TITLE: 'The Beginning And The End' (parts 13-15 of ??) AUTHOR: XSketch (XSketch@hotmail.com) WEBSITE: http://thesketchfiles.bravehost.com DISCLAIMER: See part 1 for all disclaimers. --------------------------------------------------- BILL SCULLY RESIDENCE SAN DIEGO "I know...I'm sorry," Margaret whispered. "I try not to let it take me over...Try not to think about it as much as I do..." She paused and moved - almost robotically - from the kitchen into the living room, with Bill not far behind. "I just wish we could have made up for what we missed over the last couple of months...I find myself wondering what she would be thinking and feeling and doing if she were still alive..." XXXXXXXXXXXXX "So, I've been thinking--" "Mulder! That's the second time within the last ten minutes!" Scully exclaimed, eyeing him with a raised brow. "You wanna, maybe, rest that brain for a little while?" "Ah...I gotta keep it active so that I can use my witty charm to keep you alert whilst you're driving," he retorted with a smile. "You know, what with this being a pretty foreign experience for you." "Well," Dana breathed with a slight shrug, "I wouldn't exactly say that...I've had plenty of experience over the past year--" She cut herself short and a cold silence filled the tense atmosphere in the car as they both sat stiffly still in their seats and stared straight ahead through the windshield. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Bill stared at his mother, unsure of what to say as she sat down on the couch. His bull-headed stubbornness was telling him that Dana would still be alive if she hadn't run away with Mulder, but deep down in his heart he knew that with her partner was where she had desperately wanted to be and where she would be happiest...He couldn't deny her what she wanted after all she'd been through... XXXXXXXXXXXXX Knowing they were really on borrowed time, Yves Adele Harlow looked from Reyes to Doggett and then back again, hoping one of them would answer her question very soon. "You don't trust us, do you?" Jimmy queried, noting the worried expression on both agents. Doggett glanced at the man sitting beside him. "It's not that..." he started, dubiously. "We're not supersoldiers. We're just trying to help," Harlow firmly stated. "It's what the Gunmen would have done," Jimmy added, lowering his head for a moment. They believed them...even had some trust invested in them, yet John and Monica were still reluctant to tell them where Maggie had gone. "Oh...Oh crap..." Kimmy suddenly cursed almost under his breath. All faces sharply turned to stare at him intently. "There's some cop snooping around outside," the spectacled man explained, pointing at the surveillance display on the screen of his laptop. Yves turned back to face Reyes and quickly slipped a small piece of folded paper into the agent's hand. "This is the information we needed to pass on to Mrs. Scully. Memorise it and then *completely* destroy this paper," she hastily ordered just seconds before a uniformed cop slid open the side door of the bus and stared incredulously at the five people practically huddled together inside. "What the hell's going on here?" the officer asked, focusing his attention on the laptop computer Kimmy had sharply folded up. Doggett quickly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his ID badge. "Special Agent John Doggett with the FBI," he stated firmly, stepping out of the vehicle. "This is my partner Monica Reyes." Reyes reached for her own ID (discreetly slipping the piece of paper Yves had handed her into the inside pocket of her coat at the same time). "We're currently carrying out an undercover exercise," John went on, staring at the shorter, uniformed man, "and you're putting months of intense work in jeopardy by..." He paused as he struggled to think of how to finish. "You had no reason to investigate this vehicle, officer, and you're presently putting us in great danger of being exposed," Reyes helped out. The cop (likely a rookie) looked quizzically at John and then Monica. "I watched four people all jump in the back of a Volkswagen bus and then failed to observe any activity after that, ma'am," he warranted, nodding toward the other three that still huddled together beside Reyes. "To the best of my knowledge you could have been selling drugs...You still could be--" "Well, congratulations on your observation skills, but we're not, so why don't you move on before you completely ruin this operation for us," Doggett grumbled. The officer eyed them all one last time, then nodded once and walked away. Doggett and Reyes sighed a breath of relief and glanced at each other before turning back to stare at Kimmy, Jimmy and Yves. There was nothing more to be said, though, so they silently smiled their thanks and walked away also. XXXXXXXXXXXXX ROCHESTER, MINNESOTA As the traffic stalled yet again four minutes after deadly silence had fallen in their SUV, Scully glanced at her partner's stoic face (which was still staring straight ahead) and then down at the hand he still clasped hers in. She felt as if her jokey quip had backfired, but at the same time the only person it seemed to be hurting was her. "Mulder..." she started, shakily, waiting for him to turn to face her. He didn't move a muscle. "Mulder?" she tried again with no success - as if he couldn't hear her. "Mulder, I didn't mean...I didn't mean that spitefully...I just..." Her voice trailed off as she watched his eyelids slowly slip shut and then his head slightly lower. She was unexplainably a little surprised, though, when his hold on her hand tightened instead of the opposite. "It was a joke...I--" Scully was cut short as he suddenly turned in his seat and pressed a tender finger against her lips. "Shhh," he whispered, staring deeply into her eyes. "What's it gonna take for you to believe and listen to me when I say that our future starts *now*. Forget the past year ...It was painful and difficult, but that's part of our old lives," he told her sincerely as a small smile started to grow on his face. "We gotta learn to be able to laugh at those times - unless, of course, you're suddenly gonna reveal that you hooked up with the pizza guy while I was away...As for your driving, it's nice to know that my absence gave you a reason to learn a new skill." Despite the instinctive desire to slap him, she closed her eyes and let out a small breath of laughter. "Anyway, what I was thinking," he continued, still staring at her, "was that I think the Yankees are due for a game at the Metrodome within the next couple of days or so and maybe it'd be nice to make a detour for our own reasons instead of just to avoid getting caught and go see the game while we've got the chance. What d'you say? ...Unless, of course, you wanted to get to our new home ASAP?" She opened her eyes to find herself looking at the puppy-dog, pleading-lost-boy expression on his face. It was obvious that there was only one answer he wanted to hear, and it was the same one she wanted to give, but... "Is that a safe idea, Mulder? I mean, a baseball game? Isn't it a little too soon to be showing our faces in such a public place?" she inquired with a hint of sadness in her tone. "There's never gonna be a 'right time'," he replied, "but a place as crowded as a ballpark is probably the best place to blend in." A short pause. "Besides, we're not 'Mulder' and 'Scully' anymore, are we 'Paula'?" The only thing she could think of to do in response was give an agreeing nod and a toothy grin, which elicited a squeeze of her hand by him. XXXXXXXXXXXXX 5:33pm EST Watching Doggett and Reyes walk away from the van that had once belonged to the Lone Gunmen, Billy Miles stepped out from behind a tree and purposefully marched toward the parked vehicle, but just as he was within a matter of only several feet away from it a dark haired woman quickly got into the front seat and drove off. Angered, Miles stopped dead in his tracks and watched the VW disappear into the distance before slowly turning his head to stare over his shoulder at the backs of the two FBI agents. XXXXXXXXXXXXX J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING "He's back?" Peter Bryant cast a cautious glance around the empty office and then turned his attention back to the voice that was talking to him down the phone line. Two and a half weeks ago the group he was a member of (fighting against the set date of colonisation) had sought out someone who believed in the same thing Mulder and Scully had but could also be used to share any information Doggett and Reyes gained. The group hadn't heard anything back, though, and on further investigation they had discovered that their double- agent had disappeared...until now. "Send him to Skin--...Send him to my office straight away," Bryant sighed before slamming the receiver down and then using the now-free-hand to irritably rub the protrusions on the back of his neck. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Just as he was opening the driver's side door, John Doggett suddenly paused and rested his right arm on the roof of the parked rental car. "John?" Reyes asked with concern, staring at his distant expression. He looked over at his partner, but didn't say anything for another ten seconds. "Something's bothering me, but I don't know what," he grumbled, angry with himself for not being able to pinpoint the source of his discomfort. Instead of laughing or questioning him further, Monica nodded slightly. "I get the same feeling...Mulder must know how dangerous it would be to try and contact Dana's mom - especially so soon after they left..." Drumming his fingers on the car roof, John let out a deep sigh as he glanced back in the direction they had come from. ...That was when he saw the figure steadily moving toward them. "Shit!" "Maybe it's just the fortnight's stress catching us up," Reyes commented, not noticing the worried look on Doggett's face. "Maybe--" "Get in the car!" "What?" "*Get in the damn car!*" he barked at her again with a lot more urgency. "It's Billy Miles!" Monica gave one glance over her shoulder and needed nothing more said to her as she saw the supersoldier that she'd come face-to-face with on the night Scully had given birth in Georgia a year ago. XXXXXXXXXXXXX The sound of the ringing doorbell came as a surprise, but it was a surprise that sent a chill of fear running up and down Brad Follmer's spine. He had been back to work since his encounter with Monica, Agent Doggett, Deputy Director Kersh and two other people he couldn't remember the names of, but he'd had little interaction with others, and his house had received no visitors up until now. He shakily made his way to the heavily bolted front door with his service weapon drawn, but found himself ten times more surprised (if not completely befuddled) when he saw who the visitor was through the fish-eye peephole in the wooden door. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "What the hell's he doing here?!" Reyes shrieked, slamming the car door shut and then shifting in her seat ever so slightly so that she could tug at the seat belt to strap herself in. "I don't know, but I don't intend on sticking around to ask him!" Doggett replied, quickly putting the car key into the ignition. The engine turned over several times, but refused to start. "...John?" Monica shot her partner a nervous glance and then looked out through the window beside her at the approaching figure. Again, Doggett frantically tried the engine with no luck. ~~~~~ Billy Miles stared at the stalled vehicle and the panicking figures inside as he steadily closed the distance. It was time to tie up some loose ends. Standing at the car's side, he effortlessly smashed the passenger-side window and then wrapped his hand around the front of Reyes' throat (slightly lifting her off the seat she sat on) - enjoying the sound of the strangled cry that the action dragged out of her. "Hey!" Miles looked over his shoulder to face the source of the sudden exclamation with cold eyes. "Step away from the vehicle!" the rookie cop that had questioned the two FBI agents earlier ordered, grabbing a hold on the supersoldier's left arm. Billy's grasp released Monica and then sharply redirected to clamp around the uniformed man's neck. Desperate to help the officer but also knowing that he would be powerless against the human replacement, Doggett let out a guttaral "*Come on!*" as he tried the engine again - relief letting his body relax as the vehicle roared to life. With one last glance at what was happening outside and then at his partner, who sat desperately gasping for breath in the seat next to him, he put the car in gear and stomped his foot down on the accelerator as hard as he could. "...J...J..." Reyes tried to splutter, aimlessly waving out a hand to try and get his attention. "It's okay," he assured her gently, removing a hand from the steering wheel to retrieve his cell phone and dial 911. ~~~~~ The screeching sound of spinning tyres on the tarmac road caught Miles' attention as the fleet sedan sped away. He sharply turned his head, let the lifeless body of the rookie cop drop to the ground like a useless bag of bones and then started to run after the fleeing vehicle for a minute until he realised it was pointless and silently, inconspicuously, disappeared into the crowds. His time *would* come... ~~~~~ "Yeah, this is Special Agent John Jay Doggett with the FBI. I need immediate EMT dispatched to the corner of M and 21st Street!" Doggett barked urgently into his phone - glancing away from the road briefly to look at the pale face of his partner. "Why do you need my badge number? There's no time for this! There's an officer down and he needs immediate help, dammit!" The hand he was using to steer the car clenched tightly on the wheel. "...Okay...My badge number's..." Monica sat and listened to John's distant voice as she struggled to draw breath into her lungs through the windpipe Billy Miles had successfully badly crushed. Her head lolled against the back of the seat - only falling forward now and again when she needed to cough up specks of blood...It was becoming a battle to keep control of her senses... Growling curses through grit teeth, Doggett threw the phone onto the dashboard and then used the empty hand to take hold of one of Monica's to calm her and let her know that he was there. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered his reassurance. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "Sir?" Brad Follmer pulled open his front door and stared, puzzled, at his former boss, Alvin Kersh. "What are you doing here?" "Can I come in?" the deputy FBI director asked quietly, bowing his head slightly. Follmer nodded and quickly moved out of the doorway so that Kersh could enter. XXXXXXXXXXXXX CONNELSVILLE, PENNSYLVANIA Jeffrey Spender answered the ringing telephone and listened as Doggett quickly spat out disjointed facts down the line. "What happened?...Slow down!" Spender started, trying to make sense of what he was being told. "Who?...Is she alright?...DC General?...Okay....I'll try to get there as soon as I can." He hung up and turned to look at where Gibson lay asleep on the couch in front of the television set. 'Maybe we don't have as much time as we thought,' his mind sighed sadly - knowing that the slumbering boy could probably hear the same thought. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Kersh moved uncomfortably around the room and then moved toward the large window to look at the busy road outside - never once saying anything to the owner of the house. "What's wrong?" Follmer questioned after closing the front door. Slowly turning, Kersh kept his head lowered as he quietly asked, "When we last met...you said you were trying to help Agent Doggett, didn't you?" Hesitation as a hint of fear filled Follmer's eyes. "Well...uh...yes....but that was then and...uh...now I just want to be left alone." "So you're saying you wouldn't help them now?" "Wh-wh-what?" "If I said that I needed a favour now to help John and Monica, would you help?" Kersh elaborated, stepping toward the assistant director. Follmer backed away until he bumped up against the shut front door and then shakily raised the hand that still tightly gripped the butt of his gun. XXXXXXXXXXXXX UNKNOWN MOTEL St. PAUL, MINNESOTA Upon agreeing that it would be okay (as well as nice) to put their arrival at their new home back a couple more days so that they could attend a Major League Baseball game featuring his favourite team whilst the oppurtunity was there, fugitives Mulder and Scully had found a quiet, almost run-down motel on the outskirts of the city. The owner hadn't been the most politest or co-operative of people when they had booked themselves in under their new names of Stephen and Paula Bydrell, and the room was far from the most pleasant they had ever stayed in, but all that mattered right now was that they were safe, alive, they had a plan, and they were together. ~~~~~ Mulder lay on the small double bed and looked down at the list of the baseball results and schedules printed in the back of the newspaper they'd picked up from the motel reception. He couldn't stop himself from looking over at Scully - who stood in the kitchenette area making them both a sandwich - again, though, and it must have been about the fiftieth time in the past two minutes. He knew it was a bit too sappy sounding, but every time he looked at her he just felt the desperate urge to get up off of the bed, walk up to her and wrap his arms around her waist. It was probably just the need to catch up on what they had missed over the past ten months, he guessed - the need to catch up with what they had deprived themselves of for seven long years by denying their true feelings for each other - but recently (specifically since his secret 'special arrangements' meeting with the three hackers back in Nebraska) his mind had been filled with ideas, images... dreams, really...of the future they could have together... Reluctantly, he turned his eyes away to look back at the newspaper. "Yankees and Twins clash on Thursday," he announced, looking up yet again. *51* his mind mentally clocked up. Scully glanced over her shoulder with a smile before turning and moving toward the bed with a plate topped with several sandwiches. "Well, you did say a couple of days, so I wasn't expecting you to tell me tomorrow," she noted, sitting down next to him and placing the plate on the mattress in the small space that separated them. Mulder nodded and picked up a sandwich with one hand as the other put down the newspaper he had folded up. "We can go get the tickets tomorrow morning." "It's a date," Scully affirmed. XXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI HEADQUARTERS WASHINGTON D.C Bryant paced nervously back and forth, waiting for the rebel group's double-agent to turn up. The phone ringing just yet had been the last thing he'd expected, though. "Where is he?" he growled to the caller. "...What do you mean 'He's gone to visit somebody'? I wanna see him *now*, dammit!" XXXXXXXXXXXXX With Follmer's gun aimed at him, Alvin Kersh felt the fear he had been trying to suppress suddenly burst forth. He took a step back and raised his hands. "Look, Assistant Director, I'm here to ask for your help to assist Agents Doggett and Reyes," the deputy director tried to explain. "I did a bit of research...after we last met...I didn't understand what the hell was going on, so I thought I'd try to understand it," Follmer retorted. "Found an old x-file just laying on the ground by one of the dumpsters behind the New York building...A report by Agent Scully about mind-reading genetically-engineered beings with super strength...As stupid as it sounds, how am I to know that there isn't just a slight bit of credit to any of it?...How would I know if you were one of those people?" Kersh found his mind wondering 1: Why an x-file case report was within a five-mile radius of the New York FBI field office, and 2: Why such a file regarding the supersoldiers that were now taking over hadn't been destroyed and was so easily convenient to come across. His primary worry right now, though, lay with the gun pointing at him and the terrified intent he saw in Follmer's eyes. "If what I've heard is true, shooting me would be of little effect if I were one of those," he told the assistant director, backing another couple of steps away. "I just...I need you to help me track someone down...I can't return to the Bureau, but I need to track down somebody that I've been led to believe is the key to helping John and Monica...If I can find her there'll be no more to run from..." "Who led you to believe this paranoid crap?" Brad almost maniacally laughed. The words 'Walter Skinner' hung on the end of Kersh's tongue, but instead he angrily snapped, "You keep calling all this mad paranoia, but look at you! At least those investigating it aren't nervous wrecks!" Possibly realising that he was acting more paranoid than Mulder and Scully had ever been rumoured to be, Brad gave a slight nod and then re-holstered his beretta. "Maybe," he almost muttered to himself, "but I can't help you...I won't." Shock sharply grabbed a hold on Kersh. It probably shouldn't have when considering the fact that the man he'd asked the favour from had been aiming a gun at him not thirty seconds ago, but - nevertheless - he had thought that Follmer would at least hear him out more and think about it... "If I dig around anymore my career will be over. I've already been receiving strange looks from people, even when I haven't done anything!" Follmer explained. "My *life* will be over if I just go near the Hoover Building, Assistant Director...Maybe even if I show my face in public...What do you think I did so wrong that makes me deserve that?" "I...I can't..." A pause to take a deep breath. "I can't help you." Follmer shook his head as he pulled open the front door. Kersh stood still and stared questioningly at Brad - desperately hoping that a change of mind would be made. After a minute of cold silence, though, he realised no such thing would happen so he let out a long sigh and left the house. XXXXXXXXXXXXX D.C GENERAL HOSPITAL WASHINGTON D.C There was a group of doctors waiting with a gurney when Doggett pulled up at the hospital ten minutes after the incident with Billy Miles. Slamming on the brakes, he quickly exited the vehicle, ran around the front and then picked his partner (who had lost consciousness three minutes earlier whilst they were still caught in the heavy traffic halfway down 21st Street) out of her seat. As the doctors pushed the loaded trolley down the corridor to an emergency room to try and reopen Reyes' airways, all John could do was helplessly watch and pray that everything would be okay. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Not five minutes after the rejected Kersh had left, Brad Follmer's living room was filled with the sound of thumping on the front door. Looking up from where he sat on the leather couch, the assistant director stared at the entrance for a moment, sighed, and then got up to move to the door, but didn't open it. Ten seconds later the knocking started again - more urgently. "I told you I can't help!" he called out - believing that it was Kersh coming back to try and get help again. Straight after saying that, Follmer's body was thrown to the floor as the visitor sharply kicked down the door. XXXXXXXXXXXXX The door to Bryant's office was slowly - almost tentatively - opened, causing the wood to creak slightly in movement. The new assistant director sharply looked up from where he sat and watched as the man that could help the rebel supersoldiers gain information made his way into the room. It was Chuck Burks... XXXXXXXXXXXXX D.C GENERAL HOSPITAL Doggett sat at his partner's hospital bedside and watched as she slept - the mask over her mouth helping to feed air into her lungs down the windpipe the surgeon's had struggled to reconstruct. He sharply looked round every time somebody passed the room door, certain that Billy Miles or possibly someone else was coming to finish the job. XXXXXXXXXXXXX How big an idiot did those supersoldiers take him for? Chuck Burks moved briskly through the shadowy Bureau parking garage to his car - glancing over his shoulder every now and then to check no one was following him. 'Is there anything you can report back to us?' he'd been asked. 'Do Doggett and Reyes know any more?' Questioning him first about his alliance with Mulder and Scully had been one thing, but to then ask him to spy on Doggett and Reyes?...For all he knew these people in the Bureau could be reporting back to those they had told him they were rebelling against. He wasn't *that* stupid. Whether Mulder and Scully were still alive or not, he wasn't about to cheat them, and he certainly wasn't going to double-cross their friends - especially when, as Doggett had frankly put it, the Fate of the world might depend on any information they could gain. That was why he had hinted at the camera monitoring his office when the two agents had first visited him...Why he had told them not to say anything then because he knew They were watching and listening. ...But how much longer could he go on lying to the conspirators? XXXXXXXXXXXXX Reyes' eyes fluttered open, took a second to focus and then looked sideways just in time to see her partner slowly entering the room and quietly shutting the door behind him. When he turned and noticed her staring back at him, Doggett quickly moved to her bedside. With a slight smile, Monica raised a shaky hand to briefly remove the oxygen mask from her mouth. Her throat was still in great pain, though, and when she struggled to speak what came out was nothing more than a whisper, so Doggett had to move closer to hear her. "It's supposed to be your turn!" she breathed. Doggett returned the smile and then motioned for her to put the mask back on. She did as he ordered with a small nod and then reached out a hand to touch his arm. "It's gonna be okay," he assured her, moving to gently kiss her forehead. "I spoke with the doctors and they said you should be talking your head off again within a couple weeks or so...Said you should be out of here by Sunday at the earliest..." Monica let her eyes slide shut as she retrieved her memories from what had happened earlier. Suddenly - five seconds later - her eyelids snapped open and both her hands frantically scrambled to pull the mask away from her face yet again. Believing her to be in distress, Doggett moved to either calm her down or offer any help he could give, but she brushed him away. "The address!" she gasped. "Where are my clothes?" "They were badly blood-stained, so the orderly took 'em to be burned," he explained, calmly. "It's okay, I'll fetch you some more from your place when it's time for you to go." "No! Need *those* clothes...The..." She paused as she broke into a fit of coughing. Doggett once again moved to make her put the oxygen mask on, but once again she pushed him away. "Address...for Maggie....Coat..." Realisation about what his partner was trying to get at slapped John hard in the face, and he sharply stood (knocking the chair from underneath him) before quickly making his way out of the room and down the nearest stairwell to the basement. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "I'd really hoped you wasn't as stupid as I thought you were - what with you being an assistant director of the FBI. It seems I just wasted my time, though!" Follmer lay on the floor with both arms protectively raised to cover his face and stared questioningly at the figure that towered above him. "Who...Who...Who are you?" he stammered. The tall, grey-haired man bent down and then roughly pulled Brad to his feet. "I thought I was the person to help you, but you appear to have successfully ignored all I've given you!" "Huh?" "You and Agent Doggett should really learn to get along in the same room because you share the same ignorance," the stranger grumbled. The knowledge of everybody that this guy Follmer had never met in his entire life possessed was disconcerting and a little frightening at the same time. Suddenly, "Are you...? Did you...?" But as quickly as it had been switched on, the light bulb in the AD's head turned off. Shaking his head in slight disgust, Senator Richard Matheson grabbed a hold of Follmer's shirt with one hand whilst the other pointed an accusing finger. "The file by the dumpster?" he snapped. "What, did you think it just *happened* to wind up there?!" "You--" "Yes, *me*. I was feeding the information to you so that you could help the others, not turn Kersh away!" Speechless, Brad glanced away for a moment to consider the situation. He eventually turned back, though, with a stubborn frown. "What makes you think I can help? Why should I? I'm a respected assistant director--" "You *was*," Matheson cut in, "until your dirty dealings were discovered - gunning that man down certainly didn't solve your problems as you'd hoped, did it? The fact is that you're the last resource in the Bureau that won't be under surveillance just yet...Skinner, Kersh, Doggett, Reyes, Mulder and Scully: they've all burnt the bridges that could've led them to stopping the re- colonisation of this planet...Actually, Mulder and Scully failed to stop that ship setting sail four years ago...But, anyway, I have information that I need to get to Agents Doggett and Reyes that could be the one thing that puts the spanner in the final stages of things going to Hell, but I can't get near them...I need *you* to set up a meeting." "Sir, whoever you are, I work for the federal government ...I've made mistakes in the past and I can't deny those..." Follmer groaned, defiantly, "but that was then...Everyone screws up, and I thought I was doing the right thing then! At least if I do nothing and just keep my head down I'm more likely to be okay." Matheson felt the last remnants of his patience disintergrate as he stared at the complete rejection he saw in Brad's expression. He had thought it would be easy to get the g-man's help, but it seemed he had been badly mistaken. "You really won't help them?" he quizzed, hesitantly. "Even though peoples' lives are at risk?" "I tried helping Doggett once before, and look where it got me!" The senator looked at Follmer and then the room around him, before looking back. "From what I see you're still alive, still have a roof over your head and still have a job - a lot of people can only hope for one of those things...How have you lost out?" he snapped. "Besides, we're not talking about just helping Doggett: we're talking about the preservation of human life!" Follmer opened his mouth, ready to answer back, but then faltered and remained quiet - seeming to consider what he'd been told. A moment of silence followed. "What, exactly, was it you wanted me to do again?" XXXXXXXXXXXXX Doggett moved swiftly through the laundry bay to the incinerator room, where he found a white-coated, red- haired young man pawing through what looked like... Pawing through Monica's clothes! "What the hell are you doing?!" John shouted, pushing the guy away and quickly drawing his weapon. "I-I-I-I...I...I was..." "Seeing if there was anything you could steal?" "No!" "Oh, so you telling me these are yours?" he snapped, sarcastically, picking up his partner's clothes. "I'm sure you really look flattering in them..." Shaking his head, he rolled the suit and coat into a messy bundle and stuffed it under his left arm. "Who are you? What you doin' going through my partner's stuff? You one of Them?" The orderly fearfully stared back and forth between Doggett's set face and the gun the agent had aimed at him. "I...I always...uh...I check that nobody's left anything in their pockets before the stuff gets destroyed..." he stammered, flexing his fingers as the blood ran out of his raised hands. "I mean, a gunshot victim could have his bloodied clothes ripped off him in the OR, then they send those rags down here to get burnt, and it turns out when the guy comes to that there was something highly personal and irreplaceable in one of the pockets of his pants...or the only money he owned in the world had been in his wallet...I just make sure their stuff gets saved and they get it back..." "Hmmm. You expect me to believe that you're some saint? ...That..." The FBI agent cut himself off as he realised just how ridiculously paranoid and agreesive he was being. The gun wavered in the air for a moment and then lowered. White Coat kept his hands raised, though. "I'm sorry," Doggett apologised, holstering his weapon and exhaling a sigh. "It's okay...I'm a federal agent and--" "I was only checking that nothing important was destroyed...burnt..." "Did you find anything?" "No...I only just got to that pile...I was only--" "Yeah, I know - it's okay..." Doggett assured, gesturing for White Coat to lower his arms, and then turning to leave - slipping one of his hands into the inside pocket of Reyes' jacket as he entered the stairwell and tightly wrapping his fingers around the small piece of folded paper he found there. XXXXXXXXXXXXX \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ UNIVERSITY OF MARYLAND THREE WEEKS EARLIER 'FEDERAL AGENTS KILLED IN ACTION' Chuck Burks sat in his office chair and stared with unbelieving eyes for about the tenth time within the past fifty minutes at the newspaper headline and the photos of his two friends from the Bureau printed underneath. Knowing the tricky situations they had gotten themselves into in the past on cases and what - in the last two years - they had had to contend with on a personal level, maybe it shouldn't have been such a big shock...Maybe it should just have been seen as the end of an era. But something smelt off, and after the fourth read-through of the article Burks had started to question the scratchy stories and poor technical terminology used by the 'geologists' that had allegedly been interviewed, and after further research he had learnt that the area where Mulder and Scully had reportedly died whilst on a case was probably one of the least likely places to suffer from bad gas emissions. 'Agh...Don't believe everything you hear or read or see, Chuck,' Mulder had once told him three years ago. 'Don't even believe yourself. Find yourself someone whom you can trust unequivocally and believe them, 'cos nine times out of ten they're the person that probably knows better.' 'Trust No One', essentially, Burks guessed. And whilst that sounded paranoid, things certainly didn't add up here now and needed to be put to the test. Half an hour away from his first lecture of the day, he was just picking up the receiver of the phone on his desk to call an associate at the Smithsonian in DC when his office door was quickly pushed open. He turned in the swivel chair, hung up the phone and watched as his boss came in...shortly followed by two tall, mysterious men. "Dr. Burks!" the university dean exclaimed, clapping her hands together as she approached the balding man (one of her companions closing and then locking the office door behind them - an action that caught Burks' worried attention). "Just the man I was looking for!" He looked at each of the three visitors in turn and then shakily raised to his feet. "You knew Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully from the FBI, didn't you?" Cami Douglas queried, a little off-handedly. "They visited here on several occasions?" "They were...uh...They asked for my professional help every now and then, yes," the professor answered - knowing that it would likely be pointless to lie. "Why?" "And when was the last time you saw them?" "Mulder and Scully?" "Yes." Burks glanced briefly down at the newspaper that lay on his office desk and then let his eyes slide shut for a moment so that he could consider the posed query. "I mean, I haven't seen Mulder for...Must be at least three years..." he sighed, awkwardly. "I encountered Agent Scully on a case just over a year and a half ago...But that was the last time I saw her..." "Was she not working with Agent Mulder?" Douglas took another purposeful step forward, knowing exactly what the answer to her question was. Chuck faltered for a second, though. "Agent Mulder was ...was missing for a period of time, so she had temporarily been teamed up with someone else..." "Do you remember the other agent's name?" A slow shake of the head was followed by the shrug of the professor's shoulders as he struggled to remember the name his boss was after. One of the dean's goon sidekicks produced a photograph from the inside pocket of his long, black overcoat and then showed it to Burks as he asked, "Was this the man you met?" What was this? A criminal interrogation? Chuck suddenly felt about three inches tall and he didn't know why! "I really don't remember...It was a while ago, and I meet hundreds of students each day, so..." Cami Douglas silently stared at the shorter man long and hard. She could tell that - whilst he wasn't completely lying - something did seem slightly familiar to him about the face of Special Agent John Jay Doggett in the file photo. Nevertheless, she gave a slight nod and then made a small gesture to the second man in black so that he also pulled a photograph out of the pocket of his coat - this one being of Monica Reyes. "So you're saying you've never met either of these two?" she asked, pointing at both pictures. Chuck looked at the two men, then at the photos that each held and then back at his boss. "I've definitely never met her" - pointing toward the picture of Reyes - "but, like I say, I'm not a hundred percent sure about the guy...Wh-what's this all leading to?" "Don't question us," the first goon ordered. "It doesn't matter," Douglas replied. "The point is that my colleagues and myself are members of a group that are looking for a way to fight against those that killed your two friends, and we believe - due to your connection to Mulder and Scully and the knowledge you have already spoken of - these two agents" - pointing again at the photographs her 'colleagues' still held - "may try to contact you for help with their own investigations...We want you to help them - answer their questions to the best of your ability and kick around some theories with them - but at the same time we want..." She paused briefly before changing her tact. "We would be grateful if you would report back to us what path of investigation they take, what knowledge they gain and what theories they come up with." Burks frowned slightly and raised a hand to wipe across his dry mouth. "You mean you want me to sp--" "We want to learn what course of action needs to be taken against those I mentioned earlier...We want to see how others approach the situation," Douglas corrected. The professor wasn't convinced. "Why not just work with those two? Why don't you just query me about what knowledge I might have? Why..." He paused as the same expression which rested on each of his three visitors' faces rang alarm bells in his head and told him that maybe he should just shut up and do what they told him to - or at least agree with them for now. "Look, I'm just a lecturer here with a little extra knowledge thanks to my travelling some years back..." "Think about what your friends put their lives on the line for," the henchman that had said nothing for the whole duration of the visit commented. "Think about your job," his partner added, coldly. "Think-" ////////////////////////////// "Professor Burks?" Chuck snapped out of his thoughts of the day that had caught him up in this whole mess in the first place as he turned to look at the approaching figure that had called out to him. It was Bryant, but Burks was far from being in the mood to argue any further about why he had disappeared, or why he was 'reporting' that Doggett and Reyes hadn't learnt anything. So he turned back and quickly got into his car. "Burks!" he heard the voice call out again. Still ignoring Bryant, Chuck put his foot down on the accelerator and drove out of the car park - almost slamming his foot on the brakes at one point as he glanced up into the rear-view mirror and swore that he saw the reflection of Mulder and Scully's boss sitting in the back seat. XXXXXXXXXXXXX The hospital room door opened and Reyes found herself quickly reaching for the alarm button before realising that it was only Doggett returning...with empty hands... "They took it?" she gasped with raised eyebrows as she pulled the oxygen mask off her mouth yet again. "Wh--" Her strained voice cut short as she watched her partner first shut the door and then turn to her with his left index finger pressed against his lips. "Shhh," he whispered, approaching the bed and righting the chair he had kicked over on his way out fifteen minutes earlier. Monica stared at him questioningly, but then sighed with relief as he slightly opened his left hand and revealed the slip of paper resting against his palm. "Fancy a vacation when you get out of here?" John quietly asked with a small smile. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Scully stared out through the motel room window and listened to the comforting sound of running water as Mulder took a shower in the bathroom. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "What happened?" Spender called out as he walked briskly down the hospital corridor with Gibson by his side. Doggett looked away from the window he had been blankly staring out through and turned to watch the approaching two figures as he pulled his hands from his pants pockets. "It was Them, wasn't it?" Praise asked as he stopped in front of the FBI agent. "They're going to get us all... Mulder said none of us would be safe...I told you we can't stop Them, but you don't listen!" John shook his head dismissively and then crouched down so that he was at eye level with the boy. "And I keep telling you that we're not gonna stop tryin' to beat Them..." He paused and sighed as he looked up at Spender - standing up straight again ten seconds later. "Can we go talk in private for a minute?" he asked the disfigured man. "...Leave Gibson in with Monica or something?" "It doesn't matter if we talk in private or with him present - if he doesn't know already he'll find out sooner or later - especially if you leave him with Agent Reyes," Jeffrey shrugged. Another deep sigh from Doggett as that truth sank in. XXXXXXXXXXXXX They'd been out earlier; driven into Minneapolis, picked up a pair of tickets for tomorrow's baseball game, stopped at a small, beautiful restaurant to eat dinner (Scully had insisted that she wasn't that hungry, and would be just as happy to get something from the pizza parlor in St Paul to take back with them to the motel, but Mulder - in his usual way - had doggedly persisted until she'd given in), and then just simply walked along like any other normal couple enjoying their surroundings ...enjoying each others' company...for an hour before (almost reluctantly) making their way back to the SUV and then their motel room. Still listening to the running shower and Mulder's distant voice humming a made-up tune, Scully reflected on the walk they'd shared...For the first fifteen minutes he'd kept his arm wrapped around her shoulders (as he had done when they'd gone from the car to the ballpark and then to the restaurant - when his palm wasn't resting against her back), but then it had slid away and she had felt his hand slowly - almost cautiously - enfold hers. She had looked up to see a questioning, slightly...worried?...hesitant expression on his face - a look she'd watched dissolve into relief as she turned the hand so that they were both holding onto each other. She hadn't asked him yet why he'd been so nervous about such a simple thing...She guessed that maybe, whilst they were relearning what it was like to be together, it was because they were still learning how to be with each other on an intimate level and how to be close in public as opposed to behind closed doors. But she would ask...eventually. For now, though, she just wanted to grab life by the testes and drain it of everything she could before it ran dry. They had already lost too much time, there was no need to waste what they now had on trivial questions that could be just simply answered with a reassuring look or touch...Unless, of course, the uncertainty continued - that would be the right time to talk it out. The water shut off in the bathroom, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips before she glanced down at the hand he had taken hold of...The ringless hand he had taken hold of... 'When we get married, you can show them the certificate and insist that I can't leave you again,' he had joked before leaving her apartment eleven months ago, but she had seen a speck of seriousness in his eyes and it had added some fuel to her hopes and dreams that one day - when he returned - he would propose to her. He'd made no mention or hint at the subject yet though, and she wondered if it was because he was waiting until they were settled, too scared to ask in case it wasn't what she wanted, or he had been away and re-considered the thought. "We should get rings," she called out over her shoulder. "Hmm?" came his muffled reply as his head appeared round the doorframe - eyebrows raised and toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "I was just thinking that if we're gonna pretend to be a married couple we'll need wedding rings, otherwise people'll become suspicious." Mulder's eyebrows lowered, as did his face before he returned to the bathroom and spat out the mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. "Well....uh...I kinda thought that...um...that we could sort that out when we got to our new place," his distant voice called back. She stared at the doorway a moment longer, waiting for him to reappear (his slight look of near disappointment had set her thoughts running in about five hundred different directions), but then turned back to stare out through the window. As with everything else, it could wait... XXXXXXXXXXXXX "We knew there were gonna be dangers...I just..." Doggett paused and wiped a hand down the front of his face. "Maybe Gibson's right: we never stopped to consider how dangerous it really could be!" The three had moved outside the building and now sat at a park table-bench in the grounds - their voices, though as low as they could keep them, piercing the still night air. "But she's going to be okay..." Spender pointed out. "That's not the point! She could've--" "Maybe the point is that you just need to be more careful..." "There is no point," Praise suddenly cut in, glancing from one man to the other. "You think you need to try to understand it because that's what you keep being told by strangers...You think it can be explained because anything that can be explained must be stoppable or slowed...But it can't and it won't. You think you have a good bearing on who's trustworthy, but at the back of your brain you know that all suspicions can't be easily forgotten, like that guy in the hospital." "How--?" John stopped, knowing how stupid a question that would be. "What guy?" Spender asked - not understanding what was going on. "It's not that important. Look, just before the incident with Billy Miles, we met some friends of Mulder's friends and...Well, me and Monica are gonna be disappearing for a couple weeks or so when she gets out of here, and we need to take Gibson with us." "Where?" "The less you know the better, probably...Even my knowing is bad enough because Gibson probably now knows and...Well..." Doggett shook his head as he trailed off for a moment. "It's important that we go....If it was safe you could be able to come with us, but the more of us on the move the easier it'll be to track us down..." "Is it to do with Mulder and Scully?" Praise sharply stared at Spender and then silently lowered his head. Spender caught the boy's reaction out through the corner of his eye and then nodded to show he understood. "Honestly, if I could tell you all the details, I would," John assured, nervously glancing over his shoulder at the dimly lit area of grass around them to check there was no one within earshot. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Mulder finished cleaning his teeth and was just wiping his face down with his two wet hands when he suddenly paused mid-action to stare at the reflection in front of him - the tired face that stared back at him. It scared him to know that that rough, slightly brow-beaten and dishevelled man in the mirror was really him, but at the same time the glint in the reflection's eyes proved that They hadn't succeeded in breaking him yet and made him smile. A hand lowered to turn the faucet off whilst the other reached for the towel to the right of the sink. A minute later he quietly made his way out into the dark bedroom, where he noticed Scully's silhouette standing by the main window. Without a word having to have been said, Dana turned to stare at him, but before her eyes could focus on his face she found herself (despite the amount of times she had seen it over the passing weeks and the fact that it was now finally yet slowly fading away) looking at the large bruise across his bare chest that the base brig guards had branded him with. "*Don't*," he whispered, quickly but gently cupping her chin in his right hand and lifting it. It was going to be another of those moments - Scully could tell the second their eyes locked gaze... One of those moments when any and all pretence, facades, false- hopes disappeared to expose their true fears and inability to comprehend their current situation...One of those moments when the only way they knew how to cope and fight for the new day was to draw strength from their shared love and shut the rest of the world outside for the time being-... ...At least, it would have been one of those moments had something not caught Mulder's attention through the corner of his eye. "What is it?" she cautiously asked as he moved his hand away from her jaw to rest on her shoulder and stepped up to look out the window more closely. "...Maybe I'm just too far past only being paranoid," he murmured a little distantly - pausing to glance at Dana with a raised eyebrow, "but isn't that the same truck that was following us yesterday?" He pointed out the window and Scully followed the aim of his finger with a confused frown at the maroon truck parked up on the road directly opposite their motel room. "You're not serious?" she snorted, knowing that Mulder-being-Mulder would be. "Mulder, there are probably a good thousand trucks matching that same colour and model passing through this state alone at any given time during a day....I know we've gotta be careful, but what makes you think that *that* truck must be the one following us?" She paused as she watched him slightly shrug and then turn away from the window briefly to stare at her. "Oh...Why--...Nine years and yet I still can't seem to stop myself from asking!" "I thought that was what you loved about me?" he wryly joked, gently squeezing her shoulder before looking back at the window with a sigh. "I know. I don't know why I brought it up, but..." Little over a year since he had had official access to an X-File case - eleven months since he'd been involved with one. Scully's safety and survival had been the primary cause of his concern when seeing the familiar vehicle, but he couldn't deny the fact that his body and mind were aching to do another investigation and make X-File-worthy leaps of faith...And he didn't know how to explain any of that to her (if he should at all). Something moved by the truck and then two distant arguing voices could be heard. Mulder released Scully's shoulder, picked his t-shirt up off of the end of the bed and then moved to the room's exit. "Where are you going?" Dana suddenly exclaimed, reaching out to grab his arm as he opened the door a fraction. "Mulder, even if there is something suspicious about that truck - even if there is an argument going on out there: It's. None. Of. Our. Business. We're not FBI agents anymore! We're fugitives, remember? Trying to *avoid* detection?!" "I just--" "Mulder, no! Look, tomorrow we're going to see the baseball game - make up for when we missed the football the last time we were here...After that we're gonna be going on to our new home. Can't you at least wait until we're settled before you try blowing our cover? Please? ...I'm begging you..." He would do anything she asked of him, no matter what, and he knew she knew that, but when her safety relied upon his doing the opposite of her request he had to ignore her. "I won't be a minute," he whispered, removing his arm from her grasp. "I'll be careful. I just gotta check....If it's nothing, then it's nothing. But if it is something, we need to get out of here as soon as possible." "Mul--" Scully cut herself off as she watched her partner quickly open the door and then make his way out into the night air. She sighed and turned back to watch his dark figure slowly climb the small embankment to the truck through the room window. "*Dammit*." XXXXXXXXXXXXX "Oh my God!...How-...What happened?" Tara looked up at her mother-in-law briefly and then turned her attention back to the matter at hand. BILL SCULLY RESIDENCE U.S NAVAL STATION - SAN DIEGO 7:52pm PST "Oh, it's nothing...Action Boy here decided that he wanted to try some tricks on his trike...He's yet to learn about the laws of gravity though, so..." she groaned, dabbing a ball of cotton wool against her son's bleeding knee. "Tommy said he can!" Matthew cut in with a rebellious whimper. "Yes, but, sweetie, Tommy's bigger and older than you!" Tara let out a sigh and shook her head at the boy. "Do you need any help?" Maggie offered, feeling a little awkward in her surroundings still. "No...It's okay...Just a graze to clean..." There was an uneasy moment of silence before Tara hesitantly asked, "So...uh...Has there been any news yet from those two FBI agents about when it'll be safe for you to return home?" The atmosphere suddenly grew thick with ice-cold air. Maggie's argument with Bill a couple of days ago had seemed to help him get a bit off his chest, and had helped her understand a little about the root of his anger. But at the same time it had led to her suffering with conflicting mood swings that left her wondering as to what she really believed. Now - with Tara's question - she found herself thinking more deeply about how unwelcome in her son's house she had become. "Did Bill ask you to ask me that?" she asked, shakily. Tara's head lowered briefly and her hands ceased tending to her son's injury before she slowly turned and raised to her feet. "Maggie...Bill told me about the argument at the start of the week...He's worried about you - we *all* are. If what happened to Dana wasn't enough, to then have to leave home for your safety and learn that the military won't release her body yet so that we can have a proper service...I understand why you're suffering, but...I just thought I'd ask to find out if your safety was still in jeopardy..." She let out a deep sigh, knowing there was little more she could think to say. "I don't think I ever told you, but a couple of months before his death my husband and I had an argument about Dana's decision to join the FBI instead of med school. We'd had it on many occasions before then so we ended up shouting pretty much the same things all over again..." Maggie paused and gave a slight smile as she reminisced. "...But then he shouted that he couldn't believe I was happy to let her do a job where she would be unsafe. I didn't have an answer for him then, but...I don't--... Maybe we're all unsafe no matter what we do...Melissa wasn't safe...There are plenty of people being needlessly killed - Fox and Dana were just fighting against it. You have to take chances, though, otherwise are you really living? Staying here may or may not help preserve my life, but isn't it better to delay any risk? Besides, it's not the only reason for my being here - I'm getting to visit you and Matthew and Bill (when he's here). If I'm not welcome here anymore, please just tell me - I'll go back to Maryland or maybe even stop by at Charlie's...I just--" Tara shook her head and then gently clasped Maggie's arms in each of her hands. "Don't be silly!" she quietly chuckled. "Don't-...God...Bill really does take after his father, doesn't he?" Maggie awkwardly smiled and briefly lowered her head. "We just want to understand what's going on," Tara continued, "and Bill doesn't like not knowing things. We don't understand how Dana and Mulder died...We don't understand why people are chasing after you - *who* is chasing after you...And when we see you lost we feel even more shut out! You want and need to be here, that's fine, but please don't shut us out. Is there nothing you can explain to us so we can be there for you?...For each other?" "I..." Margaret paused and distractedly glanced over at the boy that had fallen asleep in his chair - the dirty ball of cotton wool still balancing on his knee. It took fifteen seconds of silence, but eventually Tara turned to follow the direction of her mother-in-law's gaze. "We'll talk after I've tucked him in," she flatly told Maggie. There seemed little point arguing. XXXXXXXXXXXXX 'Fox by name, Fox by nature.' Silently Mulder carefully side-stepped along the vehicle toward the front as the wry thought ran through his head. As he drew level with the sleeper cabin he glanced toward their motel room (unsure if he saw the net curtain twitch) and then listened to the two arguing men not ten feet from where he nervously stood - soon realising one must be a cop when he noticed the flashing red and blue lights that filled the darkness. There was little time to learn anymore, though, or properly listen in on the conversation because... ~~~~~ Scully paced back and forth like a caged, wary tiger - pausing every now and then to thoughtfully glance over at the holstered gun on the bedside cabinet. ...He was just being paranoid - trying to take her along on the ride as he had done back in the early days of their time together on the X-Files...He was trying to test her by seeing how truly prepared she was for this life on the run...He was suffering with FBI withdrawal symptoms...He was having a nervous breakdown...*She* was having a nervous breakdown!...He-- She sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed - her left clenched fist pressed against her lips as she tried to calm herself down. There was a hint of possibility in all the scenarios her brain had come up with, but she knew that when push came to shove Mulder was just being cautious, careful and protective - making sure they remained safe at all times. If only he would try to understand that he could sometimes be a little *too* over-protective and it only made her worry more! The time passed slowly...He'd only been gone from the room for just under two minutes but it seemed much, *much* longer, and already her mind was concocting nightmarish images about what had happened to him: the supersoldiers had caught up with them and captured him - killed him, even...She would be sitting here patiently waiting whilst he was out there desperately calling her name and... ...and she really had joined him on his ride of paranoia. There was only one way to settle this. She snatched up the Glock and was just reaching for the door handle when she was suddenly blinded by the bright rays of white light that flashed into the room through the window... XXXXXXXXXXXXX TO BE CONTINUED...