 Existence
Story by: Kristel St. Johns
Written by: Auntie Diluvian and Kristel St. Johns
Manitou Springs, Colorado
1:42 AM Mountain Standard Time
A middle-aged man peers out the window of his darkened living
room, glass of water in hand. The window directly parallels that of
the duplex across street, and through a gap in the curtains he can
see a flicker of movement.
"Honey?"
The man smiles as his wife walks out of the unlit hallway. "M'okay,
sweetie, didn't mean to wake you, just needed a drink," he says,
looking out the window again. "I thought I saw something over
there."
"Hmph. Probably a drug deal," the woman says sleepily, passing
him and fetching her own glass from the kitchen. "I mean, those
women give me the creeps."
"Which doesn't mean they're dealing. Besides, they've got babies,"
the man says as if that puts rest to the issue.
"Right, two women: living in a duplex instead of sharing living
space, each with a little kid, both of them too jumpy to be friendly
with the neighbors, and with weird guys going in and out all the time.
Nothing strange about that." She drinks her water and puts her
glass in the sink. "Even the babies give me the willies. There's
just something wrong about them." She tests the lock on the door
leading to the garage and, satisfied it is secure, heads back down
the hallway. "Come to bed."
After a last look outside, the man follows her into the bedroom.
* * * * *
Inside one of the duplex's garages, a man clothed in black fatigues
sits before a bank of video monitors, a headset covering his ears.
Through it, he receives radio reports from hidden and undercover guards
positioned strategically throughout the neighborhood and particularly
on that block. For lack of anything better to do, they banter back
and forth between themselves about what offenses they might have committed
to get stuck in their present assignment.
The monitors flicker with a series of images -- front yard, back yard,
living room, bedrooms. One bedroom where a toddler tosses fitfully
in his sleep, another bedroom where a young mother lies staring at
the ceiling, worry lines etched deep in her brow. Watched by her unseen
guard, Theresa Hoese tosses back the covers and pads barefoot into
the nursery to soothe her son's whimpers, curling her body protectively
around the child's.
The guard takes off his earphones and rises from his seat. "Damn
babysitting duty," he mutters discontentedly. Leaving his gun
on the table, he crosses to a battered coffee maker and pours a cup
of noxious, oily black brew from the chipped carafe. Unseen on the
closed-circuit screens, a slim, shadowy figure slides along the outside
wall of the house. Nimble black-gloved hands expertly cut the power
to the monitoring system. Inside, the guard startles and drops his
cup of coffee as the system crashes with brightly visible static;
he turns in time to see the monitors go dark. As the brown-stained
crockery shatters against the concrete floor, he rushes across the
garage for his weapon.
There is the muffled thud of a silenced handgun in the garage and
the guard falls to the floor, blood and gray matter splattering the
now-dark screens that mere seconds ago displayed the image of a mother
tenderly cuddling her child. Marita Covarrubias strips off her black
lycra hood and looks down at his body impassively, her pale eyes cold.
She picks up his pistol from the table and tucks it into the waistband
of her pants, then enters the house through the garage door.
A woman in flannel pajamas whirls to face Marita from where she was
getting a glass of water from the kitchen sink. The mother screams,
a brief, truncated sound that is abruptly cut off as Covarrubias lifts
her weapon and points it at her.
"Shut up," the blonde says coldly. "Listen to me--we
don't have a lot of time. They'll be coming for you soon. Get your
child and anything you can carry--we have to get out of here."
"Who are you? What do you want? Why can't you people just leave
us alone?" Beth Miles demands, babbling in a sudden rush of fear
and anger. "First you come and take us from our homes and put
us here where we're always being watched, and now you want us to go
with you in the middle of the night. I'm not doing that to her again.
Bailey and I aren't going anywhere until you give me some goddamned
answers!"
"There's not enough time for that now," Covarrubias replies.
"I will tell you what I can when you're safe. For now, just get
the child so we can take her out of harm's way."
"No. No! How do I know you want to protect her, coming here like
this?" She's sobbing now in rage and confusion, her words coming
in a breathless, disjointed tumble. From the bedrooms down the hall
the sound of a toddler crying can be heard. "I can't do this
anymore! How do I know you won't hurt her? I don't know if I can trust
you!"
"You can't," Covarrubias says calmly, and pulls the trigger.
Another muffled pop, and Beth Miles sags to the floor, a clean hole
through the middle of her forehead.
* * * * *
On the other side of the kitchen wall, in a mirror image of the kitchen
in which Marita Covarrubias and Beth Miles are having their fatal
confrontation, Theresa Hoese listens to the sudden end of Beth's hysterical
ranting. She presses a trembling fist to her mouth, and tears spill
down her face.
"No." she whispers. "No!"
She runs for the bedrooms.
* * * * *
Covarrubias strides purposefully down the short hallway to the bedroom
where Bailey Miles lies crying hysterically in her small bed. She
picks the child up, but it does nothing to calm the wails. Covarrubias
places the girl back on the bed and produces a hypodermic needle with
a very small amount of liquid already loaded in the syringe. She injects
the little girl and a moment later the cries subside as the child
lapses into unconsciousness. Marita wraps the drugged child in a blanket
and lifts her, turns out of the bedroom and down the hall.
Marita stops short as a black-clad, assault-rifle toting special operations
unit bursts through the front door. She doesn't say a word or shift
her burden as one man holds her at bay with his weapon. The others
ghost away to inspect the rest of the house.
"We've got two bodies on the deck, one in the garage, and apparently
the mother in the kitchen," they report back to the man facing
Marita.
"You got an explanation for this?" he demands as another
member of the team takes the unconscious girl from her arms.
"Yes," she replies. "There was a leak. The rebels'
support structure heard of our plans and were going to make a preemptive
move. I decided to get here first and secure the children before they
had a chance."
"You were only partially successful," he says flatly, grudgingly
lowering his weapon. "The other mother and kid are gone. What
about the leak?"
"It's being attended to."
* * * * *
Upper Manhattan
4:07 AM
Yoong Li, one of the inner circle of the syndicate Marita Covarrubias
built at Strughold's behest, is asleep in her bedroom. Troops similar
to those presently leaving the Colorado duplex burst into her lavish
apartment. They drag her out into the night, still in her satin pajamas.
* * * * *
FBI Building
Office of A.D. Skinner
4:15 AM
"I want it, Krycek."
"Not now, I have a headache."
The muscles along Skinner's jaw bulge as he grinds his teeth, frustration
plain on his features. "If you're being straight with us, you'll
play ball here."
"I don't feel like sharing my toys. Besides, you'd just make
a mess." White teeth flash in a grin, brighter than they should
be in the darkened office.
"Give it to me."
"What, so you can pound me whenever you like? I don't think so.
Besides, I still owe you for the bait and switch you pulled with Scully's
test results."
"Dammit, Krycek, give me the computer! If you're sincere about
wanting to help Mulder and Scully, then you're going to have to trust
that I'll work with you without holding a sword over my head."
Krycek scoffs, "You're not strong enough." The smirk on
his face vanishes, and his voice drops to its familiar rasp as he
stares at the older man. "You don't have what it takes to DO
what it takes to save the world. Mulder, Scully, Doggett, you all
want to do the right thing, to be the good guys, to save each other,
to save your loved ones, to save mankind. But when it comes down to
it, you won't do what's necessary -- without pause, without remorse
or regret. Your sense of moral rectitude will be the deathblow to
us all. You may want to save the world, but you won't sell your soul
to do it; those little nanites swimming through your bloodstream are
my insurance policy against your better nature."
Skinner doesn't blink. "You have no idea what I'm capable of.
I've bartered my soul for a lot less, for a single life."
"Then you've just proven me right," Krycek shakes his head.
"In the end, it'll be your sense of altruism and self-sacrifice
that will prevent you from doing what's necessary. You'll risk yourself,
but you won't forfeit other people." Skinner half rises from
his seat, anger radiating from him. Krycek waves his hand in a placating
gesture and smiles, "Not Mulder and Scully -- it's not a threat,
they're too important. But there are others, innocents who'll pay
the price for the salvation of humanity. It's not altruism that will
save the world -- it's simple self-preservation."
Skinner scowls at him. "We'll see."
* * * * *
The X-Files Office
4:27 AM
"Agent Doggett?"
Doggett looks up from what he's holding, his expression startled at
the sudden break in the early-morning silence of his office. The object
of his scrutiny is a clear plastic evidence bag that contains granules
of the stained and eroded concrete he found in the parking garage.
"Gene. Thanks for coming." Doggett puts the bag in his pocket
and rises, walking around the desk and perching on the edge to face
Crane. "I need you to do a little research for me on the QT.
I'd do it myself, but I've gotta work with A.D. Skinner and then get
something to the lab as soon as they open this morning."
"Is this an X-File?" Crane asks, as though surprised.
Doggett squints at him in puzzlement. "Yeah, an X-File,"
he affirms slowly, his tone puzzled. He adds, "You got a problem
with that?"
"No, man, no problem. Shoot."
"I need you to do a check on the names in these files--"
he hands the other agent a large stack of red-striped folders, "--specifically,
where these people are living now, what they're doing, and how many
of them have had kids in the last few years. You do that for me?"
"Sure. You gonna tell me what this is all about?"
"I don't have time right now. Just let me know when you've finished
these and I'll bring you more; call me on my cell phone, dunno exactly
where I'll be."
Crane nods. "I'll be up at my desk then."
Doggett releases a breath in a slow sigh as the agent leaves, then
calls after him, "I hope your kid doesn't have another game today!"
A deserted highway
4:30 AM
Mulder drives along the dark road, Reyes nodding off beside him in
the passenger seat. Scully sleeps deeply in the back. Mulder slows
the car and pulls into a gravel-covered road. The change in ambient
noise rouses Reyes.
"What are you doing? We can't be far enough yet." She strokes
her hair back from her face, peering through the windshield.
Mulder spares her a glance. "Did you rent this car?"
"Yes."
"Did you check your baggage coming from New Orleans?"
"Yes."
They round a curve in the path and the headlights suddenly illuminate
an old and anonymous-looking minivan, unlit and apparently vacant.
Mulder stops the car, starts unbuckling his seatbelt. "Leave
all your luggage here. Including your purse, your wallet, your credit
cards, anything with a magnetic strip. Even your badge. You'll get
everything back later."
Reyes has a protest forming, then shrugs and fishes in her bag. She
pulls cash out of her wallet and grabs her remaining pack of Morleys
and a lighter. She can hear Mulder waking Scully and helping the pregnant
woman to the new vehicle. As Reyes clambers out, the supposedly empty
van opens, revealing Frohike inside. He hops down after grabbing a
device off the bench seat.
"Mulder, the minivan's clean but we need to check you guys before
you go."
Scully blinks sleepily at Frohike as he runs the wand over her, and
thanks him when he's done before getting into the back of the van
and lying down. Mulder watches her, smiling slightly, then Frohike
gets his attention. As the hacker directs, Mulder holds his arms out
for inspection, spreads his legs slightly, turns around so his entire
torso can be checked, then bends down so the shorter man can test
the top of his head.
Reyes looks on, incredulous. "Whoa, I'm gonna catch the flu just
from watching these unhealthy levels of paranoia."
Frohike leers at her, "Your turn, tall, dark and lovely."
She rolls her eyes, spreads her arms. The wand buzzes when it reaches
her jacket pocket, and, frowning, she produces the cigarettes. The
finder goes off again when it sweeps over the pack resting on her
palm.
"Bingo! Danger, Will Robinson. Fork it over, lady," Frohike
says, the flippant words not matching the seriousness of his tone.
Once again Reyes starts to object, then gives in, looking chagrined.
Frohike crouches down, donning a pair of rubber gloves over his fingerless
ones, and thoroughly shreds each cigarette. In the back corner, in
the filter of the cigarette she'd normally get to last, is a tiny
electronic bug.
Reyes looks wistfully at the tobacco and tattered paper on the ground,
then grins at Mulder as he crushes the miniature beacon with his shoe.
She laughs softly. "I really was meaning to quit, anyway."FBI
evidence storage room
5:17 AM
"I don't get it."
Doggett is digging through files with Skinner and Krycek. They scan
the records taken from Dr. Parenti's office for traces of information
regarding Scully, any loose ends that might lead the colonists to
her child. A small pile of papers on the floor is testament to their
diligence.
"Assuming what you is say is true," the agent sends a disbelieving
glower at Krycek, "and aside from nonsense about aliens, viruses,
and miraculous spaceships, you and your, ah, cohorts have an army
of these superkids. So why are you so concerned with Scully and Mulder's
baby? Can't you leave 'em alone?"
Krycek answers, "That so-called army was never very big in the
first place, and what we've built is being systematically destroyed.
We lost over a dozen subjects with the destruction of the arctic base,
and the others are being hunted. The children who weren't engineered
-- Mulder and Scully's baby, and those of the other abductees -- are
really the only hope we have. But we have to keep them safe long enough
to grow up.
"The experiment with the Zeus Genetics fertility project was
a failure. The rapid maturation on top of everything else was simply
too much for their bodies. Too many were dying or needed to be destroyed,
even before the colonists went on the offensive."
"Needed to be destroyed?" Skinner asks, his voice deadly
cold.
"For their own sake -- they were suffering."
"How many?"
"Thirty percent," Krycek replies.
Doggett turns and lunges for the younger man, wrapping his fists in
the lapels of the leather jacket and pushing Krycek against a cabinet.
"Thirty per . . . you bastard. Those are children you're talking
about, not lab rats! You're creating those kids to protect your own
hide then disposing of them when they become a liability! I wonder
if I just turned you in, like for violating security at an FBI facility,
how safe you'd be behind bars?"
Krycek sneers. "I dare you to find a prison that can hold me."
"Don't you think it's time to come clean with the rest of it?"
Skinner demands, suddenly looming over Doggett's shoulder. "The
days of the smoking man doling out scraps of information and misdirection
as he saw fit are over, unless you mean to model yourself after him."
Krycek drops his eyes uneasily, but remarks, "I'm not as different
from him as I once thought."
"Step away, Agent Doggett."
As Doggett backs off, Skinner moves forward, continuing the threat
to Krycek simply by crowding the smaller man. Skinner's hand shoots
out towards Krycek's coat, but Krycek catches his wrist in midair.
"Ah ah ah . . ." Krycek warns him. "That device leaves
my possession and nasty things will happen."
Skinner flings Krycek's hand off and snarls in his face, "Either
you tell us the truth, or we leave you to your own 'devices' here."
"Is Doggett ready to deal with the truth? It took Scully the
better part of eight years to come around, and I don't have time to
wait while you break in your new token skeptic."
Skinner grimaces. "Talk."
* * * * *
As the minivan carrying Mulder and Scully and their precious cargo
passes through the night, back at FBI headquarters Krycek begins his
explanation.
The aliens were the first complex life form on this planet, millions
of years ago. They traveled from star to star, colonizing planets
long before our ancestors managed to crawl out of the primordial ooze.
This planet, however, was often inhospitable to the aliens. They nearly
died out during every ice age. Those who didn't abandon the planet
went dormant in their natural form: a virus, the black oil, which
was absorbed into the environment. Long after their bodies had turned
to dust, the oil held their genetic information. Or they were left
in the deep-freeze, in vessels buried under the polar ice-cap in the
Antarctic, ready to hatch out when the climate was once more hospitable.
And over the course of hundreds of millennia, mankind evolved.
The aliens returned in force to reclaim the planet in 1947, only to
find that someone had moved in; humans had taken over.
Normally when the alien life essence, the black oil, inhabits humans,
its purpose is to gestate, to create a new alien or to remanifest
an alien whose body has been destroyed. Except, all but the tropical
climates are uninhabitable for the colonists for at least part of
the year. In the more moderate latitudes, it's not warm enough for
them to gestate; the most the black oil can do is merely occupy and
control a human body. And in the more frigid regions, it can't even
do that. It will go dormant and break down in the person's system,
leaving them unaffected and autonomous. Even a fully adult alien will
avoid such low temperatures since they will go dormant before long
and eventually die.
This means that if the humans wished to survive, all they had to do
is move to the arctic and defend themselves from there. The aliens
needed a way to survive in the colder climes if their takeover was
to be successful. They needed an army that was human enough to survive
the cold, but alien enough to fight the remaining humans. An army
that could bring the humans to the equatorial regions for inhabitation
and gestation. The answer the aliens found was hybrids: a slave race
who could be controlled by the colonists without being consumed by
them. A renewable resource.
Western Pennsylvania
8:42 AM
Reyes drives the minivan along a dirt road. Scully is alert and tense
in the front seat, while Mulder sleeps in the back. Dawn has long
since lightened the sky, and now buildings are visible through the
trees.
"Where are we?" Scully asks Reyes, inadvertently waking
Mulder. He blearily looks around as she continues, "I mean, I
know we're in Pennsylvania but there are no road signs anymore."
Reyes gives Scully a tired smile as she stops the vehicle alongside
a dilapidated storefront. "It's someplace no one will ever think
to look for you, a place that has meaning only to me and one other
person -- it's a ghost town, ten miles from the woods where they found
Luke Doggett's body. It was an Amish settlement, but the soil got
tainted from the mining operations uphill from here that ran for the
better part of a hundred years. The people couldn't grow any more
crops and had to move. Luke's killer was able to elude detection as
long as he did because this area hadn't been inhabited in 30 years.
This old place isn't even on the maps."
Scully catches Mulder's eyes in her door mirror. "Gee, just the
sort of spot I always wanted to have a baby in."
Scully gets out of the car, stretches while rubbing the small of her
back, and starts walking towards the nearest house.
* * * * *
The aliens couldn't survive on the planet if the environment was
inhospitable to them, couldn't reproduce if the most they could do
was merely inhabit a host. And the human leaders were forewarned of
the aliens' existence, thanks to the crash in Roswell. Unless the
aliens delayed the humans until they were ready to colonize, until
the colonists had their army of hybrids ready, the humans would have
plenty of time to move forces to the arctic and prepare to defend
themselves. The Defense Early Warning bases were in part a reaction
to this; threats of tactical strikes from over the Iron Curtain were
only part of the reason the program was implemented. If the humans
established a resistance from there, it would be a standoff, and the
aliens would never be able to reclaim the planet entirely.
So they decided to stall for time, to negotiate with the human leaders
who knew about them, who eventually became the Consortium. The Consortium
was told the alien life force would merely inhabit the humans, control
them, make them a slave race. The aliens said that the only humans
who could remain autonomous would be alien/human hybrids, so if the
Consortium manufactured these hybrids for the aliens, the Consortium
would be allowed to co-exist, with their loved ones, as hybrids, side
by side with the aliens.
What they didn't tell the Consortium was that any human hybridized
enough to be acceptable would be susceptible to the aliens' telepathy.
The hybrids could be controlled and commanded that way. Manufacturing
the hybrids would keep the humans distracted, keep them from learning
the aliens' true plans for colonization. The Consortium would be focused
on their own survival rather than thoughts of resistance.
* * * * *
FBI Bullpen
2:24 PM
Doggett weaves around agents bustling with mid-day activity as he
crosses the busy room to where Agent Crane sits hunched over his computer.
The agent is surrounded by stacks of X-Files, their distinctive red
stripes visibly marking their status, and Doggett adds another pile.
"How's it going, Gene?"
Crane looks up, blinking at him as if in confusion for a minute, then
recovers. "Fine. Now. Had a problem with my computer that delayed
me until I.T. showed up this morning. Wouldn't accept my password;
had to have them reset it." He flips a folder open, turns to
the keyboard and taps a name into the enquiry field of a Social Security
database. "I'll have them done later this afternoon, but it's
slow going. A lot of these people are off the radar and it's been
tricky tracking them down. You still not going to tell me what's going
on?"
"Why you wanna know so badly?"
Agent Crane shrugs. "If I know more about what I'm looking for,
the more likely it is I'll find something useful. And it's not like
I don't have other stuff to work on."
"Yeah, well, I can't talk about it right now. Ask me later, when
there aren't so many people around, okay? I gotta get back to Skinner's
office."Office of A.D. Skinner
2:43 PM
Krycek continues his exposition, sprawled casually in his chair across
from Skinner and Doggett. "We're not the first planet the aliens
colonized, nor are we the first species they've attempted to hybridize.
The bounty hunters and the rebels are also hybrids, a combination
of the colonists and another species of alien. That species was enslaved
and exterminated as well. But they, too, built a resistance. They
contacted the Consortium independently, offering to help prevent colonization.
The Consortium decided not to side with the rebels, fearing the consequences
if the alliance was discovered by the colonists. The humans would,
instead, stand by while the rebels and the colonists fought it out.
"Most of the UFO crashes Mulder spent his career chasing after
were the result of battles that we humans were never aware of, a war
happening right over our heads." Krycek huffs out a laugh at
the Assistant Director and Agent Doggett, who are both looking overwhelmed.
"After all, is it realistic to think that the aliens are such
bad pilots that they can't fly their own ships?"
The one-armed man sobers, grimaces. "The Consortium had hoped
that the rebels' efforts would delay the timetable for colonization
and weaken the colonists, so that a human resistance would be more
effective. We'd have more time to develop a vaccine, more time to
study their technology, build better weapons. But there would be no
risk to the Consortium because there was no actual conspiracy against
colonization. Except, that is, for a few select members, who went
behind the others' backs to form a secret alliance with the rebels.
"Whenever we came too close to creating a successful hybrid,
a rebel was called in to disrupt the project, destroying the results
and the people working on it . . ."
. . . An abortion clinic in Scranton, Pennsylvania, 1994. The bounty
hunter spears a doctor in the back of the neck, watching impassively
as he dissolves into green froth. The alien rips a circuit box off
the wall and sets the clinic on fire . . .
". . . like the identical clones, who were an early and unsatisfactory
attempt at hybridization. Those clones were unable to survive in frigid
temperatures, and their identical natures made them a liability. They
did, however, provide a good, disposable workforce for other hybridization
projects. They could be killed off in job lots when they came too
close to success, and the rebels could be blamed for it."
. . . The alien bounty hunter, disguised as a Federal Marshal,
transforms as the door closes behind him in a federal stockade in
Tileston, Virginia. He faces cells full of clones identical to the
one he killed in the abortion clinic days earlier . . .
Behind his glasses, Skinner's eyes are bloodshot. "So, you're
telling me the alien bounty hunter is actually a rebel? That he's
been working contrary to colonization all along?"
"No," Krycek replies. "Not any more. Once, yes, the
shapeshifting beings Mulder and Scully knew as the bounty hunter were
actually rebels, working to undermine colonization. Most of their
early encounters with the bounty hunters were actually with rebels.
But then the colonists had a major victory against the rebels and
came into custody of a majority of the rebel forces. They infected
them with the black oil, making them automatons, slaves working for
the colonists now.
"The remaining rebels were compelled to disfigure their faces
to prevent the same thing happening to them. That necessity led to
them being unable to shape-shift. They could no longer easily assume
other identities as they had before, though the infected bounty hunters
could still do so. Instead, when the rebels needed to infiltrate someplace,
they were forced to disguise themselves by cruder means."
. . . In the house of a dead man in Silver Spring, Maryland, Jeffrey
Spender confronts a being who looks like a member of C.G.B. Spender's
syndicate. He reaches out and tears a skin-like membrane off the old
man's head, revealing a square, darkly tanned face with mutilated
eyes and mouth. As Spender stares in shock and horror, Krycek appears
behind the rebel and spears him in the back of the neck . . .
Northwestern Pennsylvania
The abandoned farmhouse is dim and dusty, but most of the windows
are unbroken. The living room is spacious and there is an old-fashioned
reclining couch, upholstery torn and dingy but otherwise intact. Mulder
pauses in his endeavor to repair the table leg to watch Scully enter
the room with a bucket of water and a disintegrating mop.
"Scully, put that bucket down, it's gotta be heavy."
"It's okay Mulder, it's only a gallon. Eight pounds." She
sets the mop in the corner, turning to survey the room. "This
is better than I feared. At least the water pump in the kitchen still
works, but I wouldn't drink from it of course. Still, it's filthy
in here and there's no hospital for miles." She casts an eye
at the tatty mop and wrinkles her nose.
Mulder puts the hammer back in the toolkit brought in from the car.
"There is no way I'm letting you clean the floor. Sit the hell
down before you drop that kid on its head in the middle of the room."
"Not very likely. I think we'll have some warning," Scully
retorts. She puts the pail down and stretches, rubbing her lower back
vigorously. "Does the word sepsis mean anything to you?"
Mulder quirks a smile, "C'mon, that's not going to happen, we'll
have you out of danger and in a hospital by the time . . . the time
comes."
Scully isn't buying it. "I'd feel a lot better if we're prepared
here, since OB wasn't exactly my specialty and it damned sure wasn't
yours. Where's Agent Reyes?"
"She's either checking the perimeter or running out for a pack
of cigarettes."
"You should check on her." At Mulder's hesitation, she adds,
"Not to worry, I'll be fine where I am."
"All right, but if I come back and find you with a mop in your
hands, I'll dump the bucket over your head." He crosses towards
the door, pausing to stroke Scully's hair away from her face.
She gives him a nervous, halfhearted smile. When he leaves the room,
her hand runs over her belly and her smile becomes a frightened grimace.
* * * * *
Mulder locates Reyes, who is indeed checking the perimeter. She turns
at his approach, asks, "How's Scully holding up?" The tall
woman is fiddling with the buttons on her coat.
"She's fine," Mulder's face is carefully blank.
The brunette woman nods, inquires, "How are you holding up?"
The agent is now attempting to chew her nails without actually biting
them.
His facade crumbles into a half grin. "I could use a cigarette
myself right about now, and I gave them up twelve years ago."
"I keep trying; too bad there isn't a drugstore around, I could
give those patches a go." She looks up at him. "What you
told me in the car -- they can look like anybody?"
"Yeah. One of them even impersonated me."
"Well, we've given them the slip now, at least."
"Possibly," Mulder answers, unmollified. "I don't know
if anywhere is entirely safe."
"We can hope, I guess. I assume you don't really believe that
we'll be left in peace?"
Mulder shakes his head. "Just be prepared, like I told you. I
know it sounds fantastic but trust me, it's all true." He scans
the trees again. "Look, I've got to get back. It's not a good
idea to leave her alone right now. Besides, she's likely to try and
clean if I don't make her stop. I think the rustic setting is getting
to her."
"Well," Reyes says, "I'd love to help with the women's
work, but sorry, Miz Scahlett, I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin'
no babies.
Mulder takes a deep breath. "I went through Lamaze but they were
teaching us how to pitch, not catch. We've got the first aid kit and
Scully's bag of supplies but the only thing I can think of is what
they do in the movies." At Reyes' quizzical look he explains,
"Go boil some water."
Reyes chuckles, then sobers. "I'll keep checking the other buildings
and see if I can find anything by the way of linens, maybe rip up
some sheets like they do in those movies -- just in case."
* * * * *
Office of A.D. Skinner
Doggett looks sceptical. "So the shapeshifters got taken over
to the colonists' side. Then what?"
Krycek's voice is getting harsher with use. "The struggle between
the colonists and the rebels escalated. The rebels gave up the guerilla
attacks and started mounting actual offensives like the torching of
abductees at Skyland Mountain and Ruskin Dam in 1998. At that point,
the rebels' activities became fully known to everyone in the Consortium,
not just those who had been abetting their attempts to undermine colonization.
Fearing that the rebels' actions would prompt the colonists to accelerate
the colonization timeline, the Consortium -- all of them -- saw no
choice but to align themselves against the rebels.
"The secret alliance between the isolated members of the Consortium
and the rebels was broken. That's when the rebels infiltrated the
Consortium's organization, stole the alien fetus and abducted Cassandra
Spender."
. . . An old man -- the same old man whose face Jeffrey Spender
would eventually rip away -- sits in a leather chair in the dark sanctum
of the Syndicate's offices in New York City. He argues with other
members of the committee to side with the rebels. Krycek responds
harshly, mercilessly, telling them they're too late to change their
course, only to be cut off and receive a warning glower from C.G.B.
Spender . . .
Skinner looks tired but determined. "Why? What did they think
they could accomplish?"
"To engineer an alien/human hybrid capable of not just resisting,
but actively fighting the aliens, which brings us full circle to what
I told you earlier. The rebels tried engineering the needed abilities
into grown adults -- into abductees, because they were easy to track
and had a personal stake in the fight -- and nearly killed the subjects
in the process. When that didn't work, they tried to create children
instead. But the engineered children are a bust, which means there's
one hope left: the children that occurred by accident."
Skinner's eyes widen in comprehension, and Krycek nods. The younger
man's voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but strong. "Like Scully's
baby, who might very well end up being the savior of humanity, if
we can keep it safe long enough. You see -- right now, Mulder and
Scully's baby is the only one They don't know about yet, the colonists
and the people still working with them. And we have to keep it that
way."
FBI Bullpen
5:25 PM
Crane looks up from his monitor as Doggett approaches. The crowd in
the bullpen has thinned out to a few remaining die-hards. "So
what's this all about, anyway?"
Doggett looks around, takes in the distance of the other agents and
says quietly, "Ah, someone appears to be targeting these alleged
abductees and their children -- perhaps specifically their children
-- and it's possible they might be targeting Scully next."
"Is Scully in protective custody?"
Doggett replies, "Yeah, she's gone into hiding, with --"
He is interrupted by the arrival of several agents bearing cups of
coffee. Their eyes slide over to Doggett in curiosity as they seat
themselves and boot up their computers. Doggett grimaces, then takes
half of the files that Crane hasn't researched yet. "Look, I'm
gonna go down to the X-Files office and work there. Let me know when
you finish. And uh, don't mention this to anyone, okay?" He tucks
the files under his arm and leaves.
Northern Pennsylvania
9:26 PM
Dusk has settled, turning the abandoned farmhouse shadowy and dark.
Candles on the table flicker as Mulder and Reyes eat quietly. Scully
sits in a chair across the room, facing away from the light, a blanket
over her shoulders like a cape. From the back, it appears she's asleep.
Neither Reyes nor Mulder sees her rubbing her stomach, sweating and
panting lightly, nor do they hear as she whispers, "Hail Mary,
full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou amongst women
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our dea--" Suddenly,
the hands on her belly clench into white-knuckled fists and she bites
her lip hard, but makes no sound.
Reyes sends a glance towards the redhead, and Mulder's gaze follows.
Reyes swallows, murmurs, "How's she doing?"
Mulder, equally subdued, answers, "She's finally managing to
get some rest, but I'm worried about her. I think she's not doing
as well as she's letting on." Mulder pauses, chews another bite
of food, then puts his fork down. "I've changed my mind -- I
think we need to get her to a hospital, or at least closer to civilization."
The brunette woman stares at him, speechless for a moment, then collects
herself. "Do we have any hope of protecting her in a public place?
Can we take the risk of endangering bystanders? Won't a hospital be
the first place they'll look for her? What about --"
Mulder puts up a placating hand, whispers intently, "It doesn't
matter -- we'll deal with all that if it becomes necessary. Here,
we have no hope of helping Scully if something goes wrong, and she
won't be in a position to give us instructions. I can't risk losing
them," he finishes bleakly. He looks down at his empty hands,
then reaches in his jacket pocket and draws out a set of keys. "I'm
going to get the car."
Reyes sighs, nods. "I'll pack up --"
"You can't," Scully interrupts, her voice sounding tired
and strained. "It's too late," she concludes, and Mulder
crosses the room to step in front of her chair and look at her.
"How long?" he asks.
"The contractions started a little after noon," she answers
as Mulder and Reyes stare at her, horrified. "They're about two
minutes apart now."
FBI Headquarters
10:20 PM
Doggett exits the elevator, frowning at his watch. He approaches the
bullpen, taking in the empty desk where he left Agent Crane. He catches
the eye of one of the agents still working late. "Did you catch
when Agent Crane left?"
The other man furrows his brow, says, "He was out of here a couple
of hours ago, haven't seen him since."
"You sure? I'm --"
Doggett is interrupted by the chirp of his cell phone. Striding towards
the hallway, he answers the call. The voice that replies is unfamiliar,
feminine.
"Agent Doggett? This is Jody Crane, Gene's wife. I . . . I may
be overreacting, but . . . Gene said to call this number if I wasn't
able to find him."
"What do you mean, not able to find him? For how long?"
"He never came home last night, I can't reach his cell phone,
and he hasn't answered the email or voicemail messages I left. I haven't
called the Bureau yet, but it's been over twenty-four hours now, and
he was so adamant I call you . . ."
"I'll have to get back to you," Doggett states tersely,
then turns the phone off. He takes off at a run, followed by the curious
eyes of the agents in the hall.
Northern Pennsylvania
11:17 PM
Scully hunches forward on the couch, her features contorted as a cry
escapes her lips.
Mulder coaches her, seated between her legs and rubbing the nape of
her neck as she pushes, holding her hand during the deepest contractions.
He wipes her reddened face as she leans back and pants.
Across the room, Reyes sits tensely in a chair next to the door. Her
eyes flick back and forth from the other woman to the road outside.
She clutches an awl from the toolkit.
Mulder's voice is soothing as Scully comes down from another crescendo
of shuddering. "C'mon Scully, there you go, okay, breathe. Remember
what they said in class -- don't hyperventilate; we don't have any
oxygen here and if you're not getting any, the baby isn't getting
any. That's right, relax . . . they're less than a minute apart now."
Mulder checks his watch, then reaches down, biting his lip. A moment
later he withdraws his hand. "If I'm checking this right, you're
fully dilated; just keep pushing when the next one comes."
Scully screams as the latest contraction wracks her body, much sooner
than expected. Her face contorts with agony, and his knuckles crack
under the strength of her grasp. He pulls his hand free as the contraction
subsides, but another one arrives on its heels.
"C'mon, Scully, PUSH!" he yells as he helps press her knees
back to her chest. As her wail fades, Mulder looks at his watch again,
then there is a blinding flash of light. When his eyes clear, the
time reads nine minutes later.
Reyes is blinking, still holding the awl but looking confused. Scully
yells again as Mulder shouts to Reyes, "No one comes through
that door! Remember what I told you. You know what to do!"
Above Northern Pennsylvania
Skinner, Doggett and Krycek sit tense and silent as the Forest Service
helicopter speeds smoothly over the treetops. Outside, the moon sheds
a dim light over the forest below. Ahead, a clearing is visible, buildings
jutting out of the ground.
A sudden jolt shakes the craft. The helicopter pitches to the side,
and the three men slam hard against their restraints. The pilot spews
curses into their headphones as he tries to level the helicopter.
Alarm systems screech, audible even over the noise of the blades,
and the entire console lights up red.
Krycek yells, "They're already here! We need to land NOW!"
Northern Pennsylvania
11:28 PM
Reyes rushes out to the porch in time to see a figure emerge from
the shadows. Awl tucked into her belt, she draws her gun. "Federal
Agent! Identify yourself!"
The man holds up a badge and raises his other hand in the air. "Agent
Gene Crane. Agent Doggett thought you could use some help, someone
you could trust." A baby's cries from inside the building distract
him, and he looks curiously towards the doorway.
Reyes steps aside, holstering her gun. "After you," she
says.
As Crane passes her, she raises the awl, swinging for his neck. Just
as she brings it down, he spins around and pins her to the porch wall
by her throat. The awl pierces his shoulder and green fluid hisses
around it. Reyes begins to choke. Crane's features shift, becoming
those of the bounty hunter.
* * * * *
Inside, Mulder finishes wrapping the squalling baby in a blanket and
hands him to Scully. Her face is pale and clammy, her lips bloodless.
She checks the tied off umbilicus with trembling hands, then struggles
to leave the couch while pulling a blanket around her waist. Mulder
catches her by the shoulders, pushing her back down.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"We have to get out of here," she gasps, struggling against
his hands. "We have to get him away!" Her voice breaks on
a sob.
"You still have to--"
"There's no time!" She moans with another contraction, this
one far milder than those of the delivery.
"Scully, dammit, you'll bleed to death if you get up now!"
"Then take him," she whispers, pushing the baby toward Mulder.
"He -- They won't harm me if they're only after him."
"No, Scully -- don't ask me to . . ."
"Mulder, you have to! Please!" she whispers, tears rolling
down her face. "You have to protect him. They can't have him.
Please -- don't let them take our baby!"
Mulder's jaw clenches, his eyes closing in agony before he clutches
the still-crying baby to his chest. He moves towards the back door
of the farmhouse, his eyes never leaving where Scully lies, her head
falling weakly against the back of the couch.
The door slams open and the bounty hunter stalks into the room. Scully
moans a denial while Mulder rushes back to her. He shoves the baby
into her arms and pulls his gun, standing between her and the alien.
Scully struggles to her feet and stumbles towards the door.
Mulder looks at the weapon with desperation in his eyes. The green
stain on the bounty hunter's shirt from a wound already closed is
a reminder of the futility of the firearm. Mulder tosses the gun towards
Scully and charges the bounty hunter, grappling with the alien desperately.
Mulder is thrown into the wall and falls to the floor in an awkward
heap, unconscious.
The bounty hunter advances on Scully, who backs away on wobbly legs.
She picks up Mulder's gun, but it is no more use to her than it was
to Mulder. If she shoots the alien being, the toxic gasses from the
new wound will endanger the baby. She backs into a wall and sinks
down, shielding the baby with her body and covering his face with
the blanket, trying to limit his exposure to a new release of fumes.
Scully aims the gun with a trembling hand.
"I won't let you take him," she vows as the bounty hunter
looms over her. "Even if I have to die to protect him."
"Then you'll die," the alien replies indifferently.
Scully's finger squeezes down on the trigger. She sucks in a breath
and tries to hold it, attempts to steady the shaking of her gun, closes
her eyes and fires. The bounty hunter collapses and begins to dissolve
harmlessly, as Scully gasps in shock.
Directly behind the slumping form, Krycek stands, holding one of the
switchblade-like gimlets. A bullet hole is evident on the left sleeve
of his leather jacket, splinters of flesh-colored plastic visible
through the tear. Scully stares at him in amazement, and slowly lowers
the gun.
Skinner pushes past Krycek into the farmhouse, sees that Scully is
unharmed, and turns to Mulder who is just coming to. Doggett appears
in the doorway, carrying Reyes. The swelling around her eyes is brutal.
Skinner, supporting Mulder, looks at Scully and Reyes. "We've
got to get to a hospital, immediately. Back to the chopper."
Krycek holds out his hand to Scully and she takes it, letting him
help her to her feet.
St. Luke's Hospital
Bethlehem, Pennsylvania
Mulder walks down the hospital corridor with a cup of coffee and a
sack of fast food. The Lone Gunmen emerge from Scully's room as he
approaches.
"Hey, it's the proud papa," Frohike declares. He and Mulder
do an intricate series of handclasps, grinning.
Langly pulls a face. "William? Dude, you couldn't come up with
anything more original than that?"
Mulder says, "Hey, original isn't all it's cracked up to be,
Ringo."
Byers clears his throat apologetically. "We're sorry for the
intrusion, we just had to see it for ourselves."
Mulder gently smiles at the bearded man, then at the others. "I
know, I'm still having a hard time believing it myself."
The Gunmen take their leave and Mulder enters the hospital room.
Scully is sitting up in bed, holding the baby and looking beatific.
She smiles at Mulder and scoots over so he can sit.
Mulder tells her, "I brought you some decent food, if hamburgers
and fries qualify as decent." He puts the meal aside on the bedside
table and looks down at the mother and child, absorbing the image.
"They almost took him from us," Scully murmurs, the tender
tone of her voice at odds with the gravity of her words as she stares
lovingly at the baby.
Mulder climbs onto the bed and takes the baby from her, murmuring
to him when he starts to cry. "I know. We have to decide what
we're going to do."
"How is Agent Reyes?"
"She'll recover." He sighs, pauses to stroke William's cheek.
"They found Crane's body in the trunk of his car. He had three
children," Mulder says solemnly. "We have to get out. There
are others to carry on where we left off. We have a new mission now.
We can't take the chance of exposing William to danger -- even if
it means leaving the truth behind."
"Maybe," Scully answers cryptically. "But maybe not.
Maybe the truth has been in front of us all along." She leans
towards Mulder, kissing him sweetly, briefly.
Mulder puts his other arm around Scully's shoulders, holding her as
they admire their child.
* * * * *
Starlight Roadside Motel
Brigham City, Utah
Theresa Hoese paces inside the shabby motor lodge, sunlight barely
filtering in through the tightly drawn, ratty curtains. Her son plays
with plastic blocks on the floor between the two full-sized beds with
threadbare covers. The air conditioning unit rattles and wheezes valiantly,
trying to produce enough cold air to ward off the heat, but perspiration
dots her face. Her mouth is drawn in a tight, nervous line and her
forehead crinkles anxiously as she rubs her temple.
Suddenly, she feels something pulling at the hem of her shirt, and
she turns around to see her child is standing, using her leg to support
himself. She smiles sadly and scoops him up into her arms, holding
him tightly, her face buried in his soft, sweet-smelling neck. The
toddler struggles and pulls back in her arms, reaching out with one
small hand to touch her face. Theresa goes inhumanly still, her expression
transforming from the stress and worry of moments before to calm joy
as something passes between her and her son though their contact.
When she moves again, she is staring at him in adoration and amazement.
The door of the motel room crashes open, revealing men with automatic
weapons. Behind them stands Marita Covarrubias.
"NOOO!!!!" the young mother screams. The baby starts to
cry.
To be concluded. . .
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