
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 an 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 continued . . .



