TITLE: 'The Beginning And The End' (parts 24-25 of ??) AUTHOR: XSketch (XSketch@hotmail.com) WEBSITE: http://thesketchfiles.bravehost.com DISCLAIMER: See part 1 for all disclaimers. --------------------------------------------------- "Backstabbers! They're not working together...They're trying to out-do each other!" The devastated eyes of Walter Skinner watched as two figures were forced into the Manville Rock Quarry by at least a dozen other men behind a glass shield. The detainees put up a violent fight for their lives, but it was short-lived, as the magnetic properties of the rock faces turned them to dust. "Survival of the fittest," Alex Krycek's cold, monotonous voice started from behind him, making him turn. "If They were to become dependent on one another and somebody were to come along and break a link in that chain, the whole system would fall apart. Besides, who believes in the same thing as each other anymore?" 'Mulder and Scully,' Skinner thought to himself, only to hear the younger man's snort of laughter. Being dead was shaping up to being worse than life dealing with this rat bastard. He sharply turned on Krycek, snapping, "Why is it I'm punished by having to put up with you? I did the right thing by killing myself before I did anything to them... whereas you should be rotting in Hell for your heinous crimes--" "And yet here we are," the leering interruption came. "You gotta get it in you that none of us have control over our Fate, and...Well, maybe either I'm not as evil as you all seem to think, or you're not as high and mighty as you like to make out." "Dammit! I'm here to help!" "What makes you think I'm not?" If there was an ounce of breath in him, Skinner knew he'd be struggling to force it past his clenched teeth right now, but all he could do was struggle to find the best words to retort with. Finally, as bursting point seemed imminent, he demanded, "You said there was a point...you said the cause *wasn't* a waste of time! I've been to Kersh, I've heard what these things have been saying, and I've just witnessed how little care they have for what happens to those of their kind. Now, tell me - for God's sake - why Mulder and Scully are so important to this big 'plan', and how the hell we stop the supersoldiers!" "All in good time, old man," Krycek grinned, enigmatically. "Let's just say Mulder didn't come back completely the same, the chip in Scully's neck isn't the same one used to cure her of Cancer, William is nothing more than a gift from God with an altered DNA gene code that gives him the inherited immunity and extra powers - a code the aliens would love nothing more than to examine for their own purposes - and somebody should really try find the palm pilot I could have used to kill you before They do if the world is to have any hope at all." With a quirk of his eyebrow, he disappeared. The words haunted Skinner, though, as he was left alone to stare at the quarry floor - the sight of the departing supersoldiers barely registering. XXXXXXXXXXXXX FREESOL, WASHINGTON 5:47am (PST) Much to her surprise, Scully was the first of either of them to wake. She sat up, wrapping both arms around her body as the cold morning air (cooled even further by the breeze from the sea their bedroom overlooked) whopped at it, and then shifted so that she could stare down at her sleeping partner. His features were relaxed to show the face of a man he might have been if not for the turmoil Fate had dealt over the years, but sadly there was also no mistaking the deeply-etched anguish lines - the sadness and pain so evident in every facial expression or movement of his body. '...she's a little pissed at me right now...' Her eyes slipped shut and she turned away - leaving the bed and then quietly closing the bedroom door behind her as she padded into the hallway. What was happening to them? They'd talked through everything she believed they needed to to clear the air between them - she having broken down several times, and he almost throwing himself off of the cliff of sanity, yet both pulling each other away from the never-yielding hold of depression and helplessness. They were a unit: partners, best friends and lovers that, over nine years, had come to depend on no one but each other. And yet now, when they needed to keep a firm grasp on everything they'd gained from every experience, she was sniping for no apparent reason, and he seemed almost too scared to be near her let alone touch her. There was an inexplicable distance between them that seemed intent on killing them from the inside out. Admittedly she'd been feeling unwell for the past week or so, but that was no excuse, nor was it a solution. Having removed a dust cover from one of the armchairs in the living room to wrap around her half-naked form, she moved outside to sit on the back deck - echoes of last night's discussion floating around in her head. The stomach pain - though still there - didn't feel anywhere near as bad as it had been, and she didn't feel light- headed at the moment, but what of the cause's possibilities? Despite his dubiousness, she had refused to use protection since they'd been back together - certain of the notion that there would never be another granted miracle after she'd screwed up so badly with the last one - so pregnancy (no matter how ludicrous and impossible) couldn't be entirely ruled out... Except, Dana didn't know how she felt about that. She should probably feel elated by the concept of once again being gifted with something she'd been told she would never have. She should be excited about the prospect of having another baby and being able to share all the experiences of it growing up with Mulder this time. And without a doubt, the fact that her dream of settling down with this man in a nice home and having children - leading a relatively normal life - would be able to come true should make her ecstatic. ...And, deep down, she was all of those things. But there was always two sides to the coin - another shoe to fall. For, as much as she should want to be pregnant, there are also current threatening circumstances to make her dread the idea, the importance of William's whereabouts to worry about above spawning a brother or sister for him; a world needing to be saved and be made safe before she can even consider introducing a new, innocent, defenceless life into it. "Stop jumping to conclusions," she berated herself, looking out at the calm sea. Once again she let her eyes slip shut, but the gentle waves lull her to sleep, and without warning the image of the overly-perfect kitchen returns to invade her dreams. *Mommy! Daddy! Come look outside!* Scully turns in the circle of her dream-husband's arms and looks down at the strawberry-blonde haired boy standing in the doorway with a baseball mitt snugly held under one arm. There's something scarily familiar about this setup - something that should make her run away or at least try to wake herself up - and yet she doesn't. *What is it, sweetie?* is her warm question, instead. *I found something from your friends!* The boy lifts his free hand to point out at the back yard. Dana stays frozen on the spot as the waking part of her that knows this is just a dream reminds her of the last time she heard something very similar, but fingers entwine with hers and Mulder is pulling her along so that they can follow their son out to his sandbox. *They said you'd understand.* Crouching, she skims a hand across the top of the sand and stares at the piece of metal exposed by the action. *Wha--...What is it?* she croaks, glancing up at the eleven-year-old William. *W-why is it h-h-here?* *It's Katie's fault!* the boy exclaims. "She told Them to leave it there for you. I wanted to scare Them away!* She's about to question him, but suddenly the hold on her hand painfully tightens and she's forced to turn, only to see Albert Hosteen beside her instead of Mulder. William disappears as the area around them shifts and changes - fading to black as four plain concrete walls box them in. *Destinies can be made,* the Navajo code-talker utters, outstretching his free hand to point at the wall to his left. Suddenly the solid stone disappears to reveal a landscape of ruin - fires burning, dead bodies strewn across the crisp ground...Mulder's lifeless form among them staring sightlessly at the blood-red sky above. *But they can also be changed.* Through tear-filled eyes, Dana watches as the world shifts again, and the decimated, desolate land becomes a thriving field of green bathed in sunlight from the clear, blue sky - an older Mulder and version of herself hand-in-hand on the horizon, with two shorter figures either side of them. *I d-don't understand what these dreams - these visions - mean!* she croaks, pulling out of Hosteen's grasp but not looking away from the happy family in the distance. *One day,* a familiar but lost voice starts shortly before the uniformed man materialises in front of her. *One day very soon you will need to make a choice - a choice that will affect your lives and go on to affect the fate of the world.* *...Dad?* *One day you will need to make a sacrifice if you wish to stay safe.* The only thing she had left was Mulder...Surely her father wasn't saying--? *No! N-not...Not again! They can't have him again!* *One day the line will have to be completely severed,* Captain William Scully continues, ignoring her frantic pleas. *But just remember they will always love you.* *'They'?* *And be proud of you, just as I am...Starbuck.* "No!" The sweat that bathed her skin was quickly cooled by the sea breeze as Dana sat bolt upright into the waking world. She furiously blinked sleep away and wiped at the tears still hanging on her cheeks as she shakily stood up - the dream refusing to be as easy to dispel. Sacrifice? Losing Mulder again was definitely not an option if she was to remain sane, happy or alive. And technically William was no longer hers to sacrifice. But what-- 'This isn't about a bad stomach caused by some hot-dog anymore...Could...Could it be...Is it the chip?' She stiffened and reached up to rub a hand across the back of her neck. She'd dismissed the idea outright earlier - preferring to war with her emotions about the possibility of another unbelievable pregnancy - but what if his nightmarish fear were founded? What if They were sending tampering signals to the technology resting just under her skin to track them down or make her ill? After close experiences in the past, she was not afraid of dying, but she was terrified at the thought of leaving Mulder behind - petrified to the bone by the knowledge that if *she* were the sacrifice Ahab had meant to imply, Mulder would not be alive for long after her departure from the mortal coil. Maybe a talk to the local doctor was the best way to put all theories to rest after all. At the cliff edge, three translucent figures of friends now dead but forever loyal stood and watched as Scully re-entered the house with her head lowered. Even when she'd disappeared from view, they continued their vigil - keeping guard and watching over the house to protect their best friends from anything that wished to harm them. XXXXXXXXXXXXX The maroon Freightliner truck sat abandoned somewhere along the Minnesota/Wisconsin state line. The car had been a cheesy, egotistical salesman's dream deal back in Chicago. And it's only now, as he drives through Monticello, Indiana - on his way to Fort Wayne International - that John Doggett pulls over to the side of the road, looks out at the rain-soaked land and feels the full weight of what they've all been caught up in finally bear down on him. He doesn't know who he is anymore, or who he should be. Believer or sceptic? There'd always been such an immediate, obvious answer to that, but now he's fleeing from something he doesn't even believe in! For argument's sake, he could easily say they're fleeing from genetically-altered humans, but at the bottom of his heart he knows that dismissing Mulder and Scully's claims is pointless. Sweaty palms skim back and forth over the steering wheel. For weeks he'd been working on gut instinct and driven by the unwavering determination of Reyes at his side, but now he's alone with millions of unanswered questions begging for attention in the silence, and the need to know if his partner and Gibson are safe tearing at his frayed senses. 'Something's going down, and we need to know what that is.' Desperately trying to lock down on the emotion that threatens to overcome him, Doggett shakes his head, swallows hard and puts the overpriced rust-bucket into gear as his words come back to remind him what's needed to be done. There's no time to dwell on doubts or questions or tiredness or anger or ignorance or loneliness or brief stops on the wayside to think and look out at the world that they're trying to preserve along with their lives. As it is, there might not even be enough time to prepare themselves before the shit finally hits the fan... XXXXXXXXXXXXX OUTSIDE SCOTTSBLUFF, NEBRASKA 7:14am It took several shifts of her head left and right against the back of the seat and attempts to open her eyes, but eventually Monica woke up and, with a groan, slipped out of the car to stretch her legs. A search through all pockets in her clothing turned up no cigarettes, so she sighed and simply paced back and forth in front of the dusty vehicle - glancing at the empty hole in the passenger-side door where a window had been until their encounter with Billy Miles back in DC, before sharply looking away again to focus on the deserted road that cut through the expansive cornfields. "Please get there safely, John," she whispered to the air, as if it would carry her plea to him. "Please let this man have the answer we need to right what's wrong." Movement behind her made her turn to see that Gibson - who lifts his face to stare at the sky as a plane flies past - had also gotten out. "What's wrong? Do They know where we are?" she asked, uneasily. "No," the boy responds, keeping his focus on the vapour trail left behind by the jet. "But Mulder's just woken from another nightmare that he doesn't want Agent Scully to know about, and Agent Spender has just passed us on a direct flight to Wyoming." Monica'd have to confess that she hadn't been one hundred percent focused on what Praise had been saying, but the last bit caught her attention immediately. "Wyoming? Why...?" Gibson didn't reply, though. Instead, his head lowered to stare at the female agent for several long, silence- filled seconds. ...And, somehow, she suddenly knows the answer. With a solemn nod of her head, smile, and fleeting glance at the fading vapour trail also, Reyes sighed, "Well, let's just hope somebody's smiling down on us for a change," before moving to get back into the car. XXXXXXXXXXXXX WASHINGTON, DC Despite the new dawning day, the figure sat in darkness - all blinds tightly closed. There was the sound of people walking back and forth along the corridor outside his office, but the man paid no attention to them as he turned the object in his hand over and over - the plastic covering helping it to easily slide through his fingers, but every millisecond of contact with it clearly heightening the frustration and anger within him. "You're alive, I know you are," he seethed through grit teeth, continuing the repetitive action over and over. "Just stop wasting time and end it now!" No longer willing to quietly sit by and wait for Their lines of Intelligence to track down the fugitives, the supersoldier sharply stood up, threw Mulder's ID badge across the room and then left. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "Hey! You're awake early?" Scully turned on the chair in the kitchen to watch as Mulder - dressed in only his boxers - approached, smiling with what she knew was a forced grin. That was something else they would have to address, but for now she still needed to recuperate from the terrifying vision she'd had and serious matters could not be on the menu. "I've been sleeping a lot lately," she sighed, standing to meet him half-way across the floor and then wrapping both arms around his neck. "It's about time I helped you catch some for a change." This was nice, no matter how slightly awkward it was: them, in each other's arms in the middle of a large kitchen that had a beautiful view of the sea - everything she could have dreamed of... almost. Normal. "I promised you that this would be 'our' day," he affirmed, tightening his hold on her - his morning erection stabbing at her flat stomach. "I have no intention of sleeping through it." As if something had suddenly just occurred to him, he pulled back a fraction and stared down at her. "Most importantly, though, how are you feeling this morning? Are you any better?" "N--" Dana faltered and broke eye-contact momentarily, before staring back at him and replying, "My health's a long way down the list of things we have to worry about." So she'd completely dodged the question, but at least she hadn't lied! Mulder wasn't having any of it, though. "What you mean is 'I'm fine'," he groaned, stepping away and combing both hands through his hair. "If you don't want me to know, why don't you just tell me that? No matter what, I'm always gonna worry about you, Scully! I can't help it - I care for you far too much to do otherwise. But, please, don't keep trying to either protect me from the truth by shutting me out or pretend to be something you're not." "Isn't that exactly what we're doing now? Pretending to be something we're not?" This was exactly the kind of steam she knew needed to be let off, but she hadn't meant to be so vicious with her comeback. He whirled on her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "We're using fake IDs so that we're not bombed from here to Kingdom Come!" he almost cried out. "I'm not pretending how I *feel* about you! I'm not pretending to live this life with you! I thought" - both arms gestured to encompass everything around them - "I wanted this..." He hesitated, realised his mistake - the exact thing Dana had prayed he would say - and quickly rephrased: "I thought *you* wanted this." Scully smiled and stepped up in front of him. The unfathomable emotional gap between them didn't feel so big anymore, and as she touched one of his quivering hands, she felt him calm. "We want this," she whispered. From that instant, things stopped being about 'his' quest, 'her' life, 'her' sacrifices, 'his' mistakes... Everything became 'we', 'our', or 'us'. And today was *their* day. XXXXXXXXXXXXX 1:26pm "Are you sure about this, Gibson?" Monica asked with a raised brow. For the duration of this whole journey, they'd been sure to make detours at every possible junction to minimise the chances of being followed, but after several hours of further driving this morning, Praise had turned to her insisting that they fly the rest of the way to San Diego with no explanation at all, despite her questions. Now, as they wait to board the plane, she can't help but wonder if he's made a wrong decision. "They're not following us," he vowed, looking up at her and then unexpectedly reaching into her jacket pocket to pull out the folded piece of paper. "Mulder wants Mrs. Scully to be at the place tomorrow," he said, waving it in front of her. "We won't make it in time if we continue to drive there, and then they'll be in greater danger." The queue ahead of them started to move, and with little time to think it through, Monica agreed - willingly following him onto the plane. XXXXXXXXXXXXX The start of the day had been about getting all the food and extras they needed for the house, as well as exploring the town and being sure to know where the exit routes lay. Freesol consisted of a small population, but everybody - according to the talkative grocery store owner - kept themselves to themselves, and nobody settled long enough for her to remember names, so it was the perfect place for them to blend in and remain anonymous at the same time. By midday they'd spent half of what remained of their funds on a week's worth of groceries, new clothing and any other necessary supplies they'd remembered from the few old stores huddled together on the only road Freesol could boast as a Main Street, Oh, and three pregnancy tests. Mulder had been unhappy about her resolution to try those before finally seeing the local MD if the stomach pains and dizziness continued, but he'd refrained from bringing it up - just happy that at least she was doing *something* to find the necessary answers. With bags unpacked after returning to their new home, they'd settled on the back deck with steaming cups of coffee in their hands. Both were secretly eager to walk along the beach and do a complete exploration of the house, but a silent agreement had been made between them to delay that until after she'd taken the tests. ...Unfortunately, neither were exactly rushing to get that task out of the way, and Scully certainly seemed to not be making plans to move anytime soon. "This is so beautiful," she exhaled, searching for any excuse to not break this moment of contentment as well as avoid the inevitable storm of tension. "I never thought it could be like this - as long as I was with you, I'd prepared myself to spend the rest of our lives going from dingy motel to dingy motel..." His half-full mug of cooling, forgotten coffee is placed down beside him on the step as he absorbs her words - a genuinely-happy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he recognises that awe-filled, child-like lilt in her tone A cold gust of air envelopes them, and hazel eyes flick up to survey the brewing clouds above, but he remains silent. As happy as he may be at her obvious delight with the place, the avoidance tactic they've always used throughout their partnership when it came to discussing serious matters like their feelings etc. and she's now using again to delay taking the pregnancy tests is grating on his nerves. It's bad enough he's apprehensive about the suggestion he plans to put to her when they eventually get down to the beach, but...God, the thought of another baby...another child created between them against all odds that he could actually be a father to: protect, play with, care for, watch grow up... Yes, he wants it. He hadn't thought he would with the threats that wait to strike them down around every corner and the fact that they can't even get William back, but in his mind's eye he can almost see a grown boy with Scully's piercing blue eyes and red crest of hair, almost the twin of his older brother... "I--...I'm g-gonna go do..." Scully's hesitant voice cuts through Mulder's ruminations and then trails off before she stands - one thin hand resting on his shoulder for support and lingering. Mulder reached up a hand of his own to rest on top of hers and gently squeezed before raising to his feet also. "No matter what the result or whatever you decide, I'll *always* be *here*," he quietly but firmly reassured, giving the hand yet another squeeze and bending to place a kiss on her forehead. A slow nod, and then she reluctantly walked to the bathroom, alone...not reappearing until fifteen minutes later. "Scully?" She turned and lifted her head to see Mulder leaning against the wall beside the bathroom door - realising that he had been standing there for the last quarter of an hour, in fact. When blinking furiously failed to hide the tears drowning her eyes, Dana looked away again - outstretching a hand to show the three individual test results, before helplessly collapsing into his arms. And in that instant - as his dream is snatched away and shattered into a million pieces at his feet - he knows she'd wanted it too. XXXXXXXXXXXXX BILL & TARA SCULLY'S RESIDENCE SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA Relieved but exhausted, Reyes rang the door bell as Praise took the final steps to stand beside her. Taking the plane had been more advantageous than initially intended, but as they waited to be answered - the warm afternoon sun making way for evening - she couldn't explain the unnerving feeling that something wasn't right eating away at her. Gibson shot a curious glance in her direction, but then looked away again. There was nothing he could say to wipe away the subconscious fear for Agent Doggett's safety she harboured, and not even he could avoid the dread that Mulder's plan would go far from smoothly, so there was no point trying to put anything to the contrary in words. There was no response from inside the house, so once again Monica knocked at the door - only to have it sharply tugged open a second later and be confronted by the agitated fury engraved across Bill Scully Jr's face. "Ye--...*You*?" he barked out as he recognised the female agent. "What part of 'leave my family alone' didn't you understand?" Reyes hesitated momentarily before regaining her senses and explaining, "It's really important we speak with your mother, Bill." It most likely wouldn't have mattered if she had or not, but the use of his first name instead of something more formal only worsened the naval officer's seemingly- permanent bad mood. "I'll say this one more time: leave us alone - stop following us. You have no business with any of us anymore - especially not my mother!" The door was slammed shut - barely missing Reyes' face by an inch or so, and making the wood almost jump from the hinges. It took half a minute for what had happened to register. When Reyes finally blinked herself back to attention, she turned to Praise for some kind of guidance... ...Except, he was still staring at the front door - worried confusion contorting his features. "Gibson? Gibson, what's wrong?" He didn't respond. There were too many explanations to sort through to find the one fitting this situation. "Gibson?" She gripped his shoulder in one of her sweaty palms and gave it a gentle shake. "Gibson, if something's wrong, you have to tell me." Not looking away from the front of the house, he croaked out, "There was a part of his brain I couldn't read - as if they were thoughts securely locked away in a vault for nobody to access...But how? And why?" XXXXXXXXXXXXX High-powered binoculars were lowered, dark sunglasses were slipped back in place, a quick check of the two syringes given to him 'just in case' that now rested in his shirt pocket, and then one final glance over his shoulder. Certain he was ready and the coast was clear, Jeffrey Spender put the convertible into gear and slowly drove up the trail to the Van De Kamp's farm, where he hoped to find William Scully-Mulder safe and sound. XXXXXXXXXXXXX BOUNDLESS BEACH FREESOL, WASHINGTON 6:02pm They walked in companionable silence - one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders; one of her arms around his waist and holding him close. The memory of one positive and two negative pregnancy test results lingered in their minds while the actual things now resided in the kitchen trash can, but they hadn't spoken about it. Instead, as he'd held her sob-wracked frame earlier, she'd carefully started to unclothe him...a slow seduction Mulder had shied away from initially, but need for solace, healing...pure, raw need....had enticed him to partake of also. Hitched breaths had mingled as lips had feverishly sought out the others', small hands had leisurely moved to blindly, instinctively lower his boxers whilst coarser, larger hands had, likewise, tugged at her underwear. Yet through all that - and even as sweat-slicked skin had slowly slid against sweat- slicked skin on the floor outside the bathroom - not a sound or word had passed between them, as if the silence and this gentle-but-desperate act of love transcended words and melded their souls together to heal the gaping wounds the new revelation had created. After that there had seemed little point discussing the tests further - not even the possibilities the single positive result held - so Mulder had thrown them away and then they'd both silently made their way to bed for the next couple of hours. His low "Let's go for a walk on the beach," as they'd awoken at the same time fifteen minutes ago - both on their sides, facing each other, and cradled in the warmth of each's arms - had become the only verbal communication between them since they'd broken down outside that bathroom door earlier this afternoon until now, but they'd healed each other nevertheless, and were possibly stronger now because of it. "I've got an idea I need to put to you," he suddenly started, breaking the still silence and slowing to a halt. Dana eyed him suspiciously, but he forged on ahead. "I know we only just got here, and you're still not one hundred percent okay, but..." Could this be it? Was this going to be what she'd been hoping and wondering if he would ask? And if it was, how would she react? After some hesitation and rationalisation, she'd always dreamt that she'd say 'yes', and to be asked here, on the beach! But was he asking because he really wanted to, or because of this recent emotional blow? She ended up so far lost in her thoughts, that she hardly noticed when he asked: "Do you feel up to making a trip to California? Maybe see the gardens at Mendocino Coast? I hear they're really beautiful this time of year, and at least we could put a little distance between us and the house - anybody chasing us won't expect us to desert the place before we've even settled down." No need to worry how she'd react to *that* scenario after all - so much for dreams coming true... "Scully?" She shook her head and quickly looked away, sighing, "Sure. If you think that's the best idea, you know I'll follow you." He picked up on the bad vibe immediately, though, and stepped in front of her. "Scully, what is it? Did I say something wrong? I know we've been on the road and we should be able to rest, but I'm not talking about just driving around the west coast - I'm suggesting a nice, relaxing trip that may, at the same time, help us to keep that anonymity. If you don't agree, you only have to disagree!" "There's nothing wrong - I told you that." "You told me what you thought I wanted to hear, but I saw something shift your features, Scully, when I asked. What is it?" She dared to look up and saw the pained expression on his face as he stared back at her. She couldn't lie - not after everything they'd been through and promised each other. No more 'I'm fines' or groundless guilt, or separate shouldering of burden: they had to be together on everything, and if she lied now, she realised she could end up completely jeopardising everything. "It's nothing...I just..." She paused, blinked, and then found the courage to stare him back in the eye for half a minute. "It's silly...I thought--...I didn't think that was what you were going to ask." Silence from the tall figure that waited for her to continue. "For some reason...I just--...I got it into my head there was some other suggestion on your mind." "Scully?" He bent so that they were face to face, and suddenly there really was no escape. "I want us to be okay..." "We *are* okay." "Then, please, trust me enough to be honest with me," he whispered. She faltered momentarily, and then spat out, "I thought... I thought you were going to ask me to marry you." With that she quickly turned away and started to make her way back to the trail that led up to their house. XXXXXXXXXXXXX More knocks at the front door went unanswered for several minutes, and Reyes felt her agitation reaching boiling point. She'd been annoyed by this man's bullheadedness when she and John had gone to visit Mrs Scully back in Baltimore, but with Gibson's new tidbit and cause for concern, her patience had been pushed too far. "*Mrs Scully*!" she called out at the top of her voice, once again banging at the door. Several curtains twitched in the windows of neighbouring residences, but Reyes didn't care. And Gibson... Gibson was still worrying over the implications of his inability to read Bill Scully's mind. "Mrs Scu--" The door swung open and yet again Bill was the figure behind it. This time, though, Monica put her foot in the jamb to stop him being so quick to dismiss them once more. "Get away," he practically snarled, glancing down at the foot and then back up at her. "Sir, I don't know - nor do I care - where this attitude and pure hatred toward the FBI springs from, but you need to understand that you're hampering any hopes of your mother - your family - ever being truly safe, or Dana's happiness." Oops...She hadn't meant that final bit to slip, and even Praise quickly looked up with wide eyes, but she was desperate to finally get this man's attention. Either Bill didn't hear properly what she'd said, or he just didn't believe her, because he ground out, "I have no sisters thanks to your precious FBI. That bastard Fox Mulder saw to that, and that's why any friend of his will never be an acquaintance of mine. Despite everything, Mom may still be his defender, but one day she'll realise what he's done to this family - what he's stolen from us." 'He's just over-protective.' Maggie's words from what seemed an eternity ago echoed in Monica's head as she considered what Bill had said. Maybe in his own way he was grieving over what he believed to be the death of Dana; maybe he just wanted his family to be left in peace...Or maybe Mulder had really done something she didn't know about to piss the guy off. But something gave her the impression none of these were the case. "We're not here to annoy you," the FBI agent assured. "Nor are we here to take your mother away. We just need to speak with her briefly. We've driven a long way to get here..." "She's not here - she went shopping with Tara and Matthew," came his calmer response. "Can we at least wait inside for them to get back, or should we just sit out here on the step?" Bill stared at her for several seconds and then glanced at Gibson before silently stepping away from the door to give them admittance into the house. "Thank you." XXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI HEADQUARTERS WASHINGTON D.C This was ridiculous. He was sick of being told what to do and when not to do anything. He'd done more than any of the others - had certainly made more progress in tracking down the targets than any of those other traitors, and even disposed of the small group of rebels to boot - yet that bastard upstairs was now telling him to wait and bide his time? No way. Stubbing out a cigarette on the trash barrel beside the elevator doors, the dark figure skulked toward the Toothpick Man's office. "Sir?" Halfway to his destination, he turned to see another Infiltrator in an open office doorway. "Sir, we've found Target A and are moving in now." With a twisted grin - or, at least as close to a grin as could be expected from his breed of being - the Smoker gave a nod of his head and entered the office. Other matters could wait until later - this once he *would* bide his time. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "You think I don't love you? That I don't want that?" Dana paused halfway up the trail and turned to look at the tall figure that still stood where she'd left him. "You don't think everyday I've tried to find the courage to ask...to find the right words?" "I shouldn't have said anything!" she called back, shaking her head dismissively. "I don't know why I got that stupid notion in my head in the first place...We don't have time to think of such fanciful things!" "Maybe now is when we need those things the most to help keep us sane." The solemness in his tone made her frown while the impact of the words made her freeze. "Maybe...Maybe now is when those things will put our lives in danger more than ever..." she struggled to weakly counter. Despite the distance between them, she could see the imperceptible smile that lifted his cheeks - sensed it, even. "And as I once told you, any risk taken with you to make things better is one worth taking over and over again." "Mul--...What are you saying?" With water beginning to fill her eyes, Scully gradually made her way back towards him. His confidence quickly drained away as she approached, and he began shifting nervously from one foot to the other in the sand. "I just..." This wasn't the way he'd had all planned out in his head - he'd come up with the perfect evening to ask her when they were more settled...but this... Should he go ahead and ask whilst the opening was there for him, or let it slip and wait until that perfect moment? "Scully, everything we've been through...before, and since we've been on the run... There's no way I could have done any of it without you - not a *second* of it. When I was away...I didn't live, and I barely got through each day, but I knew that as long as you were waiting for me - as long as you and William were alive and well - I had something to aim for and a reason to carry on. But I don't think I could have survived leaving again on my own..." He was testing the waters and trying to make her see what she meant to him, but at the same time he knew he was rambling, so he rushed on, "I wanna spend the rest of this life and any after it with you - I love you so much... Stephen and Paula Bydrell may be married, but I want...I want..." Piercing blue eyes stared and waited anxiously for him to finish the sentence. "I want Fox Mulder and Dana Scully to be, too - to be man and wife in reality as opposed to via fake IDs." It was what she'd wanted to hear - what she had hoped to and dreamt of hearing for so long her heart ached with the longing - but RationalScully was screaming out the impossibilities, impracticalities and dangers a giant step like that held. "The letter your mom wrote me," Mulder continued, concerned and confused by the doubt he could see on her face, "had at the bottom that she expected an 'invite to the wedding'...But do you remember what I told you when you asked what she'd written?" A shake of her head. "I told you she hadn't written anything that I didn't already know - I was thinking about asking you then...I was going to ask before I left... Hell, I've been considering putting the question to you a million times since our relationship deepened - especially after I...I was returned - and even had a ring, but I never got up the nerve!" He lowered to his knees and clasped each of her hands in his own. "Scully, I want you to marry me more than anything in the world," he repeated, quietly, emotion clogging his throat. "But..." A pause as his eyes clamped shut to hide the tears. "But we can't - not officially..." Dana stared at him. It was one of the rationalisations she'd already taken into account, but the pain clearly tearing him apart made her heart break. The fact was, for them to legally be wed, they'd have to use their real names and the second they did that it would be like sending up a flare for their enemies - a big flashing neon sign saying 'we are here'. If only... "So, what I want to ask - what I had planned on asking you at a time when I thought you would be more ready - is: will you be my unofficial wife?" What? Scully blinked several times, desperately trying to backtrack...had he just said what she thought he had? "What?" "I may not be able to walk down an aisle and proclaim in front of a priest or whatever that I'll love and cherish you til the day I die - that I'll be faithful to you and to you alone - but I wanna make a promise...I want us to be husband and wife in our own eyes..." "Mulder, that's nothing more than we have already - you know I'll always love you and be here for you just as I know it works both ways...In that way we are unofficially married, so--" He shook his head. It wasn't enough, but he didn't know how to better phrase himself. "I know that...but I really want to be able to think of you as my wife..." Why was this so vital to him, despite the unbreakable bond he knew they shared? Maybe that was an answer he didn't possess, but when had that ever stopped him before? "I wanna make a vow that we'll unofficially be man and wife, and then as soon as it's safe again, we'll have a big ol' legal ceremony. Scully, will you marry me?" Mulder as her 'unofficial' husband? A promise of a future together forever? Things would remain the same between them, but they could make 'honeymoon video' jokes... Confined to use the name Paula Bydrell in public, but behind closed doors, to be Mrs Dana Mulder, or Scully-Mulder as she had put on William's birth certificate...? How could she deny either of them that? She dropped to her knees in the sand also - releasing her hands from his hold to tenderly cup his face in them and then wrap both arms around his neck. "I do, for as long as we both shall live," she whispered. "I do, til the end of eternity, and even that's not long enough," he affirmed, leaning in to kiss the 'bride'. XXXXXXXXXXXXX VAN DE KAMP FARM DOUGLAS, WYOMING Jeffrey Spender stepped out of his roofless car and stared at the front of the house before approaching the front porch. Something didn't feel right - the air was too still, and there was no explanation for the chill running up and down his spine. And then he saw it: the large tear in the screen door, and the wide-open entranceway. "*Nooo--*!" Without thinking, he ran into the house at the sound of the woman's cut scream and the following cry of a baby from upstairs. He bee-lined straight for the staircase and was halfway up when something bashed him in the back hard - making him fall to his knees and almost smashing his vertebrae. "You're too late," a voice chuckled into his ear before the stranger passed him and continued up to the nursery. But Spender managed to regain some strength and yelled out, "Leave him alone!" The supersoldier was directly above the disfigured agent again within three strides, and with little effort he swung a leg out to hit Spender square on the jaw and send him flying back down to the bottom of the stairs. The baby's cries increased in volume. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "Here? But why?" Maggie Scully looked up at the FBI agent and boy as they sat in her bedroom - the folded piece of paper tightly clasped in her hands as if she were drawing strength from it. Thankfully, she'd arrived home with her daughter-in-law and grandson only a matter of minutes after the visitors had arrived, but she was dubious about their presence - especially that she'd found them sitting in the living room with Bill upon her return. Monica shook her head, explaining, "We were just asked to pass it along. Maybe there's something there he thinks you should see or something else...I just know it's very important that we make sure you're at that address tomorrow..." She glanced at Praise for clarification, and he nodded. "It'd mean a lot to him, and even more to Dana." As best as she could, the older woman had tried to move on whilst staying here - resigning herself to the lie that Dana was indeed dead... But here was a chance to make up for the guilt and hatred she'd relayed to her daughter in those last few weeks before they'd disappeared - a chance to do something for Dana that would make her happy. The decision was simple enough, and she silently nodded. Being careful to not be detected, the figure in the dim hallway outside moved away from the bedroom door and walked to the kitchen. XXXXXXXXXXXXX There was blood everywhere, but as the haze cleared in Spender's mind and he rolled over - a loud groan escaping at the sharp pain throughout his body the motion caused - he could still hear William's screams from upstairs, so he couldn't have blacked out for long. Small mercies came at quite a large price. Propped up on his elbows - blood still pouring from his mouth, split chin and a cut on his forehead - he inched forward and took one step at a time up. He did try to stand several times with the help of the banister, but the pain in his back was too overwhelming, and he easily flopped back down onto the carpet. Almost at the top, though, the supersoldier re-appeared with the screaming child in its arms. "You just don't give up!" it growled, quickly approaching. "Your fight is futile, and you know it." The foot shot out again to finish the downed agent off, but, mustering up everything he had within him, Spender reached out one of his arms (balancing precariously on the opposite elbow) and grabbed a firm hold around the supersoldier's ankle. The being swayed, but did not topple. Spender was left with only one option. He stared at William and then completely rolled over onto his back - tugging hard on the ankle at the same time. Finally the supersoldier lost balance and begun to fall down the staircase, but as he went Spender made one final swift move and with his free hand injected the replacement in the leg with one of the magnetite-filled syringes Doggett and Reyes had given to him back in Connelsville. Everything went silent. XXXXXXXXXXXXX TO BE CONTINUED...