TITLE: 'The Beginning And The End' (parts 10-12 of ??) AUTHOR: XSketch (XSketch@hotmail.com) WEBSITE: http://thesketchfiles.bravehost.com DISCLAIMER: See part 1 for all disclaimers. --------------------------------------------------- Despite agreeing to stay until the following morning, after a primarily quiet take-away dinner (courtesy of their newfound friends several doors down) and then sharing a tender hour together sitting on the curb just outside their motel room - looking up at the sky above as they chatted; every now and then staring into the depths of each others' eyes - Mulder and Scully mutually decided to get back on the road, knowing that the sooner they got moving again the safer their lives would be. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "The cell phone customer you are trying to contact cannot be reached at th--" John Doggett hung up the phone line as he irritably paced around the living room of his house, then angrily slammed the handset down on his coffee table and snatched up his car keys. Just over four hours ago his partner had returned to his house after sorting 'a few things' at her own place, and settled down to talk with him and Dr. Burks for an hour and a half about the file they had been pawing through all morning. She had then offered to drive Burks first to his apartment to collect some clothes/valuables and then on to Dulles International Airport whilst Doggett tried to get in contact with Deputy Director Kersh. John hadn't received a single phone call from her since her departure on his cell or home phone, and after just trying to call her and only being greeted by a message to let him know that she couldn't be contacted, his patience (already pushed to the limit by his inability to get a hold of Kersh) was finally tipped off balance. He slammed the front door shut behind him and ran down to his parked car - cursing himself for letting Monica go alone. XXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI HEADQUARTERS 7:05 pm Silence. Deadly silence. Yet the slow blink of eyes proved that there was some form of life occupying the cold fourth floor office that had once belonged to Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner. Nevertheless, despite this clear fact being established (only barely enhanced by the hardly audible sound of slow breaths being taken) nothing else stirred in the room until the door that led in from the secretary's outside office quickly but quietly swung open and a shadowy figure hurriedly entered. Peter Bryant let out a long sigh of relief and leant against the door to his new office - not realising that he had company. "Been keeping busy?" the Toothpick Man snidely asked, watching with a twisted grin when Bryant abruptly stood to attention with a worried expression. "You've been gone all day..." Bryant glanced down briefly and then looked back up as he composed himself and reached to switch on one of the desk lamps on the long table in front of him. "I was... uh...I've been trying to track down both Alvin Kersh and Shannon McMahon - to find out if he actually followed your orders," he falsely explained (trying to push any possible thoughts that might be lingering of the meeting he had partaken in earlier in the day out of his mind before they were read). The Toothpick Man looked neither unconvinced nor happy by the given excuse. If he was certain that Bryant was telling lies, though, he seemed game enough to just play along - at least for the time being - with the AD's pointless story. "And were you able to confirm that our little 'problem' has been eradicated?" he asked, slowly raising to his feet and moving toward the slightly shorter man. Bryant nervously took another step and then side-stepped around the Toothpick Man to get to his new desk. "I was unable to track down either one, so either Kersh killed her and then disappeared, she killed Kersh before he had chance to carry out his task, or...Or he couldn't bring himself to do it and they've both gone into hiding..." "And which of those three options do you believe is the correct one?" the Toothpick Man asked in an almost sarcastic tone. Technically maybe Bryant shouldn't be as nervous as he now was - he had greater strength than any normal human, and the only way his genetic counterparts had of killing him would also result in their demise. But the sweat still started to seep through his skin, and he knew at the back of his mind (a place he had to store the knowledge if he wanted to keep it safely out of his colleague's mind-probing reach) that the truth behind the meeting he had attended earlier today could not be revealed...Nobody could know that he and several others under the control of the SuperSoldier program had met with ex-Syndicate leader Strughold to look at their options of ways to stop re-colonisation taking place on the preset date in 2012...Nothing could be used to jeopardise that rebellion. "Well," Peter started - trying to sound authoritative and in full control of himself, "Kersh is clearly a coward...Part of me says he didn't kill her, but the most part of me thinks that he values his life enough and therefore carried out the task..." He paused - sitting down in the chair the Toothpick Man had been on before his entrance. "Don't you?" The standing white-haired 'man' slightly nodded as a sly smile lifted his cheeks, but he gave no response. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Maybe there was Hope for Mulder and Scully - Hope for their new lives together that they would have to take advantage of whilst it was available when considering their past chances at happiness and how short-lived this one, like those, would probably be, but a glimmer of Hope nonetheless. But those left behind seemed unable to reach for that same glint of light...In fact, they seemed to be faced by the opposite end of the ladder - with Skinner dead, Kersh not far from being the same and Doggett and Reyes unsure of what to do. Now even Jeffrey Spender was being dealt a bad hand and it was easy to wonder as to if there was actually any point at all. ~~~~~ CATHOLIC CRADLE OF LOVE FOR CHILDREN WASHINGTON D.C. Defeated, Jeffrey Frank Spender sharply pulled off his necktie and held it loosely between his legs as his other hand slammed a file down beside him on the bench he sat on outside the small adoption agency building. Another possible lead down the drain, but this wasn't just any lead: it had been the strongest one he had come across to date (thanks to much research on the internet) in his search for baby William before anyone or anything else got to him, and that was what made this dead end so difficult to face. Maybe he had no place investigating anything - it wasn't as if he had ever been friends with Fox Mulder...But this wasn't about Mulder and Scully anymore (though they did play their part in it), this was about the Fate of the planet. Having had first-hand experience of what was being done to innocent people he knew what lengths were being gone to (Gibson Praise had filled in the blanks from what he knew primarily from having read Mulder's thoughts). William seemed an important part of the equation and Spender had set out to find the child before any steps could be taken, but Walter Skinner had done a serious job to make sure that no records remained pertaining to the child's adoption. With the Bureau AD apparently missing at the moment, Jeffrey had had to do as much information digging as possible. But this was where the road apparently ended with no reward whatsoever at this Catholic adoption centre. The adoptee that he had so hoped and believed was the child of Dana Scully turned out to be that of a young single girl who had found it too hard to carry on with a baby (born on the same day as William) she had never been prepared to have. He raised a shaky finger and slipped it underneath the wig on his head to scratch an itchy patch of scarred skin there as Gibson's words from last night echoed in his mind. 'They'll find him before you do.' What if They already had? What if They had gotten him back and the date of Armageddon had been moved forward? Maybe it was time to get back in touch with Agents Doggett and Reyes. He had broken contact due to the knowledge of how much danger they would all be putting themselves in, especially with him now having the added responsibility of taking care of Gibson, but now he needed to know as to if they had made any progress and if they knew where Walter Skinner had disappeared to. XXXXXXXXXXXXX 67 BENNETT AVE. WASHINGTON D.C. 8:57 pm "Monica?!" Doggett stood outside Reyes' apartment and knocked on the door as he called out her name - only to be answered by silence. He tried again, and again, and again yet still nothing. With a slight frown he took a step back, pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and dialled the number for her home phone. He listened through the door to the muffled ringing coming from inside her apartment, but eventually the answer machine picked up on her behalf and he was left with only one option. So, hanging up the phone and re-pocketing it, Doggett pulled out his cut of her key and unlocked the door. XXXXXXXXXXXXX The door opened and Gibson looked up for a few seconds before Jeffrey Spender - who had just spent the past hour at a bar downtown - slowly shuffled into the room. "I told you," Praise stated, matter-of-factly, moving to switch on the television set so that he could block out the sound of Spender's jumbled thoughts. The ex-FBI agent let out a guttural groan as he swung the front door shut and then dropped down into one of the armchairs (a little light-headed from the couple of glasses of alcohol he had drunk to try and dull his frustration at failing at the adoption centre, but far from being fully inebriated). "It was the best lead I had," he croaked. "...But there's always the possibility of an even better chance to come along..." His attempt to lighten the mood of the situation failed dismally and the room was thrown into silence. Gibson sighed and shook his head as he stood in front of the TV - leaving Spender to muse about how he was letting himself be bossed around by a fourteen-year-old teenage boy...Then again, the boy was special thanks to his mind-reading powers etc., so maybe Jeffrey should just sit and learn. XXXXXXXXXXXXX A dark apartment welcomed Doggett as he entered. He reached his right hand out to the side and flicked the light switch on the wall up and down several times but nothing happened. "Monica!" he loudly whispered, cautiously stepping further into Reyes' home (closing the door behind him). "John?" came her almost questioning reply as the lamp on the coffee table lit up enough for him to see her sitting on the couch. A frown grew on his forehead, but his tense shoulders relaxed. "Jesus," he exhaled. "Where have you been? Why didn't you answer when I called? Why's your cell phone switched off?" So many questions spinning around in his head that his mouth thoughtlessly vomitted, and yet it wasn't even as if she had been missing overnight... He approached her, but despite the worry on his face she could obviously see, Reyes did not move from where she stiffly sat - the light from the lamp on the table in front of her illuminating the raised eyebrows and slight worry on her own face. "Wh--" A pair of black leather gloves were suddenly thrown down onto the wooden table - cutting him off. "She's been talking with me," a voice started from behind Doggett (who - recognising the voice - immediately turned and waited for the stranger to step into the light). "We meet again, Agent Doggett..." "I don't recall any 'meeting' last time...I remember the feel of a gun pressed against my neck and basically being told I'm an idiot, but I don't remember meeting you..." John retorted, squinting his eyes to try and see the figure that stood shrouded in darkness. "Hmmm...Wit," the illusive figure chuckled, "will get you nowhere, Agent Doggett. Fox - Agent Mulder - had a lot of that, but look how much trouble his mouth got him into." John shook his head and shrugged. "I don't understand. What the hell's this got to--" He paused and shot a glance at Reyes. "Who are you? Why the hell are you here?" "Finally, some pertinent questions, Agent Doggett! I thought laziness might be setting in." "Now who's tryin' to be a wiseguy?" Doggett snapped. With head lowered, the stranger stepped forward until the dim light lit the front of his tall body. He nodded slightly and then looked up at the two agents, who stared back with blank expressions on their faces. "My name is Richard Matheson...I was a member of Congress until I realised how dangerous a threat the knowledge I have was to my life and had to fake my own death. I used to help Fox Mulder until nearly four years ago," the tall figure sighed as shadows danced across his pale face. "The reason I'm here is that it has been discovered that I am still alive, so my life is now practically over - running on borrowed time - because the knowledge I have may be the key to what will save you all...What might be able to kill these so-called supersoldiers--" He cut off as he watched Reyes sharply stand and Doggett take a step toward him. "What you just say?" John growled in a tone that cried 'If you're messing with us I swear to God I'll kill you here and now!' Matheson realised, with an inward grin, that he had dropped the bait with success. He did, indeed, have the information that could help toward stopping the viral apocalypse, but he wasn't willing to give it over for nothing in return and Doggett's response had been exactly the one he'd been hoping for. Despite her partner's eagerness to listen to whatever this stranger had to say, Reyes was dubious - they'd been tricked before (just several weeks ago) by a man pretending to offer them information on the supersoldiers...They had even been mislead by a supersoldier in the form of Shannon McMahon. If they wanted to protect Mulder and Scully, if they wanted to protect themselves and if they wanted to protect the future they could not outrightly trust the first ray of hope that shone their way (no matter how badly they needed it). "Why should we listen to you?" she asked, moving up beside John. "You attack Agent Doggett at the university in Maryland, threaten me at gunpoint from the shadows of my own apartment for an hour or so...Never showing your face until you decide to offer us something you know we need...Something we'd never question..." The senator turned his attention on Monica and gave a slight acknowledging nod in her direction. "You say you knew Agent Mulder, but a *lot* of people (especially with governmental connections) knew him," she went on until Doggett rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Ah, 'Trust no one'...Working on the X-Files has certainly taught you a good lesson," Matheson smiled, lowering his head for a moment. "You told me the cause was pointless - that the battle couldn't be won," John argued. "I also said that you weren't trying to understand the resources you had!" came the senator's reply. "Do you think I want to be here? My life is set to be ended a lot sooner than yours...I could walk out of this apartment and be dead within two seconds! I have no choice," he almost snapped, bitterly. "I'm trying to help! The knowledge I have is going to be the reason for my death whether I tell you or not, so I probably could just walk out of here without uttering a word of it, but I might as well give some reason to it all, mightn't I?" He threw both hands into the air with frustration when he realised how much he had started to pointlessly babble. John shot yet another questioning glance at Reyes and was about to say something when the sound of shuffling feet came from just outside the apartment, shortly followed by several knocks on the wooden door. He turned back to face Matheson, but the senator - as well as his leather gloves from the coffee table - were gone. XXXXXXXXXXXXX This wasn't right. It wasn't right and it...It wasn't fair. She'd seen and dealt with a lot of things in her life, but as Margaret Scully idly picked at the dinner her daughter-in-law had served up she just couldn't even begin to contemplate the injustice of it. She shouldn't be here imposing on her son's family at their home in San Diego...She shouldn't be running away from her house like a dangerous felon hiding from the law - she'd done nothing wrong, for Christ's sake! Suddenly her mouth filled with a bitter taste, and as much as she didn't want to, Maggie couldn't help but know that Dana was the prime reason for that cold bitterness. Anger and disgust toward her daughter had run through her veins since she'd received the news of her grandson's adoption (what had, in fact, been bubbling inside her since Dana had developed the obsession with questioning the miracle William was), but now - even though she understood some of the reasons - she couldn't help but think that neither Fox or Dana had bothered to consider their options. "Mom?" Bill sat next to his mother at the dinner table and stared at her with a hint of worry in his expression as she sat frozen still with her head slightly lowered and her right hand holding her fork just above her plate. He frowned, glanced over at his wife on the opposite side of the table and then turned his attention back on Maggie. "Mom?" he gently whispered again, reaching a hand up to rest on her left shoulder. Shaking herself out of the depths of her bitter thoughts Margaret Scully sharply raised her head and turned to face her son - the distant look in her eyes taking a little longer to disappear. "Are you okay?" Bill asked, still staring at her. Both Tara and Matthew silently, motionlessly watched as Bill Jnr. removed his hand from his mother's shoulder and Maggie slowly nodded before continuing to eat her food without uttering a word. Eventually everybody returned to their cooling dinner. but Bill was far from letting it slip out of mind. XXXXXXXXXXXXX FBI HEADQUARTERS 9:14 pm He'd made it past security without any problems and he hadn't been stopped by anybody suddenly appearing out of one of the dark offices as he made his way along the empty, dimly-lit corridor toward the elevator, but as Alvin Kersh picked at the lock to open the door of the X-Files office he couldn't stop nervously looking over his shoulder (sweat dripping from his skin by the bucket-load). XXXXXXXXXXXXX Doggett swept a questioning look around the dark room - trying to see where the senator could have gone - and then moved toward the door that somebody out in the hallway was still knocking at as Reyes quickly pulled her gun from the holster that lay on one of the kitchen worktops. He glanced through the peep-hole and then pulled the door open to reveal Gibson Praise, with Jeffrey Spender standing behind him. XXXXXXXXXXXXX SOMEWHERE IN KANSAS As darkness enveloped the SUV, Mulder diverted his attention away from the seemingly never-ending road he had been driving along for the last... Well, he'd lost track of time... Anyway, what mattered was the here and now, so he glanced away from the quiet and empty path ahead for a brief moment and looked at Scully's sleeping form on the seat next to him. She twitched several times and he couldn't stop himself from wondering - yet again - as to what she might be dreaming about. 'The life she left behind for you, dumb ass!' a voice in his head laughed at him. He let out a mournful sigh and had then planned on turning his attention back to the road, but he just couldn't stop staring at her. There was so much she deserved but he knew he would never be able to give. On his lone meeting with the Gunmen's friends he had made some special arrangements that he hoped would ease at least some of the pain in her heart, but it was just going to be a long journey of discovery and healing. It was as Mulder looked back at the road that one of her hands shot out sideways and desperately searched for him just as it had four years ago when she had been hypnotised to recall the events with Cassandra Spender at the Ruskin Dam. He slid a hand off of the steering wheel and took her outstretched one in it - feeling comfort in himself when she tightened the grip on him as if to stop him from ever leaving her side again. The separation had been tough on him - furiously eating away at the resolve she had given him a reason to live for - but he had never truly stopped to think about how it was affecting her (only ever thinking that she deserved better than him but scared by the thought that he would return to discover that she had found someone else). XXXXXXXXXXXXX A black silhouette stood in the middle of the office and made Kersh freeze in terror as he opened the door. Knowing there was no turning back, he flicked on the light and felt the fear rise in him to an almost inconceivable level (ironic considering the investigations that had been conducted in this very room for the last twelve years) as he recognised the person staring back at him. "Sir," Walter Skinner started, nodding his head slightly. One eyebrow raised and the other lowered in a frown as Kersh tried to rationalise what his mind was telling him but what his eyes contradicted. "A-A-Assistant Director?" he almost choked in a bare whisper. Skinner smiled a little and briefly looked down at his feet (almost embarrassed) - never moving from the spot he stood on. The deputy director hurriedly entered the office and shut the door behind him. He tried running the day's events through his head to recall how many beers (or Scotches, for that matter) he had downed earlier in the evening to drown his fears. It couldn't be Skinner... Skinner had been turned into a supersoldier and then (though it was true that he had no reason to believe the 'people' that had told him this) he had reportedly killed himself. "Working late, sir?" Walter asked in a tone that made it sound as if he was just trying to make small chit-chat, but was in fact spiked with a huge amount of anger and sarcasm. "I don't think you'll be finding much down here to work with or destroy, for that matter...I'm surprised you even found your way down here..." Kersh just *had* to be dreaming...Dreaming or at least hallucinating! Skinner *was* dead. And even if he was still alive, there was no way he would be this vindictive, no matter how big an SOB Alvin may have been in the past. "You...You can't be real," the deputy director stated flatly, eyeing the figure in front of him curiously. "And if you're one of Them, you might as well show your true face instead of one that I know can't be true." "I'm not real, but I'm here and for a reason," Skinner replied - still not moving from where he stood like a statue. "Agents Doggett and Reyes are being mislead, and unless you tell them they're gonna turn their backs on the Truth and lead you, Mulder, Scully, themselves and everyone to their graves." Surprised by the tact used and still puzzling over what he was seeing, Kersh moved further into the office frowning. "I witnessed a gathering of these so-called supersoldiers earlier today, but they weren't plotting toward the end of the planet - they were trying to find a way to fight against it," Skinner went on, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other (the first indication that he wasn't nailed in place). "I don't understand it - aliens rebelling against their own kind - but I need to let you know that the woman you've been talking with...She's...She's witholding information..." Skinner probably could have stood there and said 'the building's about to explode' and all Kersh would have been paying any attention to was the fact that the assistant director was standing in the dark room. He seemed to be slightly aware of what was being said, though, when he frowned briefly and coughed "Huh?" "Sir, why are you down here? You knew the place had been packed up...You knew your life would be on the line if you came within a thousand feet of the building...Why risk your life - literally look Death right in the face - and come here for nothing?" "I...I..." Kersh hesitated and looked away briefly as the beads of sweat trickled down his face. "I thought there might have been something left behind...A clue... Maybe some remnants of an answer to the question some of us don't want to ask..." "Answers," Skinner affirmed. "Answers that could lead up to a resolution? I think we all want those, but I can help a little: find out what that woman is keeping from you...She says that John and Monica aren't handling the information in that file properly, but she's not telling you a key thing that the group of supersoldiers I saw today were trying to work for. Get her to tell you what it is." The deputy director's frown deepened. "She's disappeared...Escaped as far away as possible." Walter shook his head and then lowered it as he walked toward the exit. "That's not the impression I was given when she walked five minutes late into that meeting." XXXXXXXXXXXXX Gibson walked straight into the apartment and glanced around at the interior of the room before looking back at the three people that still stood at the front door. "There was somebody here," he stated firmly. Doggett stared at the boy for a moment and then turned to face Jeffrey Spender (who still stood out in the hallway) with a raised eyebrow. "Is there any way of turning off his mind-reading box?" he joked. "TV seems to work," Spender shrugged, "but other than that..." He paused, shook his head and then slowly made his way into the apartment. He was about to say more when the fact that only one lamp was lit set a few cogs turning in his head. He turned and stared at the two agents (who stood side-by-side at the still-open entrance). "Did...Did we interrupt something?" "Huh?" Doggett frowned - shutting the door. Monica blushed slightly and smiled as she shot a glance at her partner. "They were talking to somebody," Praise said before either agent had chance to reply. "But he's gone now." He paused and paced around the room for a moment. "...Out through Agent Reyes' bedroom window, but they didn't know that..." All eyes fell on the boy. "How do you know that, Gibson?" Reyes asked gently, approaching Praise and crouching down in front of him. "I can see it in your eyes," the boy replied, staring at the female agent. "I read Agent Doggett's mind. That, and your bedroom door's open." He paused and outstretched an arm to point at the open door to his left. Monica smiled and lowered her head for a moment before glancing over her shoulder at John. "And why are you here?" she asked, turning back to face Praise. "Ask him," came the flat reply as the boy redirected the line of his pointing finger onto Spender. "Can't you read his mind?" Doggett asked with a hint of sarcasm as a small smile lifted his cheeks. "Oh, he knows everything," Spender sighed, looking over at where Reyes still squatted in front of the boy. "He has a very negative way of interpreting it all, though." "I'm only telling the truth," Gibson retorted. There was a moment of still, awkward silence - the words lingering in the thick air as if to taunt them with the harsh reality the truth offered. "We need to work together," Jeffrey eventually started. "And we need to speak to AD Skinner about William." John and Monica shared an uneasy glance; waiting until Gibson was sat in front of her television before they moved with Spender into the bedroom to share with him their own experiences and the fate they were certain their boss had faced. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Time was definitely not on their side, but nothing happened over the next fortnight. Doggett and Reyes were unable to track down Senator Matheson; Jeffrey Spender discovered no leads in his search for where Mulder and Scully's son had been sent; the group of rebel supersoldiers did not meet again to avoid suspicion; Alvin Kersh went into hiding to consider his options, and in Wisconsin something was eating away at two fugitive agents...Then again, maybe it was the same thing eating away at everybody else... XXXXXXXXXXXXX \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ USMC BASE BRIG QUANTICO, VIRGINIA 4 WEEKS AGO "What are you thinking?!" the voice boomed in his ear. "What do you want from me?" he growled back defiantly - desperate to know what they wanted but at the same time unwilling to give it to them. The club swung and hit him squarely in the stomach - knocking all the wind out of him. He fell to the cold stone floor and closed his eyes against what was happening as he felt an army-issued steel toe-capped boot kick him in the ass. He could see her face - gently whispering to him. He could see his son's face. *They* were what he was thinking of...Hell, they were all he ever thought about - the only things that kept him sane, kept him alive and gave him a reason to go on. He had failed them twice within the past twelve hours: getting captured despite staying away from them for ten months so that he wouldn't be, and (most importantly) the discovery that his 'crusade' had been a waste of time and they had no future. Knowing he was now nearer to them than he had been since the morning after he'd jumped from that southbound train into the quarry (having in the cold hours of the morning silently slipped into her apartment - despite his better judgement - and watched them sleep through weeping eyes for half an hour before reluctantly and painfully pulling himself away to get back on the run) made a mental vow that he would make it up to them and do everything in his power to keep them protected, and hoped they heard his prayer. "WRONG ANSWER!" an almost distant voice yelled out - ripping through his thoughts. Hands suddenly grabbed the collar of the orange jumpsuit he wore and he was roughly pulled up into a sitting position. Warm, short breaths brushed against his cheek to let him know that the guard's face was close to his. He slowly opened his eyes and stared into the ones that were staring back at him like daggers. "*What are you thinking!?*" Still trying to catch back some of the breath that had been knocked out of him, Mulder wordlessly moved his mouth and shook his head. His body was thrown from the guard's grasp and then the two uniformed men left the dark cell. "No sleeping!" was the last thing he heard them order as they disappeared. The routine was repeated over and over and over. They hosed him down with freezing cold water, and the guard outside his cell came in every hour to kick him in the ribs and make sure he wasn't sleeping. Luckily 'sleep' had never been something he'd been all that good at, so he had thought that they wouldn't be able to use that as a form of torture...But eventually - through sheer exhaustion of the journeying he had done over the last few weeks, of the torture, from the truth he had learnt, from how much he missed Scully and their son - his mind would occasionally shut down, and soon it became difficult to tell the difference between the real world and that in his haunting dreams. When he escaped from the military base six days later and fled with Scully, he thought the dreams - the nightmares - would stop. But they were far from over... ////////////////////////////// PRESENT DAY It was Scully's turn to drive, so with his head resting against the cool window beside him, Fox Mulder took the nap he needed and she had literally ordered him to take. His eyes slipped shut and the boy appeared as always, but he soon realised that he wasn't on the beach that his dreams had delivered him to in the past... He was in the spaceship that had abducted him from Oregon, and the boy was securely strapped to the same chair that he had been tortured in during that period of time away from Scully. "Daddayyyy!" the small boy cried out in pain and fear. Mulder tried to rush toward the chair (not scared of the shapeshifting bounty hunters that gathered around it), but he found himself held back by two military-uniformed men, and then felt a hard blow in his stomach as one of them struck out. "*Daddayyyyy*!" the high-pitched voice whimpered again. "Forget him," one of the military men sneered in Mulder's face. "You failed him years ago...Failed his mother too...Why do you try to make it up to them now?" Suddenly the man's face morphed into Scully's, but the next sentence still came out in the man's voice. "You're a guilty man - guilty of a wasted life!" Another blow with the club, but this time to the ribs. "Look what you made me do!" the fake version of Scully yelled at him in her voice, pointing at the boy still secured to the chair. "*Look*!" Mulder felt tears sting his eyes as a circular saw appeared from above the chair and slowly lowered toward the boy. The dream sharply ended as Mulder's eyes flung open, his body sat upright and his strained, shaky voice cried out "William!" XXXXXXXXXXXXX "We need to talk." Margaret Scully looked up from the journal she was writing in as her son entered the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind him. He stared at her sternly - watched her like an eagle as she closed the book in front of her. Her distant - often undescribeable - behaviour over the passing days had been bothering him to no end, but he'd kept quiet for the sake of keeping the peace within his home. Things had gotten to the stage, though, where something had to be said. "What is it, Bill?" Maggie asked, wiping her face to try and hide the tears she'd cried as she turned to face him. "I think you know," he flatly replied. Cold silence as she stood with her head lowered and tried to pass him so that she could exit the room. A hand shot out, though, and sharply grabbed a hold on one of her arms. "Now." "Bill, we've been through this a hundred t--" "But we haven't, have we?" Bill snorted. "You wanna believe that we have so that you can try to avoid it..." "This is your *mother* you're talking to!" she snapped back, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "Why are you doing this to yourself, Mom? Why are you letting her do this to you?" Margaret turned away from her son and shook her head as memories of all her children squabbling over the wrapped packages under the Christmas tree many years ago replayed in her mind. She wanted to argue back, but the fight was slowly draining out of her, and she didn't know if there was much point anymore. "You tried to help her, but she threw it back in your face and now she's likely dead because of her ignorance," Bill went on, bitterly. "There's nothing you can do for her now, so why don't you live your life for yourself?" Margaret sharply turned on her heels as flames of disgust flared in her eyes. She was far from being able to deny the resentment she'd been feeling toward Dana, but she couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Bill's mouth. "She was your sister...How can you just talk about her like a piece of yesterday's news?" He shook his head and sat down on the edge of her bed. He missed Dana just as much as his mother did, and he prayed that whoever had made her run away got what was coming to them, but he wasn't ready to idly sit by and watch as the family he had left slowly destroyed itself over what had been lost. Brief moment of silence as Maggie chewed on her bottom lip and intently stared at her son. "We gotta take things as they are," Bill eventually sighed - trying to remain calm and collected. "We lost Missy 'cos of these people and now we've lost Dana...You shouldn't let them now push you around..." A light of understanding suddenly flicked on in Margaret Scully's eyes as his words sank in. "This...This is about my staying here?!" XXXXXXXXXXXXX Scully slammed on the brakes as Mulder's voice crying out their son's name echoed in the air, in her ears and in her heart. She turned slightly in her seat to stare at his heavily-sweating pale face and red-rimmed eyes as he struggled to catch his breath with short, sharp gasps. Realising that she had stopped the car and was now watching him, Mulder wiped at his damp eyes with the heel of his hands and then shot her a glance (quickly turning away again after). "We out of gas already?" he tried to joke. She said nothing. Did nothing, except sit and stare at him. As he looked back at her and locked his gaze with hers, Mulder's mind was trying to determine as to if the dream was over or if he was really still on the spaceship and everything in the car was part of his imagination. "I'm..." He paused and swallowed hard as his breaths returned to normal. "It...It was just a dream..." he sighed, more to himself than her. "Just a bad dream..." Dana tilted her head a little to one side and gave him the old 'Oh, come on!' look, but he refused to give any further information about his nightmare. "Mul--" "It was just a bad dream...The heat's playing havoc with my mind, that's all...Despite all the years we spent on the road, the last ten months of sitting on my ass doing nothing makes this a little surreal," he tried to assure her. "Need to remember what it was like, I guess." One of his hands reached out to take a hold of hers. "Couple more days and we'll be at our new home and then we can try to forget that we ever had bad dreams...I didn't mean to scare you, j--" "You didn't scare me, Mulder," she finally replied, looking down at their joined hands. "...It's not that... But--" "Look, I told you it'll be okay... It will, I promise..." He trailed off as he watched her head lower and slightly shake. They both knew that promises for a perfect future couldn't really be made and that even thoughts of Hope could begin to tire, but he was caught off-guard when - after thirty seconds of tense silence - Scully suddenly slammed both of her palms against the steering wheel and growled at the top of her voice "Dammit!" Mulder flinched away from her a little. Instinctively he wanted to outstretch his arms, then wrap her in them and hold her tightly against his body as she let the tears flow, but he knew that she also needed space to adjust to what was facing her for her own reasons and not be forced into accepting anything - after all, this was her journey as well as his. He watched Scully get out of the vehicle and then move around the front with both hands combing nervously through her hair. He waited a beat, then slowly and quietly slipped out of the car also. "I'm not mad at you," she said quietly, not looking up at him as she dropped a hand down to hang by her side. "Never you..." Squinting against the afternoon sun, he raised an eyebrow but said nothing - continuing to let her take things at her own pace. "But, God, Mulder! It's..." Scully shook her head with frustration as the right words eluded her. Only three weeks had passed since they had really begun this journey in New Mexico, yet the tension was already bubbling at boiling point. It wasn't each other they were becoming sick of the sight of, though, it was this whole situation they didn't deserve to be loaded with. "*HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!*" she suddenly cried out, looking up at the sky above them for a moment before turning to face him. "You did nothing wrong!" she told him - almost questioning him 'Why us?' Mulder watched Scully turn away again and then took a step toward her. "*You* did nothing wrong," he said, matter-of-factly. She heard the words but chose to ignore them as she went on, "You didn't kill anybody, there was nothing legitimate about that farce of a court hearing, and there's no record to say about your...your death sentence...Yet still we run!...And why do I feel so guilty?..." "*You* did *nothing* wrong," he repeated firmly, moving up behind her. Dana sensed his nearness and felt his warm breath on the back of her neck, but as badly as she wanted to also feel his arms wrapped around her, something wanted to throw his forgiveness back in his face. "You had a bad dream about him, Mulder!" she yelled, whirling on him. "You called out for him, didn't you? You keep saying you understand why I did what I did, but--" "But what?" he queried, remaining calm. "What, you want me to say that I hate you for protecting our son and putting his safety before everything else? You want me to look at you with disgust and say that I think you made a bad decision, even though I don't?" Mulder paused as similar words she had said to him several years ago echoed in his memory. "I won't live that lie, Scully...Not when I know what I really feel when I look at you...Not when I respect you twice as much as I ever did for making such a sacrifice." She stared at him curiously as he lowered his head slightly and took in a deep breath. "The dreams..." he continued, before suddenly falling silent for a few minutes to compose himself. "Memories from what I went through during my abduction and the time we've been separated over the past months keep... keep... But William isn't the only one in them. I mean, I'm right here with you, but I still have bad dreams where something bad happens to you..." Another pause as he shifted from one foot to the other. "I know and understand what you did, Scully - you gotta trust and believe me on that - I just wish...I wish..." She slowly approached and took his hands in hers as she saw a tear slip down one of his cheeks. "I don't doubt you, Mulder," she assured him, quietly but firmly. "I just want the pain, regret and anger to stop...I want this charade to end so that we can just live in peace without looking over our shoulders every five seconds." "I want that too," he whispered back, releasing one of her hands so that he could reach out to touch her face. She contentedly rested her cheek against the warmth of his palm - her eyes slipping shut for a brief few seconds - but then sighed as the seriousness returned to her face. "We shouldn't be the ones running away!" she growled defiantly, staring into his eyes. "No, we shouldn't," he smiled, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "So, for now, let's just pretend we're on vacation..." She quirked an eyebrow and then returned the smile. XXXXXXXXXXXXX She doesn't tell him. She can't tell him. No, she *won't*...How can she, especially after his sudden outburst twenty minutes ago? On that clear night two weeks ago at the motel in Nebraska when she had broken down in front of Mulder and almost completely laid bare everything in her heart - shared with him all the pain and fear and other emotions that a couple of years ago she would never have shared with anybody - he had seemed to gain some sort of inner peace (drawing strength from his belief that she had finally opened up to him like that). If he was to find out now what she continued to keep hidden away from him she knew that he would immediately blame and torture himself. She could never let him do that, especially when it was far from being even remotely his fault... Nevertheless, it was still something that continued to plague her...Something that she had believed she would be prepared for without a doubt as long as she was with the man she knew she could not live without. Her desperation to get as far away from the Conspiracy as possible and joy at finally having Mulder back by her side had kept her on auto-pilot, but the last two weeks on the road zigzagging up and down the country - heading West but in the same process always taking two steps forward and then one back to avoid detection (only stopping for the night at four separate motels and never stopping in a town during the day for more than a couple of hours to stretch their legs and grab some food) and the recurring feeling of entrapment inside the car had forced the cold reality of the truth to finally slam home in her heart: There really was no turning back. No returning to her apartment in Georgetown where so many of her best (and worst) memories had been created and captured over the past seven years there. No returning to the job that had changed her life so much. And no returning to ever see her friends and family again. Her mother had literally disowned her after she had given William away for adoption, but she would never even be able to *try* to repair the strong mother/ daughter bond they had once shared. Maggie's letter had helped comfort her a little and helped to blow away any doubts that with Mulder, wherever he went, was where she needed and wanted to be, but at the same time it had only made her feel worse about walking away. Not helping her comprehension of it all was the dream that had hounded her sleep on countless occasions since the motel in Roswell, NM...Since just after she had learned of Mulder's death sentence and Marita Covarubbias had turned up at her apartment to wake her and inform that 'They' were going to murder Mulder much earlier than the set D.O.E. It always starts the same: she finds herself enveloped in darkness and gasping for breath as something holds her underwater, but then Mulder rescues her. That's when it starts to vary each time she falls asleep, though... Upon average her hopes for the future with the man in the seat next to her have helped the dream to end brightly...But her fears will not be forgotten just like that, and too often she finds her world torn apart by tragedies that she can't even begin to comprehend, let alone speak of out loud. Maybe it was all hitting home harder because of the truth about the bad dreams he was also having coming to light...Maybe it was the heat....Maybe it was just the fact that she couldn't believe how stupid she had been to not think about it sooner (it certainly could have been something to slip into their soul-bearing, in-depth conversation back in Lincoln)...Whatever the reason, she hoped the pain would at least fade to a dull throb in her memory so that it couldn't try to ruin their lives like those that were out to kill the two of them. Sighing, she glanced up at the rear-view mirror (noting the reflection of the maroon Freightliner truck that was steadily following their SUV) and then looked over at Mulder, who silently sat next to her looking out the passenger window but apparently not really paying much attention to the scenery that passed by. She had to share a little of her grief with him...Truth was what their relationship had been built upon, and it was important to not break that, but at the same time she still felt the need to guard some of her emotions - despite all they'd been through. "I want the dreams to stop," she suddenly started - her voice cutting through the silence that had filled the vehicle since they had gotten back in twenty-two minutes ago. Startling to attention, Mulder shook his head and turned to stare at her with a curious frown. "Hm?" "I want the dreams to stop too," she repeated (refusing to be less ambiguous and just come out to confess 'I'm having bad dreams too' - after all, there was no point breaking all of their old habits). Catching on to what she was referring to and almost reading her train of thought, he smiled a little and nodded ever so slightly. She stared at him for a moment longer and then looked back at the highway ahead. There was something cryptic about his gesture...Then again, there had always been something enigmatic about Fox Mulder, and it actually comforted her to see that he hadn't lost that special quality. So, she sighed again, sported a brief smile of her own, and then started to dwell on what had been left behind...It probably wasn't a good thing to do when she was so emotionally strung, but at the same time, maybe it would help her come to terms with it... XXXXXXXXXXXXX The argument had moved briskly from the bedroom into the kitchen - possibly not the safest place to be when considering that Maggie felt almost ready to throw the contents of the newly-boiled kettle in her eldest son's face, but a change in space nevertheless. Bill slammed a palm down on the work counter in front of his mother and stared at her lowered head. "Mom, don't ever feel like you're unwelcome here - we love having you here...It's even nicer for Matthew to see his grandmother more...But..." He paused. It *was* her staying there that was part of the problem, so what was his argument? "I just want things back to normal," he sighed, lowering his voice. "You sit there, Mom, and just seem to drift off into your own little world - seem to have no idea what's going on around you. She was my little sister, but I can't sit still whilst the rest of my family is left in danger..." Maggie turned her head slightly so she could stare at him through the corner of her eyes. XXXXXXXXXXXXX M STREET WASHINGTON D.C. Doggett shot a glance over his shoulder as he reached a hand out to pay the vendor, and then turned to walk away from the hot-dog stand side-by-side with Reyes. She smiled at him as he brushed up against her and then cautiously looked over at the people on the other side of the busy road. Careful. ...Always careful... They had to be, of course - there was no other way. Knowing the dangers that awaited them at the Bureau, neither had returned to work (and what was the point? The X-Files had been closed down...), so when they weren't trying to track down leads to fight against the date of alien invasion they had been told about, they tried to take moments like now aside for themselves... They were short moments and often difficult to take full advantage of, but it gave them a chance to - in the middle of all the madness - just be them. "So, about Je--" "Shhh," he cut her off, sharply glancing at her. "By my watch we got at least another four minutes before we need to start talking business again, so leave it there for a little longer and hand me that--" He reached out for the hot dog that she was about to take a second bite out of. "That's not fair! You take bigger bites than me," she replied wryly. Doggett was about to respond when his cell phone started ringing in his coat pocket. "Who's measuring?" he mumbled - almost to himself - retreating his outstretched hand to answer the phone. "John Doggett." "Uh...Agent Doggett?" the unknown voice on the other end of the line started. "This is--" "Don't tell him who you are, you big dummy!" another voice suddenly exclaimed in the background. "Why don't you both - for once - stop arguing and get the task done?" a female chimed in. "It's like being mother to two bratty children..." Doggett frowned at Reyes and shrugged his shoulders when she mouthed 'Who is it?' "Who is this?" he eventually asked the caller, rubbing his forehead with his free hand - his eyes focusing on the Polish sausage hot-dog in Monica's grasp. "Uh...um...Nobody important," came the hesitant reply from the other end of the phone line. "You won't mind if I hang up then?" "No!...I mean...I need to meet you..." "Sorry, but my mom taught me not to talk to strangers," John sighed, dryly. "Thanks for calling, though." He shook his head and hung up - re-pocketing the phone with one hand as the other quickly snatched the hot-dog away from his partner. "Prank call?" Reyes asked, with a slight frown. John shrugged again but didn't answer - instead taking a big bite out of the sausage. ~~~~~ "You let them hang up?!" Kimmy exclaimed, staring wide- eyed at Jimmy. Yves Adele Harlow quickly stepped in-between the two men. "You told me not to mention any names!" Jimmy told her solemnly. "You're right, I did," she sighed. "But we need to meet them, Jimmy--" "And quickly 'cos they're back on the move!" Kimmy interrupted. Yves looked at the monitor that the spectacled man was watching (on which surveillance camera footage of Doggett and Reyes walking along the sidewalk could be seen) and then briefly lowered her head as she tried to think of what to do next. "Okay..." she started after a minute - lifting her head back up. "Jimmy, you come with me and do *exactly* as I tell you. Master Kimmy, you stay here and be our guardian angel - keep an eye on the whole area. Okay?" "Yeah, right...I get left in here on my own as usual," Kimmy grumbled, shaking his head as he looked back at the monitors in front of him. "Why do I stick with you two?" Yves sighed, slid open the side door of the Volkswagen and then jumped out. Jimmy was about to follow when he suddenly stopped in his tracks and sharply turned to face and point at the seated man. "You know, you can go, but the Guys...they...they fought for honour - for truth...They died to save people!" he exclaimed with raised eyebrows - his voice beginning to tremble as the emotion overwhelmed him. "What's so wrong with fighting the fight they couldn't finish? What's wrong with helping these people that are trying to fight for the same thing the Guys were? What's--" "Jimmy?" Yves's hand gently rested on his arm as she quietly whispered to cut him off. He glanced over his shoulder at her (tears slowly forming in his eyes) and then slightly nodded as he turned and left the vehicle also. ~~~~~ "Maybe next time you won't be so cheap and'll buy two," Monica laughed, pointing an accusing finger at Doggett as they continued - side-by-side - along the sidewalk. "Maybe you can buy your own next time," John retorted. Reyes was about to comment further on her partner's lack of ability to buy hot dogs for them each so that they didn't have to share when she noticed the two approaching people out of the corner of her eye. "John? Isn't that..." she whispered, trailing off as the familiar faces neared even closer and then captured each of them in a hug (the woman embracing John whilst the man tightly hugged Monica). "We think you're being watched by somebody other than us," Yves muttered against Doggett's shoulder so that nobody could see the movement of her lips. "We've got important information to share, but you need to follow us." "We know where Mulder and Scully are," Jimmy told Monica - not being as cautious as Yves had been. Both FBI agents stepped out of the hugs they had been entrapped in, glanced at each other dubiously and then silently followed Yves and Jimmy back to the Gunmen's bus. XXXXXXXXXXXXX Mulder watched Scully look back at the road and - despite the slight smile of comfort that refused to leave his face just yet - mulled over her words. *I want the dreams to stop too* He was in no doubt that she, too, was still haunted by bad dreams (not even he was so egotistical and narcissistic that he believed their being back together and sharing comforting words would make the dreams disappear straight away - especially when she had so much more than him to be haunted by), but something bothered him about the actual phrasing of what she'd said... She hadn't said 'I want the *bad* dreams to stop' ...She'd just said 'I want the *dreams* to stop'. Did she mean she wanted the continual flights from fancy of perfect futures to stop? Did she want to torture herself because of giving William away by denying that a 'Happily Ever After' could ever be given to her? Or was he just reading too much into it?...So concerned (if not slightly paranoid) about her happiness that little things she said now and then set bells ringing in his head? A long sigh left his lungs as he watched the state line come and go. "What?" Scully asked at the sound of his deep breath. He stared back at her. "Huh?" "What was the long sigh for?" The small smile on his face grew as he slumped further down in his seat and laced his fingers behind his head. "Nothing," he sighed. "I was just thinking...I know that's still a dangerous thing for me to be doing, but you know me--" "That I do." "--so..." He trailed off and slightly frowned. "What d'you mean by that?" She pouted and leaned her head to the side slightly - as if thinking the obvious answer over - and then flashed him a fond smile. "Get on with your story, Mulder," she chuckled. Her light-hearted banter made his heart swell a little and encouraged him to continue with the alternate excuse he had discovered for the sigh he had originally exhaled when worrying about what she'd said. "I was just thinking back to a case when we chased a truck across the country and how we're now being followed by one... You were driving then, too...I'm just waiting for there to be a sudden flash of light!" Scully considered what he had said and then slightly grimaced. "What?!" he queried in exclamation when he noticed the expression of distaste on her face. "No...I...I was just thinking that I hope - if and when anybody looks back at the work we did - they don't come up with a summary based on that one case...'They followed a truck across America'!" she replied flatly with a shrug. "Maybe that's what we should have told that auditor when arguing as to why the X-Files should be kept open." "There was an alien involved!" he tried to rationalise. Dana opened her mouth to reluctantly agree with his justification of the event, but then faltered and remained silent as something dawned on her...Something that, in fact, dawned on the both of them at the same time: At some point within the last year (possibly that special moment they had spent together in her bedroom... *their* bedroom...just after William's birth) things had been turned around and flipped upside-down - he'd been returned from the dead to only then have to walk away from his family, she'd been miraculously gifted with a child only to then give him away, and now a case they had worked in the first year of their partnership that had involved chasing a truck supposedly transporting the body of an alien lifeform was mirroring back on them with them now being followed along this highway by a truck and ultimately chased away from their home by aliens (...or 'human replacements'...however you wanted to regard the supersoldiers). "Maybe," Mulder started after the moment of heavy, thoughtful silence, "soon you'll be working in an upstairs office for some big, important company and I'll have to come begging you for work if that's the way it's going!" he joked - still staring at her. Scully felt the large grin creep back onto her face as she visualised the scene in her head (leaving little space for the thought - though just enough so that it could block everything else out - that once again he was helping her heal). Unsure of what to make of her silence and slightly far- away stare, Mulder studied her face and tilted his head to one side. "I mean," he continued, "it's not completely out of the realms of possibility - I always did say you'd probably end up as the director at the FBI...Since, I'm guessing, that career option's a bit of a 'no-no' just now, we gotta find you something else that befits your talents, which shouldn't be too hard..." "Sounds good to me," she smiled coyly. "You gotta promise to beg real hard for that job, though!" she added after a beat. "Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, resting a hand on her right thigh. Her boldness surprised him, but at the same time so much had changed over the months and years that it also seemed natural. "Are you coming on to me?" Another pause of silence and his eyes watched intently as her right hand slowly slid off of the steering wheel and then wrapped around the hand he still rested on her thigh. "I get the feeling we're *way* past that stage!" Dana joked affectionately - giving his hand a gentle squeeze. She looked away from the road as the traffic ahead slowed to a near halt and stared at his adoring, almost placid, face. It seemed impossible, but his smile somehow managed to broaden even further as he turned his hand palm-up and laced his fingers inbetween hers. *I want the dreams to stop so that the reality can start and the bad memories will stop* her eyes told him. He was about to say something, when he was cut short by the loud sound of the truck's blaring horn (which was shortly followed by the distant, muffled voice of a man angrily calling out some profanities). Scully broke eye-contact and looked back at the road ahead, only to see that in the length of time she had been staring at Mulder for (however long that had been - time had managed to stand still in their own little world) the queue of traffic had started to steadily flow forward again. XXXXXXXXXXXXX "So, what's this about?" Doggett questioned as he sat down in the crowded back of the VW. "We've been approached by some pretty strange people over the past couple weeks spouting information that we can't determine as helpful or useless, so this had better be good!" Jimmy, Kimmy the Geek and Yves shot glances at one another and then looked back at the male agent. "We just want some definitive help for a change," Reyes sighed, simply getting to the point of her partner's ramble. Yves nodded in understanding. "Well, I can't--...We don't really have anything that can help you with whatever you're investigating, but we thought you'd want to know that we bear information on agents Mulder and Scully." "They're alive," Jimmy cut in with a smile, as if revealing some new news. Kimmy lowered and shook his head briefly before looking back at the surveillance footage displayed on the screen of his laptop computer. "What about them?" Monica asked, facing Yves but glancing at Doggett out through the corner of her eyes. "We met them--" "Are they okay?" Doggett suddenly and quickly interrupted, sitting up straight. "...They're fine..." Harlow hesitated, remembering the image Kimmy had shown her of the two fugitive agents locked in a tight, emotional embrace on the kerb just outside their motel room in Lincoln, Nebraska. "They're as happy as two people on the run for their lives can be," she added. John sighed and his body slumped back down in relief. "We helped them gain new identities and we've been monitoring their vehicle's progress as they now slowly and carefully travel to their new home," Yves continued to explain. "Are you keeping in contact with them?" Reyes asked, resting a gentle hand on John's arm. "We've given them a secure phone line number to only call in case of emergency," Kimmy responded, not looking away from his computer. "We'll be making sure that they're okay," Yves finished. "Can you give us an idea as to where they are?" Monica asked - already knowing the answer and not at all surprised when Harlow shook her head. "That's all we really have to tell you," Yves sighed with a slight shrug of her shoulders. "And Agent Mulder said to say 'Hi!'," Jimmy quickly cut in. "Yes, sorry...I forgot about that..." Doggett and Reyes smiled as they glanced at each other - glad and relieved to know that their friends were okay. "We do need to ask a quick question, though," Harlow continued, a little hesitantly. "Agent Mulder also asked...He asked us to meet Agent Scully's mother. Now, we've tried to reach her at her house, but there doesn't seem to be anybody living there right now. Do you know where she might have gone?" Alarm bells suddenly started ringing in both Doggett's and Reyes' heads...Of course, there was the possibility that Mulder did ask these three people to get in contact with Dana's mother, but the fact remained that the Scully family's safety lay in serious jeopardy, and all the time that was the case no chances could be taken... There was just something about the way Yves had enquired as to the whereabouts of Margaret Scully that had sounded highly suspicious. An awkward silence ensued, with Yves eagerly waiting for the information John and Monica were uncertain about parting with. XXXXXXXXXXXXX TO BE CONTINUED...