Part 3/9 ***** The Lone Gunmen's Residence "What d'ya suppose they have in that big, hanger-like room?" "I'm not sure I want to know." "You mean you'd rather get an unpleasant surprise when we have to go in there?" "Yeah, it could hold something nasty. Like a rancor." Doggett lifted his head at these words, staring at Langly with raised eyebrows. Both Frohike and Byers were doing the same. "You do realize Star Wars went out with the Rubicks Cube, don't you?" Frohike said sarcastically. "Are you kidding?!" Langly argued. "Star Wars will always be cool!" Doggett shook his head, sighed, and turned his attention back to the newspaper in his hands. He would never understand these men or the often childish way they acted, but he had learned to respect their opinions and knowledge in the last few years. However, sometimes it took more than the little bit of patience he had to deal with them, especially when they got to arguing. Instead of interrupting their 'discussion' of the recently destroyed plans for the El Creyente base, Doggett decided to wait it out. It wasn't like he had anything to go home to. A frozen dinner in the microwave. A bottle of cold beer. Repeats on the television... He turned the page and was immediately drawn to a headline. Carefully, he read through the brief article. "Fourth page, only three paragraphs," he mumbled. "What was that, Agent Dogbert?" For once, Langly's nickname for him didn't make Doggett grimace. "You guys ever hear of the Hanta Virus?" The three men looked at each other warily. "Yeah," Byers said carefully. Doggett pointed to the newspaper. "Says here there was an outbreak recently. FEMA moved in quick, but three people still died." "So?" Frohike asked. "So the outbreak was just south of Tucson, Arizona. A mile or so away from the Mexican border." "And?" Langly this time. Doggett sighed. "Isn't that where El Creyente is? And isn't the Hanta Virus what was used as a supposed cover story when Mulder's 'black oil' infected someone in Texas a few years back?" He had read all the X-Files. Some had been forgetful. But some were hard to forget. "You think there's a connection?" Byers asked. "Don't you?" Again, the three men traded looks. "You know, Agent Doggett," Frohike said. "You're beginning to resemble Mulder, and it's scary." Doggett frowned. "What d'ya mean?" "Taking these giant leaps in logic," Byers elaborated. "I don't think this is that giant a leap," Doggett argued. "The Hanta Virus is most common in the southwest. A few small outbreaks are still seen on a regular basis. The fact that this one is so close to El Creyente could just be coincidence." Doggett couldn't argue with Byers' logic, but something about the story was making him nervous. Or maybe he was just bored and making mountains out of molehills to keep himself entertained. A knock sounded on the door, and Doggett breathed a sigh of relief. He was only here at the Gunmen's place to meet Dana and Monica, and it appeared they had finally arrived. Frohike admitted the two women...and one little toddler. "Hey, kiddo!" Frohike's greeting was enthusiastic. It was very obvious he cared about the kid, and the feeling was apparently mutual. "Uncle Fro!" William threw himself into Frohike's arms, laughing joyously. "Did you know my mom saw my dad the other day?" Frohike's eyes widened and he looked at Dana. Doggett also turned to look at her. Blushing slightly, she said softly, "I slipped. He read me like a book." "I don't know why she didn't want me to know," the boy said with his lower lip sticking out in a pout. Doggett stared at the child, amazed at how eloquent William was. He wasn't even two years old yet; he shouldn't even be able to speak in complete sentences. It had been several months since Doggett had seen the youngest Mulder face to face, so though he had heard of the child's rapid mental growth, he had yet to see him in action. William suddenly turned his head to look at Doggett. "John?" Doggett started. Out of this bunch, only Monica called him by his first name on a regular basis, though Dana was getting better at it. "Hi, Will." The boy frowned. "You don't want me to call you John anymore?" Abashed, Doggett glanced at Dana, then back at William. "Anymore?" "You told me I could call you that. Remember?" Doggett remembered. After the baby had tried spelling the name Doggett with his wooden blocks one evening visit, Doggett had told him to just call him John. It was shorter and easier to spell. William had been all of ten months old at the time. "Yeah, I remember," he whispered. The boy smiled and reached his arms out to him. Casting another nervous glance at Dana, whose face was serious but whose eyes were laughing, Doggett reached back, taking the boy in his arms. "Man, you're getting big," he said as he hefted William onto his hip. "Yep," William responded. "Mom says I'll be taller than her in a few years." Everyone laughed softly at the boy's words. "Why'd you bring the tyke?" Byers asked. At William's sharp look, he added, "Not that we mind!" "He wanted to come," Dana said with a shrug. She walked over to stand next to Doggett. "He told me that it's been too long since he's been here, and he barely remembered what it looked like." "Dana," Langly said. "The last time he was here, Mulder was with him." Mulder had left when William was only six months old. Dana nodded. "I know." Everyone looked at William with something akin to awe. Doggett was the first to break the silence. "So, what's up?" he asked Dana. "Why did you want me to meet you here?" "I received another e-mail last night," she said, casting a nervous look at her son, who sat silent on Doggett's hip. "Another pick up." "And?" Doggett asked when she didn't continue. "It wasn't from Daddy," William said. Doggett looked at the boy. "How do you know?" The boy shrugged, then looked at his mother. A silent discussion went on between the two of them; Doggett wondered if they were actually trading words in their mind, or just thoughts. Dana nodded, and the boy sighed deeply. "He told me." A tense silence filled the room. Byers broke it. "He's 'talking' to you again?" "Only sometimes," William answered. "In my dreams." He looked at his mother again, worry in his eyes. "Someone is listening to him most of the time, so he can't 'talk' to us like he used to. But he found me in my dreams. Twice." Doggett looked at Dana. She nodded. "The first time was the night before last. He warned us that there was a new player. Someone we all had to avoid." "Who?" Frohike asked. "Gibson Praise." "The chess kid?" Langly asked. Dana nodded. "You guys need to stay away from him, or at least block him from your thoughts." Byers looked around anxiously. "And how do we do that?" Dana smiled. "It's really not all that hard. Will and I will teach you tonight." William's face brightened. "We will? That means I get to learn it, too?" Dana smiled. "Yep." "Finally!" There was more laughter, though it was nervous this time. Doggett waited for it to subside. "What about the second time, Will?" The child looked at him carefully. "He told me he was not sending anymore messages for Mom, so we should ignore any we get. Gibson found out he was talking to her with the computer." The light in his eyes dimmed somewhat. "And he told me they were starting with the tests." "Tests?" Dana nodded. "They released the virus in a small town south of Tucson." Doggett glanced down at the paper he had set on the table at Dana's arrival and felt a chill sweep up his spine. He looked at the boy in his arms. William's expression mirrored his own, serious and fearful. It had begun. ***** Post Office Opal, Virginia Scully entered the little building that housed the post office for the small town of Opal, glancing around her warily. Doggett followed close behind. She hadn't wanted him to come, but she also knew she needed visible backup, and the people that were watching her would expect that backup to be him. While she and Monica Reyes were good friends, they hadn't worked together like she and Doggett had. The trust and security that she and John had established during those tense months looking for Mulder over two years ago wasn't something that could be faked. She trusted him, but she was worried that he might not be up to the coming challenge. It was hard enough teaching a natural telepath like her son how to block someone from reading your thoughts. Trying to teach a man unconvinced about the possibility of telepathic power was almost impossible. William's ability to read Doggett's mind yesterday had helped to convince the man it was possible... somewhat. He still didn't want to believe. Scully remembered a time when she had been that stubborn. Still eyeing her surroundings carefully, Scully went up to the main desk and told the lone woman behind it that she was there to pick up a package sent in from out of town. She gave her name and social security number and the woman went to retrieve the package. Scully waited patiently, and she wasn't surprised when the woman came back empty handed. "I'm sorry," the gray-haired woman told her. "We must not have received it yet. Are you sure you were supposed to pick it up today?" "Maybe I was mistaken," Scully told her, though she knew she was not. "I'll try back later." She turned away from the desk and started walking toward the door. Slowly. "Agent Scully." The voice was deeper than she remembered. Older. She stopped and looked toward the young man walking toward her. She felt Doggett move up to stand close behind her right shoulder. "Gibson." Her greeting was quiet but steady. The bespectacled young man stopped in front of her, his eyes wide. "You're not surprised to see me." "Should I be?" Scully asked him. The boy's eyes narrowed in concentration. "You're good. Very good." He turned his attention to Doggett. "But is he?" Doggett remained silent, and Scully knew he was practicing one of the rules she had taught last night: it's easier to shut off your mind if your voice is shut off as well. Gibson looked back at Scully, surprise evident in his eyes. "How do you do it?" "Do what?" "Talk to him." "Who?" The boy's brow furrowed. "Stop talking in circles, Agent Scully. You know who. Mulder." "I haven't talked to Mulder in months." She wasn't lying. "We know you communicate with him. Why else would you be here? And how else would you have known to teach Agent Doggett to block his thoughts?" The boy cocked his head. "I just can't figure out how. You're not like us. You aren't a telepath." No, she wasn't. Not like Mulder and her son, anyway. However, the connection she and Mulder shared, a connection that had been established almost on the day they first met, was unique. Magical. Maybe even spiritual. She wasn't going to try and explain that to Gibson, though. Scully stood silent for a moment. Then she tilted her head in imitation of Gibson. "Is there something we can help you with, Gibson?" Nervously, the boy glanced behind him. Scully looked at what he was observing, and for the first time noticed the man standing in the corner by the front window, newspaper in hand. Gene Crane. Former FBI agent and friend of John Doggett's. Believed to be deceased since the night of William's birth. Scully felt a chill run up her spine at the same time she felt John tense behind her. Gibson looked back at her. "I wish there was something you could do for me, Agent Scully, but I don't think that's possible." With that, he turned and headed for Crane. The diminutive man put down his paper and watched the boy walk toward him, his brow furrowed. He said something to Gibson that Scully couldn't hear, and the boy shook his head 'no.' Crane's eyes narrowed even more and he turned his glare toward Scully. Placing his hand on Gibson's back, he led the boy out of the building. "That was weird." Scully turned her head to look at Doggett. "Which part? The part where big, bad Gibson barely interrogated us, or the part where one of your former agents returned from the dead?" The corners of Doggett's mouth rose slightly. "Surprisingly enough, I wasn't too shocked to see Gene standing there. But I was a bit confused by the lack of force on the kid's part. I was sure he would be able to break through my barriers." He shook his head. "Hell, if Mulder has a hard time keeping him out, how could I succeed?" Scully was only slightly surprised that Doggett understood what had just happened. "You're right. I don't think he was trying very hard." She turned to look toward the door Gibson and Crane had disappeared through. "It was almost like he was simply putting on an act for Crane." "But wouldn't Gene know?" She shook her head. "Replicants can't read minds. And their minds can't be read, either." She felt Doggett's intense gaze on her and met his eyes with her own. "Then what the hell is going on? Why is Mulder so afraid of that kid?" Scully shrugged. "I don't know. And there's only one way to find out." A frown formed on Doggett's already serious visage. "How?" "I need to talk to Mulder," she said softly. "Face to face." ***** El Creyente Base Mulder stood still, arms behind his back, eyes facing forward, before his 'superior's' desk. He had never had any inclination to join the military, even as a small boy when all his friends wanted to play with toy soldiers, but he felt as if he was there now. Ever since he had arrived at this base, beginning his tenure as the leader of the human conspirators, he had felt as if he had joined the army. People, both human and otherwise, called him 'sir,' and the real soldiers saluted him when he passed by. He never saluted back, just nodded, but when he was asked down to meet with 'the boss,' he could do nothing but stand at attention in front of the - creature's - desk. Mulder didn't know its name. Nor would he be able to recognize the man off base. Like all the Grays, he was able to shape-shift at will, taking whatever form was convenient for him. In most instances, the persona he took was of an older, silver haired General, a form that demanded respect and discipline. Yet, this General never left the base. Whenever the Gray ventured from the compound, he took on the appearance of whoever he wanted to imitate that day. Like the Bounty Hunters under his command, he was physically stronger than the average human being in any form, and he wasn't afraid to use that strength. The General had come to the base only a few weeks after CGB Spender's death. Fortunately, Spender had warned Mulder of the dominant alien before his demise, or else Mulder would have been unprepared; he had always assumed that there was no real leader with the Grays, that they all thought so much alike there was no need for one being to take charge. But the General was in charge, and not one of the Grays, Bounty Hunters or replicants argued. In his fantasy/dream created for Scully and Frohike several months ago, Mulder had made himself the General. At that time, he almost had as much power as the Gray's leader, but since Gibson's arrival, things had changed. The real General had taken on more responsibility. He made more requests and demands, and Mulder could do nothing but obey. Which is what he was doing here in the General's presence now, waiting for orders. He hated coming down to the lower levels on any day, but today he really didn't want to be here. Gibson had left the compound in the company of three replicants only yesterday, and while Mulder was extraordinarily curious about where the boy had gone, he was also anxious to take advantage of his absence. Though Gibson would be able to stay in mental contact with the children no matter where he was, the greater the physical distance between them, the weaker that connection was and the more tiring it was to keep ahold of. Mulder suspected Gibson had headed east, to D.C., and while this made him nervous, he also knew the extensive distance between here and there was what he needed to reestablish a connection with the children. But first, he had to wait for his orders. "Mulder," the man in front of him said with a nod of the head. While the General usually met with him in his human form, there had been occasions in the past where he had remained a Gray. Mulder hated staring into the blank, empty gaze of a Gray, and was therefore relieved when he saw the human shape in front of him. He responded to the General's greeting with a nod of his own. He refused to say 'sir.' Only people he respected deserved that title. The General didn't know this, and if he did, probably wouldn't care. "Rumor has it you've been meeting with your wife." Mulder didn't let his expression change. As adverse as the Gray's were to everything human, they had learned to read human body language and facial expressions. "You know what I think about rumors." The man in front of him smirked. "So you deny it?" Mulder cocked his head, meeting the man's steady blue gaze. It was almost as lifeless as the Gray's natural stare. "Of course. There is no reason for me to meet with her until it's time to take William away from her." He was surprised the Grays were confronting him with their suspicions. The man looked at him intently, and Mulder felt the familiar tug on his mind. It was no effort at all to push back. For a moment the General looked angry, something that Mulder knew was an extension of the Gray's human behavior programming, rather than real anger. "Gibson tells us you have been contacting her... and the child." Mulder easily fell into the lie he had trained himself to live so long ago. "I won't deny I've made contact with my son; I won't let him grow thinking I'm dead or that I abandoned him." That much was the truth, at least. "But I don't know why Gibson thinks I've been in contact with the mother. I have no interest in her anymore." "Not even as a... lover?" Mulder wanted to laugh at the Gray's hesitation on what it saw as an abhorrent word, but he didn't. "I have enough women here to keep me busy." It was commonly believed by most of the base staff that Mulder often brought both Marita Covarrubias and Susan Donahue to his bed. Sometimes both of them at the same. Mulder didn't mind the speculation. The two women were the only ones who knew Mulder hadn't had sex since he left Scully; all those late night meetings in his bedroom were just that: meetings. The General sighed heavily, another human trait that he had trained himself to learn. "Why would Gibson lie?" "Why would I?" Mulder knew he had never had the alien's full trust. Neither had Spender. But they feared him for some reason that Mulder was still unsure about. Maybe that fear was diminishing. The General nodded, and for the first time Mulder began to believe that they didn't truly trust Gibson either. Maybe he still had hope of recovering his dwindling power. Among the Grays, anyway. "That will be all," the General said. Mulder turned to go, anxious to get out of the hot, steamy basement and back to the children. "Remember," the General said suddenly, causing Mulder to turn toward him once more. "We're watching you." Mulder just smiled coldly. As if he could ever forget. It took a full ten minutes to make his way through the maze of the Gray's underground network, and he took a deep breath of the cooler, drier air of the main compound when he reached the upper floors. Without hesitating, he made his way to the north wing of the huge building. Where the children lived. It was time to start taking full control, even if it meant one child at a time. ***** Tucson International Airport Tucson, Arizona "Damn, it's hot." Scully didn't acknowledge the statement uttered by her companion, though she was thinking the exact same thing in her mind. She continued to make her way down the sidewalk toward the car rental lot, which was in a distant location due to construction near the airport. "How do people live in this?" Unlike his first statement, this comment was a question, and Scully felt obliged to answer. She turned to Frohike with a smirk. "Genetics." "Huh?" the little hacker asked with his brow furrowed. "Most of the people that live here were born here. They're used to it. Doesn't mean they all like it, and central air plays a big part on surviving it, but that's the way it is." When the plane had begun its descent into Tucson, the pilot had mentioned that the temperature was a 'balmy' 103 degrees, which wasn't bad for late summer. It was a drastic change, however, from the cool, sunny 76 they had left behind in D.C. Autumn was just around the corner up north, but it never really arrived down here. They reached the rental car lot and were pointed toward their car by a helpful attendant. The lot was covered, providing shade, but the temperature didn't feel any cooler. "Hope the air conditioning is working," Frohike mumbled grumpily. Ten minutes later, they were on the road, the interior of their car nice and cool, sunglasses providing necessary protection against the glare of the sun on the pavement in front of them. Scully sat at the wheel, occasionally glancing at her 'partner,' who was trying to read a map. When Scully had determined to come to Arizona to try and contact Mulder in person, she had had to sit through the ranting of five men and one woman on why she shouldn't do it. She knew all the reasons why, but she had decided to come anyway. She knew the risks, and it wasn't as if she had come unprepared. When Mulder had left her on the dance floor at Wonderland less than two weeks ago, he had told her 'not yet.' For a while, she felt as if she needed to wait for a signal from him, but sitting still had never been her strong suit. She knew Mulder knew this. Something deep inside, something she had yet to put a name to, had told her to make the first move. She hoped that Mulder was prepared and that he would be ready when he discovered she was on the go. Ready for what, she wasn't yet certain. William had come as well, though he was now in the trusted care of Walter Skinner and Monica Reyes. Their plane had arrived earlier today, and Skinner had contacted Scully by cell phone while she and Frohike were still in flight letting her know they had arrived safely and were settled in a motel. The decision to bring William to Arizona had been hers, and it had been much more of a battle convincing everyone that it was necessary than it had been to talk them into letting *her* come. She had prevailed in the end, managing to get both Skinner and Monica on her side. After all, they agreed that with the long reach the Grays had, the toddler wasn't any safer in D.C. than he would be in the Grays' backyard. They also trusted Scully's slowly developing 'gut feeling.' She couldn't explain why, but she knew William needed to be here. The Gunmen had grudgingly gone along with the decision, but Doggett had hated it. Ever since meeting William again at the Gunmen's the other night, he and the boy had been almost inseparable. Anytime they were in the same room together, William was in John's arms. At home, the little boy talked about Doggett constantly, and Scully knew John's protective instincts for the child, which had always existed, had been turned on high. He hadn't liked giving the child up to the care of Skinner and Monica, though he trusted them both. William, too, had pouted at the separation, but had not complained. Not verbally, anyway. Doggett, Byers and Langly would be arriving on another flight later that day, and they would all stay in their respective groupings, keeping in contact via cell-phone. For now. Using the plans for El Creyente in their head, Scully and Frohike were planning on 'wandering' out into the desert in the direction of the base. If they were stopped, as they hoped they would be, Scully would tell the truth. She was looking for Mulder. Then the story would begin. The lies: Gibson Praise had hinted that Mulder was here somewhere. Scully, upset that he had apparently abandoned his son, was wanting to confront him. She was not happy with him. She was worried her son was not listening to her anymore. She needed help. Badly. If she could put up the front of being helpless and fearing her son's gift, maybe she could put them more at ease. Catch them off guard. Get inside the base and meet with Mulder. Try to understand why he feared Gibson so much...and if he really needed to. Frohike was chosen as her companion because William had told her he was the best at blocking his thoughts. Scully had been surprised to hear this, as had Frohike, but she trusted that her son was right. She looked over at her partner once more and recognized the same nervousness she felt in his expression. "Hey," she said softly. He looked at her, his eyes wide. "Yeah?" "We'll be fine." She kept her voice steady, reassuring. "Of course we will," Frohike said with a little nod. "It's not like we're jumping into a viper's nest or something. We're just trying to get into a secret, alien base in the middle of nowhere." Scully lifted the corner of her mouth slightly. "We've done this before, you and I. We got out that time okay." Frohike glared at her. "Cute." He knew she was referring to the dream they had shared under Mulder's direction not so long ago. "Somehow, I don't think the simple act of waking up is going to help us here." "Mulder will be there," she told him, finding comfort in that thought alone. Frohike obviously didn't share her faith in his old friend. "Why does that not make me any more happy with this?" Scully frowned, taking her eyes off the road briefly to glance at him once more. "What do you mean?" The hacker sighed. "Scully, he's on the edge. He was there when he controlled that dream, and I'm sure he hasn't gotten away from it yet. Who knows? Maybe he's already fallen off." Scully didn't respond. She couldn't. Not when her own subconscious had been worrying about the same thing Frohike had voiced. She loved Mulder. She trusted him. But a small part of her couldn't help wondering how he had managed to make these creatures intent on taking over the world believe that he was on their side for all these months. Silently, she began to pray. Pray that her faith, in both her husband and in God, was not misplaced. ***** End of Part 3/9