TITLE:  The Caretakers

AUTHOR:  Kelly Keil

EMAIL:  klkeil@buckeye-express.com

WEBSITE:  http://grapefruithead.com/kellyfic/

ARCHIVE:  Anywhere, just keep my info attached.

FEEDBACK:  Is welcomed.  Flames are read with great 
amusement.

SPOILERS:  Within/Without

RATING:  R 

CLASSIFICATION:  S, A, S/D, post-colonization

DISCLAIMER:  The X-files isn't mine; no one gave me a 
dime.

SUMMARY:  In the midst of chaos, life still goes on.

NOTES:  Many thanks go out to my betas:  august, 
Maria Nicole, and especially Alicia K., who prodded 
me to work harder, and Connie, who helped with the 
ending.  And as always, to YV, just for being there.

___________________

The Caretakers
By Kelly Keil

This is the Hour of Lead--
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons recollect the Snow--
First--Chill--then Stupor--then the letting go--
                      --Emily Dickinson


The rain fell in a heavy patter, the drops a 
monotonous thrum like the drone of insects.  The 
restaurant was an island of warmth in the cold night, 
but there was never enough energy these days, and the 
boiler was turned down low.  Rita shivered and held 
her hands in front of the coffee pot.  She wished 
she'd brought a sweater.

On the television monitor, a friendly female face 
announced the day's events.  "Census data will be 
collected from Sector Nine tomorrow, from all 
citizens with a last name starting with Sn through 
Sz.  That's Sn through Sz in Sector Nine.  Compliance 
is mandatory."  The face gave a winning smile.  "All 
violators will be detained by authorities.  Remember, 
report to your designated area from six a.m. through 
eight p.m., so set your alarm clocks."  The face 
winked and grinned.  "Oversleeping is not an excuse 
to miss census!  Frank, back to you."

A bell chimed as the door opened and a couple stepped 
into the otherwise empty restaurant.  The wind gusted 
behind them, sending the door crashing into the wall.  
The cold air bit through the polyester of Rita's 
uniform and she shuddered.  The woman was bundled in 
a long coat that did not conceal that she was in the 
last stages of pregnancy.  The man struggled with the 
door and at last managed to close it.  

"...treasonous rebels have been apprehended after 
their compound was raided earlier today.  Officials 
state that the traitors have been tried and executed.  
We are all safer tonight, thanks to the rigorous 
vigilance of the Caretakers.  And now, we go over to 
Dan for sports."

Rita walked over to the couple and smiled.  Neither 
one smiled back.  They both looked weary to the bone.  
"Smoking or non?" she asked.  "Not that it matters 
today."

The man looked at her, his eyes chilly as the 
weather.  "Non," he replied.  His gaze returned to 
the TV monitor.  "Can you turn that off?" he asked.

"Of course not," Rita said.  "You know the rules.  
Follow me, please."  She began to lead them to a 
corner table.

"I was hoping that in the out-lying areas..." said 
the man.  He sighed.  "Could you at least turn down 
the sound?"

Rita waited as they sat themselves, then handed them 
menus.  "The sound's broken.  You get used to it."  
She leaned down and whispered conspiratorially, "I 
tune it out most of the time.  It's not that hard."  
She leaned back and said in a louder voice, "What can 
I get you folks to drink?"

"Coffee," said the man.  He ran a hand over his spiky 
hair then began to massage his temples.

"And for you, ma'am?"

The woman thought for a second then said, "Just water 
for me, thank you."

"We're all out of the bottled stuff," said Rita.  
"All we have is boiled tap."

"Do you have any milk?" the woman asked.

"Some.  Between you and me, it's a tad old, but I can 
put some chocolate syrup in it.  That'll sweeten it 
right up."

"That'll be fine, thank you."

"I'll give you a few minutes to decide on your order, 
then I'll be back with your drinks."

In the kitchen, Rita opened the large refrigerator 
and pulled out the milk.  It looked okay.  She opened 
it and smelled it.  She'd smelled better, but it 
would have to do.  As she poured a generous amount of 
Hershey's into it, Ben came storming from out behind 
his grill.  As always, he reeked of rancid grease.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, woman?" he 
said.

Rita stirred the milk.  "Milk's bad.  I had to do 
something."

"You make sure you charge extra for that," he said.  
"That's our last bottle of syrup.  You'll shit gold 
before we see any more of it, mark my words."

Rita continued to stir.  Ben gave a great huff then 
stomped back over to his grill.  He slammed his 
utensils together, letting her know how angry he was.  
Rita shook her head and took out the drinks.

When Rita got back to the table, she nearly dropped 
the scalding coffee and glass of milk with its 
precious chocolate syrup.  Under the woman's chair 
was a pool of fluid.  Rita sat the tray down on the 
table and her hand flew to her hair.  "My God," she 
said.  "What's happened?"

"My partner's water has broken," said the man, his 
blue eyes boring into Rita.  "I need to take her to 
the nearest hospital."

'My partner,' he'd said, she thought.  The lady was 
in labor, was about to give birth, and all Rita could 
think of was that the man had said, 'my partner,' and 
not 'my girlfriend' or 'my wife.'  It was odd.  And 
the floor.  She'd just cleaned the...

"Please," said the man, reaching out a hand to touch 
her shoulder.  "We need a hospital."

Rita tugged on her hair as if that would help.  The 
woman panted heavily.  She looked at Rita in mute 
appeal.  "No," she said.  "I'm so sorry, but it was 
hit in one of the initial strikes.  They're 
rebuilding it, but the work is slow, what with the 
gasoline rations.  Even so, it's over twenty miles 
away."

The man gripped Rita's shoulder and shook her.  "Is 
there a doctor you can call?  Anyone?"

Rita came out of her daze.  "A doctor.  Yes.  Dr. 
Mead.  I'll call him right away.  Yes."  Rita hurried 
off to call the doctor and get a mop.  "And put on 
some water to boil," she muttered to herself.  That's 
what they always did in the movies.

* * *

Scully was shopping when the alien ships uncloaked.  
She was in a maternity shop with the nauseating name 
of "The Melon Seed" buying a blouse for work when 
they appeared.  There was no warning.  One second 
there was just sky, the next second, a huge disk 
floated in the air above the city, blocking out the 
sun.

The women in the shop had fled, patrons and clerks 
alike, leaving Scully there, blouse in one hand, 
money in the other.  She stood for a moment, 
indecisive, then laid the money on the counter and 
left the store with the blouse.  

Outside, people stood and stared at the thing in the 
sky.  Mouths were open and arms raised to point.  
Excited shouts rang out.  Stopped traffic snarled the 
streets.  She ignored it all.

Scully looked up into the sky.  Nothing happened.  
She watched as people began to drift away, going back 
to their cars and homes.  The ship hung in the sky, 
heavy with promise.  Nothing happened.  The streets 
emptied, leaving Scully alone.  The sky darkened 
until the lights of the ship looked like the stars in 
the sky.  Nothing happened.  Scully got in her car 
and drove home.

When she opened her door, the phone was ringing.  
"They're real."  It was Doggett.  "They're fucking 
real.  I don't believe it."

Scully pulled back the curtain and looked out her 
window.  Another ship, identical to the one she had 
seen outside the shop, hung high in the air.  
Teenagers sat on the roof of a nearby building, 
watching it and laughing.  They raised soda cans to 
it in salute.  Scully let the curtain fall back into 
place.

"I told you that you wouldn't," she said.  

"Yes, I know, but..."  

"He's up there," Scully said.  "I know it.  I can 
feel it."  

"But..." Doggett started to say.

"I think they've brought him back."

"You don't sound happy," he said.  "Isn't this what 
you've been waiting for?"

"I'm afraid," she said.  It came out as a whisper.  
"I'm afraid of what he's become."

"This is real," Doggett said.  

"Yes, it is."  Scully twisted the phone cord around 
her finger.  The disk outside her window had not 
moved.

"I just can't believe it."

"Try," she said.

Two days later, the strikes began.  Surgical strikes, 
they were later called, to make them sound clean and 
necessary.  Scully tended to the victims as a matter 
of course.  At any moment she expected Mulder to come 
and tap her on the shoulder, announcing his return.  
She was still expecting him when the gunmen tried to 
take her with them.

"It's too dangerous to stay here," Byers said, his 
eyes more grave than usual.  "Let us take you 
somewhere safe."

Scully scratched her nose with bloody fingers.  "No.  
I'm needed here."

"You're going to get yourself killed, Scully," said 
Frohike.  He tried to smile but the attempt died on 
his face.  "Mulder would have wanted you away from 
here."

"It's time to head for the hills," chimed in Langly.  
"This is just a bad scene.  You have the baby to 
think of."  

"No!  I won't run and hide while I'm needed here.  
I'm fine.  The baby's fine."  She smiled at them.  
They meant well; she knew that.  "We'll both be fine.  
My place is here, where I can do some good."
 
They'd argued with her but she remained firm and 
eventually they left.

I'll never see them again, she thought, and wanted to 
cry.  Instead, she washed her hands then began to 
change bandages.

Months later, it was Skinner's turn to urge her to 
flight.  He stood before her, his back straight, his 
glasses mended with duct tape.  She had wept then, 
hating the useless tears that streaked her face.  

"Mulder's not coming," Skinner said.  "You must know 
that by now."

Scully nodded.  She sat in her apartment, mercifully 
untouched by the strikes.  The fires were almost 
under control, but the power was still off.  
Skinner's face looked hollow by the light of her 
hoarded candles.

"There's a group of rebels forming," he said.  "I 
don't know if fighting will do any good, but I'll be 
damned before I sit back and do nothing while the 
aliens just take over.  I think...I think the 
consortium -- what's left of it, anyway -- is making 
deals with them.  I think Mulder would want you 
to..."

"I wish everyone would stop telling me what Mulder 
wanted," Scully lashed out.  "He wanted to be on that 
goddamned ship.  For all we know, he led the ships 
here and is leading the attack.  We don't know a damn 
thing about what Mulder wants."  

"I know he wanted you to be safe."

She snorted and wiped her eyes.  "Running away won't 
keep me safe.  I'm nearly seven months pregnant, 
Walter.  I can't even run."  She took his hand and 
squeezed it hard, then let it go.  "I need the baby 
to be safe.  I've heard that the power will be on 
soon, and that the hospitals will be opening back up.  
I have to give this baby the best chance I can to 
survive.  I have more than myself to think about.  
Come back for me, for us, after the baby is born."  

Like the gunmen, he continued to argue with her but 
ended up leaving alone.  

A week later, the power came back on and the 
television broadcasts began.  The great census was 
announced, informing that all citizens would be 
assigned a location to report to when it was their 
turn.  Then footage of rebels being slain was shown, 
illustrating the futility of resistance.  The face of 
one of the bodies was masked by a sheet of blood, but 
glasses, mended with tape, were still visible.

The phone rang and she jumped.  The phone lines had 
been down for months.  "Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Doggett.  I just wondered...if you were still 
alive, I guess.  I just saw...on the TV."

"Yes," Scully said.  "I saw it, too."  There was an 
awkward pause.  "Well, um..."

"Well," he said.  "Since I know you're..."

"Could you come over?" she asked, surprised at the 
words as they fell from her mouth.  "I haven't seen 
anyone I know since Skinner left, and I..."

"I'll be right over," he said.

It was nice to have someone else to talk to.  For 
months she had spoken only to her stomach.  It never 
spoke back.  John Doggett, however, answered all her 
questions.  His frequent trips, as the curfew was 
enforced, became sleepovers.  At one point she 
realized that he hadn't left her apartment in days.

"Why don't you just stay here?" she asked.  "You live 
so far away.  We could conserve our gas rations."

"All right," he said, as if it didn't matter.

One night, Scully tugged him off of the couch.  "It's 
cold," she said, "and they've shut the furnace off.  
There aren't enough blankets.  Come keep me warm."

"Okay," he said, as if practicality was the only 
issue.

When he kissed her for the first time, she didn't 
think of Mulder or aliens or the end of the world.

"Do that again," she said.

And he did.

When it was his turn for the census, Doggett went 
alone.  Scully waited for him all day, butterflies 
dancing in her stomach.  After he came home, he 
didn't speak, but his eyes screamed at her.  Scully 
kept opening her mouth to question him, only to shut 
it again.  

Later that evening, she sat by the television, the 
only source of light the Caretakers would allow to be 
on past nine o'clock in the evening.  Doggett came 
over to her and laid his head on her enormous 
stomach.

"Tell me," she said.  "Did they hurt you?"

He shook his head.

"Then what?" Scully asked, brushing his hair off of 
his brow.

"They know everything.  Everything.  They know about 
you, about me, about your baby. I think they see us 
at pets.  I think that's why they took people over 
the years, why they took Mulder.  They wanted to see 
how we ticked.  Then when they figured it out, they 
moved in."

"Do we have any hope?" Scully asked, her voice 
hoarse.

"I don't know," he replied.

Scully felt the baby kick.  So did Doggett.  He 
lifted his head and gave her a small smile that 
didn't stay long on his face.  

That night, as he held her, Scully could feel the 
tension in his body.  "There's something you're not 
telling me," she said, breaking the room's thick 
silence.

"I saw him, Dana," he whispered in her ear.  "I saw 
Mulder."

Clumsily, she turned so she could look at him.  The 
moon shone through the window and was reflected in 
his eyes.  "You saw him?  Did you speak with him?  
What did he say? Does he know where I am?  Can I see 
him?"  The words spilled over themselves.

He shut his eyes and she knew.  "Mulder was there, 
during the interview, wasn't he?"  Scully asked.

Doggett nodded and opened his eyes.  "He was the only 
one there.  I don't think it's him anymore, Dana."

Scully turned around again.  Her brain whirled.  Was 
it Mulder?  Wasn't it?  She felt dizzy.

She felt, more than heard, the words "I love you" 
said against her neck.  "I know," she replied.  That 
night she didn't sleep, and watched the moon until it 
sank behind the ruined buildings.

* * *

Rita got off the phone with Dr. Mead and shook her 
head.  She'd had to chase him all over town before 
she found him.  He was on his way, but it would take 
him about an hour or so to get to the restaurant.  He 
was far south and the roads were bad.

She went out to tell the couple the bad news.  The 
man looked worried but the woman shook her head.  
"I'll be fine," she said, breathing through her 
teeth.  She clenched her jaw with the pain of a 
contraction.  "Fine," she repeated, panting.

The man (her partner, Rita's mind repeated), looked 
frantic.  "Do you have any blankets?"

Without thinking, Rita snapped, "This is a 
restaurant, not a Holiday Inn.  I'm doing the best I 
can."

The man ran a hand through his hair.  "Look," he 
said.  "I'm sorry, but this is a little stressful..."

"No," said Rita.  "I'm sorry.  There are some clean 
tablecloths.  I'll get them."

"Thank you," he said as she hurried off.  

She was rooting through the linen cabinet when Ben 
came up behind her.  "What the fuck is going on, 
Rita?" he asked.

"There's a woman out there having a baby," she 
replied.  "And you could help by boiling some water."

"You're gonna charge them for this, right?" he said.

"Right, Ben.  On their bill, chocolate syrup and 
childbirth.  Now go boil some goddamned water!"

"No need to get snippy, Rita."  Ben wandered off.  
She heard banging pots and running water, and was 
satisfied.

Rita took the tablecloths over to the man.  He draped 
them over the woman and removed her sodden underwear.  
Rita eyed them uncertainly, unsure of what to do and 
wishing she'd listened to her mom and become a nurse.  
She went and got a plastic bag for the underwear.  
When Rita got back, the man had his head under the 
cloth and the woman was panting out directions.

"Can you see...how far I'm...dilated?" she gasped 
out.

"Not without a flashlight," he said, and the woman 
barked a short laugh.

"Can you see the head at all?" she asked.

"I think so," he said.  "Maybe a little."  He brought 
his head out from under the tablecloth.  "Do you want 
to lie down?  We could put some cloths on the 
floor..."

"No.  It's easier in the chair.  But when it's 
time...you'll have to catch.  Think you can... do 
that?"

"I hope so," he said.

To Rita, the woman said, "We'll need a knife.  As 
sharp as you can get.  You'll need to sterilize it."

"I'm already boiling water," said Rita.  "That's what 
they always say to do, isn't it?"

The woman nodded.  "They're right.  Boil the knife.  
When I need it, I'll tell you."

The man looked up.  "What's the knife for?  Cutting 
the umbilical cord?"

The woman clenched her jaw then nodded.  "That, and 
if the doctor doesn't get here in time, you may need 
to cut me.  Do you think you can do that, John?"

The man, John, looked resolute.  "If I have to."

"Promise me," the woman said.  "Promise me that you 
will save this baby.  No matter what.  If it comes to 
my life or his..."

"I'm not going to let you die."

"But if you have to choose..."

"No.  You're not going to die."

"John, this is important. I want you to..."

"No," he said.  

The woman shut her eyes, as if she felt unworthy of 
John's obvious adoration.  Or maybe she was just 
tired.

Rita patted her hand.  "Dr. Mead is on his way.  
He'll be here before you know it.  My first took 
almost half a day to arrive.  We have plenty of 
time."

The woman clenched her teeth through a contraction 
then opened her eyes and said, "I'm Dana.  What's 
your name?"

"Rita."

"Thank you, Rita."

"You're welcome, Dana.  Now let me start sterilizing 
you a knife."

* * *

Scully's census station was located in Virginia, 
about fifty miles south of D.C.  Doggett insisted on 
going with her, and Scully hadn't objected.  She was 
nearly due, and driving a car was becoming very 
difficult.  Neither one spoke much during the 
journey.

Scully waited in line with the hundreds of others 
with last names starting with Sa through Sm.  She sat 
on a collapsible stool she'd brought with her.  
Doggett stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder.  
Still, they didn't speak, but every once in a while 
he'd squeeze her shoulder.  Whether to comfort her or 
himself, Scully didn't know.

When it was her time, he kissed her on the forehead 
and said, "Good luck."  She touched his chest and 
walked through the door, wondering what she would 
see.

Scully was led into a room with two chairs.  In one 
of them sat Mulder.  Her knees started to buckle and 
she reached out to the chair for support.

"Hello, Dana," he said.  She sat heavily down in the 
chair.

"Mulder?" she asked.  "Is that you?"  It seemed a 
ridiculous question to ask; he was sitting there in 
front of her, but it didn't feel like him.

He smiled at her.  It looked all wrong.  "I think you 
know the answer to that, Dana."

"He's gone," she said.  She ran her palms, slick with 
sweat, down the sides of her jumper.  

"He is one of us now," he said.  "It's what he 
wanted.  It's what he wanted for you, for everyone.  
He saw it was for the best."

Scully clenched her hands into fists.  The nails bit 
into her palms.  She wasn't capable of dealing with 
this right now.  Later, when alone, she would take 
out the information, examine it, and then put it 
safely away.  Right now, it was all she could do to 
keep from screaming.  "What do you want from me?"

"Not much," he said.  "A little blood, some skin.  
This is all for the common good.  We are here to take 
care of you.  We will keep you safe."

"Yes, of course," she replied.  All Mulder had ever 
wanted was to keep her safe. Someone should have told 
him to beware of what he wished for.  

A figure came up from behind her and stuck a needle 
into her skin.  "It won't hurt the baby, will it?" 
Scully asked.

"No," said Mulder's voice.  Mulder's face smiled.  
"The last thing we'd want to do is hurt your baby."  
Mulder's smile was the last thing she saw as she fell 
into darkness.

She woke, she knew not how long afterward, lying on a 
low bench in a room full of other sleeping people.  
She staggered to her feet and went to the only door.  
Mulder was waiting for her.  Her heart gave a crazy 
half leap before she remembered that it wasn't really 
him.  As she turned to leave, Scully gave him one 
last look.  She hoped to see a flicker of something, 
anything, but all she saw was emptiness when she 
looked in his eyes.

"Go on," he said.  "I believe there's someone out 
there waiting for you."

She turned and headed to the door.

Even when Doggett had held her, a tiny bit of her had 
hoped that she would one day see Mulder again.  Now 
it was gone, the hope ripped from her, and she felt 
raw with its absence.

The baby stirred.  There was a part of Mulder still 
alive within her.  It had to be enough.  She walked 
outside.  It was raining, but John was there, waiting 
for her.  

"Are you okay?" he asked, anxiety plain in his voice.

She nodded.  Perhaps she would be okay.  She would 
wait and see.  She took his hand.

"Let's go," he said, "get out of this rain and get 
you something to eat."

* * *

Dana screamed.  She clenched the table with one hand 
and Rita with the other.  Rita felt like the bones in 
her hand would be crushed.  The contractions were 
coming very quickly now, and Dana had a hard time 
giving John instructions between them.

"I can see the top off the head, Dana!" John said.

"That's...great...now get...the knife."

Rita pulled her hand from Dana's grasp and hurried to 
the kitchen.  Ben was in there grumbling, but she 
ignored him.  With tongs, she fished the knife by its 
handle from the boiling water.  She rushed back and 
gave it to John.

Dana was in the middle of explaining how to do an 
episiotomy to John.  He looked very nervous.  
"Can...you...do it?" she panted.

"I think so," he said.

"No.  Can...you...fucking....do it?"

"Yes."

"Good...man," Dana said.  "I trust...you, John.  
Do...it."

Rita looked away.  She hated the sight of blood.  The 
tablecloth they had previously used for modesty's 
sake was gone, in order to give John the maximum 
amount of light.  Dana gave Rita's hand another 
powerful squeeze and moaned.  Rita looked back at her 
and saw that Dana had bitten into her lip.  A thin 
trickle of blood was falling down her chin.  Rita 
looked away again, her stomach doing flip-flops.

"I see the head," cried John.  "Come on, Dana.  We're 
nearly there.  You can do it.  Come on."

Scully moaned and ground the bones of Rita's hand 
together.  I'll never play the piano again, she 
thought, and let out a hysterical giggle.

"The shoulders are out now.  Come on, you can do it.  
That's it.  It's a boy, you've just had a boy."

Rita left again, this time to fetch a basin with warm 
water in which to bathe the baby.  She was returning 
with it when the bell jangled and the door opened.  
She looked up and saw Dr. Mead there.  "Thank God 
you're here," she said.  "But you're late."

"It's miserable out there.  The rain is turning to 
snow.  Has the baby been born without me?"

"He has.  She's had a healthy baby boy, by the looks 
of things.  No thanks to you."

The doctor laughed.  "Wouldn't be the first time."  
He looked at his watch.  "Three hours till curfew.  
I'll need to work fast."  He began to examine Dana 
while Rita and John bathed the baby.  
 
Dr. Mead tied and cut the baby's umbilical cord with 
neat precision.  "I have some things in the car that 
you can have.  They're a gift from the lady I was 
just with.  I treated her youngest, who had an 
earache.  I told her I was on my way to a delivery, 
and she gave me these things instead of payment."

The doctor left and came back with an infant car 
seat, a stack of cloth diapers, and blankets.  He 
took one of the blankets, deftly wrapped the baby in 
it, and handed him to John.

"Thank you," Dana said.  "I can't even begin to say 
how grateful we are."

"Don't worry about it," said the doctor, and smiled.  

Rita went over to John and looked at the sleeping 
baby from behind his shoulder.  "Do you suppose he'll 
ever know what it's like?  What it was 
like...before?"

Dana rose from her chair and took the baby from John.  
She held him close, rocking with him in her arms.  "I 
don't know," she said.  "I hope so."

"You have a fine son, there," said Dr. Mead.  "He's 
special.  I can always tell."  He looked over at 
John.  "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Without a doubt," John replied.  He leaned down and 
gave Dana a light kiss while caressing the baby's 
head.  

Rita smiled down at the baby.  "He looks just like 
his dad," she said.  An odd look passed over Dana's 
features and Rita wondered what it meant.

"I'm sure he'll grow into quite the man, like his 
father," said the doctor, beaming.

Dana's face was clouded with worry.  "Will he? I 
wonder."  

Rita wondered if she should apologize.  Clearly she'd 
said something wrong.

Dana shook her head. She looked down at the baby, 
anxiety playing across her features. "Time will 
tell," she said. She sent a look at John. He paled 
and pulled his hand away from the child as if he had 
been burned.  

"It's possible he won't, Dana," he said, but he 
wouldn't look at her.  

The two of them left quickly after that, the doctor 
leaving not long after them. Curfew couldn't be 
ignored, not even by childbirth. Rita watched them 
go. "I wonder..." she began to say then stopped.  
She had enough problems of her own to worry about.

"Good night, Ben," she called. "I'm just about to 
take off."

"Remember, we're opening up early again tomorrow. Be 
here at five, you hear?"

"I'll be here," she said, then stepped outside and 
shut the door, flipping the sign from open to closed.


End

I welcome any comments at klkeil@buckeye-express.com.
Drop me a line to tell me what you think.