Part 5/9

*****

Our Lady of Guadalupe Mission  
Tucson, AZ


'Tu has venido a la orilla, no has buscado ni a sabios, ni a
ricos, tan solo quieres que yo te siga. Senor, me has mirado
a los ojos, sonriendo has dicho mi nombre, en la arena he
dejado mi barca, junto a Ti buscare otro mar.'

William listened carefully to the voices emanating from the
congregation that filled the old mission church. Monica was
teaching him Spanish, and while he still had trouble
speaking it, he understood it well enough:

'Lord, you have come to the seashore, neither searching for
the rich nor the wise, desiring only that I should follow.
Oh, Lord, with your eyes set upon me, gently smiling, you
have spoken my name, all I longed for I have found by the
water, at your side, I will seek other shores.'

He looked at his mother, who stood quietly at the back of
the church, reverently listening to the words he knew she
didn't understand. Even if she could decipher the language,
would she comprehend what the words meant?

Of course she would, William chastised himself. She would
understand. But would she allow herself that belief? He had
never known the Scully that his father had fallen in love
with, the skeptical, logical half of the infamous X-Files of
old, but he did know the resolute, scientific Scully, the
one who still questioned before she believed. The one who
wanted to believe, but who was still so very afraid to.

It wasn't that she didn't believe in aliens or in their
eminent invasion. It was that she didn't believe she or his
father could prevent it. Or that William himself might be
the very key to surviving it.

William himself wasn't so sure he believed that.

He looked away from his mother, who had set him on the floor
to stand on his own two feet but refused to let go of his
hand, and toward the altar, where the priest and his
attendants had just arrived. William and his mother had
entered the church, leaving their 'bodyguard' John outside, 
just as the processional had reached the half-way point up
the aisle of the church. Mass had just begun.

'Tu, pescador de otros lagos, ansia eterna de almas que
esperan, amigo bueno, que asi me llamas.' 

*Lord, as I drift on the waters, be the resting place of my
restless heart, my life's companion, my friend and refuge.* 

'Senor, me has mirado a los ojos, sonriendo has dicho mi
nombre, en la arena he dejado mi barca, junto a Ti buscare
otro mar.'

*O, Lord, with your eyes set upon me, gently smiling, you
have spoken my name, all I longed for I have found by the
water, at your side, I will seek other shores.*

The music stopped and William felt his mother's eyes on him.
He looked up at her. She was watching him with a bit of
surprise and wonder, but pride as well. "I didn't know you
knew Spanish," she whispered, respecting the quiet that had
enveloped the church. William realized he must have been
sending her his translation in his head.

He shrugged. "Why are we here, Mama?" he whispered back.
"You don't know Spanish."

She smiled and lead him toward an empty section in the pew
in the back. It was very crowded in this church on this
Sunday morning, not a surprise in a city overflowing with
Catholics, most of Mexican decent. "That's the beauty of a
Catholic Mass," she whispered as they sat. "It doesn't
really matter what language is being spoken, the order of
Mass is still pretty much the same everywhere, so you can't
get lost."

She turned her attention toward the priest, her hand never
letting go of his. William watched her for a moment, then
smiled. She had never tried shoving religion down his throat
as many devout parents tried to do to their children, but
she had convinced him long ago how beautiful and magical
Mass could be, so he had always joined her without qualms.
It was beautiful. The simple joy of finding so many people
who shared your faith was a boost to the psyche, and the act
of Communion, where all the faithful joined together to
participate in the Eucharist, was magical. Will didn't know
for certain if Jesus truly transfigured himself into the
bread and wine on the altar, but there was a certain comfort
in the idea that He was indeed present during these
celebrations.

William turned his own attention to the priest, but his mind
wandered. He may be much more mature than his age indicated,
but he was still a child, and his child's mind sometimes
found it hard to concentrate on any one thing for too long.
His mother had never minded if he didn't pay attention in
church, as long as he didn't disrupt the Mass, and they both
knew that his overactive mind was often 'recording' what was
being said, though he was thinking of other things, and they
would come back to his conscious mind at a later date. His
mother had long ago gotten used to her son asking her
questions that had, to her way of thinking, come out of
nowhere.

Bible passages were recited, and William began to stare down
at his hand, which was still enveloped in his mother's soft
but firm grip. He didn't know why she kept holding his hand;
it wasn't something she usually did during Mass. Comfort,
maybe. Or perhaps she felt the not so holy intent among some
of the parishioners. The Mission was not in the safest part
of town, and many of the young men sitting about the church
belonged to a gang and were armed. Or so he and his mother
had been told when they had stopped to ask for directions
here.

William suddenly sent his mind outward, knowing that he was
tempting his mother's wrath if she found out. But he had to
know if anyone meant her ill will. He had to protect her,
didn't he?

'...right now you need her to protect you, okay?'

His father's dream-words echoed in his head, and he pulled
his thoughts back into himself. Everything his father had
taught him in the months before Mulder went silent came to
the fore, especially the part about how wrong it was to
'eavesdrop' on other people's thoughts. And about how
self-sufficient and strong his mother was.

He cast her a glance, hoping she hadn't somehow sensed his
straying mind. She was still intent on the speaker. He tried
to pay attention as well... but it wasn't easy.

Soon, people were standing and filing down the aisle to
participate in Communion. His mother stood to allow others
to pass her in the pew, but she did not pick him up and
participate. He looked at her, questioning her with his
eyes.

"Not today," she told him.

"Why?"

"Not until my thoughts are more..." she struggled with a
meaning. "Gentle," she finally decided.

"But it will give you strength, Mama." Of this he was
certain.

She simply smiled down at him, shaking her head 'no.' He
felt the guilt emanate from her, and though it confused him,
he tried to convince her to go. "I wish I could go." He was
still too young. Most children didn't participate in their
First Communion until they were seven or eight. It didn't
matter if they already thought that old.

She frowned. "Your spirit has to be pure before you can
accept the Lord, William," she told him. "I'm full of too
much anger and fear right now."

William nodded as if he understood, but he really didn't.

When Mass was over and most of the people had filed out
following the priest, Scully stayed kneeling. She had
finally let go of his hand midway through the final prayer,
but he had no desire to leave her side. Instead, he looked
up at the huge icon of Jesus that hung over the back of the
altar. His mother was praying to this man, this man that had
supposedly died for mankind's sins. This man who was
supposed to come back someday, to choose the living and the
dead, to determine who would go to heaven and who wouldn't.

Would the Gray aliens be included in His method of justice?
Or would they try and prevent His return?

Or had they already destroyed Him, ensuring mankind's long
fall into hell?

For the first time in his short life, William began to pray.

***** 
Robin Hood Motel
Tucson, Arizona


John Doggett watched from the curbside as Dana Mulder and
her son entered their hotel room. He sighed heavily and
followed, not really looking forward to going inside. The
others had been hard at work with whatever plan Dana had
cooked up ever since she and Frohike had returned from El
Creyente yesterday evening. She had set everyone out to do
or find something, including him. He had been assigned to
contact all the MUFON groups in the area, getting names and
information of recent UFO sightings. It had been boring and
tiring, and he had collapsed into bed at 4 AM this morning,
not even caring that his roommate, Skinner, wasn't in the
other bed. 

Shortly after he woke this morning, he had followed Dana and
Will to the church, determined to keep them both safe, but
he hadn't gone in to sit with them through the Spanish Mass.
Not only did he not know Spanish all that well, but he
wasn't a church goer. In fact, he hadn't been inside of a
church since Luke's funeral years ago, and he had no real
desire to enter one again. So he had stood outside,
listening to the unrecognizable words of the priest and the
responses of the congregation, wondering what Dana hoped to
get out of the service.

She had known he was following them, of course; she had
turned to watch him as he left the motel behind them. Her
expression had been exasperated yet resigned, and Will had
grinned at him. Since then, they had simply ignored him. He
had stayed far enough back to be unobtrusive, but he hadn't
tried to hide his presence. Now they had returned to the
motel, safe and sound, and Doggett began to wonder what
exactly would happen next. 

With another sigh, he made his way up to the motel door.
Though they had taken three different rooms at the worn out
motor court, they had spent the majority of their time in
the room the Lone Gunmen shared. It had become a lab of
sorts, though it looked more like a teenagers bedroom, with
unpacked luggage and discarded tennis shoes lying about the
floor. Doggett gave two sharp raps to the door, then
entered, immediately stepping over Will's sneakers, which he
had apparently pulled off himself just a few short minutes
ago. Dana saw him avoid the hazard.

"William, will you please pick up your shoes?"

"Why?" the little boy asked. He was standing at the table by
the bathroom, intently watching Monica and Skinner, who were
working on their assigned project. The two FBI agents smiled
at each other at Will's words, and Doggett felt a small ache
start in his chest.

"Because someone might trip over them and get hurt, that's
why." Dana said the words calmly, with no impatience or
anger, and Will responded by skipping away from the table,
past Doggett, and over to his shoes. He clumsily grabbed
them up in one hand, then stood next to Doggett, reaching up
to take his hand. Doggett gripped the boy's pudgy fingers
gently in his own, then moved forward when Will tugged on
his hand. "Come see," he said, excitement flashing in his
hazel eyes.

Doggett didn't really want to go over to the table where his
partner and his boss were working together, but he couldn't
refuse Will. He glanced at Dana, who was sitting cockeyed on
one of the beds, a phone book in front of her on the bed and
her cell-phone at her ear. He heard noises coming from the
open door of the bathroom and knew the Gunmen where in there
doing something with Dana's 'snake oil.' He hoped they
weren't about to blow up the motel room.

Will stopped him in front of the table, and Monica grinned
up at him. "Welcome back," she said. "Thanks for getting
that info for us."

Doggett grunted in response, not sure what he was supposed
to say, and Monica frowned. "Something wrong?"

"Something right?" he responded.

She grinned again. "I see your point."

"You sure that's not the top of his head?" Skinner said
quietly, not looking up from the map spread out in the table
in front of him.

Monica giggled. "Walter!" she exclaimed. "Be nice."

Walter?! Since when did she call their boss 'Walter'?

Feeling unreasonably angry all of a sudden, Doggett clenched
the fist not holding Will's hand. "Is there some other
meaningful chore you need me to do, or do you just want me
to stand guard outside the door?" He didn't know why he was
angry. It wasn't like he really wanted to be involved in
this mess. It wasn't like these people were his friends, or
that he owed them anything. 

He felt a tug on his right hand, and he looked down to see
Will frowning up at him. He closed his eyes for a moment and
felt his anger fade. Looking back at Will, he smiled. "I'm
okay."

The boy didn't seem convinced, but Doggett had no way of
proving his words. The kid knew exactly what was going on
with Doggett's emotions anyway, so if Will was still
worried, maybe he had good reason. Doggett looked back at
Monica. Her expression had also become serious, as if she
too could read his feelings. Panic flowed through him. No!
He didn't mind that William knew what he was thinking, but
he did not want Monica to see inside his soul as well.

He met his partner's eyes with his own and felt his heart
rate increase even more. No, she couldn't read his mind. But
he could read her expression, and as soon as she realized
it, she looked away, back down at the map. Hiding her sudden
fear. Fear that he now knew what *she* was thinking. 

She didn't hide it very well. "Monica?" Skinner was watching
her with concern, then he flashed his brown eyes toward
Doggett. "Did I miss something?"

"No," Doggett immediately said, and Monica cast him a
grateful glance before returning back to concentrate on the
map. "What do you need me to do?"

"Get us some food," Dana said from the bed. "I'm hungry."

Doggett looked at her. It was obvious by the way she was
sitting that she had observed the entire scene by the table,
having finished her phone call to whoever. He watched her
for a while, then nodded. "Sure, I can do that. Errand slash
delivery boy, at your service." He couldn't help the sarcasm
in his voice.

"I'll go with you," Dana said. "Will can help Monica and
Skinner."

"Can't I help Frohike?"

"No," Dana said firmly. "You are to stay out of the
bathroom."

Doggett looked down to see William pouting, then glanced
back up at Dana. "What are they doing in there?"

"Getting our ammo ready," Dana said.

"Huh?"

"There putting the 'snake oil' into the darts," Skinner said
without looking up from the map.

"Huh?" Doggett repeated, causing William to giggle. He
grinned down at the boy.

Smiling, Dana stood up from her seat on the bed. "I'll
explain on the way to getting some sustenance."

"Everything?" Doggett asked, serious once again.

Dana cocked her head. "Everything."

Doggett nodded. Giving Will's hand one last gentle squeeze,
he followed Dana out of the room. 

***** 

"Why do I have the sneaky suspicion you feel left out?"
Scully looked at Doggett with her eyebrow raised, waiting
for him to deny her observation.

Surprisingly, he didn't. "Am I that obvious or are you just
reading my mind?

His voice was rough, full of defeat. She didn't like the
sound of it at all. "John, you know I can't do that. I'm not
a telepath. Not everybody but you can read minds."

"You can read Mulder's." He turned his startling blue eyes
on her as they walked along the sidewalk, heading for the
fast food restaurant down the street from the motel.

Scully nodded. "Yeah, but that's..." How did she explain it?
"That wasn't expected. I can read his mind, and Will's to an
extent. And I can sense when I'm in the presence of a
telepath." She stopped walking and looked him directly in
the eye. "But I cannot read *your* mind, anymore than you
can read mine."

She watched as he took a deep breath. "Then I'm just
obvious."

"You're obviously ticked, yes," Scully said with a wry twist
to her mouth. "You say you don't believe, and yet you get
angry when you aren't allowed to be a part of the plan. What
do you expect?"

"I expect you to trust me to help you in any way I can." The
sincerity in his voice was uncompromising.

She sighed heavily. "What do you think is going on here,
Agent Doggett? Are you going to help us take over and
destroy a secret military base? Just like that?"

"I may not want to believe there are aliens in this base you
speak of," Doggett said, his brow furrowed in frustration.
"But I know that whatever is going on there is dangerous to
the general public and needs to be stopped. Even if it means
doing something as drastic as this." He looked up at the
pale blue sky above them for a second, as if looking for
answers, then he turned back to Scully. "These 'replicants,'
as you call them, have to be stopped. That I know. And I
will help you with whatever crazy scheme you've cooked up to
do that."

"Crazy scheme, huh?" Scully nodded and started walking
again. Doggett continued on at her side. "Byers and Monica
managed to acquire several shotguns after arriving here
yesterday," she said softly. "I have no desire to ask how."

"Shotguns?"

"Special shotguns," she clarified. "Shotguns that fire
darts." 

Doggett stopped once again, and Scully turned to see the
shock on his face. "Dart guns? Like veterinarians and
biologists use to sedate wild animals?"

She nodded. "Only we aren't putting sedative in the darts,"
she continued. "We're putting in--"

"Your snake oil," Doggett finished. "To use on the
replicants."

"Yeah," Scully said softly, watching as her old partner
glanced back at the motel. Now he knew what the guys had
been doing in the bathroom and why she hadn't wanted Will in
there. The snake oil, like the real blood from the Grays and
their hybrids, was like acid to a human. Though Byers,
Frohike and Langly were wearing rubber gloves, Scully knew
the acid could eat through the material. However, it would
do so slowly, giving them enough time to rid themselves of
the glove before it ate all the way through to the skin.

"You know how to handle a shotgun, Agent Doggett?" she asked
with a smirk.

"Can fish swim?" Doggett responded with a small smile of his
own.

"Good," Scully said with a sharp nod of her head. "Then
we'll let you come with us."

"To go in and shoot up a bunch of replicants?" Doggett
asked, his frown returning. "That will save the world?"

"Oh, no," Scully said, heading off toward the restaurant
again. "That's just the distraction. Langly and Skinner did
their own treasure hunt yesterday."

"Explosives."

She turned to look at him as he walked stiffly beside her.
"Yes. How did you know?"

"The goal is to destroy the base, correct?" He didn't look
at her.

"The labs underneath more than the base itself," Scully
corrected.

"Doesn't matter. Same diff."

Scully watched him for a while. "You still with us?"

He finally looked at her. "Of course."

"You still think it's crazy?"

"Yep."

She couldn't help it; she laughed. Doggett chuckled in
response.

They were silent for a while, walking quietly along. But
Scully had one more question to pose her friend. "What's up
with you and your partner?"

Eyes wide, Doggett turned his head sharply to look at her.
"What?!"

"I saw the looks you gave each other back there," she said,
nodding her head toward the motel behind them.

"What kind of looks?" Doggett asked, his demeanor tense
again.

"I don't know that I can explain them," Scully told him.
"But I recognized them, nonetheless."

"How?"

"Seven years of being on the receiving end of several of
those looks, for one. And not recognizing them at the time."
She sighed and gave him a rueful smile. "And not realizing
until it was too late that I was sending a few of them out,
too. Like Monica was today, only she recognized it for what
it was."

"Which was?" Doggett's voice had gone dark.

"John, when two people share as much as FBI partners do,
they are bound to become close. Sometimes too close. That's
why the Bureau never lets their agents keep the same partner
for too long; they transfer agents often, to keep things in
perspective. But the X-Files have always been special.
Nobody wants to work there, so if the Bureau gets two people
who work well together on that project, they tend to leave
them there. Together."

"They separated you and Mulder after your first year, didn't
they?"

"Yeah, but not to keep us from becoming too close to each
other. They separated us because we were becoming too close
to the truth." She smiled a secret smile. "They still
couldn't keep us apart. Even then."

"So what you're saying is...?"

"What I'm saying is your partner becomes someone you
respect. Then someone you trust. Then someone you call a
friend. When you have that respect, trust and friendship,
love is the inevitable result. And in the case of two
attractive, moderately young agents, love can quickly turn
to romantic love. Passion." Shaking her head softly, Scully
continued. "Even obsession."

Doggett was silent for a long moment. "You lecturing me on
romance, Agent Mulder?"

Scully smiled. "Yeah, I guess I am. Granted, it took me long
enough to recognize it in my life, but the point is that I
did recognize it." She looked up at him. "Don't ignore it.
If it's there, take care of it. It may be the best thing in
your life."

"I'm not in love with Agent Reyes, Dana." His voice was
firm, but he refused to look her in the eye.

"But you love her, don't you? Consider her a friend?"

He nodded stiffly. "Yeah, I guess."

"Then you could fall in love with her. As she has already
fallen in love with you." He didn't seem at all surprised by
her statement. "You know that she's in love with you, don't
you?"

"Yeah." He sounded mournful.

"But you won't let yourself love her back."

He didn't respond to that. Scully knew why. What could he
say?

"John?" She waited until he looked at her, and the pain in
his eyes caused a sympathetic jerk in her heart. "You've got
to let me go."

"It's not that easy," he said with a whisper.

"No, it's not. Nothing worthwhile is."

She watched as he swallowed heavily, then turned to cross
the parking lot of the restaurant. "Come on. Let's get
something to eat."

It was a few moments before she heard his steady footsteps
behind her.

***** 

End of Part 5/9

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