more stressful cases, when he just dragged
himself closer to the edge in trying to solve the crime, he would stop
and order a movie.  When I heard it in my room I knew he was trying
to relax - get his mind onto something less painful, partake in some
mindless entertainment.  It just let me know he was okay - it's hard to 
explain," her voice had an almost wistful tone.

"And it didn't offend you?"

She smiled slightly and shook her head, "No, even though I don't
understand the fascination I watched a few in college and...they were
mostly harmless, at least the ones available in hotel rooms.  He had
certain rituals and I accepted them."  She brushed back hair from her
face.

I didn't remember Fox watching those movies...then again he was
different when I knew him.  There was very little resembalance
between the Fox that I remembered and the man I met a few months ago.  I
held myself slightly responsible. but it was just a job, just like 
this was a job.

"Okay then - goodnight."

"Diana?" So Dana was in the mood to talk.

"Yes?"

"He's still alive - isn't he?"

I stared at her for a second. "You should know better than me."

She closed her eyes and in bare feet and silk pj's she suddenly looked
much younger.  "I...no longer sense him, I mean -- never mind,
goodnight," she reentered her room and locked the door behind her.

I realized something had changed between us. She needed someone
to talk to. I was nominated for the position, and I couldn't help but
smile knowing that my greatest obstacle was weaker than I thought.

***

While driving down highway I-880 from Berkeley, it started.

The heat was almost unbearable, so I turned up the air conditoning and
sighed softly.  "Incense and Peppermints" played on the radio, and Jack
was tapping his fingers to the beat against the door.

Dana slept on the back seat, having been up almost all of the night
before and the night before that.  Against my will, part of me was
concerned for her, but I pushed the feeling away.

"Jack, could you stop that - it's giving me a headache."

A soft moan from the backseat almost made me let go of the wheel. 
"Dana?"

She moaned again and sat up slowly, clutching her head.  

Jack was immediately all business. "They're near here - aren't they
Agent Scully?"

She nodded, grimacing. "They have to be...it's like...this...take the 
next turn off onto I-280," she spoke through clenched teeth.
  
Directions continued this way for a few hours while Dana was getting 
weaker and weaker.  By the time she told me to turn onto US Highway 1, she
could barely sit up.

And I couldn't help considering the irony of her pushing us towards the
destination which caused her the most pain.  Her forehead scrunched,
her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice grew fainter as the miles wore on.

"Dana, maybe we should turn around...this is dangerous to
your health," I suggested, my worry obvious now.

"No! We've come too far...we're too close...it's somewhere near here, it
has to be, a few miles at most..." her voice was barely audible. Her 
teeth were clenched and each word seemed to be a struggle.

"Agent Scully - I have to agree, I shudder to think what will happen
when we arrive at our destination..."

"That's...my...trouble," she lay back down on the seat, her eyes
closed and hands rubbing her temples frantically, as if it would
help.

"Stop the car," Jack demanded, his voice as concerned as I'd ever
heard it.  To my surprise he stepped out of the passenger door and
opened the back seat.  He sat down, and used his lap as a pillow for
Dana's head.  She opened her eyes in shock and tried to sit up.  He
gently pushed her back down.

"Agent Scully, squeeze my hand when the pain is too bad," he
whispered. She seized his hand and basically squished it, for lack
of a better term.  I could tell it was probably hurting him but he 
didn't say a word.  "Drive, Diana."

"What are you doing, Jack?"

"The experiences I've had with people like Agent Scully have shown
that human contact is very important during these attacs --
otherwise, the chip or...those other things will win."

We soon saw a sign that said "Freedom - 5 miles." 

Dana's body jerked violently and then went still. I realized that she'd
finally lost consciousness, and felt relieved that I no longer had to watch
this torture.

"I suppose we can assume that's the place," Jack murmured, probably
wary of waking her.

On the outskirts of town we found an abandoned motel.  Its neon sign
blinked on and off randomly.  Luckily, it was still in pretty good
shape, and Jack carried Dana into an empty room and lay her down on
the bed, which was only slightly dusty.

"I'm going to check out the town, keep an eye on her, Diana." 

He left, and I felt vaguely angry and wished childishly that something 
bad would happen to him.  

The silence reigned for a long time and finally I could take it no more. 
"Dana?"

"Diana, it hurts...do you have any painkillers?" her voice was weak
and soft.

I dug the ever-present bottle of Tylenol out of my bag and shook out
three pills.  I handed them to her and she swallowed them dry, then
lay back down on the pillow.  Her face was slicked in sweat and her
eyes were unfocused. 

"Are you okay, Dana?" I prompted, feeling immediately stupid for asking.

"I've never felt this kind of pain before...being shot would be
preferable, this agony...it's..." she took a deep breath and was unable
to speak for a few moments, closing her eyes and massaging her
temples. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"What?"

"If -- if I...am in too much pain, there's a medical kit in the trunk,
remove the chip."

"Dana, I couldn't..."

"I know about the cancer and the risks...I'll put it back when this is
over but I can't live like this..." she sat up slightly and stared at me.
"You have to help me...I'm in no condition to do it myself."  

"But what if..."

"I can't live with this pain. Either remove the chip or shoot me," she
bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes.

"I'll do it," I said finally. Perhaps I could use it to my advantage.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Jack bounded in a few moments later, out of breath, his hair 
mussed.  "I...I saw them," he said with a look of horror. "Jesus, their
chests - they weren't - breathing.  I've never seen anything like that
before..."

"That's impossible - how could they be alive and not breathe?" Dana
heard and immediately jumped into the conversation.

"I don't know. We've obviously misjudged the situation."

"I need to see it for myself."

"Like hell I'm allowing you into that place."

"I'm fine," she repeated stubbornly.

"Agent Scully - you are not fine - direct exposure to so many of them 
would probably cause permanent damage."

"I need to see them," she whispered and then grabbed her head.
"They're near here! They're coming after us!" 

"Agent Scully?"

She passed out and the room went silent.

I looked out the window, feeling as if I were transported to a scene 
straight out of the Night of the Living Dead. Five or six figures were 
walking towards us in a line - their eyes unblinking and their chests...
dear God he was right. I was about to say something when Jack covered my 
mouth with his hand. 

"They register movement," he hissed.  "Luckily, with Agent Scully
passed out they won't sense the chip or we would all be in serious
trouble."

Evidentely, Jack was right because after standing in utter silence and
fear for a few moments, we saw them turn and walk away.  He dropped
his hand from my mouth. I looked down and noticed his semi-automatic
clutched in his other hand.  

"In case I was wrong," he explained humorlessly - then put the gun down 
on the table. We walked over to the bed.  

"Dana, they're gone," I whispered, and her eyes snapped open.

"Do it now...release me from this pain," she pleaded, her eyes wet with
unshed tears.  I ran out to the car quickly, cautiously, in case the 
zombies were still nearby.  A small medicine bag was in the trunk and I 
brought it into the room.

The bag contained a small arsenal of first medical aid. I found a scapel, 
a shot of painkillers, neosporin, rubbing alchohol, an Oxygen mask, 
anti-poisoning tablets, iodine, gauze, tape, finger splints, bandaids, 
and tweezers.  I looked up at her with a silent question.

"With a partner like him, I never knew what would be needed." Dana was 
barely able to turn herself onto her stomach.  "Do it," she whispered 
determinedly.

I shakily held the scapel over her neck, remembering too late that 
I hated the sight of blood.

"Diana, when was the last time you did any kind of a medical
procedure?" Jack asked, very annoyed, and swiped the scapel out of
my hand.  

He leaned over her body and covered a piece of gauze with alchohol,
rubbing it over her neck.  He made a small, accurate slice, just enough 
to get out the implant.  She hissed when the knife touched her skin, but I
knew it was nothing compared to the pain she felt from the implant.  

He took the tweezers and gently picked out the blood covered implant. 
He wiped it with the rubbing alchohol and handed it to me.  "Keep
that in a safe place."

Then he neatly bandaged the small cut and pulled away to admire his
handiwork.

"Is it done?" Dana asked.

"It's done.  You can turn over and sit up."  

I could tell she was a bit wary, for what if it wasn't the chip that was
causing this agony at all, but her easy movement made her smile slightly. 
"Thank you," she said gratefuly. "Now, lets go investigate this town." 

She opened the door, seemingly unafraid, but by now I knew better.  Dana 
must have been terrified of not finding what - or rather who - we came here
for.  

Silently, we followed her.

End of Part 4/9


Part 5/9

Mulder:

When I closed my eyes, I saw a landscape where the intensity of colors
screamed, and Earth paled in comparison, losing the competition.

The darkness never consumed it fully, for two suns battled over the
chance to caress it with their light.  When one left, the other emerged,
to warm the violet waters that this planet was mostly comprised of.

I accepted this vision as a gift - something to be cherished and
remembered.  But with this gift, there came a familiar painting of
black liquid coloring the clear waters, and of the red rain falling from
the menacing skies.  I no longer felt confusion and terror at this sight,
nor did I lose my mind as a result of sinking into the polluted depths. 
Instead, I was righteously angered at the invasion of the gray warriors
who wanted to conquer this planet, this race who'd always been neutral
and peaceful.

Our race.

Some of us died in the battle, still raging on this distant and dear
planet.  Some survived and grew stronger, discovering the unsuspected
resources within and continuing on with the war.

And some of us knew that unless we conquered the gray warriors
permanently, we'd never be able to progress.  Our shared
consciousness would never expand at its natural pace.  Our evolution
would be stilted and throw asunder.

We traveled to far away corners of the galaxy in hopes of preventing
other planets' destruction by  forces they couldn't withstand.  We
shared knowledge and gave parts of ourselves to the beings who
populated them.  We sacrificed ourselves time and time again,
knowing that this was the price we had to pay for a future.

We finally arrived at Earth, where some beings were foolish and
treacherous enough to conspire with our enemies, accelerating the
inevitable ruin.  And we resolved to hold onto this planet for as long as
possible, hoping that the invasion would be unsuccessful, even though
we felt their presence as a sickness permeating humans and soil,
animals and plants.

Here, we longed for our victory as never before.

Each day, we grew more powerful.  Each night, we gazed at the stars,
knowing that the future was ours, for we had survived so far and we
would live forevermore.

Nothing would stand in our way.

For we were and always would be the masters of war.

***

I sat on the shore watching the dusk give way to night.  It was here
that I felt suffused with power, waves of energy resonating in the air
and settling inside of me.

"It's a magical place," I heard Melora's melodic voice, and she was
suddenly sitting beside me.  "There isn't another one like this on
Earth.  That's why we came here."

"I can feel it too," I replied, entranced.  My human memories ran close
to the surface of consciousness tonight, and the image of this face,
shattered in death, troubled me.  "Why you?" I whispered.

"It's not for me to answer," she said.  Wind moved Melora's white
dress.  "You see what you wish to see in my form.  Her death touched
us," she held her hand to her chest in sorrow.  "She would have been a
great soldier.  Perhaps she left the same scar inside your soul."

It was a peculiar speech, a eulogy delivered by the deceased, but I was
soothed by its apparent truth.

"It is a great comfort to humans to feel close to those they've lost,"
Melora smiled, looking at me.  "Once the old wounds are sealed, you
will find it easier to accept the new mindset, to let go of earthly
emotions."

"I accept," I closed my eyes, realizing with quiet joy that I could still
see - could sense everything around me through her eyes.

"Rest," she whispered.  "When our enemies descend upon the planet,
you will be one of those who lead the troops into battle.  And now, I
sense your human friend close, I shall leave you to him."

She disappeared in a flash of white fabric, and Jeffrey Spender stood in
front of me, strange sadness etched in his features - a mask of grief I
hadn't seen on his face till now.

"I asked Jody whether she still missed Mark," he began.  Upon my
silence, he questioned, "Don't you want to know what she said?"

I felt it was of no consequence, but seeing his distress, I nodded.

"She said Mark was here.  That she was afraid of him.  I told her it
couldn't be - and she didn't believe me," his feet kicked up sand as he
paced.  "Who do you see, Mulder?  What is it that changed you -- to
this?"

"Melora," I whispered, watching the stars come out and searching for
the one that I longed for.  "I see Melora."

He took a deep breath, I wondered how he could stand the taste of
oxygen.  The physics of my changed body puzzled me vaguely, but I
was grateful for the closed-off air passages.

"You know that she is dead, don't you?" Spender watched me sharply.

"She never truly died," I answered, tracing the trajectory to the
glowing star that seemed so close and yet so out of my reach.  "I wish
you could feel this freedom, Spender.   All of the guilt, the pain, and
the regrets disappear in this shared consciousness."

"I wish I could leave," he choked, more in sorrow than in anger.

"You will be killed if you try," I replied indifferently.  "You will not be
harmed if you remain here."

Spender laughed bitterly.  "Oh, I remember what happened to Leigh. 
How you could participate in that murder truly evades me."

I felt bored listening to him.  His head obscured my view of the stars. 
"If you became one of us, you wouldn't trouble yourself with such
meaningless concerns," I pointed out. "But you resist, and you lose."

"I never thought I'd say this, Mulder," his eyes found mine, and in
their whiteness I could sense tears.  I felt no pity for him.  "But I 
miss you."

With that, he stalked away, and I remained, surrendering to the flow
of energy inside me.

Now, I thought, now I could rest.

***

Jody rocked back and forth, holding her head as if she were trying to
crush it.

"If you'd only come to the shore, you'd feel better," I told her.  The
feelings that I sensed in her were at once confusing and troubling -
and I'd classify one of them as loneliness if I didn't know better.  We
were now part of one whole - never to feel lonely again.

"It was a lie," she mumbled, barely audible. "All a lie."

"What are you talking about?"

"You must remember," she jumped up suddenly, and grabbed my
shoulders.  Her gaze collided with mine, and I could feel her search for
something and fail.  "The dream of the ocean shore, and of a promise."

Something pricked at the edge of my awareness, but it was not a
pleasant sensation.  Once, only once, did I see a dream that spoke not
of threats but of hopeful promises  Only once did I feel safe in the
night, when..."Better dreams," I whispered.  "There will be better
dreams."

"I knew you would remember," Jody seemed relieved.  "You're still
there, aren't you?"

I shook my head, her meaning escaping me.  She wavered slightly,
losing her balance, and I extended my hand, just barely catching her
before she hit the ground.

"I'm all right," she whispered, reassuring herself.  "I'm all right.  Don't
you see that they've betrayed us? Can't you see what they've turned us
in to? We're not ourselves anymore."

"They brought us here for a purpose," I told her sternly.  Such talk
could only mean that Jody would be a traitor - that unrest brewed in
her mind, that she'd break our faith.  I felt it was my duty to keep her
from stepping onto that dangerous path - a duty not only to her, but
also to the rest of the race.  "When our enemies poison these waters,
we'll be here to stop them.  We're helping humanity save this planet."

"I don't have better dreams," Jody moaned.  "I have nightmares, 
terrible, terrible nightmares.  Of my life slipping away.  Of my
memories disintegrating.  Of my body turning into fine white sand.  I
don't think I was meant to be one.  

I took several very deliberate steps away from her.  It was blasphemy. 
Moreover, her words made me feel unclean - touched by a sickness
that I didn't want to share with this infidel.

"Jeffrey was right," she cried after me.  "He told me Mark couldn't be
here, and I thought about it for a long, long time.  I see him, but he
isn't the boy I used to know.  He isn't really my son." Her fingers
reached after me and wrapped around my wrist before I had a chance
to retreat.  Their heat and dryness stung me, and I once again longed
for the safety and coolness of the violet ocean of the planet beyond he
stars.

"If it's Spender that's filling your head with such nonsense, perhaps it's
time to silence him permanently." I hissed.  I didn't trust him, he was
the only one in town whose mind was not linked to mine.

"No," Jody released me, as if burnt.  "It's me.  I think...maybe I'm not
well."

"If you say so," I replied, taking note of her shifting eyes, of the lies I
felt she was telling me.  Sometimes, this woman was just as hard to
read as any unchanged human.  "We must go to the meeting."

"Yes," she called behind me.  "I must try."

I kept walking, the incident already escaping my mind.

After all, when the weak link in a chain was discovered, it could
simply be destroyed.

***

Ted watched the soldiers fill the room, a faraway look in his eyes.  I
stood behind him, certain that he'd need my help today.  For perhaps
the first time, we were being confronted with a serious threat to our
plans, and I intended to make sure that it would be destroyed.

"When the waters of this ocean turn black, we will show no mercy to
our enemies," Ted spoke hollowly.  "We will do what we must to rid
the Earth of this poison."

He searched the crowd for something - or perhaps someone -
seemingly confused when he didn't find it.

"For what do our wants matter?"  his hand reached out, askance. 
"What do our lives matter in the greater scheme of things?"

Nothing, I replied silently.  It was never of consequence, but now I
knew that even if I perished, parts of me would still go on.

"Three people entered our town yesterday.  And we failed to detect
their movements," Ted's eyes turned hard and cold.  "We must assume
that they know of our existence, and that they came with malicious
intent.  We must prepare to fight."

I saw the determination and faith in thousands of eyes directed at the
stage, and I was certain that whatever the obstacle, it would be easily
destroyed.

"I'm asking you to forget about yourself and your banal, meaningless
lives.  Just like I've forgotten mine," he paused for a moment.  "I didn't
care about sacrificing myself or my old friends.  I didn't care that
Leigh would never again be beside me," he swept his hands around
him in a grand gesture.  "I'm only asking you to do the same."

When wary silence followed, Ted laughed mirthlessly.  "Is it too much
to ask?" he screamed.  "Is it?"

I moved closer to him, realizing belatedly that something was wrong. 
"Stay away!" he hissed menacingly.  "You should be down there, with
all of them.  And Leigh.  Leigh should be here."  

"Ted," I shook my head in denial.  "Leigh is gone."

He no longer listened to me, turning to the figure I perceived as
Melora.  "You told me I'd see whomever I wished to see," he
whispered urgently.  "So why can't I see her?  Why am I still seeing
you? It makes no sense," he fell to his knees.  "It is wrong."

I shielded him from view, taking his place in the center of the stage. 
"The intruders, the ones who've come to take our lives, are outside of
these doors." I pointed in the direction of the exit.  "And we will face
them together as one."

"Leigh," the boy behind me moaned softly, and I dreaded what I'd see
if I turned around.

"For we will never again be alone or lack what we've lost," I
concluded.

I felt the strength of the army standing in front of me.  I walked the
steps down to the floor, fully prepared to open the door and face what
would be our first test of courage.

Only when I turned the handle, did I take a final backward glance,
knowing that Ted was surely as lost as any human who ever resisted
the change.

He knelt beside the visitor, his hands wrapped around her thin
shoulders.  His entire frame shook from sobs, and in one strange
moment when my human nature collided with the new mindset, I felt
deep sorrow and envy.

***

I stood in front of the broad-shouldered blonde man, who was
apparently trying to hide his companions.  The sunrays obscured my
vision, but I didn't bother to make out their features. Inconsequential
humans, that's all they were - unless we could bring them into our
fold.  Surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, I knew we were invincible. 
These three held no threat.

"Mulder," the man smiled at me as if we were old acquaintances.  "We
hoped we'd find you here."

"And so you have," I replied, returning the gesture. I wondered if my
expression prompted fear, for he fought with an apparent impulse to
turn around and run.  "We always give a warm welcome to our
visitors."

"Gail," I motioned to one of the women standing close by.  "Why don't
you show our hospitality to this man?"

She walked the few inches between them, a smile gracing her
attractive face.  The intruder's gaze, however, settled on her chest
instead.  Thus, it was without a warning that her lips locked with his,
in what seemed to be a match made in heaven itself.

He moaned, as if in agony.   In a moment, the barrel of a
semi-automatic weapon was pointed at Gail's head - needlessly, it
seemed.  For she dropped her prey, repulsed, and stepped back.  My
eyes posed a silent question as she walked by me.

"He's damaged," was all she'd say, and I had but a few seconds to
ponder her words.

The hand that held the gun was lowered slowly, and I was suddenly
face to face with the woman that I used to know well and cared for once
upon a time.

"Scully," I nodded in acknowledgment. The gun clattered to the
ground, and I registered dully the way the sun danced on the polished
metal, simultaneously trying to remember what color her hair used to
be before.  Gray seemed wrong for her, really wrong.

"Mulder, it's you," she extended her hand, and I stepped back,
suddenly frightened.  The memories of pain and horror teemed inside
my mind, screaming to me of the danger that this woman signified.

"It's all right," Scully nodded encouragingly and took a step towards
me.  "You don't have to be afraid of me," her lips trembled.  "I'm not
afraid of you.  Not anymore.  I removed the chip, we can't hurt each
other."

I shook my head, still in the grip of fear. Her words, something about
faith and trust, registered only barely in my ears. 

"Mulder, you must remember me. I know you do, just look at me!"

I closed my eyes, unwilling to see her, already numb to the plea I
heard in her voice.  She was once an agent of the gray warriors,
masquerading as a human.  She couldn't be trusted.

Ted had asked us to forget our meaningless lives, to sacrifice our old
memories for a greater purpose.  I had to be worthy of the honor
bestowed upon me.

When I faced her again, she seemed a stranger.  It was meant to be
that way.  Every day, I took a new lesson in becoming someone else,
someone better - a perfect soldier for the winning army  And I knew
that I was strong enough now to resist the human emotions that
brewed a storm in the back of my mind.

"Are you willing to join us?" I asked her coldly and took a step 
forward, no longer afraid.

"Join you?" the gray-haired woman shook her head, as if not
understanding. She was now walking backwards, without even realizing 
it.

Still, I admired her acting skills.  Surely, she should have known by 
now what awaited her.  "Will you become one of the soldiers destined 
to rid the Earth of the gray warriors and of their agents?" I paused 
and lunged forward, only a few inches remaining between us.  "Or, do 
you wish to resist us?"

"Mulder," Her palms were turned up in supplication.  I wondered if we
really wanted this woman in our ranks - she seemed weak, and
unworthy.  But it was either that or kill her, and something inside of
me, something I didn't want to examine, abhorred the latter choice.

"Enough," I stopped my thoughts, disgusted, prepared to finish this
charade once and for all.  "Hold him," I commanded a few people to 
capture the blonde man who watched our strange dance from the 
sidelines. 

Her eyes were clouded with fear but she didn't protest when my mouth 
touched hers, and my fingers registered the electric shock flowing 
through her small body. She even gasped softly as my arms went around 
her. 

"Mulder!" I heard someone's exclamation. I had no desire to turn 
around and release her.

But before I could take her breath, I felt strong hands pulling her 
away from my grasp.  Angered, I raised my head to see the blonde man,
now free. 

"Mulder, you're ill," he spoke urgently, suddenly all business. "Trust
me, trust her, you don't know what she had to go through to find you. 
You *must* come with us."

"Who are you?" I asked him scornfully.  "And how dare you
interfere?"

"Jack Smith," he replied. The small woman seemed a limp rag doll in 
his arms. "It's not important.  God Dammit, how can I make you see 
that this is all wrong!"

"Mulder, would you just turn around!" I recognized Spender's voice and
cursed him for a hundredth time. It was he who distracted the soldiers
who held Jack. It was he who was responsible for our failure to 
convert them.

"What is it, Spender?" I replied, not bothering to turn around.

"Mulder, please," he begged.  "Jody has just collapsed.  We must get
her to a doctor."

I faced him finally, wearily wondering what else could go wrong
today.  Diana and he stood close together, like the partners they were
never meant to be.  They carried Jody in their hands, gently lowering
her to the ground.  "What's wrong with her?" I approached, touching
her burning face.

"We have a car," Diana offered, her tone almost casual.  "We could
drive her to the nearest hospital."

"No one is going anywhere," I spoke, steel in my words.  "Take their
keys away and burn the vehicle.  They will all be staying here," I
directed the nearest soldiers, then faced the humans again.  "Scully is
a doctor, isn't she?"

Spender's gaze traveled to where I had left Jack and Scully, and he
shook his head sadly.  "I don't think she's in any condition to be
attending patients today."

Confused, I glanced at the scene I just left. The small woman swayed
unsteadily, her hands wrapped around her chest as if to quell the pain. 
Jack hovered over her ineffectually, obviously lost and unsure of what
to do.  I pitied him somewhat.  I pitied  her.  Had she surrendered to
us, had she become one of the soldiers of our great army, she'd not be
feeling whatever distress she was suffering from right now.

Humans had entirely too many emotions to contend with.

End of Part 5/9


Part 6/9

Scully:

I could only stare in mute horror, could not comprehend what I had 
seen, what had happened. The entire situation was so surreal that 
I could almost pretend that it was nothing more than a bad dream.

"Take away their guns, lock them up downstairs. Scully will tend 
after Jody." He paused for a moment and then stared right at me, 
his cold eyes cutting through my heart.  "If Jody dies...they all 
die."  He picked up my gun from the floor and pocketed it.

The leader, for I could no longer think of him as anyone else, 
then motioned to four willing slaves and they unceremoniously led 
me, Diana, and Jack with Jody in his arms to the basement of the 
meeting place.  After placing medical supplies inside the door, 
they left us alone in the concrete bunker.

I knew what was expected of me and I knew that our lives were at 
stake, but all I wanted to do was slide down the wall and forget.  
I thought nothing could be worse than his hatred - but I was wrong. 
Indifference was more painful than I could have imagined.

Luckily, I could see that Jack was already looking at Jody's body 
- he must have had some medical experience. I brushed the back of 
my neck, encountering the white gauze.  My life was in danger in 
more ways than one.  And what did I gain by removing the chip? 
The chance to let my companions die? Or maybe just the ability to 
close a chapter in my life forever?  

The leader's voice was devoid of all emotion except anger, and 
even that was a pale shadow of his former self.  And I meant 
nothing to him -- just one more slave to be added to his minions. 
I wasn't even sure who the man standing in front of me was -- 
because he couldn't have been Mulder, he couldn't have.

When he lowered his lips to mine, I didn't see his chest move, I 
didn't hear his breath against my cheek. And then, he was somehow 
choking me to death. I'd thought of him kissing me before, our 
lips, teeth, and tongues clashing in one inevitable moment, but 
this was a sick parody of a kiss.  He was so cold and mechanical - 
and the spirit, the passion that I'd always admired in him...were 
non-existent.  Jack pulled me away just in time, when I felt 
myself starting to fade. 

"Agent Scully." 

I realized I had been leaning against the wall and staring into 
space.  My hands wouldn't stop shaking, and I needed to lie down 
or get as far away from this town as humanly possible.  I 
couldn't bring myself to care about what happened to any of the 
mindless slaves or my companions or Jody or the leader...I just 
wanted to go home.  

I gave in to the temptation and slid down to the stone floor, 
resting my elbows on bent knees.  One thought kept repeating like 
a chant, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone...and I 
couldn't keep my sorrow inside anymore.  Tears dripped onto my 
exposed arms, and I didn't try to stop them.  Even his death 
would be preferable to what I had just witnessed.  

In a cruel twist of fate, I could hear his voice through the 
concrete - or maybe it was just running through my head.  I tried 
to conjure up memories that were less traumatic: our first cases 
together, times when we had small victories, that time when he 
held me when I needed comfort during my cancer, and when I opened 
my eyes in an Arctic hospital and saw him in the bed next to 
mine...but I couldn't make the images real.  I kept feeling the 
phantom pressure of his dispassionate lips against mine, and it 
made me numb to the core. 

"Agent Scully, we need you," the voice was closer this time, and 
I wondered what they wanted.

"I always thought he needed me," I whispered, unable to stop 
myself.

Jack knelt down next to me and awkwardly held my hand.  "If you 
don't help, this woman will die." And so will we, an unspoken 
fact.

Snippets of the Hippocratic Oath made its way though the fog in 
my mind, and I was suddenly struck by the image of Mark standing 
at his mother's grave and blaming me for the rest of his life. 
There were enough things to regret already.

I looked up reluctantly as Jack handed me a tissue.  I took it and
forced myself to stand, having to grab onto his arm for support. 
I balled my hand into a fist to stop its quaking.

"Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" I didn't have the strength to lie, but I walked 
over towards Jody without any support.  

"Keep cold compresses on her," I told Diana. "Get down that 
fever."

"But Dana, we can't tell if she's even alive."

"If she has a fever, then she obviously isn't dead."  I had no 
patience anymore and was already planning how to save Jody's life 
and then run far away.  

I briefly wondered if maybe the town was like that movie, 
"Invasion of the Body Snatchers," and the originals were 
somewhere else or dead...and I held onto this thought until 
later that night when Diana shook me awake.  Even in my dreams, 
I kept reliving that same scene over and over, only Jack didn't 
save me in time and I joined them...became cruel and uncaring. Or 
worse, I died, collapsing onto the ground as the leader smiled.

"She's breathing!" Diana announced when she saw that I was awake.

"What do you mean?" I sat up, instantly alert.

"I mean -- I don't think she's under their spell anymore."

And sure enough, Jody was sitting up in bed and I could hear the
gentle sound of her breathing in and out. I'd never heard such a
lovely melody. 

She blinked, looked around and then stared at me for a few 
moments before asking, "Where am I?"  

Her voice was unmistakably worried, and I was relieved to hear 
the underlying emotions.  I walked over to where Jack was lying 
down on his coat and whispered, "Jack, you have to see this - 
she's breathing."

He leapt up and ran over to Jody. "Of course," he smiled. "The 
fever is the organism leaving the body," he muttered to himself.

"What's the last thing you remember?" I asked Jody who stared at 
us in  confusion. I started to check her reflexes, pupils, 
everything that was customary to check after a patient recovered 
from a coma.  

"I was on the beach...and...Mulder? Where's Mulder?  And where 
are we?"  

"We've been imprisoned by the people upstairs.  Mulder... is 
their leader," Jack explained, casting a worried look in my 
direction.  

"Where's Spender?" Jody asked immediately.

"We don't know," he admitted.

"Mark! Is my baby safe? Is he here? I saw him here...I did, he 
was here and I tried to find him and..."

"He's back in D.C. with your father," Diana answered.

"No - that's impossible, he was right here!  I followed him to 
the edge of the sand.  But that's when he changed into..." she 
bit her lip and looked down.

"Who?" Diana prodded gently. I forced myself to pay attention, 
even  though I didn't really care about the answer.

"I can't explain it.  One moment he was my son and the next 
thing I knew, my ex-husband was grabbing me."

I stared at her without comprehension. How was that possible? 
What the hell was going on here?

"What day is it?" she asked after a moment, still looking around
anxiously.

Diana told her and Jody gasped softly. "No... the last date I 
remember was days ago...what happened?"

"You won't remember anything from that time - you were 
technically dead," Jack answered, and I wondered what else he 
wasn't telling me.

"I was dead?" she whispered, her eyes dilating with shock.

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly.

"How...how...how is that...You! I remember you from before - who 
are you?" she pointed at me, slightly nervous.

"My name is Dana Scully," I answered after a few seconds, 
surprised by her question.  

"You were at the hospital...visiting Mulder," she recollected, 
pushing back a strand of dark hair.  "You were his friend?"

I still remembered the time when I met her, falling down on the 
hospital's linoleum floor, listening to the screams around me.  
But it felt like a lifetime ago, everything was so different 
now.  She stared at me expectantly and I couldn't speak.  My 
mouth felt dry, and I was forced to look away.

"We're all his friends," Jack told her after a moment, "We only 
want to help him.  Can you help us?"

"Help you how?"

"You somehow broke their control over you - we need to know how 
you did it."

Jody seemed lost momentarily. "I miss it," she whispered sadly.

"What?" Diana looked at her strangely.

"That soft voice in my head, the ability to read thoughts, shared
consciousness, the visions and dreams which I lived with for so 
long and now no longer see."

"But do you know how you escaped their power?" Jack asked softly.

She shook her head slightly, and I heard someone trying to open 
the door.  We all turned around nervously, except for Jody who 
looked down at her arms, running her fingers over the partly 
healed scars.

This was it - they were going to kill us all, or make us all 
undergo the change.  At the very least, those who were resistant 
would be killed.  I could easily see us being led out to a firing 
squad, and the leader would probably be the one to give the order.  

I was not afraid to die or maybe I was so numb that I couldn't 
bring myself to be scared. It was somehow ironic that I survived 
abductions, cancer, numerous serial killers, attempts on my life 
by a shadow government, a virus, and the Arctic cold, only to die 
finally by his command.

I took a step back involuntarily. No, I wouldn't give up without 
a fight. Automatically, I went for my holster, surprised when I 
encountered nothing but an empty case.  Hand to hand combat it 
would be then. I stared at the door and waited for the fight to 
begin.

***

"She's awake?" the man stepped through the door, and I recognized 
him after a moment - no, this wasn't the one who would come to 
bring us to our doom.  

"Spender - what are you doing here?" I was secretly relieved but
refused to show it.

"I was sent to check on her condition," he said, moving awkwardly 
towards her.

"She's not one of them anymore - you can go back and tell your 
leader that," I spat, but he seemed to pay hardly any attention 
to me. 

Immediately, he turned to Jody. "You're okay?" he whispered 
happily, holding her hand and watching her chest rise and fall.  

She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "I'm no longer one of 
them, Jeffrey." 

He smiled widely, the first smile I'd actually seen on him.  
"That's the best news I've heard in weeks."

"She's fine, you can leave now.  Run back and report your 
findings to your leader."

He faced me, replying firmly, "Mulder's not my leader, I'm not 
here by choice.  I'm as much a prisoner as you are."

"Why should we believe you?" I asked.  Spender might not have 
been responsible for everything that happened, but I needed to 
place the blame on someone.

"Because he's telling the truth," Diana walked over and put her 
hand on my shoulder.  "Dana, he's not on their side.  When 
everyone was distracted, I tried to get away and he begged me to 
take him with us.  But then Jody collapsed, and I helped him 
carry her.  No one under their power would have cared about 
anyone enough to get her to safety."

Spender nodded, "They tried to convert me, I resisted them...
somehow I'm immune. I'd be dead now if not for Jody, who 
convinced Mulder that a human could be a helpful thing to have 
around."

That was impossible. A human?  That meant the people in the hall 
above were....not people, but aliens.  I could not accept that.

"I don't believe you.  You're lying, it's impossible."

"I know you don't believe in aliens, Scully. I didn't either
until I saw what happened to Jody and Mulder...there is no other
explanation.  We cannot exist without oxygen -- and yet everyone 
upstairs never takes a breath.  Their meetings are all about how 
this is a war with Earth in the middle.  And they have to rid our 
planet of the gray warriors and their agents," he threw me a 
nervous glance.  "They would only have to give up their own 
lives and memories."

"That would explain a lot," Jack walked towards him, having 
silently watched until now.  "What else do you know?"

Spender looked relieved that someone was finally listening to 
him.  "They don't see like we do...Jody said my eyes were white. 
They steal your breath.  Their kiss is deadly."

"Then they are already gone...there is no cure, no way back. 
They're emotionally and physically dead," I whispered, saying 
aloud what I had been thinking for hours.

"But Jody recovered!  And they're not emotionally dead...they're 
still there, somewhere.  Mulder's not completely lost," Spender 
replied with conviction.

"He's right, Dana -- she defeated them, it's possible that..."

"That wasn't Mulder.  The man that I worked with for six years 
would never have acted that way." I felt a twinge of pain at his 
name.

"But, it's possible to cure them -- Jody did recover," Jack 
reminded me once again.

"How? How did she recover? Waiting for these things to leave 
their human host is not science -- "

"I was too weak, or too strong," Jody interrupted and stood up 
shakily, taking a deep breath before continuing. "They promised 
peace and tranquility, freedom from the nightmares.  They only 
wanted us as soldiers."

"How did Fox become their leader?" Diana asked her.

"He wasn't - Ted was," Spender said quickly.

"Ted?"

Spender nodded. "He was just a teenager. His girlfriend, Leigh, 
came with him - but she was also immune.  She warned me and I 
didn't listen. All she wanted was to escape, but I wouldn't go 
with her. Ted killed her when she tried to run away, sucked the 
life out of her, choked her to death..." he closed his eyes, 
relieving the tragedy, and took a shuddering breath.  "Earlier 
today he was arguing with something I couldn't see - saying that 
he wanted to see her and then...he broke down."

"Are you saying that he's no longer under their control?" Jack 
asked.

"No...he is, but he snapped, he..." Spender looked over at Jody, 
"He keeps talking about lies and sobs that he wants to go home 
and that he misses Leigh.  They're deciding what to do with him. 
Either way, I don't think he'll live through the night."

"Why was Leigh killed?" Diana asked.

"She would have exposed them..."

"Fox didn't try to stop him?" For the first time during this 
hellish day, she appeared troubled. 

Spender laughed bitterly. "Mulder helped him."

"Jody," Jack addressed the thin woman on the bed, once again. 
"Can you think of anything, anything at all that would 
differentiate you from the rest of the people upstairs? Why did 
you recover and not anyone else?"

Jody shook her head helplessly.

Spender raised his voice. "This isn't the time to think about it. 
If you want to live, you have to escape - when they see that Jody 
isn't under their control anymore, your lives are worthless."

"Spender's right, we have to get out of here.  We're no use to 
anyone locked up in this bunker," Jack agreed reluctantly.

"Do you have a plan?" I asked, and everyone turned to look at
Spender expectantly.

"It's not much of a plan," he grinned slightly. "I distract their
attention. You run like hell."

For all his bravado, I could detect an edge of anxiety in his 
voice. What he was suggesting would get us to safety, but only 
at the price of him staying behind. I didn't want to even think 
of what would happen to him after our escape was discovered.

"I can't accept that." He met my gaze head-on, and I tried to 
stare him down. "We can't allow you to sacrifice yourself."

"Agent Scully," Jack's hand fell on my shoulder. "Agent Scully, 
I don't think we have a choice."

"He will be able to catch up to us," Diana's confident voice 
joined in the chorus. "We'll wait for you at the motel at the 
edge of town."

Spender nodded at her vaguely and gave me a shaky smile. "It will 
be fine."

They were right. There was no one else who could fulfill his 
role.

"How will you distract them?" I asked him, disquiet settling 
inside of me.

He looked away, his eyes settling on the pile of medical 
supplies for some reason. "That's not important."

I was out of arguments.

And out of time.

"Be careful, Spender," I shook his hand.


Spender:

I glanced at Jody - a woman who once gave me what could have 
become a kiss of death. Now, unaffected by the alien presence, 
she appeared as human and vulnerable as everyone else in this 
room.

There was another possible reason why she was back to normal.

I could view it simply as a virus, a virus that I was immune to. 
A virus that I was certain I'd killed just by kissing Jody.

What would happen if I kissed the morphing shadow that caused it 
all, the source of this virus?

They would be destroyed. I might be killed by the orders of 
Mulder once he realized what was wrong, but it would be worth 
it.

It would avenge the death of Leigh, and Scully's red-rimmed 
eyes.  It would stand for all the unsent letters of Jody to 
Mark, and for hundreds of human lives already lost in this war. 
This madness would be over, and all would be well again.

I shook Scully's hand, feeling a prickle behind my eyelids. 
Then, I turned to the pile of medical supplies on the floor. 
Sharp, clean blades - just what I needed. I grabbed some 
Extra-strength Tylenol - a decoy for their eyes. I made a show of 
opening the bottle with geltabs and swallowing a couple. "I've 
had a killer headache for days," I smiled self-deprecatingly. 

The pills tasted bitter as they went down. Not enough to 
alleviate the sudden terrible pain in my chest. Not nearly 
enough to restore my peace of mind. 

"The door is open," I put the keys in my pocket. "Remember what 
they've taught you at the Academy and...other places. Jack," I 
addressed the tall man whose gaze kept wandering in Scully's 
direction. "Take care of them."

Up the stairs, into the brightly lit room and the darkness that 
awaited me.  I carried with me the snapshot of their faces, 
ignorant of my decision, and sharp blades hidden between my 
fingers. Just before I opened the door, I placed a blade inside 
of my mouth. It tasted of rust and upcoming suffering.

I cut.

Immediately, blood flooded my mouth, and I swallowed back the 
scream.

My palm closed over the blade convulsively. I'd use it again, 
later.

I stepped towards the last hour of my life.

* * *

"Why have you been absent for such a long time?" Mulder asked 
sharply from the stage.

"Jody wanted to speak with me," I replied, walking towards him.

"She's awake then?" he displayed no sign of pleasure at the news. 
"What did she say?"

"Jody wanted to tell me how wonderful it was to be among you," I 
tried to appear earnest. If this questioning went on for too 
long, my discomfort while speaking would be noticed. "I'm tired 
of resisting," I pushed ahead with conviction. "I want to be with 
you, to experience the freedom you spoke of. To rid the Earth of 
the evil influence."

He nodded, considering. "But it didn't work the last time we 
tried to change you. It may not work now."

The notion that Mulder the human and Mulder the alien were 
equally paranoid would have been amusing at any other time. "It 
was but a newly changed human performing the task," I shrugged. 
"But if I communed with one who is pure, who is the essence of 
salvation itself, I'm certain that I'd become one of this great 
army."

Sometimes, I thought in a burst of morbid humor, it did help to 
listen  in on the meetings and do my homework. The nonsense words 
that I didn't want to understand until now were falling off my 
tongue as easily as the drops of blood were streaming down my 
throat this very minute.

I saw Mulder turn to the shadow and whisper something. Instead of 
receiving any meaningful answer, I sensed it approaching me, 
settling against my skin like a whisper of freezing wind. I 
opened my mouth, leaning into its lethal touch.

My fingers pressed the blade into my palm deeply, and the blood 
that gushed from my hand didn't fall on the floor but appeared 
to melt into the air as the alien presence absorbed it.

The sensation of cold was gone gradually, and I fought with blood 
that was now in my air passages, gagging me. Mulder watched me - 
then the bloodied shadow - with a distinct look of horror. "What 
has he done?" he cried out. "What has he done?"

Dimly, I turned to the audience, the great sea of the alien 
soldiers watching the spectacle with interest. Watch, I wanted 
to shout with bravado, and rejoice. For this is the blood that 
will avenge your souls.

The gun in someone's hand was no surprise. 

I staggered forward, trying not to fall head-down and become 
food for the swarm of wolves beneath me.

The order to seal off any passages out of the building was 
blissfully late in coming. 

The pain that hit me in the chest was too fresh, too agonizing 
to bear, and I gave in to the impulse to fall, to forget. 

I was glad it wasn't Mulder who squeezed the trigger. I couldn't 
take it. I couldn't.

The lights grew bright, then dimmed around me. 

I never wanted to be a hero. I never pictured myself as a martyr, 
some distant legend that lived on while my body disintegrated in 
the ground. I wanted to be a part of something more than this.

But I might have been the only one among humans who wouldn't be 
missed when I died.

With something approaching panic, I thought of my mother whom I'd 
never find. 

Why did my fingers hurt more than the gaping wound in my chest?

Death was still not coming, and I prepared to close my eyes and 
wait for her to take me. It wouldn't be long now, if there was 
still mercy in this world.

The last thing I saw was the alien, now clearly defined in a 
tinge of red, running from the stage. Mulder was following it. 
I opened my mouth to shout to him, to remind him of who he used 
to be, but all that came out was a gurgling sound as my lifeblood 
rushed out in a stream.

End of Part 6/9


Part 7/9

Diana:

We heard the screams above in the hall and I quickly 
realized it was time to escape.  

"That's our cue," Jack said, still trying to pretend to 
be a movie hero.  

Dana nodded and exchanged a look with Jody, who smiled 
slightly in return.  

"Can you run?" Dana asked her.

Jody nodded, and looked determinedly towards the unlocked 
door. 

Jack took the lead, even though I scored higher than he 
did in hand to hand combat.  We all lined up against the 
wall. 

"There's no one out there," he whispered surprised.  "I 
wonder how Spender did it."

"Is he okay?"  Jody asked, concern clear in her voice.

"He'll be fine," I lied. "We have to get out of here."

"We can't just leave him."

"He asked us to," Jack reminded her. "We have no choice."

"He'll meet us at the motel," Dana said, remembering the 
rendezvous spot.

Jack slowly opened the door, and we walked down the corridor 
towards the stairs. After we passed an equipment storage room, 
I realized that we were in the basement of a school, and had 
been just locked in a fallout shelter.  

We walked up the concrete stairs, shocked at the absolute 
silence above us. A sign at the top of the stairs announced 
in shocking red letters, EXIT.  The door pushed open easily 
and we were in a hallway.

"Classrooms," Dana whispered and we walked on the linoleum 
tiled floor towards the main entrance.  I could tell she was 
thinking about the children and teenagers that used to run 
down these empty hallways.  

"I'm sure they escaped in time," Jack said, trying to reassure 
her, but it was an empty comfort.

We passed ripped bulletin boards as we ran and torn artwork 
adorned the walls.  "These kids could have been my son's 
friends..." Jody realized as we hit the doors and exited 
into the night air. 

"Daddy!" I heard before the gunfire erupted.

***

It was all going to hell.  I saw Jody collapse into Dana's 
arms and immediately sensed the gravity of the situation.  
Larson was running towards us and a strong sense of 
self-preservation suddenly came over me.  

I knew that Jack had called Larson before we entered the town, 
the same way I had called my boss to let him know what was 
transpiring.  Did this old fool Larson really believe that we 
could negotiate and live peacefully with these violent 
creatures?  Did he actually think they had anything but our 
destruction on their minds?  I guess some people never learned.
  
At least my boss understood the situation and I knew what had 
to be done.  Dana tried to stop the inevitable and argued with 
Larson, a stupid move after the man had just seen his precious 
daughter die. I probably should have let him shoot her - but 
held her back before she could be killed by one of the gun- 
toting soldiers.   After all, my mission did not include 
letting her die, and she could be an asset.

Larson turned around and I took the opportunity to run away.  
The people under alien control shot back at the soldiers and 
then suddenly, started falling, grasping their heads.  Jack was 
busy taking care of Dana, and Larson was not paying attention.  
I didn't stay long enough to see what was happening - I just 
ran.  I reached the motel and realized this was the perfect 
opportunity to grab the chip.  Dana's safety was not at all 
important to me anymore.  My boss would be quite pleased that 
I was able to regain control of the situation.  It really was 
the perfect solution -- it would give us power over her, over 
Fox, and it would become the price she would exact when this 
was all over. We wouldn't lose anything for our troubles. 

I could still hear the thunder of bullets, even though I was 
at least two miles away - but it didn't matter.  I opened the 
door and quickly searched through my jewelry box - Jack had 
said keep it in a safe place and even I wasn't foolish enough 
to bring it into that town.  My fingers soon brushed against 
a small metal circle and I grinned triumphantly as I pulled it 
out of the case.  Much ado about nothing, was all I could think 
as I slipped it into my pocket. 

"That's not yours," someone growled behind me and I turned 
around, even though I knew who it was.

"Jack, don't you know by now that I take what I want?"  I purred, 
backing up towards the bed, trying to feel for my spare gun.

"You'll kill her," he reminded me needlessly. 

"Why do you care what happens to her?"  How did this woman keep 
becoming the most important person in so many lives?

"Maybe because she is honest, loyal, determined and brilliant -- 
things I could never say about you," he sneered. 

I was taken aback and hurt by his comments but refused to show 
it. "Oh, so it's a personal thing." 

He shook his head slightly. "Diana, you're the reason I'm in 
this condition - do you know the hell I went through because 
you left me behind?" He stalked towards me, hatred clear on 
his face. 

"It's just business Jack, nothing personal, that's something 
you never understood."

"I wonder what it's like to be without a heart."

I laughed, "Oh God, you're one to talk.  I've seen the 
assassinations you've participated in - the butchery.  I know 
how many people you killed and silenced - don't lecture me 
about feelings."

"But I did feel remorse...and I try not to do that anymore."

"So you've decided to use Dana as your savior?  And I saw the 
way you were looking at her.  Do you really think you'd ever 
have a chance with her? Besides, you don't need to get your 
hands dirty now that you're playing with the big boys like 
Larson.  But," I altered my voice seductively, "I'm a woman, 
and we have to be more vicious to command respect and higher 
positions."

"That's a tired excuse, especially in these days.  Larson is 
dead and you were just going to run away now -- like always.  
I really think you just like tearing people's hearts out - like 
mine - like Mulder's.  You destroyed him and you barely even 
gave it a second thought." 

"You don't know anything..."

"I've watched the tapes.  And I know firsthand how you are.  
Dammit, you left me behind the fucking enemy lines Diana, just 
ran off, and I was captured looking for you.  Have you ever 
been exposed to poison gas?" he asked dangerously.  

I shook my head and searched more frantically for the gun. 

"I've never been in such throes of sickness and pain and when 
they released me finally -- when they couldn't get any more 
information out of me -- the first thing I did was try to find 
you. Imagine my surprise to find out you were in D.C., with 
him -- and were posing as an FBI agent this time." 

"You're living in the past, a very dangerous habit, as I'm sure 
you know.  And this from someone who doesn't even use their real
name."

"Like Diana is yours?  Just give me the chip, do one right 
thing..."

"You think she'll survive?  You might have even killed her your 
self accidentally -- injecting chemicals into people that way.  
Jody is dead. Fox will probably die too and, if everyone is gone, 
then this chip is just a worthless piece of metal."

"She's safe, Diana, trust me on this.  Just...give me the chip 
and we can both walk out of here alive - go our separate ways."

I decided to change my tactics, stall for more time.  "I know 
you're poised to take over Larson's spot...I know you need help, 
I have information, resources. Remember Paris, Jack?"  

He glared at me and my hand finally encountered cold metal. 
Unfortunately, Jack had his spare ready and we were soon in 
a standoff. 

All I could do was regret that I hadn't shot him earlier. This 
was a no win situation. 

"Diana, hand over the chip and no one gets hurt."

"Maybe I want you to get hurt.  Besides, if I give you the chip, 
then this mission has accomplished nothing. We only gained a few 
corpses."

"God dammit, why do you hate her so much Diana? Do you really 
want to see her die of some hideous disease?  Is it because she 
represents something you could never be?"

"Really, what's that?"

"Admired," 

I shot him, square in the chest and smiled slightly as he fell, 
but his finger pressed on the trigger...I didn't think he had 
enough time, it's cold, the world is fading, it's cold, I can't 
see...I can't...


Scully:

I opened my eyes slightly and listened to the absolute 
and deathly silence.  I looked around and realized I was 
back in the underground bunker.  Great, what happened now? 
I tried to sit up and failed miserably, so I let myself 
lie down for a few more moments. 

I was in no hurry to start my new life.  

How the hell did I get here? There was a tender bruise on 
my arm and I quickly pieced together what happened.  

We had escaped just as Larson's team had arrived.  Jody ran 
out towards her father, but I watched helplessly as she was 
caught in the crossfire, her body jerking and finally 
falling in a heap on the ground.  I jumped out and held her. 
She died in my arms and there was nothing I could do. My 
hands were covered in her blood, and there were more holes 
in her body than I could have ever repaired -- even in a 
hospital.

"Tell...Mark," she had coughed violently, "I love him...
and...I'm sorry," she had whispered and went limp in my 
arms.  

"Jody! No!" Larson shouted and ran over to check on her 
himself, barely even fazed by the gunfight blazing a few 
feet away.

"She's dead," I had admitted softly and he backed up in 
disbelief, then a look of cold fire entered his eyes - the 
hatred I hadn't seen before reflected in them.

"Burn this place," he ordered the soldiers curtly. "Kill 
them all."

"But, sir, they could get better..."

"They are all liabilities and know too much - they must be 
silenced."

"No!" I screamed and tried to grab him, but Diana held me 
back.  "Jack, don't let him do this."

"It's out of my hands, Agent Scully," he said sadly and I 
knew he felt guilty that he was unable to help.

"Jody, my little angel...my little girl..." Larson was 
sobbing openly as the shooting went on.

"Sir! Please reconsider! You can't kill all these people...
they have families, they have lives."

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm letting you live," 
Larson replied and stared at Jack.

After a moment, Jack nodded and walked towards me.  He 
grabbed my arm tightly, "I'm sorry, but orders are orders," 
he said, lifting his other hand. I saw a brief flash of 
metal and felt a burning sensation through my body.  He 
picked me up as I started to fall and I knew he was 
carrying me somewhere.  But everything was so hazy, and 
the world kept going in and out of focus.  

"Jack," I'd managed to say, feeling betrayed somehow, but 
it was too large an effort and I finally gave up the fight 
of consciousness, surrendering to the cool, dark, unknown.

Well, that explained how I wound up here.  But I still 
couldn't make myself move.  All that lay out there was my 
new life, which would most likely find me working in a 
hospital somewhere.  Who was I kidding?  After all I'd 
seen, after realizing that the aliens existed, I couldn't 
deny that anymore -- there truly was no other explanation, 
I had to try to stop the colonization.  I could easily see 
myself working for the underground, away from authority, 
far away from the FBI.  No matter what happened, the FBI 
didn't figure in my future anymore  -- I couldn't continue 
working the X-Files, not when every file would only remind 
me of what I had lost. I also couldn't bear the thought of 
another partner.

But, Dana, my sensible side reminded me, if you don't move 
you'll starve or die of dehydration.  I groaned softly and 
crawled on my arms over to the door.  Stand, I commanded my 
body, but it refused to obey.  Stand, and the minute we get 
back to civilization I'll give you Ben and Jerry's, I 
promised and that made it move.  I wobbled slightly but 
leaned against the wall for support. 

I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for 
stepping through the door.  I turned the handle and I 
blinked at the bright light.

***

Absolute destruction greeted me as I climbed up to the 
ground.  Any recognizable structure was gone and if I was 
told that a bomb had been dropped and I was the only 
survivor -- I would have believed it.

The landscape was flat, desolate, and full of burnt husks 
of building as far as the eye could see.  The cement streets, 
at one time spotless, were now lined with ash and random 
belongings.

No signs of life, hell, not even grass remained.  The only 
clue to what happened lay in the splatters of red I found 
near the main road and my own blood caked hands and clothing.  

I saw Larson's lifeless body lying close to Jody's, a gun 
in his hands. I knelt down and closed his eyes, paying my 
last respects to the man who probably didn't deserve them.

I felt sticky and filthy and had to at least wash my hands.  
I waded along the shoreline and then knelt down, the cold 
water shocking me slightly.  I knew what had happened, had 
heard it being planned -- everyone in the town was dead.  
I dipped my hands into the water and wrung them like Lady 
Macbeth. Now, more than one person's death was on my 
conscience.  This was the first water I'd touched in...at 
least a day, if you didn't count the bottle of Evian I'd 
downed on the way to the town.  The water looked so inviting, 
and my own reflection so horrifying that I dove in to try to 
clean up some more.  

I waded further in and then swam. The baptism aspects of 
my actions were not intentional, but the symbolism didn't 
escape me.  After a few minutes, I knew I had to leave the 
ocean before the current carried me further from shore.

I crawled out of the ocean and lay, breathing deeply, on 
the hot sand, which stuck to my hair and skin.  The sun was 
higher than before and I squinted and pushed myself further 
up the bank, but the beach was more comfortable than anywhere 
I'd been in days and I didn't want to move.  

Being near the ocean always made me nostalgic and my memories 
immediately transported me back to my childhood.

When I was younger, Melissa and I would swim in the ocean 
and then run up on the sand and collapse on our towels.  
We'd sit in the sun until mom came over with a large bottle 
of suntan lotion, which she'd insist we cover ourselves with.  
Mom didn't want me getting sunburn.  But one time while we 
went through the torture of sticking to everything with our 
slimy fingers, Melissa picked up a shell and told me an idea 
she'd heard once upon a time.

Shells are souls crying for their lost love, she'd said and 
I'd scoffed at the idea.  They always just sounded like 
crashing waves to me. I'd still never heard a shell that 
sounded even the tiniest bit sad.  But, as I lay on that 
beach, letting the painful memories of the past few weeks 
sink into the sand, I spied a shell.

I pushed myself a little further and grabbed it and held 
it to my ear.  Its rough surface scraped my fingers, but 
its sound was so mournful that tears sprung to my eyes.  
Melissa was right.

I closed my eyes and let sleep cover me like a wave.

***

I felt strong hands cradling my head and I knew I had to 
open my eyes eventually.  I didn't want to leave the 
peaceful still slightly hazed with drugs world of sleep, 
but I had no choice.  The dream was so wonderful that I 
didn't want to wake up, because I knew who I would see 
and there was only one person I wanted to see and I would 
be disappointed.  He was most likely dead, or at least 
far enough away that it didn't matter anymore.

"Jack?" I whispered, expecting his already familiar 
greeting of "Agent Scully," instead, a different voice 
answered.

"Who?"

My eyes snapped open and I stared into cold, dark, eyes...
it wasn't over yet.  I backed up quickly, my hands slipping 
on the unsteady surface, falling in my haste to get away.  
"Get away from me!" I yelled, no, they wouldn't take me - 
they wouldn't get me, I wouldn't lose myself.  "Leave me 
alone," I whispered, and tried to stand but my bare feet 
didn't give me enough leverage.

The figure looked at me strangely and I finally managed to 
stand. "I won't let you hurt me again," I started running 
towards town - cursing my bare feet as the gravel and 
cement cut into my sole. I winced with each step, but I 
couldn't slow down, couldn't stop -- If I did, I was dead.

It was no longer my decision, fate intervened in the form 
of a small obstacle which I tripped over and soon found 
myself on the ground, after a quick hiss of pain.  I 
mentally checked out my body, everything was in order, 
just a few cuts and scrapes to add to the collection.

But, he was getting closer and closer and his body soon 
blocked out the light. Still, I refused to give up.  I 
struck out - the aliens weren't that strong without their 
slaves behind them - and felt gratified when I saw my 
nails scratch his skin.   We rolled on the ground, each 
trying to get the upper hand, and I felt sure he was 
going to kill me.  Finally, he had me pinned and I made 
ready to swing at him again but my hands were suddenly 
jerked up over my head, not unkindly.

He leaned towards me and I heard his shallow, panting 
breath loud in my ear.  Breathing, dear God...he was 
breathing.   "Scully, what's going on here?"

I blinked, and cold eyes were replaced by anxious and 
pained hazel.  He noticed my change of expression, let 
go, stood up and offered his hand to help me up. I stared 
for a few moments, still disbelieving what I was seeing 
and stood up on my own, not wishing to accept his help.

"Why did you run, Scully?"

I had no answer.  I still saw him as one of them, could 
not recognize his eyes or voice at first.

He looked down at the ground and then reluctantly at me, 
"When you said...that I won't ever hurt you again, did I 
hurt you?"  He looked at me with absolute concern and 
nervousness.  I knew he was looking at my torn, bloody, 
wet and sand-covered suit.

"Mulder...is that you?" I whispered.

He shrugged, perplexed. "Last time I checked." 

His eyes were still glued to the blood stains on my 
clothes, and I hastened to reassure him. "It's not my 
blood.  Mulder, it's Jody, I'm so sorry." Even though I 
didn't understand the bond the two of them had shared, I 
knew he cared for her and would be affected by her death.

But he only stared at me and asked calmly, "Is she dead?"

I nodded slightly and he bowed his head in understanding.  

"Did I -- hurt her?"

How could I explain it to him?  Tell him what happened, 
what he had become, what he had ordered.  "Not 
deliberately," I said finally. "Her death was an accident.  
She was caught in the crossfire."

"The crossfire? Scully, what happened here?"

"I can't explain what happened in this town, Mulder.  All 
I can say for certain is that you weren't yourself.  You 
were in some kind of trance or possibly under a form of 
alien control," I couldn't believe I had just said that, 
but it was about time I started admitting things to him.  

However, the minute he heard my words, his eyes opened 
wider and he started backing up.  "You can't be Scully..."

I had made a mistake. "Mulder..."

He reached out and gently touched my arm then pulled away 
as if burnt.  "You're an illusion...this is all an illusion.  
I'm still under their influence.  You're only a dream, my 
mind has created you out of memories, and none of this is 
real."

"I am real!"  I couldn't believe this was happening, just 
when I thought the nightmare was over.

"No! I can touch you with no side effects, I'm able to 
think clearly for the first time in weeks, this isn't 
reality."

"Mulder, it's me.  I came here looking for you - traveled 
across the country looking for this place.  You haven't 
been yourself for days, but now you are.  They're gone, 
everyone is gone - you're the only survivor of whatever 
happened here."

"Scully would have never admitted to alien involvement -- 
that was your big mistake.  Any moment now the water will 
come rushing in and the red rain will fall and I'll be 
dragged under once again because this is only a dream. 
And when I wake up, I'll still be in the car or worse 
and far away from her," he said quickly and stared at 
me nervously, as if expecting me to change into something.
In his flushed face, I could see the signs of fever that 
was abating only now. Had he spent the entire night ill,
just like Jody, before he was finally free? Would it have
been all for nothing?

I was struck with the desire to either hug him or run 
away and both seemed viable options.  I couldn't take 
these mind games anymore, this feeling of unreality or 
reality masked as a dream.  Watching him like this was 
too painful.  There was nothing I could say or do to 
make him believe this was actually happening.  

"I am going to say this only once and then I am turning 
and going home because I can't take this anymore.  I am 
real, and this is reality.  I came here to find you, to 
save you if I could. The aliens are destroyed.  Everyone 
else is dead!  We're the only two people alive in this 
town.  Spender is gone, Jody is gone, the thousands of 
people that were here are all dead.  The ocean is clear, 
the sky is bright and sunny, and we've both survived by 
some twist of fate or God or a master plan, but we're 
alive!  If you refuse to believe that I'm here - that 
I exist, if you still think you're in a dream world, then 
maybe only I survived," I finally let the tears fall.

I closed my eyes because I couldn't face his reaction for 
the next thing I had to say.  "I didn't come all this way 
only to lose you to true madness.  If you insist on 
thinking that I'm not real then I have no choice but to 
never see you again.  Because I can't take this anymore - 
you can't ask me to watch someone I care about fall apart 
again.  I risked my life to find you, I removed the chip 
in my neck so that I could convince you to come back with 
me - and it was all a waste," I whispered sadly and turned 
around.  I started walking away, tears streaking down my 
face, and each step was a struggle.

"Scully, wait," I heard after a minute.  I stopped.

I felt my hair being swept to one side and gentle fingers 
touching the white gauze over my neck. 

"You removed the chip," he said softly, but horrified.

I turned around to face him.  "I had to.  This place would 
have destroyed me otherwise."

Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me close to him in a 
crushing embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and felt 
his chest rise and fall.  "You're real, you're real, you're 
real," he whispered to me over and over.  I nodded against 
him, the world was tilted back on its axis, the quicksand 
beneath my feet finally solidified, Mulder was himself again.  

We separated after a moment. His tear-filled eyes looked 
into mine. "Where is the chip now?"

"At the motel."

"Let's go find it."

We walked out of town together.

***

The door opened with the slightest push.  I turned on the 
overhead lights and gasped softly.  "Diana!"

Diana lay on the floor near the bed in a pool of blood, a 
neat bullet wound in her head.  Across from her, there was 
another vibrant red stain.  

Mulder looked at Diana's body sadly. "What happened?"

"I don't know," I replied in shock. "But somewhere in this 
room is the chip."

"Wait, her pocket was ripped open -- I don't think the 
chip is still here."

We searched for an hour or two anyway, after covering up 
Diana's body.   The only result of our search was a cell 
phone - Jack's cell phone, I recognized after a moment. 

"Call the police, Mulder.  Tell them that we have a dead 
body to report."

He nodded and dialed 911.  I sat staring at Diana's limp 
body, trying to think of a reasonable explanation.  I 
expected to hear police sirens, but instead, after a few 
minutes, I heard cars pull into the parking lot and a 
knock on the door.  

A man dressed in a white biohazard suit stood in front of 
me and looked at Mulder and I strangely.  "You'd better 
come with us," he said calmly.

Mulder reached out and grabbed my hand, the look in his 
eyes told me that everything was going to be okay.  I 
nodded and we walked towards the white quarantine vans.

End of Part 7/9


Part 8/9

Mulder

"Are you ready to go?" Scully's hand pressed against mine tentatively 
- as if she was still testing the waters, still unsure of the repercussions 
of this innocent gesture. 

A week, I thought sadly, smiling at her reassuringly. Give it another. 
"I've been ready after a day of this. 

The doors of the containment facility closed behind us, and I followed 
her to the rental car. She seemed frail, thinner than I'd last remembered 
seeing her. I caught up to her, avoiding the sight like a coward. 

The few weeks that we spent apart were a chasm between us - all the 
greater because I couldn't recall most of the events that transpired. 

"Scully," I faced her, the need to say the words almost unbearable. 
"Whatever happened... before...I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

She clutched the keys in her hand, squeezing them so hard that I was 
afraid of seeing blood. "I spoke to Skinner yesterday."

"Oh," I replied ineffectually, waiting for the verdict.

"He said that he would be very glad to see us back in Washington," 
Scully continued, still not looking at me. "So I guess we'd better 
hurry."

"Of course." I slid inside the car, somewhat relieved to see that the keys 
were now dangling from the ignition. 

After driving in silence for a few minutes, she pointed to her bag. 
"There is a brown envelope inside," she spoke quickly. "I doubted 
whether to show it to you, but... you will know eventually... and I..." 
she stopped abruptly, as if unable to continue.

Anxiously, I opened the envelope, pulling out a bunch of thin papers, 
stapled accurately in the corner. 

"Acuman, Allison," the first name leapt at me from the page. 
"Adelman, Robert. Adelman, Sonya."

"All the people who died in Freedom," Scully explained softly.

There were twelve pages. Eight hundred names. There were more who 
couldn't be identified. By the end of the list, I could no longer see, as if 
my prayer for temporary blindness had been granted - and the pages 
fluttered away from my hand, falling on the floor of the car. 

"I've killed them, Scully," I said bleakly. "I don't know how, but I've 
killed them."

She pulled over to the side of the highway, ignoring the angry beeps of 
cars flying by way above the speed limit. The silence that draped over 
us was gray, as if the rays of California sun couldn't penetrate it. 

"At the end of the war," Scully spoke distinctly, "it is customary to 
remember the victims - and to honor their memory. That's why I gave 
you that list."

At the end of every war, it was also customary to find the guilty parties 
and to judge their crimes. It was right for Scully to watch me in 
accusation, as she did when I found her on the beach - after waking up 
from what could have been a bad fever or another lifetime. Seeing a 
bright red spot of her hair in the white sand was the happiness I hadn't 
known in years. Seeing the hatred burst forth from her blue eyes when 
she didn't recognize me, was the terror that would haunt my dreams for 
a long time to come.

Somehow, I knew that drowning in the black ocean was mild compared 
to that.

More than ever, I wished that she were still armed when I discovered 
her. She could have inflicted a lot more damage with a gun. She could 
have carried out the perfect justice.

"I know that you blame yourself, Mulder. I know." Her hands lifted my 
head, as if begging me to face her. "But the influence of these beings is 
the real culprit - blame them, if you need to blame someone! Blame 
me, if you wish. If I hadn't led these soldiers there... if I hadn't been so 
selfish... perhaps these deaths could have been avoided."

"Don't say that, Scully," I shook my head. "Don't ever say that."

"And most of all," she continued, as if not hearing me, "I wish I'd 
believed you before. I wish..."

I draped my hands across her shoulders, knowing that I could never 
give her enough comfort. "I would have done the same in your place, 
Scully. All the same mistakes."

My fingers unconsciously found a spot on her lower neck where the 
chip used to be, and the gray air thickened around me. 

"Let's go home," she sighed and extricated herself from me. She 
grinned at me, establishing the mood for today: one of forced 
cheerfulness. 

I opened the window "Yes," I smiled obediently.

* * *

Two days later, I sat in my unchanged apartment, asking myself why 
did this keep happening. What forces beyond my control, what dark 
lines of my character, what fate always brought me back while others - 
enemies and friends alike - remained behind?

Jody and Spender both trusted me in their own ways, to make sure that 
wherever we went, we would survive and find something better. 
Instead, I was responsible for their deaths, just as I was responsible for 
the massacre of hundreds of innocents. 

Scully, the ever-present expression of concern on her face, sat in front 
of me. "Mulder, Skinner expected you to be at this morning's meeting."

"To have a chance for some face-to-face dressing down?" I asked.

"The X-Files are back in our control."

For what possible reason? All I knew was that I didn't belong in the 
FBI - or with the X-Files. If there was still justice in this world, I 
shouldn't have been given the chance to return. 

"Skinner wants our report on what happened in Freedom," Scully 
continued, nonplused by my silence.

I faced my partner, and the gentleness in her eyes only intensified my 
discomfort. "All I can tell you is that I came there with Jody and 
Spender. And then I woke up to find the town burnt to the ground, and 
my companions dead. Perhaps you'd better write this one."

"I will," she nodded easily. "And you have appointments to get re-
certified - so I guess our first day back will be shot."

I listened for a sign of strain in her voice and heard none. "Scully, don't 
you find it bizarre?"

"What?"

"I lose my sanity, threaten my supervisor with a gun, escape from a 
mental institution, participate in one of the most devastating mass 
killings... and then I simply go back to what I was before."

Her blue eyes watched me innocently, as if things like that happened 
every day and were perfectly normal. And a terrible suspicion settled 
inside of me - one that I couldn't voice - one that I couldn't escape. 

I'd never thought that I would come to this decision voluntarily. But 
apparently today was the day when I stepped over my love for my 
work, and my longing to be here - as Scully's partner, as an FBI agent. 
"I quit."

"Mulder, please, don't."

It was the softest whisper - and it would have been easier if she 
screamed at me in indignation. But the naked need and fear in her eyes 
left me powerless - and never more certain of the reason why I was 
given the second chance. "Scully, what have you done?" I kneeled 
beside her, making it impossible for her to escape. "Tell me - you can 
always tell me anything."

Her silence only confirmed what I was afraid of. "Scully," I repeated 
demandingly.

"You would have been prosecuted, Mulder. I - I would have to testify 
at your trial. You would have never been an FBI agent again."

"And it would have been right," I felt an urge to laugh at her words, if I 
could only get past the tears gathering in my eyes.

"No," she protested firmly. "The good that you will do while working 
for the FBI is immeasurable. I know that."

"What kind of a bargain was it? With whom?" I asked, knowing that I 
had to continue asking these questions in rapid fire, no matter how 
much it hurt to hear her answers, no matter how afraid I was of the next 
logical steps in this impromptu interrogation. 

"There was no bargain," Scully shrugged. "It was just a return of the 
favor."

I felt my shoulders starting to shake. I had no strength even to feel 
betrayed, for I'd lost the right to demand from others that which I no 
longer possessed: integrity. Only one terrible thought haunted me. 
"You asked for me to be reinstated in the X-Files when you could have 
asked for the chip?"

"I don't think they even had it."

I always won, haven't I? And the price that others were willing to pay 
for my victory was always more than I could handle. "Oh, Scully." 

She was silent for a long moment. "I need you to stay in the X-Files, 
Mulder," she spoke finally. "Please, stay with me."

After the eye of the hurricane, there always came the worst gust of 
wind, to blow away everything that one held dear.

My heart twisted, and I found myself nodding almost against my will. 
"Always."

* * *

Scully:

I left Mulder's apartment without a clear destination in mind. It seemed 
that my car had a mind of its own because by the time I noticed the 
street signs I saw my mom's white colonial house.

I tried to think back to the last time that I spoke to her and realized, 
with some annoyance, that I couldn't.  She was probably not very happy 
with me right now.  There was no good excuse for dropping off the face 
of the earth for a few weeks -- especially not to mom -- who felt shut 
out of my life enough and told me so periodically.

There was a reason why I was avoiding her - she was one of the few 
people who forced me to face myself.  I couldn't hide how I felt around 
her, and her soothing voice forced me to tell the truth, no matter how 
painful.  At least it'd been that way since the cancer.

I knocked on the door and stood a little straighter.

"Dana!" The door opened and Mom reached out to hug me tightly.  I 
felt the warmth behind her.

"Mom."

"Oh, I was getting so worried!" She backed up and smiled at me.  "I 
called and you never answered. I was afraid something had happened to 
you...but you look terrible, come in and sit down."

Mom always knew just what to say and before I could protest she 
ushered me into the living room and had me sit on the couch.

"You've lost weight. I could tell when I hugged you.  Are you feeling 
okay? Is it...?" she asked with some trepidation.

"No, I'm fine mom, really." I ignored the small voice that whispered to 
me about the missing chip.

"Oh, thank God...I have to ask you: where have you been these past 
few weeks?  Did it just slip your mind to call?  Did you forget about 
our Sunday luncheons?  I only ask that you call if you're going to be 
away on a case."

I was always amazed at how mom, like a chameleon, could change from 
loving concern to almost righteous anger in a matter of seconds.

"Mom, I can't explain, something came up suddenly, it was an 
emergency."

"You couldn't take five seconds to call me and inform me of your 
plans? Are you trying to shut me out of your life again?"

"No, it's nothing like that, honestly."

"Then what is it?"

"Mom...has someone you care about ever did something that is almost 
unforgivable?"

"Sweetheart, what happened? Did someone hurt you?" she held my 
hand lightly and looked me straight in the eye.

I was always a bad liar and couldn't even attempt to mislead her. My 
only chance was silence but before I could stop myself I'd already 
whispered, "He didn't mean to...I can't, I have to go..."

I knew she was looking at the healing scars on my hands and head.  
"Who hurt you?" It was hard to mistake the metallic edge of her voice.  
"Are you in an abusive relationship, Dana?"

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the question.  Mom had obviously 
been reading one of those family drama books again.  "No, it's nothing 
like that."

"Then what is it? Tell me."

"I can't."

"Dana, why did you come here?  You know you can tell me anything," 
she squeezed my hand as an encouragement.

She was obviously not going to leave this alone.  I couldn't decide what 
was worse, the truth or the made-for-TV fiction that mom had assumed.

I sighed softly and looked down at my fingers.  "Mom, did you see that 
report last week about the CDC going out to California for an 
outbreak?"

"Of course, all those bodies...it was on CNN for days.  Are you trying 
to change the subject?"

"No. I was there."

"How is that possible?  Everyone in that town was infected and died...it 
was horrible. Dateline just had a special with the families of the 
victims.  That poor little boy talking about losing his mom."

In my mind I heard Jody's scream and watched her fall.  Her blood ran 
out over my spread fingers and she pressed something into my hand.  
Then, her body went limp in my arms and her last words, her last 
words, her last words...I knew what I had to do.

"Dana?"

"I have to tell you something.  And you have to promise me you'll keep 
it a secret and never tell anyone."

"You can trust me, sweetheart.  You know that, I'll always love you no 
matter what happened."

It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps this was not a safe place. It 
could have easily been bugged. I stood abruptly.  "Let's go for a walk."

She nodded, a little confused and followed me outside.  "Now what's 
going on?"

I folded my arms and shivered lightly, the temperature was dropping.  
After looking around for a moment, I leaned towards her and 
whispered, "It wasn't a contagion."

Her eyes opened wide as she looked at me without understanding.  "But 
the news reports..."

"Were a lie.  I was there.  I saw what happened."

"Why were you there? Was it a case?"

"No.  Mom, something happened to Mulder a few weeks ago.  He 
wasn't himself for a while but he's fine now, we're all fine, everything's 
fine.  But he and I were there, and I can't tell you anything more. 
Just...that I'm very happy to see you again.  I love you, mom."  I 
reached out and hugged her, stopping her from asking any more 
questions.

"I love you too," Mom whispered in my hair and I bit my lip to keep 
myself from crying.

***

I drove to Jody's ex-husband's house as quickly as possible.  After both 
Mark's grandfather and mom died, the only family left was Mark's dad 
whose main contact with him had been through birthday cards and 
monthly visits. From what I read in the file, Jody's divorce had been 
pretty amicable and she only got custody because Mark's dad was the 
roadie for a band.  Now, there was no choice.  I knew that he left the 
tour early for his son.

There were several news vans parked on the other side of the street.  
The media was obviously not through with Mark yet.  But there was 
also a very familiar car parked out front and I resisted the urge to drive 
away. Our conversation at the apartment was the latest in a long line of 
steps to recreate our partnership.  But, trust would take longer to regain 
- if it was even possible.

I parked and sat outside for a few minutes.  I felt as if I had just 
returned from war and had to tell a fellow soldier's family their last 
words and give them a small token of remembrance.  Perhaps my speech 
in the car to Mulder wasn't so far from the truth.

The minute I stepped outside, a few news people accosted me.  
I wasn't sure what they thought I would say or what they hoped to 
accomplish. I brushed past them, barely registering their questions and 
hoping like hell that they didn't try to figure out my identity.

I pressed the doorbell and after a few moments the door opened 
slightly, locked with a chain.

"If I told you once...go away.  Leave him alone, damn vultures.  I told 
you we have nothing to say," the man said in a rough voice.

"Sir, I'm with the FBI," I held my badge up to the crack in the door.  
The door was opened reluctantly and I walked in quickly.

The heavyset bearded man wore a T-shirt and jeans.  His kind brown 
eyes were at odds with the skull and crossbones tattoo peeking out 
under a T-shirt sleeve.

"Sorry 'bout that.  They've been at it all week.  And I thought the media 
blitz surrounding the band was bad.  But hell, he's just a little kid.  
Thought maybe the Dateline interview would satisfy them.  Obviously 
not."

"I understand."

"There's one of you talking with him already.  I was assured that this 
was a strictly personal matter and there was no trouble.  I've heard 
about little kids being arrested for computer crimes.  And I'd have 
known if Jody was in trouble with the FBI."

"Right.  Jody was a friend of mine.  This has nothing to do with 
business."

He smiled sadly, "For a teacher, Jody sure had a lot of law enforcement 
friends."

"Can I talk to your son, Mr. Wald?"

"He's right upstairs, first door on the left.  But I know the law and if 
you're talking to him about anything other than..."

"I won't."

The stairs were carpeted and I was thankful that my heels were 
inaudible.  He wouldn't know I was coming.

I rapped on a door that had a sign which proclaimed in bright letters 
'Mark's Room - Stay Out,' and it was opened by Mulder, who didn't 
look surprised to see me.

"I heard you talking downstairs," he explained, closing the door and 
walking us down the hall a bit.  "I tried to call you, but your message 
service picked up."

"I left the phone in the car.  I haven't gotten a chance to check my 
messages.  Mulder, why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

I glanced up. "I have something to deliver, from Jody."

He nodded slightly and then covered his eyes with his right hand and 
let it drop back down to his side.  "I'm not sure why I'm here.  After you 
left, I just got into my car and started driving aimlessly.  I guess I was 
hoping for something unattainable."

"Which is?"

"Forgiveness."

"It's not your fault." I was starting to feel like a broken record.

"Saying it enough won't make it true."

"But it is true.  I know what happened - I know you're not to blame."

"No, I am.  I wish that you would let me feel this responsibility."

"But you're not.  I can't let you beat yourself up over something that 
you had no control over."

I stared at him, he stared back and then opened the door.  "We'll talk 
later."

Mark stood in the center of the room, his eyes puffy and his nose red.  

"Mark, it's Dana.  How are you?"

He gave me a 'how do you think I am look.'  "I miss my mom."

"I know you do."  I led him over to the bed and he sat down.  "Mark, 
I'm sorry about what happened."

"It wasn't fair. I loved her so much...how could God have taken her?  
And my grandfather...how?  I thought that when she didn't 
succeed...she would be back as my mom and now, she's gone."  He 
sobbed and I looked up to see that Mulder had exited the room.

"And now all these camera people keep coming around and I had to 
move schools and lost all of my old friends and it's hard to make new 
ones with people following me around."

"I'm sorry that you've had to go through this, Mark.  I came here to give 
you something."

"What?" he sniffled.

"Your mom wanted me to give this to you," I pulled something 
wrapped in paper out of my pocket and unwrapped it.  It looked like a 
charm, a gold and silver music note.

"Grandmother's music," he whispered reverently and held it in his 
palm.  His hands were almost as large as mine.

"Your mom loved you very much, never forget that," I whispered to 
him and awkwardly patted his head.

"Grandmother loved to play the piano.  This charm was a gift on her 
35th birthday from her daughter...mom always said that her mom 
considered it one of the best gifts she'd ever received," his eyes welled 
with tears.

"And now it's yours."

"Now it's mine," he said sadly.

A few minutes later I stepped out of the house to find Mulder leaning 
against his car looking at the cameramen.  

"Mulder?" I stood close to him.

"How can we let them get away with this, Scully? All those families -- 
their convenient lie about a disease.  I hate that the responsible parties 
are going unpunished.  How could you have helped them?" he asked 
softly.

"I explained why..."

"No, you didn't," he stepped into his car and, after a few moments, I 
went around and sat in the passenger seat.

"You should have let me die," he continued.  "Everyone's dead and I 
can't help but blame myself, regardless of what you believe happened.  
There's at least two days of my life that are erased from my memory.  I 
have no recollection of my actions during that time and yet I'm still 
alive while all the rest of them were killed.  How do you think I feel?  
And then I find out that you put your life in danger, made a deal...to 
save me," he trailed off. "I can't fight for the truth when I know that we 
are both liars.  I'm not leaving, I promised you to stay and I'm staying.  
But...I don't know how I can live with this feeling."

"Mulder, you survived for a reason.  We both did.  We owe it to the 
people that died to avenge their deaths.  The truth will out someday."

"How? Everyone's dead."

I scrambled for an answer, "Spender! His name wasn't on the list."

"You're sure?" a spark of the old Mulder returned. 

"Positive.  We can find out what happened to him."

He paused, watching the darkening sky. "They might have him."

I nodded quickly, "We're the only ones that know. The only ones that 
can do something about it."

"The chosen ones."

I flinched slightly at his words, and remembered when it all started, 
with Melora whispering to me that I wasn't chosen.  "We always are."  

"The price of life is guilt," he whispered and looked over at me.  

"Always," I nodded, understanding and knowing the pain of survivor's 
guilt only too well.

End of Part 8/9


Part 9/9

Epilogue

Spender:

All I saw was red.

It was an ocean of ominous color, bloody water that obscured my field 
of vision and followed me wherever I went.

Sometimes, I found myself trying to swim through it, but my arms and 
legs refused to cooperate with my mind. Sometimes, I remembered the 
last few days of my life and I hoped that I wasn't one of 'them' now. 
What if I didn't die, I considered, frightened to the core. What if I 
became a soldier of the greatest and least humane army to ever exist on 
the Earth?

I finally decided that I was in limbo, that peculiar place between heaven 
and hell where souls somehow got lost. I wanted to find my way out. I 
would try.

The passage of time here seemed insignificant. I concentrated my 
strength and chose the direction that seemed right. It was a long way, 
but I walked it relentlessly, and one day, or maybe it was night, I heard 
distinct human voices.

Their rumble was distant and I couldn't make out the words, but I was 
pleased to realize my efforts weren't in vain.

And one day, when my eyes opened and my gaze fell upon a graceful 
head full of red hair, I decided that it was her whom I heard before - her 
whom I'd caught a glimpse of prior to coming here.

"Welcome back," she grinned at me, not surprised. "Your father will be 
pleased to hear you're awake."

I was confused. "I'm not... I'm not dead?" I questioned, somewhat 
disappointed. For a moment, I was ready to believe that I walked 
towards heaven, and she was an angel sent to greet me at the entrance.

"You would have been if not for me," she replied seriously. "I found 
you among the wreckage that was Freedom, California. I couldn't leave 
you there."

"You went looking for something and you found me," I shook my head 
in amusement, but the simple movement caused the pain to radiate 
from the center of my chest down to every nerve ending in my body. 
The light moment was quickly forgotten in the haze of agony.

"Easy, easy," she laid her hand upon mine, cooing softly. "You're still 
weak from this nasty wound, and other injuries you've suffered."

"Who are you?" I squeezed through my teeth in between gasps of 
agony.

"Dr. Rosen," she introduced herself. "I work with your father. I will call 
him now."

I watched her slender silhouette, black-clad under the starched white 
coat, disappear in the hallway outside, and took stock of the room's 
interior.

A hospital, I decided with a slight smile. Heaven probably didn't offer 
IV drips and white bandages as equipment. 

The door opened, and my father stepped inside, his hooded eyes 
settling on my heavily. "Jeffrey," he sat down uncomfortably. A long 
pause followed. "I didn't think you'd make it. I'm very glad you did."

I watched him silently. His face expressed no joy, but rather 
satisfaction upon seeing me alive.

"From what I've heard regarding the events in Freedom, I could put 
together a picture of your actions," he ran a hand over his face. "I’m 
most regretful for the way I behaved previously. Clearly, it was your 
intelligence, your courage that saved us all."

I was ashamed to feel a measure of pride at his words. I owed him 
nothing. I ought to have told him to leave. Instead, I only whispered, 
haltingly. "It's all right, Dad."

"This second alien race," my father paused between each word as if it 
caused him great pain, "you are immune to their influence."

"Yes," I replied. The fatigue was threatening to engulf me, but 
suddenly this conversation, these minutes spent with him, were what I 
wanted most - more than rest, more than my own life. "I'm afraid that 
they will come back. Or that they never left," I shuddered involuntarily. 
This horror was destined to follow me forever now.

"That's why I'm so happy that Dr. Rosen was able to locate your body," 
he nodded. "When you get somewhat stronger, we will speak more on 
the subject. You should rest now."

He exited before I had a chance to reply.

That - that was the reason why he was happy that she'd found me? The 
tears of helplessness welled in my eyes, obscuring my vision until once 
again it was tinged in red. 

"Here is a Morphine drip," Dr. Rosen pushed a plastic button in my 
fingers. "If you're in too much pain, use it."

"Have they survived?" I asked her as she adjusted some instruments on 
the nearby table. "Mulder, Scully..."

"They're alive and working on the X-Files. Diana Fowley is dead." 

"Jody Larson?" 

"She was shot in the crossfire," she informed me as she approached my 
bed with a needle. "I need to draw some blood. We can finally start 
working on the vaccine."

I contemplated in horror as my red, thick blood entered the syringe. She 
did as she promised - it was a small amount, barely significant. But I 
imagined her - their - needs would grow exponentially.

"This is hell," I said as I felt the room narrow around me, confining me 
within its prison walls. Hell that my father agreed to subject me to. Hell 
that this redheaded demon was in charge of.

"Look at it this way, Jeffrey," she packed the syringe carefully. "You're 
contributing to the future. And humanity will always be grateful."

I wanted to hate her. I wanted to scream, call for help, and demand to 
be released. It would be of no use, but it would be my choice.

I wanted to never again feel the horror of those few days that I spent in 
California. I wanted to prevent all the new deaths that would rain upon 
this planet - and it would happen if I walked out of here now. I wanted 
for Jody's death to mean something.

It would be worth it if I stayed.

I fell asleep, reminding myself to tell my father that he was not the one 
subjecting me to this existence.

It was my choice.

* * *

Several months later

Scully

The elevator reached my floor, and I walked towards my apartment 
slowly.  It had been a long day, for numerous reasons, and all I wanted 
to do was curl up into bed and sleep.  

I reached for the door, and the knob turned easily.  Someone was in my 
apartment.

My instincts took over.  I leaned against the wall, holding my gun at a 
ready position and mentally counted down from five.

As I pushed open the door with the barrel of the gun, the creak echoed 
in the silent hallway.  No shots broke through the door.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the dark apartment.  "Federal 
Agent, I'm armed.  Show yourself with your hands up." I flicked on the 
overhead lights.

An unfamiliar person with short jet-black hair and green eyes turned 
towards me.  "Agent Scully?" he stood.

"Jack?" I blinked and backed up.  "What are you doing here?" I didn't 
lower the gun.

"Waiting for you," he held up his hands, unarmed.

I held the gun on him warily, "Why?"

He smiled slightly, "I have something for you," he reached into his 
pocket and pulled out a small glass container.  He handed it to me and I 
held it up to the light.

"The chip," I whispered softly, "Where did you get it?"

"It's not important.  I had to give it back to you.  I was incapacitated 
until now."

The motel room flashed in my memory, bringing back the pool of 
blood, the missing chip.  "How did you survive? I was sure that you 
were dead."

"They picked me up on their way out of town."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Diana and I were helping different people, different loyalties.  We 
both knew that you'd die without the chip and she didn't care.  I had to 
stop her from leaving.  I have to make amends for what I did to you that 
night, and allowed to happen."

"What do you mean?" I questioned him again.

"All those people died because I was too weak to stand with you - 
instead I made sure that you'd be safe."

"Why is my safety important to you?"

"I like you.  You're better than the people I deal with usually: honesty 
and goodness are the concepts you still respect. Even when the odds 
were against you, you still struggled and tried to save those people.  
Not many people would argue with Larson.  You tried to save his 
daughter and even after everything he did...you still wanted to save 
your partner.  I admire that.  Without this you'll die and you're 
necessary."

"But that chip, it allows them to control me," I watched him in mistrust. 
"How do I know that you're not working for them?  Not helping them 
track me again."

"You don't," he replied. "But I made certain, shall we say, 
modifications to the device, just enough to affect its effectiveness.  
They can't get their signals through anymore, but they won't realize 
that."

"How?"

"That's a secret, one which I'm not allowed to divulge. But, you can 
cancel that appointment with your oncologist tomorrow - you'll be 
fine."  He smiled slightly, then lowered his head and kissed the top of 
my hand.  

I staggered back slightly, too shocked to respond quickly - or to snatch 
my hand away.

"If you ever need a change of scenery and quit the FBI, give me a call," 
he whispered and pressed a thin piece of paper into my hand.

"Eric Brandom, dealer of fine antiques," I read aloud and stared up 
questioningly.

"New identity, check the address."

I flipped over the card. "Paris, France," I read aloud.

"Permanent relocation," he smiled.  "Promise me that if you ever get 
sick of bureaucracy and your life you'll give me a call.  I hear Paris is 
lovely in the springtime."

"I promise." It was an easy one, since my chances of leaving the FBI at 
this point were slight.  I knew my place and how important I was to it.

"Goodbye for now, Agent Scully." To my amazement he leaned over 
and kissed me gently on the cheek, and then walked out.

I curled up on the couch, the vial in one hand, his card in the other, and 
weighed my options.  There were so many possible choices and yet all 
signs pointed to one.  I walked into my bedroom and placed the card in 
the bottom shelf of my jewelry box.  Then I lay down and held the vial 
up to the light.  So much for so little.

I stared at it for a long time, waiting for some divine revelation that 
never came.

I opened the drawer near my bed and pulled out a large folder.  Inside 
were hundreds of photos, the victims.  I spread them out, a collage of 
regret and wasted life, on my bed.  There was Jody on the beach with 
her son, laughing. I found a picture of Leigh and Ted, his face haunted 
even then.  I noticed a husband and wife, two sisters, a vacationing 
family and then, the other victims, the ones who never reached 
Freedom.  The woman who killed her husband, the mother who killed 
her son and all the other uncounted and unnamed bodies.

The phone rang and I reached for it.

"How did your appointment go?"

"It's tomorrow."

"Oh, good night then."

"Wait, Mulder," I pulled my knees up to my chest, biting my lip. I 
wanted to tell Mulder about Jack, but for some reason, it didn’t seem 
right. It wasn’t. Jack was part of something that I should never have 
been involved with, a dark couple of weeks that would never fade from 
my memory. I made a decision quickly. "I just received a package in 
the mail.  No return address."

"Do you want me to come and look at it?"

"No, no, I'll bring it into work tomorrow. It's not ticking."

"Fine. I’ll see you then."

We never said goodbye to each other - still, I didn’t want to finish this 
conversation abruptly. "Mulder," I said. "There will be better dreams."

A long pause followed, and when he replied, his voice was filled with 
infinite gentleness. "I promise, Scully."

The End


Author’s Notes:

From Anna: (who goes first because she has shorter notes, he-he)

Science fiction had always been one of my favorite genres to read, but I 
was quite reluctant to explore it in writing. Yet, at the completion of 
The Second Ones, I can only say, "Whoa! It actually worked out!" 
Writing this story, especially from Mulder’s point of view, was 
increasingly difficult - from nightmares, to madness, to transformation 
into an alien of all things, to guilt. Spender parts were like ice cream in 
comparison. Perhaps, my only regret is the fact that Jack didn’t end up 
with Scully (yes, Rachel and every shipper in the room, feel free to aim 
and fire). Though he wasn’t my character, I liked him and wanted at 
least one of his wishes fulfilled.

 In completing this particular round of conspiracy sci-fi shebang, I must 
say that there are some people without whom this would have never 
worked out.

First of all, my dear co-writer: unrepentant noromo that I am, you made 
me fall in love with your Scully. Thank you for putting up with my 
idiosyncrasies during writing this story. No one will ever know just 
what you had to go through. Though originally we were about to write 
a summary such as "What happens when a noromo and a shipper start 
co-writing," I can honestly say now that this partnership was - great. If 
anything, this proves that two camps *can* co-exist in peace.

Second, I will bow to the wisdom and help of Danielle Leigh, who was 
our compass, therapist, and beta-reader all in one. In my eyes, you have 
a writing credit to this one. Ashlea, thank you for listening to all of my 
complaints and for being my co-writer on other stories - it kept me 
sane. You are a beta-reader from heaven, and the cover you made for 
our webpage is still the best out there. Amanda, thank you for 
providing an ear when I needed one, and for being a source of 
inspiration.

Third, to our editors. Teresa and Barbara, thank you for mapping the 
way through these monstrous chapters. Your contribution is invaluable. 
Thank you to everyone who contributed quotes and poems - it was 
perhaps the best feedback we’ve ever received" to know that we’ve 
inspired our readers to look for similar situations in real-world 
literature.

And thanks to everyone, absolutely everyone else that followed this 
WIP and encouraged us on our way to better dreams. This road would 
never have been as much fun without you.

From Rachel:

This story sure gave a different meaning to "take my breath away" 
didn't it?

Sorry about not having warnings about character deaths, but that would 
have taken away from the surprise :)  Also, "Incense and Peppermint" 
from part 2 is by Strawberry Alarm Clock, and is not mine.  The quotes 
mentioned in the story don't belong to us either.

About 9 months ago, I started a story of what I believed would be a 
series of letters between separated partners which instead 
metamorphosed into a conspiracy laden science fiction story.  I am also 
a huge fan of realistic science fiction and this story helped me to 
rediscover my love of reading them.  

Writing Scully in this story was an experience.  She went from total 
normality to dealing with insanity, murder, Mulder's disappearance, 
and helping CSM/Larson, going through unimaginable pain, finding 
bodies, meeting Mulder again and extreme guilt in a matter of days and 
it was physically hard to write some of the scenes about her reactions.  I 
actually had to force myself to write the "I don't want to see you again" 
scene in part 2.  Another hard scene was right after the breakdown in 
the hospital.  I was relieved when I got to write the Diana scenes, 
because she was colder and she was less affected by what happened to 
Mulder.  It's also fun to write not nice characters.

I am pleased by how everything fell into place: The partnership, the 
second race, the conspiracy elements, and the original characters.

And now, it is finished.  I can't believe it. After living with the story for 
so long, I never thought I would actually see the words: The End.  Yet, 
now it's over and it's time for the author's notes.

Many thanks are in order:

First, to my co-writer. Anna is truly a blessing - her twisted ideas 
pushed me to the edge of imagination and beyond.  Her 
characterization was perfect and the dreams haunted me long after I 
read them.  She put up with my attention to the tiniest details and 
rewrite after rewrite.   We learned to compromise about certain 
"relationship" elements, because, well, I'm a shipper and she's a die-
hard noromo.  But, I adored her Mulder.  I know the road wasn't always 
clear and the characters (especially Mulder) became hard to write, but 
her dedication never wavered.  I'm incredibly glad we wrote this 
together.

Secondly, to the Scully to my Mulder - or perhaps the Mulder to my 
Mulder, I'm not sure.  Ash knows how I feel.  She was always there to 
read a small scene, or whip my butt into shape, or provide a quick ego 
check.  She's also an uncredited co-author, since we share a brain and 
all.  After talking to her, my muse always got a jump-start and I was 
able to write.  Without her this story would have never been completed. 
Oh, and Scully doesn't run away with Jack, sorry :)

Next, I have to thank the analytical Danielle who jumped in around part 
8 and provided constant support and analysis, also some ego boosting.  
Her beta abilities are amazing and she saw things that I never even 
suspected.  I'm so glad that we were able to become friends.

Thanks to Amanda, my Mulder guru - even though she was mired in 
the most painful series known to man, she still managed to help me and 
find time to listen to me whine and also be a great friend.  Without her 
suggestions, I would have never been able to write chapter 19. 

And I must thank Jen, 'Nat, Cat, Sadie and everyone else who listened
to me whine about the story and just provided constant support.

Also, thanks to our editors: Barbara and Teresa.  Girls, you did an 
incredible job and thank you so much for taking the time to edit, 
critique and whip our sentence structure into shape.  Special thanks to 
Barbara, who I just adore and was always available to talk to and help 
me plot parts of the story and provide emotional support.

Finally, a huge thanks to everyone who supported us with feedback 
during this WIP.  Special thanks to the people who provided poetry and 
quotes.  Your dedication was a constant source of inspiration.  Each 
and every piece was treasured like water on a hot day.  I'm so happy 
that we were able to inspire so much creativity.

Any references in this story to any other stories or songs or whatever is 
completely coincidental or a homage, you decide.  Oh and this was also 
written way before Biogenesis, we thought of it first, Chris.

A huge thanks to everyone who climbed aboard and took this ride with 
us.


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