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Title: The Master Calls A Butterfly

Author: april leigh

Rating: R, for language, adult situations

Category: X, A, MSR, in that order. And because it took me so long to
write this and so much has happened in the interim, Alternate Universe.

Spoilers: Nothing is off limits, up to the end of the Sixth season.

Timeline: Takes place about a week after the events of One Son. All of
the events that followed that episode have not occurred in this world.
Archive: Ask first

Feedback: always a good thing, e-mail: aprilleigh50@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Ha! If they were mine, you would be watching this, not
reading it.
Thanks: Many thanks to nay for patiently and expertly beta-reading all
of these many months.  If I try to say more I'll just start babbling
with gratitude.  Also, thanks to vermin, whose rather 'copious'
advice did not in the least hinder my creative processes.

Summary: There's a fine line, it seems, between fate and choice. How
much, really, is within our control? Fate is about potential. Choice is
about fulfilling that potential.

Author's Note: This is my attempt to connect the dots, make the
connections, and wrap nearly every dang thing up in the x-files
universe. Well, except the bees, I don't think *anyone* could explain
those guys.  I also want to stress that the majority of this story
was fleshed out before the seventh season started, so anything that was
'revealed' this past year is not taken in consideration while writing
this story, and essentially did not happen in this world.

*	*	*	*	*	*
The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in 
injustice and tragedy. What the caterpillar calls the end of 
the world, the master calls a  butterfly. --Richard Bach
*       *       *       *       *       *


Earth
4 billion years ago

*       *       *       *       *       *
Great is this organism of mud and fire,
terrible this vast, painful, glorious
experiment. -- George Santayana
*       *       *       *       *       *

Volcanoes belched noxious gas into the turbulent atmosphere--an
atmosphere that contained no free oxygen, only a toxic mixture of
molecules forged from hydrogen, carbon and nitrogen. The gray barren
ocean dominated the landscape while vigorous chemical activity took
place in the land and water. Chemical reactions were fed by the
volcanoes and penetrated both by lightning discharge and solar
radiation. Meteors and comets, remnants of the creation of the solar
system, pelted the young planet, providing both water and minerals.

Along with water and minerals, one meteor provided something entirely
different.

The meteor measured a mere three meters in diameter, and the impact
site, although significant, was rapidly lost to time and the brutal
elements. The meteor had shattered on impact, still glowing white hot
from its descent. Out of the ruin poured viscous black oil and the
creature contained within it. The oil moved with a purpose, seeking out
another life. But there was no life on this hostile landscape.

And so this creature languished. The dead world had its deadly effects.
The chemicals of the air and sea violently reacted with first the oil,
then the life form within it, quickly breaking it down to its chemical
components. Now, completely vulnerable, the creature could not last. The
compounds of the earth were electrically and chemically attracted to the
organism. Attaching directly to the creature, they interfered with  all
of the life's processes.

Radiation that came unfiltered from the sun attacked on the cellular
level. The rapidly dividing cells were vulnerable to the high-energy
ionizing rays. The radiation destroyed the cell's ability to reproduce
by inducing sublethal DNA breaks that with each cycle only grew worse.

So quietly, and unnoticeably, the planet consumed the creature.

But even as the radiation, chemicals, and the other elements attacked
the oil's very essence, even as they broke down molecule by molecule, an
event occurred that would change everything.

As the last of the creature's DNA unwound, almost to the point of losing
all cohesion, lightening struck the small tide pool where the process
had been taking place, halting it. Now, with the electrical current
changed, the DNA pulled forcefully back into its helical nature. And
along with it came other chemical substances-- substances such as water,
carbon dioxide, methane, and hydrogen cyanide. These elements began to
form primitive molecules we would later recognize as sugars, amino
acids, and nucleotides. These molecules would be the building blocks of
proteins and nucleic acids, compounds ubiquitous to all living
organisms.

And so, life sprang forth on this insignificant planet, of a mundane
star, on the far edge of a galaxy tucked away in a forgotten corner of
the universe.

*       *       *       *       *       *
Department of Defense
February 19, 1999
8:21am

The smoke curled from the end of the cigarette as it was brought up to
the old man's mouth. He inhaled, then exhaled, expelling more smoke,
further contributing to the haze of the room. He sat silently in his
chair, back facing the door, studying the wood paneling that covered the
wall. Several folders lay spread out behind him on the expansive
mahogany table.

Dr. Ken Dagen stood near the door of the conference room and shifted
nervously on his feet. Smoothing his white lab coat that bound
uncomfortably across his large frame, he spoke again. "Sir? Sir, did you
hear me?"

"Yes I did." He did not turn to face the doctor. He continued to stare
at the wall.

Talking to the back of the chair unnerved Dagen. "Do you want us to
begin preparations?"

"We are sure that she is the one?"

"Oh, yes sir. There aren't many left to chose from to begin with. So
many died from the cancer, and then the encounters with the
rebels... Anyway, of those few that remain, she has demonstrated the
most latent abilities," He hesitated, looking for the correct words to
express what he meant. "What I mean to say..."

"What you mean to say is that she may already be a step or two ahead..."
The Cigarette Smoking Man found the right words.

The doctor nodded in relief. The older man understood what he was
saying. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm saying."

Several moments passed. The doctor watched the smoke softly curl,
disembodied, from the chair as he waited for a response. He was just
about to remind the man of his presence, when the older man spoke once
more.  "Her exposure to the antivirus... will that affect the outcome?"

The doctor indicated the results he was holding in his hand. "No, it
shouldn't. In fact, from the latest sample we were able to retrieve, we
believe that that exposure has actually begun the process."

A drag from his cancer stick. "Then proceed."

The man began to leave, but hesitated. He turned back to face the room.
"Sir? How...?" He faltered.

"Follow the plan as it has been arranged."

"Are you sure sir? Her partner--"

He was interrupted by the older man's harsh words. "You need not concern
yourself with her partner. He is of no significance to you."

Dagen continued, although he knew it was not wise to question him. "But
it would be so much simpler to just take her from her home--"

"No." He barked the word. It came out sharp and bitten off.  He took a
moment to hide his irritation before continuing. "No, he needs to
witness it. It will bring things home to him. Everything will take on a
much greater significance if he is there to witness it." He said this
evenly, the harsh tone from before absent from his voice. He slowly took
another drag on his cigarette.

"But won't that encourage--"

"I did not ask you to think. Send the message; proceed with the plans."
Another slow drag and he turned in his chair so that he could
extinguished the cigarette in the ashtray on the table. For the first
time in the conversation, he met the doctor's eyes. "Don't worry about
Mulder, he's my concern."

*       *       *       *       *       *


February 20, 1999
Northern Virginia
12:50am

*       *       *       *       *       *
MULDER: It's amazing how things change, isn't it?
SCULLY: The caterpillar?
MULDER: No, a change for us. It's coming.
SCULLY: How do you know?
MULDER: A hunch.
--"Tooms"
*       *       *       *       *       *

"Scully, do you believe in fate?" Mulder's unexpected voice pulled
Scully away from the blessed limbo of half-sleep. The place where one's
mind begins to detach from one's body, and where the mind slows it's
frenetic pace and sustains a blessed balance of no thoughts, conscious,
or unconscious. She liked this place, she didn't have to think , to
contemplate, to debate......most importantly, she didn't have to think
about why she was still in this damn car with Mulder.

She glanced at him. She could barely make out his features in the faint
light that emanated from the clock on the dashboard, but she could
clearly read him. The hooded eyes, the knitted eyebrows, the way his
damn lower lip jutted just so...yes , Mulder was feeling melancholy
tonight, and he was drowning her in his sorrow. She didn't feel like
talking, debating; she would be perfectly content to sit in silence the
whole night.

Unfortunately, Mulder couldn't allow that. He repeated the question.
"Scully, did you hear me? What do you think about the concept of fate?"

Reluctantly, she responded. "What do you mean, fate?"

"Fate. You know, life events are preordained, happen for a purpose, the
people you meet, you met for a reason. You know, fate."

She paused for a moment, debating how much effort she should put into
her answer. "Well, I'm not sure. The idea that the things we do are
somehow planned or preordained...it's not exactly appealing to me. I
mean, what would be the point of it all? If things have already been
mapped, then is there such a thing as choice?"

Scully sighed heavily. "But then again, it is kind of reassuring to
think that perhaps there is a certain meaning, an overall plan to life.
That one's actions have some significance in the grand scheme of
things."

She stopped. Mulder waited expectantly, but she was finished. He looked
at her for a second, disappointed. "That isn't much of an answer."

She just shrugged her shoulders. "That is the only answer I have to
give." She turned away from him once more.

Several moments passed before Mulder spoke again. "Choice is very
important to you isn't it? The ability to make your life as you see
fit."

Seeing that this conversation will not die with her simply turning her
back to him, she decided to let it play out. "Well, I think that anyone
would agree that that was important to them. The idea, the very concept
of having one's free agency taken away or limited is...well it's almost
an aberration against human nature. Because with out choice, what are
we, puppets?"

Mulder nodded, understanding. "Scully have..." He paused here, thinking
about his next comment and carefully looking over her disposition, he
amended himself.  "...are there things that you regret? Choices that you
wish you had had, or you could do over?"

Scully momentarily flashed back to a night years ago, when a man, who
unfortunately had not been Mulder, had asked her a very similar
question. She forgot for a moment his betrayal, and asked with genuine
concern. "Is something bothering you? What is this really about?" She
waited for him to continue. She knew that he would. Several minutes
passed, and she watched him nervously fiddle with the steering wheel,
picking at the seams and tracing the outlines of the controls, all the
while steadying refusing to meet her eyes.

"I was just thinking about choices made. By me, by you. Choices made for
us."

She asked the question again. "What is this really about?"

"I was wondering about things. About where we would be if different
choices had been made." He finally lifted his head and met her eyes with
his.

"We?" She did her best to keep her voice neutral.

"Sometimes I think...I think that I've made wrong choices, that things
would be so much better for..." He paused. "...for everyone if things
had been different. But then, other times, it feels like I'm not even
the one making these choices to begin with, like my life is being run by
something else."

"What brought this on Mulder?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry that I even brought it up." He said, dismissing her.
Scully could see that he wasn't done yet, but she didn't feel like
dragging it out of him. If he want to tell her, he would, if
not... well... she didn't really care all that much right at that
moment. She just wanted to get the hell out of there. "Fine." The word
came out harsher than she planned.

They settled into a suffocating silence. Scully rolled her window down,
folded her arms on the sill, and rested her head on her crossed arms.
She breathed in the fresh air. The evening was more raw than cold, but
she relished the feeling. She herself was raw. A breeze came up, and
lightly ruffled her hair.

More than anything, she wanted to get out of this damn car. Three hours
waiting, plus the two driving in this stifling car. Why she had agreed
to come on this charade of a lead was beyond her. The source had
contacted Mulder with some new and exciting information on... what was
it this time? Oh, this time they didn't even have an idea. Just a
cryptic message left on his voicemail. 'If you want to experience
something that will change everything...' and this location.

She looked at the desolate road outside her window. When was the last
time a car had even passed? She couldn't remember.  She moved her head
and tried to look up into the night sky. The dense forest that
surrounded the road enveloped them with their dark canopy. She could
only see a thin segment of the sky, where the branches on each side of
the road didn't quite meet. She looked at the few stars that she could
see the light against the darkness, the points of gold brightness
against the amorphous night sky. This did not ease her feelings of
claustrophobia and isolation. Just her and Mulder, in the middle of god
knows where, waiting for god knows who, which, considering how long they
have waited, was not going to show up.

She glanced at her watch. 12:52. She had had enough of this. This was a
horrid idea to begin with. It was too soon. It was only a week ago that
he had ridiculed her, tore her down, and invalidated much of their work
together. In front of the Gunmen no less.

They'd called her.

She was about to leave her apartment this evening when the phone rang.
Thinking that it might be Mulder, she'd picked it up instead of letting
the machine get it. It had been them with an update. She had asked the
Gunman to continue to monitor Diana's accounts, even though she was
presumed dead. Scully didn't trust that presumption.

She knew that Mulder thought Diana was dead.  Mulder had said that he
had sent her to the site, and she hadn't been seen since that evening,
but Scully still had her doubts. The DNA results had not proven
conclusive that she was one of the victims. It was still early of
course, and more tests needed to be done to determine anything
definitively, but she just didn't believe that Diana was one of the
victims. Scully couldn't see Diana letting herself get trapped like
that.

The call had been a short one. How long did it take to say there was no
information?  But before they hung up Byres had paused.'Scully... um...
well, we just wanted you to know that... we believe you, even if... even
if--'  She interjected wearily. 'Even if Mulder doesn't.' Langly had
then broken in with, 'Yeah, he can be a real asshole sometimes.' Byres
continued as if Langly hadn't interrupted.  'We just wanted you to know
that we don't think of you as just Mulder's partner, we think of you...
well, you are one of our friends. We just wanted you to know that.' She
had let several seconds pass before she had found the words to speak,
forcing strength into her hollow tone. 'Thanks for the information.' And
she had hung up, her empty words still in her head.

Looking back, she realized that phone call had begun the night's, as
well as her mood's, decent. She did not need the Gunman's sympathy.
'Poor Scully, she has to work with that insensitive asshole. How can she
stand it?' She didn't need the Gunman avoiding eye contact when with
her, she didn't need them speaking in hushed tones, acting like she had
lost her best friend.

Even though it felt like that sometimes...

That nagging thought was already beginning to gnaw at her, and she did
not particularly appreciate it. She wanted to dismiss it out of hand.
Lifting her head up, she shoved it away. Time to go. Enough of this. She
needed to get out of here, needed to get away from him so she could
breathe. She turned to look at Mulder. Her mouth had just begun to open
when she saw his face. She had worked with him long enough, in enough
different situations, to be able to recognized his various 'faces.' And
this one... of course it was the one she hated the most.<<"Welcome to
the pity party Mulder. So nice to see you, join the others.">> She
thought sarcastically.

He had that face that screamed self-pity and guilt, and not just the
common variety guilt. No, this was a Mulder special. This was the
'Scully's life is royally fucked up, and it is all my fault.' <<"Damn
it! Why must he do this now? I don't need this. If he says
anything...">> Well, she knew what she would do. She would rip his head
off.

He turned to face her. He was going to speak. She knew this. She knew
that she wouldn't be so lucky that he could actually keep his mouth
shut. Scully closed her eyes and braced herself for the sadly inevitable
self-flagellation.

And then the proverbial ax fell. For him or for her, she couldn't quite
tell. "Scully, why are you in the car with me? Why are you sitting here
at one in the morning in this damn car with me?"

She frowned as the meaning of his words sank in, soaked in the memory of
a quiet conversation in the Nevada desert. She didn't open her eyes.
Choosing her words very carefully, she spoke. "Don't do this. I don't
need this now. And you most certainly do not want me questioning my
reasons for being with you."

He turned to her, trying to meet her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
She doggedly kept her eyes closed.

"I don't feel much like discussing this now." She said these words
shortly, clipped.

"I still don't quite understand what you are talking about here Scully."
But his words betrayed him. Comprehension was beginning to seep into his
voice.

She opened her eyes. "But you do. We have traveled this path before, and
I just don't have the energy to placate you now."

"Placate me? What the hell does that mean? If you have something to say
to me, say it already." Now his voice began to take on a decidedly sharp
edge.

Her voice began to take on the same edge as well. "You know very well
what I'm talking about. Six years Mulder...six years Mulder, and I've
grown tired of this game."

"What--"

She interrupted him. "I said stop." Her words were coarsely spoken and
Mulder could almost feel her frustration radiate of off her. She did not
stop her tirade. "You know what. The 'Scully's-life-is-majorly-screwed-up,
-and-it-is-all-my-fault-Poor-me.'That *thing* you do." She spoke these 
words heavy with scorn. "And then it is my turn to fall into the role of 
comforter and assuage your guilt. Am I right?" She was only inflaming the
situation, but she suddenly didn't care.

She spoke once more. "Wait, no, I have changed my mind. I think that you
do need to hear this one more time. And this will be the last time, so
make sure that you file this carefully in that eidetic memory of yours.
That way next time you feel like taking this guilt trip of your, you can
leave me behind."

Mulder wasn't looking at her any more. He simply sat, jaw tightly
clenching, guilt morphing into anger. But he didn't stop her from
speaking.

"How do you see me Mulder? I'm curious. Because you would have to see me
in a certain way in order for you to take on this guilt. Do you see me
as a nave, easily manipulated person? Someone who would do something
out of simple obligation or duty, damn the consequences? Of course
you'll say no, that's not my Scully. But that is how I feel when you do
this."

She paused momentarily and looked at him. "Are you following?"

"Perfectly." He whispered, his voice harsh.

"It's like...it's like you invalidate my reasons for doing this. I'm not
here because it is my job, or because I feel an obligation to you." She
paused and looked to him. She studied him for a moment. Her voice was
softer now. "It isn't always about you Mulder. I've said this before,
and it was just as true then as it is now." She paused once more. "Has
it ever occurred to you that I could have my own reasons for staying
that don't necessarily have to do with you? That it is just as important
to me to find these truths, that we find these answers. If  you don't
think that I'm here for these reasons, I'm curious to know what you
think my reasons are."

"Scully, I...this isn't how I wanted..."

"I'm sorry Mulder. I'm sorry about this, and I'm sorry that you can't
seem to understand. I am here, with you, because I chose to be. I take
responsibility for my actions, and whatever comes from them. I don't
need you to do that for me. I don't want you to do that."

Scully fixed his eyes with her own, choosing her next words carefully
and trying to temper them with gentleness. "Mulder, when they took
me..." His eyes squeezed tight at the memory. "...when they took me it
became more than finding the truth, it became about finding the
answers." Her voice regained its edginess as she spoke her next words.
"It became personal. Imagine that. Personal for me, much like it is
personal for you. You have what was done to Samantha, I have what was
done to me.  And once you understand this we can move on."

She abruptly opened the door to the car and stepped out. Leaning against
the roof of the vehicle, as well as the doorframe, she put her head back
into the car, and spoke again. "Mulder, I made the choices, they were
mine to make, and I accept responsibility for where ever those choices
take me. That, Mulder, that's why I'm in the car with you." Her last
comment was punctuated with the slamming of the car door in his face.

*       *       *       *       *
He sat there, alone, staring at the emptiness, feeling as if all the
energy in the car had left with her.

That... that could have gone better.

<<"No shit Sherlock.">> His inner voice mocked him.

He wearily rested his head on the rim of the steering wheel. How had
that happened? He hadn't meant for the conversation to take such a
dramatic turn. He hadn't meant for the night to end with Scully
defending her role in his life. He hadn't meant... well there are a lot
of things that he hadn't meant to happen; yet they did.

Sometimes it seemed as if it didn't matter what he did anymore...

That was what he had been thinking about when he had begun the
conversation. He should have known that Scully wasn't in the mood, hell
her body language alone had screamed that she wanted to be anywhere else
than with him. He should have known that the wisest thing for him to do
would have involved taping his mouth shut, yet the words had tumbled out
nothingness. He wasn't surprised by her reaction, he deserved it.

He wanted to feel angry with her, he wanted to... he wanted to...hell,
he didn't know.

He opened the car door and followed her out into the crisp night. She
stood about 50 paces away from the car with her back to him, arms
wrapped tightly around her to ward off the cold. They stood silent for
an awkward moment, while he tried to decide what to say. "Scully..." he
said quietly, breaking the silent stalemate. His voice trailed off, he
didn't know what else to say. He began to approach her. "It's freezing
out here."

"I've been colder." The chill of the night air was nothing compared to
the chill in her voice.

Mulder saw the gulf between them yawning wider. He saw no way to span
it. He tried to find the words, and nothing better than the obvious
occurred to him. "Scully, I'm sorry... I..."

She sighed heavily, and with the expelled air went the last of her
anger. Now she was just incredibly tired. "I'm not looking for an
apology here Mulder. You don't have to do this." She said, voice dull
and tired.

Mulder reached forward and touched her shoulder, and gently turned her
around. She let him. "I'm not... this isn't out of some obligation...
this--"

But his own comment was broken off by the look in her eyes. Her eyes
wide, she looked up just over his left shoulder. There was a shocked
realization in her eyes. Mulder rapidly flipped around and saw a bright
light moving above, nearly on top of them. He turned back to Scully and
without thinking grabbed her hand and pulled her off the road and into
the forest. "Come on Scully!"

They didn't get far.

Mulder had just turned to glance back at the hovering object when there
was a sudden flash of light

It was as if his entire universe had instantly telescoped down to those
few seconds. Time slowed. He saw the flash of fear sweep over her
features... her lips beginning to form his name...

But time was like a rubber band. Just as quickly as it had stretched out
to eternity, it snapped back.

And then she was gone.

*       *       *       *       *       *

February 23, 1999
A.D. Skinner's Office
9:15am

*       *       *       *       *       *
It was one of those great stories that you can't put down at night
The hero knew what he had to do, and he wasn't afraid to fight
The villain goes to jail, while the hero goes free
I wish it were that simple for me
--David Crosby & Phil Collins, "Hero"
*       *       *       *       *       *

Skinner slammed shut the file before him in frustration. No information.
No leads, no clues as to Agent Scully's whereabouts. Unfortunately he
was not the least bit surprised. He knew these men. Knew their methods
and he was all too aware of the methods they used to obscure the truth.

He took his wire frames off his face and with one hand began to rub the
bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stave off his headache.
Putting his glasses back on, he looked at his watch. 9:15. Mulder was
late. Skinner was not looking forward to this particular meeting.

Skinner didn't know what to expect when he saw him this morning. His
mind flashed back to four years ago. Back to Duane Barry, the last time
she had been taken. The Mulder of that time had been a frightening mix
of desperation and rage. He had been unstoppable, undeterred in his
goal. And after they had found Duane Barry, but no sign of Scully...
Mulder had still been desperate, but his rage had faded into a
consuming guilt. A guilt, Skinner suspected, lingered still.

Skinner could still remember that conversation right here in his office,
the conversation that had summed up Mulder's guilt so well.

"'Agent Scully was a fine officer. More than that, I liked her. I
respected her. We all know the field we play on and we all know what can
happen in the course of a game. If you were unprepared for all the
potentials, then you shouldn't step on the field.'

'What if I... I knew the potential consequences but I... I never told
her?'

'Then you're as much to blame for her condition as... 'The Cancer Man.'"

As Skinner had said those words he had seen the guilt and anguish wash
over Mulder. He had hated having to say those words and watch Mulder
internally crumble, but Mulder had needed to hear them.

His secretary softly knocked on his door. "Sir, Agent Mulder has
arrived."

"Send him in."

Skinner had not been sure as to what to expect from Mulder this morning,
but what he saw was still unexpected. The man before him was composed,
controlled, calm even. Impeccably dressed, looking like the model agent,
the only thing that hinted at his hidden anguish was his slightly
red-rimed eyes. Skinner chose to ignore that hint.

Skinner motioned to the chair before him. Mulder sat down and spoke.
"Sorry to keep you waiting sir. I was held up." He offered no other
explanation.

"Well, you're here now. I suspect you know why I have called for this
meeting today. This concerns the case of  Agent Scully's disappearance."
Skinner paused.  He tried to come up with a diplomatic way to say his
next comment. "Agent Mulder, I think that it would be best if-"

Mulder interrupted him before he could finish. "I agree sir. This
investigation would go much..." he paused to find the right word,
"...smoother if I was not involved." He spoke calmly. If it had been
another time, another situation he could have smiled at the A.D.'s
expression. Before he could speak again, Mulder continued. "I also think
that now would be a good time to use up some of my vacation time."

Skinner and he stared for several moments. Skinner broke the silence. "I
understand. I am glad that we see eye to eye on this situation. I will
personally head this investigation while you-"A pause. "While you take
time to do what ever you need to do. We will keep each other appraised
of our progress."

Mulder stood. "Of course. Thank you sir." He turned to leave. His hand
was on the doorknob before Skinner stopped him. "We will find her Agent
Mulder."

Mulder didn't turn around. His voice breaking ever so slightly he
replied. "I want to believe that, sir."

*       *       *       *       *       *
February 28, 1999
The Lone Gunmen headquarters
7:03pm

Mulder furiously paced the floor, what little floor there was in the
cramped quarters. The gunmen were wise enough to stay out of his way. He
had arrived thirty minutes prior, and at each bit of information, or in
this case, lack of information the gunman provided, he became more
frenetic. "Nothing? You guys haven't found anything? What about the
train cars? I thought that you guys said that you had figured out a way
to monitor them."

Byers spoke, "We have Mulder, and there has been no activity at all.
Nothing. All of the known cars are stored in an abandoned rail yard.
There hasn't been any activity since they found Cassandra."

Byres noted Mulder's increasing agitation. "Mulder, what have you
found?" He asked, trying vainly to distract Mulder, to try to bring him
back down.

"Nothing!" He practically yelled, his arms flailing forward with
frustration. He repeated it again, this time softer. "Nothing. I haven't
found anything.  There was no records of any aircraft, or any
unidentified objects over Northern Virginia on that night."Mulder
paused. "Unless..." He looked at the Gunmen hopefully.

Byres just shook his head with regret. "We haven't found anything
either."

The room was silent for several moments. Frohike was the one to break
the silence. "Mulder, what about the other things? What about the source
that contacted you? Were you able to back trace it at all?"

He paused, then ran his hand through his hair, which was already a spiky
mess. "Yes, although it didn't do much good. Pay phone, heavy use. By
the time we found it, any trace evidence was obliterated by the hundreds
of others that followed. Like I said, nothing."

"What about hospitals? I know that we are watching as well, but have you
heard...?" Langly asked.

Mulder shook his head, looking down at his feet and answering in a low
saddened tone. "No."

Almost afraid to ask, Byers spoke, trying to keep his voice smooth and
calming. "And morgues?"

"Nothing." This was said with great relief."That is the only good news I
have..."  Mulder had finally stopped pacing and sat heavily on the
couch, burying his face in his hands.

"Mulder, nothing just disappears without a trace. We will find her."
Langly spoke, his words meant to be helpful, but only seemed to bring
Mulder more anguish. <<"Nothing disappears without a trace?">> Voices in
his head taunted at him. <<"Why Mulder, you know better than that...">>
Mulder did his best to ignore them, but was not quite successful.

The gunmen looked at each other, uncertain as to their next move. After
several silent moments, Frohike got off his chair and sat next to
Mulder. Somewhat awkwardly he placed his hand on Mulder's shoulder.
"Look Mulder, we all care for Agent Scully. She's out there, and we're
not going to stop until we find her. And we will find her." But even as
he spoke, the uncertainty in his voice was apparent.

Mulder looked up and was almost able to force a smile on his face. "Look
guys, I appreciate all the help that you've given me, really. Keep
looking. We'll find something eventually." He stood up. "I have to go.
You guys know how to reach me." With that he pulled on his coat and was
out the door.

The gunmen looked at each other for a few seconds, and without saying a
word, went back to their respective projects.

*       *       *       *       *       *
March 2, 1999
Mulder's Apartment
12:21am

Mulder sat on his couch, lost. His cool detached faade had quickly
faded since his visit with Skinner. He had tried to be his calm,
collected, professional best; he had pulled from him the side that
referred to as 'Scully's piece of me.' The calm, rational side that had
slowly infiltrated his being over the past six years. He couldn't permit
himself to let his emotions overwhelm him. He needed her strength, he
needed her...

But she wasn't here. It was just him, and his calm mask was rapidly
deteriorating. This past week had been difficult. He had left Skinner's
office with several leads, and he had been ready to begin his own
private investigation. He had also left that meeting with hope. Hope
that she could be found. But all to quickly those leads became dead ends
and his hopes began to seem like nothing more than wishful thinking.
<<"It isn't just wishful thinking. Scully is still alive. She will come
back. She has to.">>

He was trying desperately to keep his mind busy, occupied. Every time he
didn't, he would begin again, "Not again, not again, not again."

He was doing it again. He got up from the couch. <<"Got to keep busy. No
time to think. Just act.">> He briefly considered calling Skinner, even
at this late hour, to ask how the official investigation was
progressing, but immediately dismissed the idea. No, he had just spoken
with Skinner the previous day. They had informed each other of their
rather dismal progress. After his own lack of success, Mulder had pinned
much of his remaining hope on the information his A.D. could provide.
Mulder had hoped that with his noticeable absence from the FBI team,
they would be able to make better progress. If someone was watching,
paying attention to Mulder's activities, then maybe...

Mulder interrupted his thoughts. <<"'If?' Had he really thought 'if'?">>
A mirthless laugh escaped his lips. <<"If someone was watching?">> When
had he started doubting that he was being watched?

But the thought only distracted him for a moment, and then he was back
to Scully. Skinner couldn't help, Gunmen were already on it...There was
no one else. He was the only one left who could do something. And what
was he doing? He was wasting time, sitting on his ass. He should be
doing something. He should be rescuing Scully. Saving her from what ever
they are doing to her.

He shuddered, images rose unbidden from his mind. They weren't actual
moments that he had witnessed, no, these were the images created by him,
and that tormented him each time he closed his eyes. Scully, powerless,
lying prone on the top on the table. Sometimes there were men, terrible
men, surrounding her, cutting her, inserting instruments into her body,
violating her in the worse ways.  Sometimes there were no men. Sometimes
it was just she, in the center of a large, empty room. She was on the
table, always on the table... machines encircled her, breathing for her,
regulating her heart rate, monitoring all of her bodily systems... she
was totally cut off, isolated from any other living thing. Cut off from
him. These where the images that haunted his dreams and he struggled to
keep his waking world free from them. <<"Don't go there, Mulder. Don't
think about that. Think about getting her back.">>

The idea spurred him into sudden action and he was nearly out the door
before he realized that there was nothing that he could do. It was just
a matter of waiting. And just waiting was what he did worst. He sighed.
He carefully hung up his jacket and sat down again. Grabbing his wallet
from his pocket, he opened it and carefully withdrew a lightly worn
photograph from the folded leather. He held the picture delicately in
his hand, as if it was a dried leaf, and the slightest pressure would
cause it to disintegrate between his fingertips.

The picture was of Scully, a Scully that he had never really known. She
was young in this picture, he guessed early twenties; she had a wide
grin, the tail end of true laughter. Scully laughing...now there was a
sight to behold. Mulder smiled again as his finger gently traced her
laughing outline. And yes, it was true, that laughter; he could see it
in the way her eyes gleamed.

But then her crystal eyes seemed to change before him. They took on a
hard, almost accusing nature and penetrated him to his core. <<"I
haven't laughed like this since I met you.">>, they seemed to taunt.
Hurriedly he closed his eyes to this image, trying to banish that
thought from his head. Scully didn't think that, he knew that now, and
if she knew he was even thinking like this...He almost smiled at the
memory of the recent tongue-lashing he had experienced, and now knew
that he had deserved it. She hated his self-pity.

They had needed it, needed to get it out into the open like that, and
maybe...and maybe things would have been different. Things were
beginning to come out, and he had almost been relived when she had
lashed out at him. At least she had told him how she felt; it was a far
cry from her usual stoic 'I'm fine.' Those two words always made his
cringe.

Yes it had been a break-through of a sort. <<"If...">> he mentally
paused. <<"...if she hadn't been taken...">> What? Everything would be
perfect? No, he knew better than that, but things would be better.

And if he saw her again... no, 'when' he saw her again...He corrected
himself. When he saw her again, he would fix things between them, try
harder. When he saw her again...

When he saw her again...

Unbidden, his mind began to flood with the unwelcome memories of her
disappearance. The blinding light...the face he had seen her make the
brief moment before she vanished before his eyes. She had looked up into
the light, and he had seen the recognition in her face. It had been just
like last time...the last time she had been taken from him.

Again, he repeated the words, out loud this time, "When I see her
again...",in an attempt to stave off the inevitable, but he was
unsuccessful. Unable to avoid it any longer, he surrendered to the guilt
and grief and let it sweep him away. He fell into a fitful sleep a few
hours later, with those words still on his lips and the picture dropped
unceremoniously to the floor.

*       *       *       *       *       *
Department of Defense
8:08am

Diana stared through the observation window into the room where the
subject was laying supine on an examination table. The patient was
shrouded in sterile drapes that covered her nearly head to toe. Her red
hair was bundled up within a cap, but her pale face was in clear view.
Between her anemic lips was an intubation tube, connected to the
ventilator. Diana watched with dispassion at the machine, as breaths per
minute and oxygen saturation were displayed on the readout.

She sensed the man behind her before she heard him. The smell of smoke
that always clung to him like an ill-fitting cloak wafted over to her.
Her nose wrinkled distastefully for a moment before she resumed her
impassive mask of a face. Diana spoke to him with out turning. "How is
she doing?"

He took several more steps until he was next to her. He placed a
cigarette between his thin lips. With a flick of his wrist he lit his
lighter and cupped the flame with his hands and leaned into the burning
light. Smoke began to curl from the end of the cigarette. With out
looking at Diana, he answered her question. "All is going as planned."

He glanced at her, forming a marginal smile. "Bringing back any
memories?"

Her eyes closed briefly. It took only a moment for her to recover from
his pointed question. She had enough practice over the years. She spoke
again, ignoring his previous question. "How much longer will the
procedure take?" Her voice was flat, distant.

He shrugged, noncommittally. "We aren't really sure. It could be hours
or days."

"And then what?"

"And then the testing begins. We need to determine how effective the
treatment is before we can proceed." He paused for a moment, then
continued. "How is he?" He did not need to explain who 'he' was. 'He'
was a given.

She sighed, suddenly weary. "Acting as we predicted. He's not made any
significant progress in discovering the truth."

He nodded, pleased with this news. "Then it is time that you let your
presence be known."

"What do I tell him when he finds me? He believes that I'm dead."

He brought the cancer stick from his mouth. Exhaling the smoke, he
smiled. "Tell him what he needs to know."

*       *       *       *       *       *

March 4, 1999
Mulder's Apartment
8:57 am

*       *       *       *       *       *
Well you got your reasons,
And you got your lies,
And you got your manipulations,
They cut me down to size.
--Tonic, "If You Could Only See"
*       *       *       *       *       *

The shrill ring of the cell phone broke Mulder free from his latest
series of nightmares. He sat up, head spinning and blindly reached for
his phone. Half of him hoped that he would hear the familiar, "Mulder,
it's me." the other half knew just how unlikely that would be.

"Mulder."

"We found something." It was Langly.

"Did you find her? What did you discover?" Mulder asked impatiently in a
voice wanting and not quite daring to hope.

"No, but we found someone that may know where she is. I can't say
anything else now. Just come over."

Mulder was already out the door before Langly had finished the last
sentence.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The Lone Gunmen Head Quarters
9:28am

"What? She's still alive?" Mulder face was blank, but the shock was
obvious in his eyes. This was the last thing that he expected to hear
when he came over. This was the last name he expected.

"Yes, Diana Fowley is alive and well as far as we can tell. After..."
Byers paused to clear his throat. "After we found out the information on
her before, and after you...um... well after Scully told you about the
information..." Byers was looking even more uncomfortable, if possible.

Mulder spoke, "After I said that I didn't believe her..."he sighed.

"Um, yeah. After that, Scully asked us to continue to keep tabs on her.
We also thought that she had been killed with the others; there had been
no activity, that is until yesterday. We knew that someone was using her
accounts, but we couldn't be sure it was her until this morning." Langly
handed him a grainy photo, and resumed from where Byers had left off.
"We were able to pull this picture off a security camera in the lobby of
the Cabal Hotel, in New York City. She arrived today. We have no way of
knowing how long she'll stay. This may be your only chance."

*       *       *       *       *       *
March 5, 1999
Cabal Hotel, room 2133
1:35am

Mulder sat. Shrouded in darkness, he sat and waited. The room was not
unlike the hundreds of hotel rooms the he had frequented over the years,
a small, four walled cube of a room, smelling of antiseptic, and devoid
of a personal touch. Diana hadn't been there when he arrived, and for
the second time in as many weeks, he had let himself in. But unlike the
previous time, he found something.

Why hadn't he learned a lesson from Pandora and kept the box closed? He
was beginning to wish he had just waited for her in the lobby. He didn't
want to know what he now knew. <<"I never wanted to believe it could be
true.">>

His eyes painfully scanned the paper again. The words seemed to leap out
and literally take hold of his heart, squeezing, and twisting within his
chest until it was almost to the breaking point. "The subject..." always
'the subject' He scanned the paper. They only referred to her using her
name twice. All of the other times it was simply 'the subject.' The
words removed, dispassionate, no hint at the person behind them.

The word began to run up and over and around on the page as a wave of
nausea  washed over him. He closed his eyes, looking away for the first
time since he had recovered the report. It was no use. His curse of
memory prevented him from forgetting, even for a moment. The words and
sentences continued to swim behind his eyelids. "...the most likely
candidate for conversion.","...subject out performs any of the other
participants.", "...intensive tests conducted four years ago..."

And those were her words. Mulder studied the name at the bottom of the
sheet. Diana Fowley. Right there, in black and white, was her name.
Attached to a report outlining the tests that had been done on Scully
four years ago, the surveillance used to monitor her, and he realized
belatedly, him, and the plans for what was to come...

It was all coming together. Diana's studies of the MUFON members...Her
reactions relating to Cassandra. He felt like the fool he was.

He had not wanted to believe. It was as simple as that. For the first
time in his life he had wanted to not believe, even with the evidence
presented to him. And what had it cost him?

The jiggle of the door handle interrupted his thoughts. The door swung
open and Diana strolled in, takeout in her hand. She set the food on the
table near the door and casually tossed her coat on the bed without
really looking.  She was  heading to the bathroom when she noticed out
of the corner of her eye that her briefcase had been opened and the
contents were now scattered haphazardly at the foot of the bed. She
slowly moved her eyes from the bed and looked directly to Mulder's hard
gaze. He noted that she did not seem surprised at his sudden appearance
in her room.

His gaze was intense and unwavering, and she met it directly for an
eerily long time, wondering what he might be thinking. Mulder broke the
silence that had engulfed the room. "Thanks for the note."

"What note?" She asked. She seemed genuinely confused.

"Oh, that little note that said 'Hey Mulder, just a little note to let
you know that I'm alive. You didn't send me to my death.'" He rose to
his feet, and for the first time Diana could see his face in the light.
She immediately wished that he would go back to his corner.

"I couldn't tell you. I'm sorry for that. But I had my reasons."

He held up the report in his hand and looked accusingly at her. With
sarcasm heavy on his voice, he spoke again. "Ah, yes, your 'reasons'. I
read all about them. It seems that your work was not yet done, was it?"

She closed her eyes briefly, as guilt flitted across her face.
"Fox...it...it wasn't like that...I only barely managed to escape
myself...and..." She trailed off, unsure how to explain herself, and
beginning to doubt that she ever could.

"And what?"

"And..." She shrugged her shoulder's helplessly. "And I don't know." She
motioned to the report he held tightly in his hand. "You've read it."

"Yes, I have. It has been very enlightening to say the least. How long
Diana? How long have you worked for *them*? Since the beginning?"

"Since the beginning." She repeated, voice heavy.

He had expected some sort of evasion; this brought him up short. He
quickly recovered. "And the X-files?" It was a question, but he already
knew her answer.

"You did not find them by accident." She admitted.

Mulder sat back down in the chair. Diana cautiously sat on the edge of
the bed, body tense, and stared intently at Mulder. She didn't speak,
instead, she waited for him to absorb her news. Finally, he spoke again,
the pain and anguish easily read in his eyes. "And my memories? My
memories of my sister? You were there, you encouraged me..." He stopped
as the implications sunk in.

"Your memories are true. They were not manipulated nor given to you. I
was only there to make sure that they were recovered."

He sighed, and for a moment was relived by this news. But then a
realization struck. "You know that I can't believe anything you say."

It was her turn to sigh. "I know that. I don't expect you to."

"Why her? Why Scully? And why now?"

Diana motioned to the papers in his hand and those scattered next to her
on the bed. "You read why. You know why she was picked."

"Why *you* picked her." He stressed pointedly. "I have a feeling that
there is something more than what I'm reading."

Her voice was flat, stilted. "You think that this was somehow
personal..."

"I'm beginning to wonder." His words were deceptively casual.

"It wasn't like that. It was never was." She sighed. "Scully is our best
hope, our only hope." She paused and met Mulder's hard gaze. "Fox, they
found out about Cassandra. They found out that we have the  technology,
and they are expecting us to produce results."

He seeming candor was still startling to him. "The aliens?"

She nodded. "Yes. And they are expecting us to deliver on our end of the
bargain. If we don't..."

"If we don't...then what happens?"

She ignored his question. Instead, she moved off the bed and half knelt
before him. She took his hand in hers and carefully unfurled the fist
that was grasping the report and smoothed the crumpled papers, and set
the papers to the side. She rested one hand on his, gingerly, and took a
good, long look at the floor before looking up, trying to look into his
eyes. Mulder turned his head slightly, refusing, but he didn't take his
hands away.

When she spoke, her voice was soft, reassuring. "Fox, we need her. She's
the only way, the only chance we have. The only way that any of us can
survive. She will save us both."

"At what cost? Her humanity?" He spat out. He forcefully pulled his
hands from hers, and stood up. Diana was just barely able to get out of
his way.

"How can you be a part of this? How can you let them do these things to
innocent people? I thought I knew you. " His voice abruptly dropped from
a shout, to a mere whisper. "I guess I didn't know you at all..."

Diana walked to Mulder and placed her hand to his arm. "Fox--" She
began. He violently shrugged her off. "Don't." His voice raised once.
"Don't ever touch me again."

His back was to her, when he spoke again. "Can you help me? Will you
help me?"

"Fox...I can't...If I thought that there was any other way..." Her voice
trailed off.

Mulder turned and studied her face for a moment. "That is what you
honestly believe." He dropped his head with this realization. "That
means you won't help me then." He looked back up to her. "Is this how
I'm nullified? All those that I mistakenly believed were on my side
betray me? And I'm left with no one?"

His words had an unbelievable sting to them. She visibly grimaced.
Mulder did not see her reaction. "I can't help you, even if I could it
is already too late. Plans have been set in motion that I am unable to
halt. But--" She broke off.

"But what?" Mulder asked bitterly.

On impulse, she decided to continue. If she could save him from her
fate..."But, you need to know something. This meeting...you finding me
was no accident. You discovering the reports...this was not mere
happenstance. This was all a part of a well coordinated plan."

"And you telling me is a part of this plan?" He asked sharply.

"No, it isn't. I'm telling you this...I'm telling you this because I
don't want what happened to me to happen to you. The smoking man will
approach you in a day or two, with an offer...don't accept it; don't
believe him."

"I would never--"

She interrupted. "He will promise you things...he will offer all that
you have ever wanted. But don't trust his words. You can't trust him."

"Why are you telling me this? Of all things?"

"We all face choices in our lives. I regret mine; I don't want you to
make the same mistakes I did."

"What mistakes were those?"

She just shook her head. "I can't tell you anything else. Just remember,
don't trust what he has to say."

Mulder scoffed. "And I should trust you?"

"Fox...I'm sorry, I can't give you anything else..."

Mulder walked over to the papers and began to gather them up to take
with him. "Since I was meant to see them anyway..." But he paused in his
efforts. "Are these even real? If I was meant to see them--" He stopped
himself and looked expectantly at Diana.

She answered his unasked question. "They are true. It was put together
without us knowing you would ultimately see it. When the smoking man
read it, he felt...he felt that it would make his offer all the more
meaningful."

Mulder walked to the door and opened it. He had come with such high
hopes...

He was almost out the door when she spoke again, halting his progress.
"Fox, it wasn't all a lie."

He slowly turned around and they stood facing each other. "What wasn't a
lie?"

Diana met his eyes. "Things I said...Fox I did love you..." She stopped.
She saw a flicker of something... emotion, a memory, caring? She wasn't
sure, but she saw it pass over his eyes before he closed them to her.

He turned away without looking at her again. He spoke, voice verging on
a whisper. "You know that I can't believe anything you say." And he shut
the door firmly behind him.

She found herself staring at the door by the time she found words to
speak again. Her voice cracked slightly. "I know that. I can't expect
you to."

*       *       *       *       *       *
After giving herself s few minutes to recover, she placed her call.

"Sir? This is Agent Fowley. He's just left."

His voice was pleased. "Excellent. Did it is go as planned?"

"Yes, he recovered the report and discovered my duplicity."

"And his spirit?"

She hesitated only for a moment. "Sufficiently broken. I believe that
your plans for him will be able to be carried out."

She could hear his glee through the phone line. It made her feel
nauseous. "Excellent. Then we can proceed with the plans. I will contact
him shortly."

He hung up abruptly, leaving her with the dead phone still grasped
firmly in her hand. She slowly replaced it back in its cradle. Feeling
suddenly bereft of strength, from the confrontation with Mulder as well
as the ramifications from it, she collapsed onto the soft comfort of the
awaiting bed.

Mulder was in a dangerous place; she could see it. She'd been there
before. But she had made the wrong choice. She prayed that with her
warning he would make the right one.

She remembered the moment vividly. There are times in one's lives where
everything changes. These moments in history often pass without
acknowledgement, nor the proper significance. It is only years later,
that when one looks back on the intricate tapestry of one's life, that
that single moment, that single thread in time, changed the weave of all
that followed.

This was not what happened in this particular moment in her life. She
knew from the moment she saw the man, casually leaning against her
apartment building, smoking his cigarette, that everything was about to
change. And at that time she was relieved. They were offering her what
she most wanted. The tests would stop, the abductions halted, they would
leave her alone. All she had to do was to 'get to know' a nice young man
with an odd name of Fox. She had agreed, thinking herself saved, but in
reality she simply traded one nightmare for another.

She had been quite happy at first. Sure, there was a lingering guilt
each time she filed a report, but it was far outweighed by the absence
of fear and pain that had plagued her, her whole life. The fear of going
to sleep one night in her bed, and waking up three days later in a corn
field. The pain that filled her as the memories of what happened during
those missing days came back to her.

Yes, those first few years where very nice. She had an excellent job at
the FBI, easily obtained through her sources of course, and she had Fox.
He was a man driven by something dark and hidden within him. He had
recognition within the FBI gained from his uncanny and sometimes
'spooky' ability to profile and catch criminals.  He was advancing
quickly up the chain of command, but had slowly decided it was time to
venture out on his own to explore. And, hey, he was handsome, witty and
he had a sharp mind to boot. It was hardly a chore monitoring his
activities. He treated her decent, a hell a lot better than many of her
previous 'real' boyfriends. He didn't run around on her, the sex was
excellent, hell, he even managed to remember her birthday one year, even
if it was two weeks late...

And they worked well together. They were solving crimes and during some
moments, before she had time to reflect, she felt normal. She forgot
about the shadowy government, and the secrets she held away from the
world. Instead she focused on her work in the FBI, and on her boyfriend.

But ultimately, that was her down fall. She forgot...

Her assignment was simple: Keep him away from anything of importance,
get him involved with cases that would only fuel his paranoia but
nothing else; earn his trust. She was sent to distract him, by whatever
means available to her as a woman. It had seemed merely like a
baby-sitting job to her. That was of course before she fell in love with
him.

She had been so new. She had had no way of preparing herself for Fox.
She laughed at that memory. <<"Preparing myself for Fox?">> She doubted
that anyone could prepare themselves for Fox. His passion for everything
he did, his intelligence, his charisma, and all of those years ago, his
astonishing naivete. Looking back now, it was almost hard to imagine him
that way, with his fragile innocence still intact. But she remembered
it. He had been  the only one she knew like that. Everyone else that she
worked with was burdened by the truth. She remembered how refreshing it
felt to be with someone who wasn't jaded or worn down by the truth.

She called up and image of Fox's face from only moments before. No,
there wasn't any innocence left in him. He was beginning to get
embittered, she could see it. She  hoped that her warning had been
enough to stop him. But she feared that with this latest news, and
without the support of his partner, he would  succumb to the pressures
exerted on him.

Yes, she was all too aware of Mulder and Scully's relationship. Everyone
knew, and everyone used it to exploit them both. Even her...But not this
time. This time she had to do what was required of her, and that meant
choosing Scully.

Scully was the best that they had. So few left after the cancer, and the
fires...No, it had to be Scully, she was the only one that they could
use. Diana remembered the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when
she had discovered this, and how much worse it had grown when she had
told the smoking man. He had grinned his trademark grimace as he puffed
on his cigarette. "This couldn't have worked out better..."He had said,
and began to lay out the plans to finally win Mulder over, or finally
break him.

And she had just stood there, and agreed with the plans.

She had had the same tight feeling in her chest, as she had had ten year
earlier when they had informed her that she was no longer being assigned
to Fox.

They had found out about her feeling toward him, and it couldn't be
tolerated. She began to let things slide, let him see things that he
shouldn't have...she'd gotten reckless. To fall for a man like Fox...it
hadn't been wise. She risked her life as well a Fox's with her
foolishness.

'Luckily', her mind scoffed at that term, they had not simply killed
her. Instead, she was transferred as far away from Fox as possible. She
had barely had time to say goodbye to him, and she knew that her abrupt
departure had hurt him, but she knew that if she had stayed he would
have been hurt much worse. They had threatened as much.

She was sent on her next assignment. Cataloging and studying, and
witnessing experiments conducted on women across Europe. Yes the powers
that be had quite the twisted humor. With each women she talked with,
with each woman she watched the experiments be performed one, she was
forced to relive her own experiences. And these times, just like her own
experiences, she was powerless to stop.

She tried once, and only once, to save one of the women. It had been an
utter failure. The woman had ended up dead, and Diana had 'disappeared'
for months. She still had no clear idea what was done to her in that
time, but the threats that hovered menacingly over her head implied a
great deal. "It's a shame about all of those women dying of that
horrible cancer. It is a rather horrid way to go...wouldn't you say
Agent Fowley?" Yes the intent was clear.

That had been her only act of rebellion. It took years for her to regain
her status within the group, but now she was high in the ranks, high
enough that if she rebelled now...But she halted that thought. If there
was any other way...but there wasn't. Scully was it. If they didn't hand
her over, no one would survive. And the survival of the species did not
mean that each member of that species must survive.
*       *       *       *       *       *
6:24 am

Diana woke to the jarring chirp of her cell phone. She didn't realize at
first that she had even fallen asleep. She groggily got up and reached
for her coat that had fallen from the bed to the floor. She padded the
coat down awkwardly, searching by touch. On the tenth ring, she answered
the phone.

"Fowley." Her voice was still gravelly from sleep.

"Yes, Diana Fowley? This is Dr. Ken Dagen."

"Who?" Her mind was still fogged.

"Dr. Dagen. We worked together on the study...on the subjects?"

She mentally went through her index, trying to match name to face. She
was drawing a blank. Wait... now she remembered him. A thoughtful man
with a sensitive face and soft-spoken manner. He was the guy who
isolated the gene from that Praise boy... very smart. That was why she
had picked him to work with her on the selection process. She also
remembered a conversation with him; one in which both hinted at a mutual
dissatisfaction with the way their lives had turned out. Her grogginess
slipped away quickly with this realization.

"I remember you. Do you need something?"

"I'm not sure if you can help me..."

"Spit it out." She did not feel like playing games.

"We had a conversation a week or two ago..."

"Yes, I remember." She led him, impatient.

"We both expressed a...desire...if you will, to have a second chance? I
believe I have that second chance. I have found another way."

*       *       *       *       *       *
March 5, 1999
Mulder's Apartment
5:25 pm

*       *       *       *       *       *
The victor will never be asked if he told the truth. --Adolf Hitler

*       *       *       *       *       *

Mulder was excruciatingly aware of the interplay of light and shadow. He
sat cloaked in the specter of the evening, staring almost incoherently
as the lights from the passing rush hour traffic beamed into his living
room. The lights flitted from one end of the room to the next, careening
like headless birds.

Beams of light momentarily illuminating then chased off, frightened. It
was as if the darkness burned the light and unable to tolerate it, the
light was cast off, only to be replaced with another.

The kaleidoscope of light vs. dark was enchanting, almost imbued with a
shimmering, sensual quality that caressed him and the rest of the room.
Shadow and light, light and darkness. On one level the chaotic shifts in
the degree of light, from one extreme to the other, was disrupting to
his equilibrium, but then the  rhythmic swell began to have an odd
psychological effect, and he fell into the languid tempo.

Mulder closed his eyes, and his body begged for him to give in to the
exhaustion, let the tempo take over. When was the last time he slept? He
faintly remembered being woken up by the Gunmen...had that really been
the last time?

But no, he had to stay awake...Mulder couldn't take the chance that the
man would come and he would be unprepared, asleep. As if he could
sleep...

He opened his eyes and discovered his gun in his hand. He studied it,
confused. He remembered pulling it out, checking the clip, noting the
number of bullets, but then he had set it down. The last time he looked
in his hand he had held the report. How had the gun replaced the report?
Where was the report?

He glanced around and found it at his feet. He set the gun on the couch
next to him, and reached for the rumpled papers. He did his best to
smooth out the wrinkles against his knee. The report was astoundingly
comprehensive. Scully's complete medical records both unofficial as well
as official. He flipped to the most resent entry. It was a genetic test,
from blood taken during their recent forced 'quarantine.' He lifted the
paper closer to his face and studied the scrawled words written in the
margin. Half of it was undecipherable, but he was able to make out a few
words. "Praise gene? Compare... source? A change from previous..."

Was that Gibson? Mulder had a feeling it was, but couldn't be sure. He
needed her damn it! His memory afforded him a great amount of knowledge,
but was relatively useless for interpretation, at least in this
instance. That was what he needed Scully for. As if that was the only
thing he needed her for...

He would take it to the Gunmen soon enough so that they could help him
decipher the information, but that was later. Now he would wait, it
seemed that was all he was capable of doing now anyway.

He flipped through the pages and came to the last one, the one with the
final recommendations. It had been the only time in the report that he
had been mentioned.

"'There has been some concern regarding the subject's partner. Their
close attachment, as well as his known interference with our plans in
the past are causes for consideration regarding this subject. However,
given the immeasurable need, as well as limited time span, it has been
determined that this subject is the best candidate, and any difficulties
that arise related to her partner will be easily nullified.'"

'Easily nullified.' Is that what he had become? Easily nullified? So
impotent, so powerless to halt what was to come? That was certainly how
he felt. So little accomplished in these past days. And underneath those
words was Diana's signature.

Diana...his mind wavered with this new thought. He had been avoiding
thinking about her. From the beginning, she said. The X-files, his
regression of his memories of his sister...She had said that they were
his, those memories, that they hadn't been manipulated or created. Yet
he would be a fool to believe her now, after all of this. Hell, it was
obvious that he had been a fool for quite some time.

Manipulated memories, manipulated life...there seemed to be no real
difference anymore.

But he had wanted to believe her, even though his mind rebelled against
that thought. He had proof, his mind argued, that she had deceived him
from the beginning and he knew better than to start trusting yet another
lie. But his mind had not seen what he had, it hadn't seen the
expression in her eyes, the pain, the regret... and maybe something
more?

He had seen something in her expression. Something more than just a
story to placate him. As much as he hoped that she, and the report, had
lied, he knew it all to be the utter, painful truth. From the beginning.

And she had been the one to compile the report, and it had been her
words, her recommendation that had set this in motion.

And just what had been set into motion? He wasn't yet sure of specifics;
he didn't have the medical  knowledge to be able to explain 'how' they
did what they did, but 'what' they did was obvious.

She was being changed.

Or was it: She 'is' changed? Had it already happened? His eyes squeezed
tight. Either way, there seemed to be little he could do. Even learning
exactly what was in the document would not offer any insight as to her
location. He had already pored over it several times over in the vain
hope of finding a place mentioned. Perhaps a facility that would be
used, or had been used in the past. Hell, he would be happy with just an
indication of what part of the world she was in. He unconsciously
shivered as the memory of Antarctica surfaced; both from the remembered
chill of the climate, as well as the nature of the 'trip.'

He moved his head slightly and his eye caught his gun at his side. He
picked it up, and once more it replaced the papers he had held in his
hand. Turning it indifferently between his hands, he felt the cold hard
metal against his palm, felt its heft, and contemplated his next move.
What now?

*       *       *       *       *       *
The Cigarette Smoking Man entered the apartment with ease. He placed the
key he had used to open the lock in his coat pocket and closed the door
quietly behind him. Stepping further into the dark room, he tried to
differentiate between the objects of the room and the shadows that they
cast. He resisted the impulse to turn on the overhead light, not quite
ready to reveal his presence. He wanted to find Mulder first.

He knew that Mulder was in the apartment, surveillance had told him as
much, but it had been several minutes since he checked, and he could no
longer be sure as to Mulder's exact location.

When the room flooded with light a moment later, CSM knew exactly where
the other man was. Mulder stood beside him, hand still on the switch.
Mulder came through the kitchen doorway and cautiously approached the
man who had just entered. "Thanks for coming to me this time. It makes
it so much easier." Mulder said, sarcasm heavy on his lips.

The old man hid his surprise well. When he spoke, his voice was
controlled and even. "No hello or how are you?"

"I'm fresh out of pleasantries today."

"And no gun to my head this time? You disappoint me Mulder." He said
with a half smile on his face.

"My apologies. If it would make you feel more at home." Mulder's gun was
now even with the older man's left temple.

CSM did his best to ignore growing pressure next to his eye, and pulled
a package of cigarettes and his silver lighter from an inside pocket of
his coat. Ever so casually, he tapped one of the cancer sticks out and
brought it to his gaunt, parched lips. He moved his hand to indicate the
couch and chairs in the next room. "How about we sit down for awhile?
Make ourselves comfortable?"

"I could care less if you were comfortable." But Mulder led the older
man to the couch never the less.

CMS sat on the black leather couch, and Mulder sat in the chair next to
him, never taking his eye or gun off of him.

Mulder spoke. "Just tell me why. Why was she taken again? Why her?"

"But you know why, Agent Mulder. I'm sure you've read the report Agent
Fowley prepared. It really is a fine report. Diana sure has a gift for
the written word, wouldn't you say?" A drag from his cancer stick.

"Yeah, it seems that I'm discovering new and exciting aspects to people
all the time." Mulder's voice was flat, yet dripping with irony. "But I
still want to hear it from you."

CSM settled further into the couch, and considered Mulder's words for a
moment before proceeding. "That first time she was taken she wasn't
going to return. It was simply a ploy to have you believe what we wanted
you to. It was also a convenient way of separating you two. But she was
such a fine subject. She surprised us. So...how shall I put this? So
robust, so hearty. All the things we did to her, yet she survived. The
technology then was so primitive compared to now." He shook his head
somewhat amazed. He murmured almost to himself. "The things we did..."
His eyes refocused as he looked back to Mulder. "That was why she was
returned, we simply ran out of things to do to her."

Mulder's eyes glared as he struggled to maintain himself, to prevent him
from strangling that smug expression off of his face. He willed himself
not to react, to regain control of his emotions. He needed to hear what
the man had to say. Mulder tightened his grip on his gun as he continued
to hold it level with the other man's head.

The older man continued. "We returned her to you. And she surprised us
by surviving. So we kept even closer tabs on her. We were somewhat
surprised and disappointed when she developed the cancer like the
others. It is always sad when we lose one to the cancer...We thought
that that was the end."

"What about the chip you gave me?"

He dismissed Mulder's question with a wave of his hand. "It was mostly
just another method used to confuse your loyalties. We had tried it
before...with the others...They showed some reversal, but they didn't
live. But she did, once again. She really is a fine specimen." He
extinguished his cigarette and lit another. He waited for Mulder to
comment.

Mulder sat, absorbing the new information. "Continue."

"And of course, the icing on top. Her exposure to the virus and
subsequent exposure to the antivirous. Of course you did have something
to do with that. And even though your actions resulted in quite a bit of
work and re-planning for all parties involved, it worked out for the
best. You made her all the more valuable." He paused, took another drag
and almost casually added. "Oh, by the way, great timing in the
hallway."

The last comment finally got a reaction from Mulder. CSM smiled as
Mulder choked. The hand holding the gun wavered momentarily before
dropping to his lap. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid with me." His voice was abrupt. "We have surveillance
in the hallway. You've never even looked. I must say that you surprised
me Agent Mulder." Another smirk from the older man.  "I never thought
that you would have the guts. I admit I was a bit disappointed that it
was interrupted. I was hoping to see something interesting." His
eyebrows raised; he took another drag.

Mulder couldn't remember a time when he wanted to hit someone more. He
wanted to grind his fist against the old man's lips until they were
bruised and bleeding, until they could no longer form that condescending
smirk. Mulder was surprised by his own restraint.

CSM continued. "But ah, cruel fate. Would you say that fate is cruel
Agent Mulder?"

"I don't believe fate has played much of a role in my life."

The old man nodded thoughtfully. "You're probably true. Someone once
said that the best way to predict the future was to invent it."

"So what is this future?"

"That brings me to why I am here Agent Mulder. I'm here to discuss your
future." He paused as he considered his next words.  When he spoke
again, his voice bordered almost on tenderness. "You were always special
Mulder. You always held a special place in the grand scheme of things.
Your father had such plans for you. You're part of the future, what we
will all become. You are so much further along than the rest of us, and
you'll go so much further than we ever could."

"What do you mean by that?" There was no alarm in his voice, not yet,
only curiosity.

CSM ignored the question and continued as if uninterrupted. "Yes you're
quite special."

"Explain. What are you talking about?" The apprehension was obvious in
Mulder's voice.

He simply smiled. "Not yet. Not until you agree to my offer."

"And what would that offer be?"

The old man leaned in, and was completely serious as he addressed
Mulder. "Join us, join me now and you'll be saved from what is to come."

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "You've offered me this before. You already know
my answer. What makes you think that I'll change my mind now?"

He calmly took a drag from his cigarette before he spoke again, his
voice smug. "You don't know what I'm offering."

"Let me guess: The *Truth.* The mystical truth that is waved before me
and which leads me wherever you damn well please. No. I've enough of
this truth." Mulder's head nodded in the direction of the coffee table,
where the report lay. "I already know all that I need to."

CSM's eyes followed the path to the papers, and smiled slightly. "That's
nothing. Only a mere fraction of the whole. Are you sure you don't want
to learn more?"

"More?" Mulder asked incredulously. He had tasted enough of that truth,
so much so that its bitter fruit lingered and tainted the rest that he
was. Did he really want to know the rest? Not if it meant giving up on
Scully. "I'm not interested."

"Really? Agent Mulder not interested in the truth?" His eyebrows rose in
amusement. His serious nature of only moments before had already
disappeared.

Mulder sighed heavily. "I'm tried of playing this game with you. Tell me
exactly what you've come here to say."

"I have said it. I offer you the truth, which will in turn assure your
survival for what is to come. And maybe in the process, find out what
really happened to Samantha..." He trailed off as he carefully studied
Mulder's reaction.

Mulder didn't flinch. He knew the game this man was playing. He knew CSM
expected him to jump at any vague allusion to his sister. But this hand
had been played out so many times before, so many promises, so many
hints, and so many false hopes. Mulder knew better; he would not take
the bait. Instead, he asked about the only thing he cared about. "And
what about Scully?"

"Ah, Scully. It always comes back to her, doesn't it?" The old man
paused as he deliberated for a moment. "Would you like to see her again?
I could arrange an encounter if you would like." His lips curled into a
smirk. "Perhaps one last hurrah before her departure?"

"Her departure? Where the hell is she going?"

"You don't know? Really Mulder, I thought you were smarter than that.
Surely you must have guessed what's going to happen next."

"You are going to give her up to the aliens." Mulder had not thought
that far ahead, hadn't let himself, but he knew with a startling clarity
that this was the truth.

CSM nodded slowly, confirming Mulder's comment. "She's a necessary
sacrifice. You will come to understand this as you learn the rest."
Another slow drag.

His surge of grief was overridden almost immediately by rage. Mulder
felt his hands tighten around his weapon in his lap. It was no longer at
head level, but it was still aimed at the man across from him. "I don't
believe that. There had to have been another way."

"There isn't."

"Tell me where she is." Mulder demanded.

"Now, Mulder, we haven't made our agreement yet. Can't let you see her
until you join us."

"I will never join you. I won't be a part of a group that would do these
things."

"If you only knew... You're already a part of us, no matter how
unwilling you are.

Mulder's voice bordered on shrill, his frustration with the old man
surfacing. "Tell me what you mean."

"Will you be joining me?"

"Never."

CSM looked genuinely disappointed by this response. "That is too bad.
You would have been an asset to us." He paused for a moment. "We can't
have you running off half cocked, can we? We are at a very crucial time.
We can't have you interfering. You would really give up your life, your
future for her?"

"I'm not giving up on anything."

"But you are." Another slow drag, and then he extinguished the cigarette
and stood. He casually pulled his gun into view. "Like I said, can't
have you running around messing things up. You know, it is a real shame
that it has come to this. I'm going to miss you after all of these
years. I'm almost sorry." He said as he directed his weapon at Mulder.

Mulder stood slowly and raised his own gun. The older man glanced from
the tip of Mulder's gun to his eyes and smiled confidently. "Am I really
in danger? How many times have we been in this same situation?" He was
sure of his position in this struggle for power. "You can't kill me, I
have all of the answers. And no matter what you may claim, I know that
the truth holds too firm a grasp on you for you to shake off. You can't
kill me because you would be killing the one person who knows all that
you seek."

"So you know my nature. Who is the psychologist now?"

"Mulder, you're an open book to me."

"Then I suppose you know how this will end." Mulder indicated their
stand off, guns held to each other's heads.

The old man's voice was confident. "It ends with you dead, and me
walking away."

"Really? You think you know me that well?" Mulder felt an idiotic grin
spread across his face. It was as if someone had carved it into the
lower half of his face with a razor-sharp knife.

He smiled. "You forget that I created you, I made you the man you are
today."

"If you knew me at all, you would know that the promise of the truth
does not hold the same pull as it used to. And you would understand that
the worse thing that you could have done was hurt her. In doing so, you
sealed your fate."  Mulder paused. "Do you believe in fate? I didn't
used to, but now I'm beginning to change my mind. I would like to
believe that there was a reason that we are here like this. It's a
chance to take back something. I'm going to take back my life. But there
is only one way to do so...by taking yours."

"That isn't something that you would do." The old man was only bluffing;
he could not hide the fear in his voice.

"Your creation has turned on you." Mulder paused again and smiled,
liking the sound of that phrase. He continued. "After all of these
years, after all of the times that I have held my gun to your head, you
have never believed that I would pull the trigger."

Mulder pulled the trigger.

*       *       *       *       *       *

2630 Hegel Place
Apartment 32
6:05pm

*       *       *       *       *       *
If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere
committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them
from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and
evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing
to destroy a piece of his own heart? -- Alexander Solzhenitsyn
*       *       *       *       *       *


Cohen picked up the phone, even as the sound of the gunshot lingered in
the air. Impatiently he waited for the phone to pick up. <<"Shit, shit,
shit! This is not happening. This is not happening.">> His thoughts
raced as he studied the screen before him. He moved a little closer to
get a better view of the black and white picture on the monitor. On it
was the body, lying crumpled on the floor; a dark area staining the rug
near were the remains of the head was found. Damn it! He should have
known that when the shit hit the fan, he would be the one working.

His call was finally answered. In actuality, it had only been a minute,
but had felt like eternity. "Yes?" A female voice demanded.

Cohen was slightly startled by the feminine voice and caused him to
stumble over his words. "Sir...I mean Ma'am...Sir?"

Fowley spoke harshly. "Look, this must obviously be very important for
you to call on this line, so spit it out."

"Mulder has just killed him."

"And we are certain of this?"

Cohen studied the screen before him. The body was not moving. "Gunshot
to the head. If he isn't dead yet, he will be soon enough."

The line was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "Where is
Mulder now?"

Cohen began to open his month in reply when he glanced at the screen
again. Mulder was gone. "Shit!" He ignored the phone for a moment as he
furiously typed at the keyboard. The screen rapidly flipped from one
screen to the next: living room, bedroom, kitchen, out in the hallway,
the front lobby. Nothing. Mulder had somehow managed to leave unnoticed.
"Shit!" He did not need this. Not now, not when he was on the phone
with...well who ever it was she must be important.

"Um...Ma'am... I seem to have lost him...Do you want me to..." He
trailed off.

"No. You need to stay there and contain the situation." Her voice was
distant, as if distracted.

"Do you want me to call someone to take care--"

"No." Her voice was abrupt, no longer distant. "I will make those calls.
You just make sure that this stays a private matter." She hung up.

Cohen began to work. The call had taken way too long; already the 911
calls were backing up. Hurriedly, he switched the phone over. "Emergency
911. What is your emergency?"

The caller was an old woman, and her shrill voice graded on his nerves.
He winced as she spoke. "Yes! Yes I'm reporting the sound of a gunshot
in my apartment building. It sounded like it was  across the hall from
me. There is a FBI agent that works there; do you think he needs help?
Do you think he shot a bad guy? You know, I see quite a few--"

Cohen interrupted. "Ma'am? What is your location?"

"2630 Hegel Place, Alexandria. I think that it was in apartment 42,
which is right across the hall from me. You know--"

He interrupted her once again. "Thank you ma'am. We will be sending some
officers out, and for the time being, I recommend that you stay inside
and lock your doors. Thank you for your call." He hung up before she
could speak again. And so it went, call after call. He had had to do
this so many times before, that now it hardly required any effort. As he
made his way through the calls, he kept a close eye on the old man's
fallen form. No movement. Yes, the man was definitely dead.

He hung up the last call and leaned forward. A movement had caught his
eye. He typed a few keys and the image enlarged. What was it that he was
seeing? There was a dark stain of blood surrounding the body from the
wound, but there was now something more.

From the remains of the head, from where Cohen imagined the center of
his face would have been, poured more liquid. It was not flowing the way
the blood was. The blood had coagulated too much to be as fluid as that.
He leaned even closer, but it didn't help. He cursed the black and white
screen. Couldn't tell jack from shit.

A sharp rap on the door interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at his
watch in surprise. Already? That was most defiantly the quickest
response time he had witnessed. Hardly five minutes had passed.

He stood up and walked to the door. When he opened it, a man wearing a
black leather jacket strolled in, ever so confidently. Cohen didn't
recognize the man who came in, but then again he didn't expect to. It
wasn't as if he got out much.

Cohen addressed the man who had just entered. "What are you doing here?
You were just supposed to go to his apartment. There's no reason for you
to come here." He closed the door quickly, first glancing out the door
for witnesses. He walked past the leather-clad man, and sat behind the
desk.

Krycek took his time answering; he was too busy studying the screen.
Cohen looked at the screen as well. The strange movement of before had
ceased. When Krycek finally spoke, he didn't bother to face him. "I just
came to confirm the story."

"Confirm the story?" Cohen asked incredulously.  "I think that the body
would be enough proof for you."

Patiently, Krycek spoke to the underling. "Yes, that is true. But I have
to make sure it was Mulder who did it right? We wouldn't want there to
be any misunderstandings surrounding his death now, would we?" He smiled
his most insincere smile.

Cohen's eyes narrowed slightly. "I reported it as it happened. It
happened too quickly for me to interfere."

"I wasn't implying that you should have done something. The old man got
what he deserved. Hell, I knew that Mulder would eventually snap one day
and shoot him. Anyone who didn't see this coming is a damn fool." Krycek
nodded his head in the direction of the monitor that displayed the
smoking man's fallen form, and spoke again. "Look, I know that it was
Mulder, but I just have to see it with my own eyes to confirm."

Cohen sighed heavily, beyond irritated. He hated it when anyone came in
here, into his space that he had so carefully created. He hated it even
more when they came in demanding these ridiculous requests. He found the
proper segment on the tape, and silently pushed play.

Krycek studied the tape, fascinated. He watched as Mulder so calmly
raised his gun to the old man's head, and couldn't help but smile as the
gun fired and the face crumpled inwards.

"Have the necessary steps been initiated to keep this contained?" Krycek
asked without taking his eyes from the screen.

"Yes. I have taken care of all of that. The only thing left is for you
to take care of the body." Cohen looked pointedly at the man next to
him.

Krycek nodded, distracted. "Good. Any news on Mulder's location?"

"No. He managed to slip away."

"And we were the only one you called regarding this?" Krycek finally
turned his head and directed his gaze on the man sitting behind the
desk.

"Of course. I'm not about to break protocol with something as important
as this."  He pointed his hand to the monitor. The play back had stopped
a moment earlier, and it had automatically returned to the real time
display of the fallen body.

The man in leather couldn't have been more pleased with the information.
"Excellent." And before Cohen could react, Krycek had pulled out his
weapon and placed it at his temple. Recreating the scene that had played
out just seconds before on the monitor, Krycek pulled the trigger.

*       *       *       *       *       *
Krycek listened patiently with his ear pressed to the phone as he waited
for his call to be picked up. He casually shoved the body away from the
chair and sat down, making himself comfortable by raising his feet onto
the desk. He cradled the phone with his neck, and with his hand he
adjusted the controls and watched distractedly as the moment replayed
itself.

Several seconds past before the line was picked up. "Fowley." was the
terse greeting.

"We have confirmation. The bastard beat me to it." He sighed,
disappointed.

"Exposure?"

Krycek leaned closer to the monitor. He stopped the tape just after the
gun fired; the head was mid explosion. He smiled at the wonderful sight.

"Krycek?" The shrill voice pulled him away from his momentary
distraction. "Are you there? Was Mulder exposed?"

He slowly turned a dial that moved the video up frame by frame. "He
never directly touched the body."

"What about the blood? Did he get any on him?"

"He was standing close enough I suppose."

"Then it is poss--"

He interrupted her. "But it isn't possible. It isn't found in the
bloodstream. We both know that it isn't passed like that."

"But still--"

Krycek interrupted again. "But nothing. It is nothing that we need to
worry about."

"Fine." Her voice was terse. "But it would still be nice to know where
he is. Do we know his location now?"

"I didn't realize he was my mission." His voice was beginning to take on
a mocking tone. "Why the hell should I care? He isn't important. This
wasn't what you wanted me to do anyway, was it?"

"I still want you to find him."

He sighed with frustration. Would the bitch ever let up? "I didn't see
him leave, but his car is still here, so wherever he went he probably
walked. He won't have gotten far. When I am done with what you sent me
to do I'll see what I can do about finding him."

"Good." She moved onto he next question. "What about containment?"

Krycek glanced at the fallen form beside him. "Just Mulder, you, me, and
the dearly departed man at my feet know. It is contained."

"And the bodies?"

"Will be taken care of."

"Make sure you take the extra precautions."

Krycek placed his hand into his jacket pocket and fingered the small
dark green fluid filled vial within his hand. "Of course. As I said
before, all will be taken care of." He replied confidently as he hit the
off button to disconnect.

*       *       *       *       *       *
Lone Gunman Headquarters
8:50pm

The trio of men paused in their work as a soft 'thud' emanated from the
highly secured front door. The dull sound was followed by silence. The
men glanced at each other for a brief moment before Frohike stood up
from his desk and walked to peer through the peephole.

Once he saw who was behind he rapidly unlocked the numerous locks
separating him from the man on the other side. For the first time since
he had installed the locks, Frohike cursed them as his thick fingers
attacked the knobs and switches. After innumerable moments had passed,
Frohike released the last of the locks from the doorframe, and let
Mulder stumble inside.

<<"God, he looks like hell.">>, Was Frohike's first thought as Mulder
lurched into the confines of the room.  Eyes dark, empty; his stance
suggested intoxication, but no odor of alcohol clung to him. <<"He is
exhausted. Totally utterly exhausted. Physically and emotionally.">>
Frohike realized.  He had known Mulder long enough to have witnessed his
various aspects of his nature, but never to this extreme.

Frohike closed the door behind them, only bothering to turn half of the
locks before returning his attention to Mulder. Buy this time, both
Langly and Byres had approached Mulder. A question was just forming on
Byres' lips when Mulder's action stopped him.

Without a word, Mulder reached into his disheveled coat and pulled out a
rumpled packet of papers and handed it to Byres. Once completed, he
reached back into his coat and pulled his gun into view. He placed this
in Langly's hand. Langly  stared at the heavy metal object in his hand
astonished. Langly looked from his hand to the hand that had given the
weapon to him. The other two men followed Langly's eyes as they trailed
from the gun to Mulder's blood splattered  hand. It was then that
Frohike noticed the faint red splatters that covered his gray T-shirt
and part of his neck.

Mulder ignored the Gunmen's wide eyes, and instead walked past them into
the back room. He stumbled over a small pile of clothing on the floor,
and let himself fall onto one the beds, promptly passing out.

*       *       *       *       *       *

March 6, 1999
Lone Gunman Headquarters
2:13am

*       *       *       *       *       *
You can justify, rationalize, and excuse yourself until the day
you die. Or you can face the truth. That the decisions you have
made have brought you to where you are. And if you don't like
where you are, you can make a new decision. --Unknown
*       *       *       *       *       *

Something was digging a small hole into the middle of Mulder's back. He
felt a sharp edge digging into that small area between the shoulder
blades and directly on the spines of his vertebra that was absolutely
impossible to reach. Yes, that was what roused him from his blessed
sleep. What was it? Still not opening his eyes, he shifted on the bed.
At least that is what he thought he was on. It felt like a bed. Not his
bed. Someone else's bed. His thoughts were still fragmented as he tried
to shrug off sleep's fog that blanketed his mind.

He rolled onto his stomach, and in the process entangled himself within
his overcoat. He cursed under his breath as he yanked on one corner,
releasing it from under him. His eyes still closed, still unwilling to
leave the blessed world of sleep, he passed his hand over the top of the
blanket.

With a satisfied cry of success, he came up with what had so rudely
woken him. He slowly cracked one eye open, then the other.

The room was dark, lit only by the faint sliver of light that slid under
the door. He sat up quickly in alarm. Where the hell was he? The alarm
was mostly concerning how he had gotten here, not necessarily about
danger to himself. He knew he was safe here, as safe as he could be, at
least.

How did he know that? He shook his head in confusion, his head still not
wanting to work. The synapses were firing, but no connections were being
achieved. Ok, back to were he was. How did he know where he was...he
closed his eyes and tried to concentrate; tried to remember.

Stale pizza... Stale pizza...and, what was that? It was burnt electrical
equipment. The Gunmen. He was at the Gunmen's. His pleased smile faded
rapidly, however, as the circumstances of how he had ended up here began
to fill in. A gunshot, fired by him...dark, oh so dark blood... blood
pooling, seeping into the rug at his feet...

He stood, slightly swaying, and found the door. The light tumbled in as
he opening it, and he squinted at the startling brightness of it. The
light seemed to pierce his eyes, boring a hole that lead directly into
his brain. He looked down at the object that he found he was still
gripping in his hand, the thing that had woken him up moments before. He
had no idea what the hell it was. Without a second thought, Mulder
causally tossed the object, likely a part to one of the many half built
computers that littered the Gunmen's residence, back on the bed. Let one
of them discover it in his sleep.

Snatches of conversation floated to Mulder as he walked down the short
hallway between the bedroom and the slightly larger front room. Their
talking was punctuated by the occasional rapid flurry of typing on the
keyboard.

It was Byres voice that he picked out first. "--anything?" The door
closed.

"No. Thank God." Was the relived reply. Frohike. He was locking the door
now; Mulder could hear the bolts sliding into place.

"The only thing that was different was his rug. Not there anymore."
Langly added.

The next words were muffled and Mulder didn't hear it all. "--more?"

"Yes, right after you left--" Bryes' words were lost amongst a rustling
of papers. "--Baldwin at Los Alamos. He's looking into it for us." More
rustling. "-- initial findings seem to agree with ours, but I haven't
yet finished reading the results from GenBank."

"Hey." Mulder stepped out into the room.

The Gunmen looked up, surprised. Langly glanced at his watch. "Awake
already? Didn't think that you would be up for hours."

Mulder shrugged his shoulders and sat down on a stool and leaned heavily
on the desk. "I guess I wasn't as tired as you thought." He nodded his
head in the direction of the papers Byres held. "The report. Have you
gone through it yet?"

Byres glanced down to his hand. He had forgotten that he still held
them. "Yes. Yes, we have. Um...but we haven't yet completed the final
analysis. There seemed to be some conflicting readings, so we contacted
an old friend of ours to see what he could make of it."

Mulder nodded silently. "How much longer until he gets back to you?"

"He just sent it actually. But I wanted to look it over first before I
discuss it with you." Byres glanced at his companions as he spoke again.
"Maybe while you wait you guys can talk with him about what you found at
his apartment." The two men nodded and Byres headed to the other side of
the room.

Mulder looked surprised. "How did..." He trailed off, not quite sure how
to finish.

"You woke up for a moment, earlier. You mentioned your place..." Langly
shrugged his shoulders. "The rest was easy enough to figure out."

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing. We found nothing." Frohike answered, and it was obvious that
he was relived by his news.

"Just your rug. That was the only thing that was different. They took
it. I guess whoever couldn't get the stains out." Langly finished.

"That rug was always a bitch to clean." Mulder said flatly. The only
thing that could be heard was Byres in his corner, cautiously typing
away. Mulder glanced over to the quiet man, and back to the others.
"What did you find?"

Frohike's voice was pained. "Experiments that were done." He practically
choked on the next words. "Experiments that were planned."

"What kind of tests?" He asked quietly, the words escaping from him
before he can call them back.

Frohike wouldn't, or couldn't answer. The two shared a look and Langly
answered. "Genetic."

"Tell me what you found out."

"Byres would be the best person to do that. But we should wait to see
what Baldwin has to say." Hope briefly flared in Langly's voice. "We
could be wrong."

"You guys aren't wrong." Mulder walked across the room to look over
Byres shoulder as he sat, alternatingly typing and shifting through a
shack of papers." Tell me what you found."

Byres sighed and looked up at the man towering above him. "Baldwin seems
to agree with us, although that still doesn't explain just what all this
means. When we were looking through this, it became clear that the
majority of the tests dealt with the manipulation of genes." He paused
as he shuffled through the papers.

"There is a manipulation of genes, but the thing that we couldn't seem
to understand was *why* there was manipulation. When you manipulate
genes, something is changed or introduced into the sequence, but as far
as we were able to determine, nothing was introduced nor deleted.
Playing with genetics is a very long and immensely complicated at times,
and to go to all of this trouble for not..."

Byres paused and Frohike interjected. "Let's just say, I seriously doubt
that these people are not in it just for the knowledge, for the
betterment of scientific research."

Mulder nodded. "What did your friend have to say? What did he make of
all of this?"

Byres glanced to the computer screen before him. "He works at the Los
Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico and much of what he does deals
with working with GenBank."

Mulder looked confused. "GenBank?"

"The world's major computer repository for DNA sequence information."
Langly answered.

Byres continued. "He's done quite a bit of work on the human genome
project and is familiar with a great range of tests and analysis's done
to genes. From what he has said, it seems that what these experiments
entail...well he has never seen them before."

He glanced up to Mulder's worried face, and spoke again, trying to ease
his worries before they became full blown. "But that doesn't mean he
doesn't know what was done. The reason he has never seen it before is
because there doesn't seem to be any point to it. There would be nothing
to gain, at least that is what he thinks."

"So what exactly were these experiments? Why...I mean what were they
actually doing?" Mulder asked.

"You know how DNA is made up of exons and introns, right? The exons are
what actually make the proteins, what actually carry the genetic
information; while the introns are those noncoding stretches of DNA that
get removed before it is translated into protein." Byres looked to
Mulder, making sure he was following.

"Yes, that is one of the fundamental components of genetics." Mulder
nodded in understanding.

Byres continued. "These introns make up the majority, while the exons,
the areas that actually do the work, make up only a small percentage of
genes. This has been one of those scientific mysteries. It is not clear
why most genes of  higher organisms should be broken up into short exons
separated by these huge stretches of seemingly useless DNA. What makes
it particularly puzzling is that introns are all painfully transcribed
into RNA only to be snipped out and thrown away almost immediately
after. These segments of introns have been largely ignored by the
scientific community because of their seemingly lack of importance.
However, recently there have been studies that have found that some of
these introns contain genes of their own, although what the function of
these genes might be and why there would be such genes within genes
still remain to be discovered."

"Anyway, the point of this is that the treatments that were to be done
on Scully did not deal with inserting new code, or sequences, or even
really changing what was already there--" Langly broke Byres off. "That
isn't exactly correct."

Bryes looked at Langly and nodded slightly, acknowledging that he may
have misspoke. "Well, I don't mean that exactly. Nothing new has been
added per say, nothing new as in from an outside source, but it may have
as well been."

"What are you saying exactly? It seems that that statement contradicts
itself. How can something be added, yet not?" But even as he spoke, a
glimmer of comprehension was beginning. Mulder met Byres' eyes and Byres
nodded his head, confirming what Mulder had realized.

Mulder spoke, giving voice to his thought, and finally making real what
had really happened. "They didn't add anything, they just stopped those
introns, those genes that always get cut out, from being removed."

*       *       *       *       *       *
Department of Defense
2:52pm

"I'm sorry, I don't understand what you are asking me to do..." The
doctor's voice faltered in confusion.

Diana stared down at the diminutive doctor, her irritation growing. "I
think that I explained myself well enough. I said prepare her for
transport."

"But the procedures haven't been completed. And we haven't yet
determined how well she is responding to the treatment--"

"I have the results here." She held up several papers in front of the
man. She moved them before he had the opportunity to get a good look.
"The results came back and showed that the tests are going as planned."

"Not all of the tests..." His voice lacked force.

"We have already demonstrated that we have the technology. It is not
necessary for all of the tests to be conducted. We have already found
out what we need to know." She responded in a no-nonsense voice.

"Are you sure? My orders here clearly indicate-"

Her voice was sharp, abrasive. "I am now leading this project, and your
orders have changed." Diana studied the man before her, trying to
determine the best way to approach him. She didn't have the time to
negotiate with him all night. Perhaps a touch of the truth would help.
She glanced around the room, noted that the others were occupied, and
pulled the man closer to her. Speaking in a hushed tone, she began
again. "Look, the man who began this, the one that told you to start
this project, he has been killed."

The doctor's eyes widen with surprise. "Killed? How?"

"The details of  his death have not as of yet been determined. However,
this has dramatically altered the plans. He was the liaison between the
aliens and us. It is very important that his death is kept from them. We
are at a very delicate time, and anything could upset the balance. We
need to hand her over before they discover that anything has changed."

The doctor' head bobbed in enthusiasm, pleased that he was privy to this
information. "I understand. We will get her ready for transport." He
turned away from Diana and walked to the others of the room and began
speaking the new orders in a short clipped tone.

Diana watched, removed, as Scully was prepared for transport.

Step one was now completed.

*       *       *       *       *       *
South I-95
Virginia
5:25pm

Traffic was light and well behaved, demanding only the edge of Diana's
attention. For that she was thankful. She carefully steered the car with
one hand as she placed a call on her cell phone with another, all the
while keeping a close eye on the big rig ahead of her that was caring
the 'cargo.' Multitasking at it's best. The other end of the line was
picked up immediately. He had been waiting for her call.

"Yes." There was no need for introductions. She knew Krycek's voice
well.

Her words were clipped. "It's begun."

"Time?"

She glanced at the clock displayed on the dashboard. "Less than an hour,
plus the time it will take to get to your location."

"Good. We will be waiting."

There was a long pause as she considered the next question. "Did you
locate him?" She was distressed to hear a tremor in her voice, instead
of the cool indifference she'd hoped to project.

"Does that really matter?"

Silence. He was just trying to provoke her. Another moment passed and he
gave into the silence. "He left his buddies and went to her place. He
has been there most of the day, pining away for her."

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?" She smiled grimly.

Krycek knew where this was leading. They had already discussed this
before, and he tried to head off her next comment. "We don't have time
to deal with him. You know how he likes to interfere."

"Have we determined if he is infected?"

"No. It would be a hell of a lot easier if you let me kill him."

"Not an option." A little shrill, that. "Not an option," she said again,
to take the edge off it.

He waited a second or two before responding, and she could almost see
his satisfied smile. Damn him. "We can't take him with us. Things are
cut close enough as it is."

"There will be time." The words sounded weak even to her own ears.

His voice was firm. He would not give in on this issue. "Look, you do
your part on your end, and I'll do mine. And that means when I say we
can't, we can't. Understand?"

She had regained discipline of her voice, and when she spoke, her words
were devoid of emotion. "Fine. You know best." She hung up and threw the
phone in the empty seat next to her. Damn him. Him and his cock-sure
attitude. She hated working with him on this, hated giving up some of
her limited trust to him. No time? "No time my ass." She muttered under
her breath as she pressed against the gas petal. She closed the distance
between her and the truck that she had lost during the conversation.

The drivers knew that she was following, so she didn't have to deal with
stealth  yet. Giving the men her most authoritative stare, she had fed
them a line about needed to personally supervise the transfer. They
hadn't even questioned it.

She ran through the plan in her head for the hundredth time in as many
hours. One driver, two men in the back with Scully, monitoring her
condition. Three total. She could handle that. The men thought that they
were simply transferring her to another facility, which was correct, but
what they didn't realize was that this particular one had long ago been
deserted. There would be no one to welcome them when they arrived. She
would need to act fast before they suspected.

*       *       *       *       *
Stevenson Labs,
North Ashland, Virginia
8:01pm

Scully awoke. She knew nothing, remembered nothing, and felt neither the
desire nor the will to activate cognition. She lay unmoving and might
have so continued for an indefinite period of time had not a physical
sensation finally forced itself upon her consciousness. Someone was
speaking to her. No...make that yelling at her. And tugging on her arm.
<<"What the...?">>, was her half thought. She was not yet ready for full
thoughts.

She opened her eyes, trying to make out the dark shape above her, but
the person was half hidden in the faint light. Finally, after several
more moments, the words began to penetrate into her mind, along with
voice of the woman who spoke them.

"Agent Scully, wake up. Dana, you need to wake up, we don't have much
time."

Scully widened her eyes as she recognized the person from which the
voice originated. She felt the sharp needle of a syringe withdraw from
her forearm. "Wha...What is going on here?" She looked around in
groggily, the haze of narcotics still swimming within her blood stream.
"Where am I? What are we doing
here?"

Diana didn't pause in her effort to free Scully from the bindings.
"Look, we don't have time to really discuss this. Both of our lives are
in danger. We have to get you out of here.".

Scully was alert enough to laugh bitterly into the dark face above her.
"And should I believe you?" She asked with incredulity. "You've given me
no reason to trust your motives."

Diana paused. Her efforts of unfastening the remaining straps forgotten
as she stared Scully straight in the eye. "Look, you probably can't read
my thoughts yet, but you should at least be able to get a sense of my
emotions. Am I here to harm you? Am I telling you the truth when I say
that I'm your only chance you have of getting out of here alive?" Diana
reached her right hand up to Scully's face and cupped her cheek.

Scully's eyes slowly blinked in confusion. <<"Read her thoughts? What
the--">>

-Flash-

She saw herself, on a table, eyes closed, unconscious, with a room
filled with machines, each hooked up to her. And she felt a grief and a
helplessness that didn't belong to her. Before she could absorb more,
the vision switched.

-Flash-

A wave of disgust filled Scully as the next scene presented itself. She
saw a man as if she were looking through a haze of smoke, and then his
face was clear. Scully's own disgust joined Diana's as the Cigarette
Smoking Man's pasty face reveled itself and his face cracked into a grim
smile. She heard his voice in her ear. <<"Excellent...">> Scully
shivered.

-Flash-

Mulder! She saw Mulder. He was towering above her, his posture rigid
with incredulity,  rage and betrayal. <<"How long?">> His voice was
sharp, biting. Harsher that she had ever heard from him. She felt fear,
and anguish, and regret, and... and...love? Diana loved him? She could
be capable of such an emotion?

Scully could not dwell on that for long. She was hit by an on slot of
images. Fragmented, disjointed. Diana's thoughts.

-Flash-

<<"...time... no time have to go now, have to get out of here damn it,
just trust-- but how can she? no one can trust me get out of here save
her, save me (but what about mulder? can't save him... no, no time, have
to go) have to go now... come on scully, believe me, believe me... save
the world, save us all... danger... are they coming? have they found
out? no, not yet, couldn't have, but soon... save us scully... can any
of us be saved? krycek said...damn him...trust him? why? no better
than...but yes, has to be... dagen is good... he said plan will work...
will it? has to... has to... come on scully... now, have to go now...">>

-Flash-

It ended abruptly when Diana disengaged her hand from Scully's face. She
undid the last of the straps as Scully lay in a stupor, trying to
frantically to categorize and explain what had  taken place. But she
didn't have time. At that moment Diana pulled her into a sitting
position. Scully immediately felt the blood leave her head and black
spots began to waver before her eyes. For a moment she was certain that
she would faint. She firmly clutched the bed with both hands in an
effort maintain her equilibrium.

Diana noticed and spoke again, this time with a softer voice. "Try to
take it easy. You haven't been up for awhile."

Scully reopened her eyes, already feeling her physical lightheadedness
dissipating. She still felt a psychic vertigo, however. "How long?" She
asked softly.

Diana hesitated. "Just over two weeks." She tossed her a pair of scrubs.
"Here, put these on."

Scully tried to digest all the information that was coming so quickly as
she pulled on the clothing offered to her. Where was she? How did she
get here? What was the last thing that she remembered? Mulder and her
standing on the side of the road. Her back had been turned away from
him. He had reached with his hand and had begun to turn to face him
when-- Her memory came to an abrupt end. <<"...and then I now I'm
here.">> A dawning realization swept over her.  <<"I've been taken
again." >>That fact had barely seeped through her thought processes,
before the next one followed. Mulder was there too. Had he been taken as
well?

"Mulder! Is he ok?" The alarm was evident in her voice.

"Mulder is...well, Mulder." Diana paused as she tried to come up with
the right words. "They didn't take him, if that is what you are asking."
She paused again. "But he isn't ok. I don't think he believes that you
are coming back to him."

"Am I coming back to him?" Scully asked pointedly.

Diana avoided the question as she helped Scully dress. "We need to get
out of here. Our window of opportunity is limited. The others will soon
discover that you are not where you are supposed to be. You have to
follow me now." She held out her hand for Scully to grasp.

As they approached the door, Scully realized that they were in the back
of what looked to be a big rig, or another truck of that type. The
'room' was filled with medical equipment. She recognized a few: heart
monitor, IV stand securely fashioned in one corner, meds and saline
attached, and crash cart type cabinet filled with a defibrillator and
resuscitation equipment. There was numerous other equipment that she did
not recognize immediately. Scully wasn't able to look too closely before
Diana's demanding pull on her hand grew too great to ignore.

They stepped out onto the flat concrete slab that made up the loading
area and Scully was met by two massive double doors that led into the
building. Diana turned her around and helped Scully step down onto the
gravel of the ground. Once outside they were surrounded by near
darkness. The only source of light was the half open door and the dying
moon overhead, pale and thin as a fishhook. Scully had only taken a step
or two when she tripped over a fallen form. Only Diana's quick reflexes
and strong arm saved her from stumbling to the ground. "Careful," was
the only thing Diana said before urging her on.

Scully's eyes slowly adjusted to the low light. She was just able to
make out the form lying prone. It was a man, dead. And from the dark
shadow that surrounded him that could only be blood, Scully guessed that
the cause of death was a gunshot wound. She was interrupted from her
thoughts as Diana jerked urgently on her hand.

By necessity, or perhaps courtesy, Diana walked slowly. Scully followed
her through the dark night, holding her hand as a guide, and following
close. Head still foggy, the night began to take on a surreal quality.
How had she ended up in this place? Not just this physical here and now,
but this situation. Surely she had not planned this, nor could she have
imagined it. How had her life events directed her to this specific
moment in time? A place where she would find herself the subject of
surely hideous experiments, (this much was obvious, the what, the why,
and the how would come later) getting rescued by Fowley of all people,
and to top it off, she had the additional power to read minds.

<<"Don't be silly Dana, surely it was a mistake, a hallucination left
over from the drugs given to you. That's it. There is no such thing as
mind reading. Yes, hang on to that thought Dana, you may come out sane
after all.">> Her rational side argued irrationally. But even as she
argued, thoughts not quite her own entered her head. <<"come on... is
she ok? i think that she must, she can walk... no time, hurry... scully,
you have to hurry and follow me...">> Lord, what a twisted dream this
was.

If only it was a dream... But it was far too real for that. The taste of
garlic bread lingered in the back of her throat, a by-product from the
anesthesia used to put her under, and made her want to gag. The feel of
the gravel wearing away the cheap, thin-soled shoes she wore. The sound
of the crushed rocks grinding beneath their feet was the only thing she
heard besides her own breathing.

The cool night air cut through the thin cotton of the scrubs she had
donned. Crossing her arms, she rubbed the gooseflesh that pimpled her
skin and half consciously began to assess her physical situation. She
ran her hands over the length of her exposed skin and moved to her head.
No lesions, new scars, or bruising; at least from her cursory exam. Her
mind continued its natural checklist. It had become so well ingrained
within her that conscious thought was not necessary.

She was walking fine; there was no pain on movement and she had full
range of motion to all extremities so she knew that nothing was broken.
There was no pain, numbness or tingling anywhere else. She found nothing
wrong. Except for her momentary light-headedness, she felt no different.
In fact, she felt better. A marked difference over last time.

The night was soaking with tension. They moved away from the building
and now walked parallel to it. The deserted building about 50 yards
away. Scully estimated that it's prime would have been in the mid-60s
from the degree of damage to the exterior, but it was still an
impressive facility. There were several outlying buildings surrounding
the main complex, and they headed toward one of them. There seemed to be
no living thing around them, but Scully was still extremely wary.
Uneasy, Scully followed Diana as they approached a car half-hidden
behind one of the removed buildings.

Diana opened the passenger door. "Get in."

*       *       *       *       *       *

Richmond, Virginia
8:25pm

*	*	*	*	*	*
How did I get here? Somebody pushed me. Somebody must have
set me off in this direction and clusters of other hands must have
touched themselves to the controls at various times, for I would
not have picked this way for the world. --Joseph Heller
*	*	*	*	*	*

Krycek had remained as silent and still as a lizard sunning itself on a
rock ever since he cut the engine off. Dagen couldn't understand how the
man could stay so damn still. He couldn't stop moving. The seat was too
uncomfortable, the car too quiet, the air too dense. It was as tangible
as a cotton blanket wrapping around him claustrophobically.

And it was too easy to think about all that could go wrong. He glanced
behind them to see if there was anything suspicious. <<"Stop it! No one
could know yet.">> He needed something, anything to distract him.

Dagen leaned forward and switched the radio on. Anything to block out
the silence. Before his hand made its return trip back to his lap,
Krycek had turned the radio off.

"Hey--" He began before he edited himself. Krycek didn't need to say
anything; he just cast Dagen a warning look.

Krycek's posture may have seemed indolent, but to Dagen he gave off the
impression of a reptile lying in wait, constantly watching for an
opportunity to strike. Dagen acknowledged that comparing him to a
serpent was based solely on his unmitigated dislike of the man. To say
nothing of being unfair to serpents.

Dagen leaned back in his seat, his frustration reaching his upper limit,
but unable to do anything about it. How the hell had he gotten involved
in this mess? Sitting in a parking lot of a damn 7-11, in the middle of
the night, waiting with a common thug for two women to arrive. One, the
new heir apparent to the vast underworld of evil doers, turned good; the
other a FBI agent. One who had been kidnapped, had various highly
unethical (to say the least) experiments preformed on her, and who was
now in the process of being 'liberated.'

Some liberation. Out of the pot, into the fire. Isn't that how that
saying goes? And, to top it all off, add some aliens and a planned
Armageddon into the mix, and one has quite the 'situation.'

And what a situation it was.

Dagen sighed, debating whether he should speak or not. At least his own
voice would drown out the quiet for a moment or two. "How are we doing
time wise?"

"Just as planned."

A thought suddenly occurred to Dagen. "And how can we even know if she
is successful?"

Krycek reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small
transmitter/receiver. "She has one of these. Both have an automatic
alarm system." He lightly fingered the large red button in the center.
"This button has to be pushed every 30 minutes, or else it triggers an
alarm to go off in the other. If this one goes off, it means she ran
into difficulties. If hers goes off, she will know something happened to
me." Krycek looked at it for a moment longer before hitting the button
and pocketing it again. "Relatively simple technology, but quite
effective."

"Tell me about Allen."

Krycek looked at him, irritation written on his face. "Allen? What about
him? I've already told you about him"

"I want to know more about him. This is his plan after all. I need to
know how he knows it'll work. I'm just as much a part of this as you
are, and I deserve to know."

"Are you?", was Krycek's only reply. They held eye contact, each
carefully studying and appraising the other. Dagen was the first to look
away. Only then did Krycek speak again. "I guess you are. After all, we
wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Scully wouldn't be in her
present condition, and we would still have a good ten years before the
invasion." His eyes narrowed. "Right?"

Krycek's words could not have been more devastating if he had welded a
lance and used it to pierce his heart. No, that would have been a better
alternative, at least that way he would be out of his present misery.
"I...it wasn't..." Dagen stammered, obviously shaken.

Krycek leaned back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his face, and
watched guilt wash over his face. After a moment he spoke, saving Dagen
from further explanation. "Why are you so interested?  I told you that
we were fighting against invasion.  What else do you need to know?"

"It's just... Well, I heard about the things that they do... the
fires...."

"And what about the things you were a part of?  You tell me which is
worse?  The syndicate's methods or the resistance's?"

Dagen didn't answer.

The sardonic grin Krycek gave Dagen was triumphant, gloating,
suggestive. Krycek laughed. "Just as I thought..."

*	*	*	*	*	*
South I-95
Virginia
8:30pm

It had really been rather anti-climatic, their escape. There was no
signs or hints that they had been seen. The unnamed road they traveled
bordered numerous industrial complexes, many in the same state of
abandonment as the first. In the 20 minutes or so of traveling, not a
single car had passed.

Scully had not said a word since she entered the car. Diana, thankfully,
left her alone. So much to get organized in her head. Ok, obviously
she'd been taken again, for what reason, it was not yet clear. God, had
she really said two weeks? More time simply stolen from her life. Under
each eye, a tear clung defiantly to her lashes. <<"NOT, in front of
her.">>And Mulder...and...oh god! Her mother! Her poor mother. <<"I'm so
sorry to put you through all of this again.">> A tear slipped, and she
turned to face the dark outside. She welcomed the darkness. There was so
much she didn't want to see. Scully closed her eyes.

Scully could feel Diana next to her. Her outward appearance displayed
the confidence of a women in control of the world, but Scully could find
the fear in her. Rather, the fear found Scully. It filled the tiny space
of the car and Scully could feel it being added to her own. The tension
rolled off Diana in waves and she was caught in the torrent.

No, not waves, not that slow. It was heartbeats. Heart pumping
rhythmically and with a great force. But it wasn't pumping blood, no, it
was fear. Diana was pumping fear into the small confines of the car.
Scully gasped for air as the fear bore into her and she felt her own
heart rate increase to match Diana's. Her tension was infusing her, and
nearly filled her to breaking.

What the hell was going on?

Scully closed her eyes and mentally erected a shield against the
onslaught. The beats changed, became irregular before finally stopping
all together. She could breathe again and she took in oxygen greedily.

What was Diana so terrified of? This, Scully needed to find out. "What
is going on? Why have you done this for me?"

"You weren't ever supposed to be taken again. I'm simply correcting a
mistake that has been made." Eyes were carefully avoided.

"And just who was it that took me? How do you know these people?"
Scully's voice began to change; she spoke in an accusatory tone.

"I used to work with them, but I suspect that you already knew that." A
pause as she met Scully's eye. Scully found no satisfaction in her
admittance. Diana continued. "I worked with them and I came to know them
as well as their plans for you. I believe that they were... misguided,
and now I'm doing what I can to fix the problem."

"And why now? Something tells me that your *association* with this group
did not happen recently."

"I had the chance to fix--" She stopped, and corrected herself. "Up
until now, I believed in what was being done, that there was no other
way. When I found out that I was mistaken, I acted."

"Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure." Scully muttered under her
breath.

There was a long pause before Diana spoke again. "Look, no matter what
you may think you know you don't know the whole truth. You can judge me,
blame me, but I believe that what was done was absolutely necessary for
our survival."

"Necessary for whose survival?" Scully's voice began to rise and to take
on a shrillness that made herself cringe, but she didn't care. "The
women that were taken? The women whose lives were destroyed by the
things so casually done to them?"

Diana's lips flattened to a hard line. "I didn't rescue you to discuss
this. I will not defend my actions."

Scully stared at the impassive form of the woman next to her. If she
didn't know the fear that was in her, Scully would have been certain the
woman not capable of that emotion. <<"Know? I don't really 'know,' do I?
It can't be possible...">>But her inner voice lacked force. She trusted
Diana, at least in this moment, that she was doing what was best. And
why did she trust her?

<<"Because I read her mind.">>

And Scully knew, she 'knew,' that this was true.

Scully could feel hysteria knocking at her door. She began to laugh.

The laugh began as a half-vocalized chuckle under her breath, but
quickly became much more. Bordering on hysterical, Scully's shrill laugh
both surprised and frightened her and caused Diana to glanced worriedly
at her. "Are you... What is so funny?"

"I believe you," she was able to spit out before the rest of her words
were lost in a mass of giggles. A half-minute passed before Scully could
form intelligible words past her betraying mouth. She wiped the tears
from her eyes as the last of the mirthless laugh disappeared. She felt
suddenly empty, as if she'd given blood.

"I was just thinking," good, she had regained control of her voice,
"that this is *not* what I wanted to be when I grow up."

Diana was still worried. She chose her words carefully. "What didn't you
want to be?"

"A mind reader."

"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything appropriate to say to that
comment. So Diana chose the first thing that came to her mind. "You
know, I always wanted to be a firefighter when I grew up."

"Serious?" Scully asked, dabbing the tears from her eyes with the corner
of her shirt.

Diana nodded. "I always thought it was so brave and dramatic. I remember
when I was young going to an awards ceremony for my uncle. He was a
firefighter, and he saved a little girl from a fire. A girl that was
about my age." She smiled at the memory. "I remember thinking that he
was so brave. He went into the burning building after her when he
discovered that she'd been left behind. By the time he found her, she
was unconscious and he took off his own oxygen mask and gave it to her.
He ended up staying in the hospital for weeks with burns in his lungs,
but the little girl was fine. When I saw him on the stage, when I saw
the mayor give him his award, I wanted it to be me."

Diana had not looked at Scully the entire time she told the story, but
she looked now. Scully was smiling, but she had a slightly puzzled look
on her face. Diana felt embarrassment flare through her. "The things
that you think when you're a kid."

"I wanted to be a fighter pilot."

Diana's eyebrows raised slightly. "Really?"

"My father was a captain in the Navy and I didn't see him that much. I
figured that when I grew up I could fly the planes that landed on his
ship, and I could see him everyday, and at night I could fly home to see
my mom." The two women smiled.

Diana turned back to the road, and her smile disappeared. "It is funny
how life turns out." There was no humor in her voice.

"Yes it is."

"Fate can be a cruel mistress sometimes."

The mention of fate startled Scully. She and Mulder had just spoken of
it the other night. <<"No, not the other night. That was two weeks
ago.">> She felt the pang that came with the missing time as she
corrected herself. Out loud she asked, "You believe in fate?"

"To a certain extent. Life sometimes feels far too contrived without it.
What is it that they say about fate? It deals the cards, but it is up to
us how we play them?"

"That is what they say." Scully agreed.

"And we try to chose the best course, try to make the best possible
decision from the choices given to us."

Their eyes met briefly, and Scully slowly nodded, showing that she was
beginning to understand. "I think that we all try to make the best
choices."

Diana held the gaze a moment longer before turning her attention back to
the empty road ahead of them. She seemed to be contemplating something.

Scully felt the seat belt tighten across her chest as Diana abruptly hit
the brakes. The car briefly skidded several feet, the tires unable to
fully grip from the deceleration. "What?" Scully asked alarmed. "Is
there something wrong?"

"Not any more." The car began to move again as Diana made a sharp U-turn
and headed back in the direction they had just came. "I was about to
make the wrong choice, but not any more."

*	*	*	*	*	*
Richmond, Virginia
8:50pm

Silence. Dagen had finally shut the fuck up. God, he hated working with
those damn scientist types, they always had to know every damn thing.

Time was passing at an infinitesimal rate. Every time he glanced at his
watch he thought that at least ten minutes had past, when in reality it
had only been a tenth of that. Hated waiting; absolutely hated it.  And
she was late. Not late enough to be worried, but late enough to cause
some... 'concern.' In five minutes he would worry.

He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the receiver, to
check in once again, seeking its reassurance. Working fine, and it
hadn't gone off, so everything should still be going well. His thumb
caressed the button momentarily before he hit it himself.

He looked away from the receiver and stared without seeing through the
windshield to people outside. They were the common folk, no worries more
pressing  that what to fix for dinner, or which condoms to pick up-
ribbed or non-ribbed? He noticed a small group of adolescence boys
outside the entrance. For them, their biggest worry was over whose fake
ID would be most likely to get them a pack of beer.

Krycek glanced at his wrist. In four minutes he would worry. Damn it!
Damn her and her plan. She had insisted on doing it her way, that it was
the only way, but she only did it to be in control.

Dagen said that he believed her, he trusted Diana to get this done. He'd
been the one to convince Krycek to use her to get Scully. And why the
hell did he trust Dagen? Krycek looked to the squirming man sitting next
to him Dagen nervously shifted uneasily and glanced behind the car.
<<"Just a lab rat. As if he could be capable of telling a lie.">> No,
Dagen was hardly a worry. Besides, Allen had personally picked him and
said he was to be trusted.

Another glance. Three minutes and he would worry.

Krycek could still remember that moment he'd first seen Allen, three
years ago.

It had been an intense feeling of warmth had awakened him in the cold
Russian forest. The warmth had begun in his left arm and had moved
rapidly through his shoulder to the rest of his chilled body.

When Krycek had opened his eyes, he had been positive that he was seeing
an angel. He, Krycek, a man who had not believed in miracles, or a God,
or anything of that nature for over twenty years, was absolutely
positive he was witnessing a miracle.

The sun was directly overhead and beams of light filtered through the
forest and seemed to cast a halo around Allen's black hair. Krycek then
heard the words that changed his life. In his mind, Krycek heard the
voice. <<"You'll be the one that helps me. But first, you sleep. You'll
be fine.">> Krycek fell asleep immediately, the pain and the frigidity
of the Russian winter no longer bothering him.

Krycek awoke at dark and found the man who had healed him sitting across
a fire and could have sworn he was dreaming. Allen sat cross-legged near
the fire, whittling a small stick with a knife. "Sorry I couldn't save
your arm," he paused and motioned to a large black dog sitting next to
him, gnawing on some meat, "but Pyka here got to it first."

Pyka. Russian for arm. Krycek realized with a sickening sensation just
what kind of meat the dog was eating with such gusto. He had to turn
away. "Where did the others go? Did they just leave me here to die?"
Krycek asked, his eyes closed.

Allen shook his head, his long dark hair smoothly sliding over his
shoulders. "They didn't seem to like the way I looked when I first
arrived. I think that Pyka here was far too distracted to be afraid of
me." As he spoke he began to change. His body grew, became more stocky.
His face also began to shift, to lighten from its deep tan to pale
white, as the forehead and chin widened to form a more hard look. His
long black hair shortened and lightened as well into a near blond.

Krycek recognized the face as well, and could understand the people's
fear because he felt it himself. He was facing the bounty hunter. Allen
spoke again. "I understand now, why they were afraid." Allen looked
thoughtfully at Krycek. "You do not need to be afraid of me. I am not
the man you fear. This is simply the form that we all take for any
interactions with your kind. I don't much like it myself." His form
changed again, once more to the one of before. Krycek guessed his form
matched that of an Native American descent.

"But you are one of them, aren't you?"

"I'm not one of them, at least not any more." Allen's distaste was
clear.

"Why did you save me?"

"I need your help."

Krycek had been full of disbelief. How could someone with his obvious
powers need his help? "My help? For what exactly?"

Allen  smiled, the firelight dancing on his face. "You will be a great
help to me."

Krycek shook himself free from the memory. Two minutes.

Yes, Allen had needed help. He sent Krycek all over the world, getting
the people Allen sent him to get. Getting the supplies, the buildings,
damn near everything it seemed. Krycek was Allen's link to the outside
world. Allen would have been useless without Krycek, but it was always
Allen's show, and Krycek never really knew exactly what was happening,
but Allen always protected him. He'd been the one to warn Krycek of the
toasting the Consortium attended those short weeks ago.

Things were defiantly coming to ahead in the past few weeks. The list of
duties had been long, and Krycek didn't have a long time to complete all
of them.

One minute.

Get Dagen. Check. Kill the smoking man. Check. Mulder had taken care of
that for him.

He paused. Mulder. Something tickled in the back of his head. Something
about Mulder...but it was lost. Krycek moved on.

And most importantly get Scully. She was the key, that much he knew.
Allen was always careful to give Krycek enough discretion on what would
be the best way to complete his objectives. As long as they got done
that was all that really mattered.

But this time Krycek wished that Allen had given him more direction. He
didn't like using Diana on this, he didn't have Allen's assurance that
she could be trusted.

He looked at his watch one final time. No time left. Now he was
officially worried. Where the hell was she? And then the tickling in the
back of his mind came back, along with her words. "Did you locate
him?...There will be time." And then Krycek knew why he was worried and
why she was late.

He turned the engine on with one smooth motion and pulled the car out of
the lot and into the street. Dagen sat next to him, struggling to get
the seatbelt fastened. "What the hell are you doing? We are supposed to
meet them here."

Krycek spoke through gritted teeth. "She has gone to get him. The
fucking bitch has gone to get him."

*       *       *       *       *       *

North I-95
Virginia
9:03pm

*       *       *       *       *       *
Show me a hero, and I'll show you a tragedy. --F. Scott Fitgerald
*       *       *       *       *       *

Diana could feel Scully studying her profile as she drove. She stole a
look and briefly met Scully's eyes.  How much did she know?  How much
could she pick up? Diana suspected quite a bit if she wanted to. After
all, that was one of the main criteria of why she was chosen, because of
her latent psychic abilities.

Even though she suspected Scully knew her thoughts, Diana still felt an
obligation of sorts to explain. "You're good for him, you know." She
said, breaking the silence.

"What do you mean?" Scully half stammered.

A sideways glance. Her voice softened; took on an almost wistful tone.
"Mulder. You're good for him. You keep him grounded, balanced. He truly
is a better person because of you. Anyone could see that it was never
like that with us.  I envy you that."

Scully seemed to ignore the comment, and instead asked, "Where are we
going Diana?"

She smiled and looked away from Scully and back to the road. "We are
going to get him."

"And we weren't before." It was not a question, Scully already knew.
What a wonderful gift telepathy was.

"No, we weren't. It wasn't part of the plan. But I can't..." Her voice
wavered briefly. " I can't... Look, there will likely be some
repercussions following all of this," she indicated their current
situation with her hand,  "and I would hate for him to have to deal with
them on his own."

"But this wasn't part of the original plan. You are putting us at risk
by doing this." These were  statements of fact. There was no hint of
accusation or anger. Scully's tone was carefully neutral. "Why are you
risking yourself like this? There is a very real danger by doing this,
am I right?"

Diana smiled to herself, then looked to Scully. "Agent Scully, why do
you do what you do for him? Why have you stayed with him all of this
time? Why do you continually risk your life for him?" These were
rhetorical questions. They both knew why, it was obvious.

A long pause and silence reigned. It didn't need to be said, but Diana
spoke anyway. "Fox is certainly not an easy man to love," Another
sideways glance. "Is he?"

Scully looked up to Diana's eyes, "No, he isn't." Diana held her gaze
for a moment. Then she slowly nodded.

*       *       *       *       *       *
George Washington Parkway
10:05pm

Another glance at his watch. "Shit!" Krycek said, and exerted an
increasing amount of downward force on the accelerator.

*	*	*	*	*
Outside Scully's Apartment Building
10:19pm

Scully looked up in surprise as the familiar brick building came into
view. "He's here?"

"Yes. There was an incident at his apartment. I don't think he wanted to
go back there." Diana placed the car in park, but left the engine
running and turned expectantly to Scully. "He's up there. You need to
get him as quickly as you can."

"What about--" Scully began before Diana interrupted. "I'm not the one
he wants to see now. I'll be waiting here for both of you. Hurry."

*	*	*	*	*	*
East I-66, Washington DC

"Damn it Krycek! Tell me what the hell is going on. Who are you
muttering about?" Dagen asked, his hand gripping the dashboard in front
of him, trying to support himself as the car took another sharp corner.

Krycek didn't even bother to look in his direction. He practically
growled his words. "Mulder. The bitch has gone to get him and in the
process royally fucked everything up."

<<"Mulder.">> Dagen knew that name. Hell, everyone knew that name. He
was a legend. A legend for screwing things up. "Why is she doing this?
Doesn't she know what his influence will be?"

"Oh she knows, she knows him rather well from what I understand.  But
she doesn't seem to care. Damn women! Always thinking with their soft
ass hearts!" He punctuated his comment by hitting his balled up fist
against the steering wheel.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Outside Scully's Apartment Building
9:20pm

A bounty hunter watched as the car pulled up with the two women. He knew
who each was; he had been waiting for their arrival. Ever since they had
discovered that Scully had disappeared he had been sent to watch Mulder.
This was the obvious choice for her to show up. He watched as Scully
stepped out of the car and disappeared through the lobby door.

Strange, the figure's face wrinkled in mild confusion, he couldn't read
her thoughts and he had always been able to before...He dismissed the
idea quickly and moved to the other woman. He would have enough time
later to figure it out

The other woman was Diana Fowley. He recognized her mind and was
surprised to find her here. The last time he had 'contact' with her,
there'd been no indication of this plan. It must have been a recent
development. He paused as he carefully searched her thoughts. Yes, yes
this had been quite recent. And she had been such a good worker. It
really was almost a shame.

And why had she done it? His mind struggled as he tried to grasp the
concepts in her mind. Redemption? Hope?... Love?

He shrugged the words away. He would never understand humans. They would
do the most ridiculous and irrational things because of simple words.

He pulled the gun from the holster, tightened his coat tightly around
him, and walked across the street, heading directly for the parked car.

*	*	*	*	*	*
9:21pm

Diana watched Scully enter the building via the rearview mirror. She
prayed that Krycek's information had been correct, that Mulder was in
fact here. The thought of Krycek, reminded her of something. She reached
into her coat pocket for the transmitter/receiver and pushed the button.
She knew that she was late and that he would be pissed, but at least he
would know that they were ok.

<<"Come on Scully... No time for dawdling.">> She nervously adjusted the
mirror, trying to get a better view of the front door. She had just
taken her eyes off the mirror when a motion in it caught her attention.

She turned her head rapidly to look behind her to see what was there.

There was nothing.

She turned back around.

And she saw it again. Just within her line of vision he stood. He was
inches away, only the glass on the driver's side window separated them.

<<"I've made a horrible mistake.">>

And her world collapsed.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Scully's Apartment

Scully entered the apartment through her unlocked door. She found him
asleep on her sofa, curled tightly into a ball at one end, is eyes shut
tight, face stiff with tension. She walked around the couch and moved
aside a bottle of prescription pills that was on the coffee table and
sat down on the hard wood next to him.

His forehead was furrowed, the lines reaching deep into his otherwise
smooth skin. She reached her hand out to grab his shoulder, to stir him
awake but couldn't help but bring her fingertip to try to smooth out the
lines. As her fingertips found his brow and she lightly ran her index
finger across his skin, all of the tension dissolved from his face and
he sighed contently. His worry lines, some new she noticed, were almost
completely smoothed out.

Scully kept her hand on Mulder's temple lightly running her fingers
through his hair and with the other picked up the bottle she had moved.
Dalmane, a powerful sleep aid. Left over from his horrid experience a
few years ago when he had let a doctor drill into his head. He hadn't
slept well after that, and she had insisted that he go and get something
so he could sleep.

Mulder tried it for only one night. He had complained to her that he
didn't like the feeling of missing time, of the utter disconnection it
gave him from the rest of the world. He said that he would rather be
awake for days and feel tired instead of being rested, but feeling
nothing.

What had made him start taking them now?

Panic flared through Scully. He wouldn't have... Her hand left Mulder
and went to unscrew the lid. How many were left? The white pills gleamed
menacingly in her hand. There were eight. The prescription was for ten.
She sighed, relived. It was fine. How could she have even thought that
he would just take them all?

"Scully!" The terror filled cry was deafening in her ears. She looked
back to Mulder. His face was no longer smooth. It was instead the
tortured features that fit one who had journeyed through the outer
reaches of hell, but not back. He brought his legs up to his chest and
wrapped his arms tightly around them, curled into the smallest ball
possible. His hands clutched each other so tightly that his hands were
beginning blanch white. He was sleeping still, but also talking.
"...No...please...Scully stay... leave her alone!...stay... don't
go...Scully"

Instinct took over and she dropped to her knees in front of him and
bought her arms up to encircle his shoulders. Her touch had an immediate
calming effect, almost as pronounced as if a powerful sedative had been
administered directly into his veins. "It's ok Mulder, I'm here. You'll
be fine. I can help you..." She didn't know exactly what she was saying
but she continued murmuring in his ear.

"Scully..." No longer a cry, but still painful to hear, her name was
strangled in his throat. Her name...he was calling out for her... Scully
brought her hand and cupped his cheek. A mild vertigo overcame her and
the room seemed to turn like a carousel. "Muld--" she began.

That was all she was able to get out.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Krycek hit the brakes hard and the tires squealed in protest. Another
damn light. They were only blocks away yet it may have well been a
hundred. Just a few more minutes...

Green light. Krycek pressed the accelerator hard and the car bucked
forward like a bronco charging out of the chute. Just a few more minutes
and they would be there...

*	*	*	*	*	*
Scully's Apartment
9:22pm

-Flash-

Dark crowded behind Scully's eyelids as it came into her. The dark was
insidious; it came up her nose and into her eyes, damp fingers of dark
forcing its way inside her.

Her fingers raked over her face as she tried to tear it off but it hung
on tenaciously. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't see, and panic was
beginning to take control.

And she felt strong hands grab her own and her vision cleared. She
looked up into Mulder's beaming face. <<"I found you.">> The glee in his
voice was infectious and she couldn't help but return the smile.

<<"They tried to take you from me, to hide you under this.">> He held up
a black sheet. Was that what was smothering her earlier?

<<"But they couldn't hide you from me. Your light was too much for them
to hide and I could find you.">> Scully glanced down at herself. She was
glowing. The rest of the room was utter blackness. She was the only
brightness in the room.

<<"Mulder, what is this? Where are we? Can you tell me that?">> He
didn't acknowledge her questions. Instead, he simply smiled at her and
lightly tugged on her hand. <<"Come on Scully, follow me.">>

She took a step and she was at a beach, the waves crashing rhythmically
against the sand as the tide came in. <<"You like the beach right? You
mentioned once that you like the ocean.">> He smiled even wider. <<"I
remember everything you say.">> He pulled her gently on her hand until
they were walking side by side, hand in hand amongst the crashing waves.

<<"It is so nice here, why did you leave before? You won't leave me
again, will you?">> He pleaded, his most winsome smile on his lips.
<<"We were having such a nice time before.">>

<<"I'm sure we were...">> said slowly and carefully. <<"But first I need
to figure out what is going on. Where are we Mulder? How did we get to
the beach?">>

Confusion flashed over his eyes. <<"I don't know. Did you bring me
here?">>

<<"No.">> And then it hit her. <<"Mulder, I think that this is your
dream.">>

He considered her comment thoughtfully. He nodded sadly. <<"I remember
now.">> His voice cracked and he turned away from her. <<"I just wanted
to forget for a little bit... but I guess that's not possible.">>

<<"Mulder, I'm back. I am back and I'm with you in my living room.">>

<<"No, I don't believe that. You can't be in both places at once. If you
were the real Scully and not just a wonderful figment of my imagination
you would know this.">>

This was not working. <<"Mulder, I have to go now.">>

He spun around to face her. <<"No! Please don't leave. You can't leave
me alone here.">> The beach was gone and the blackness back. <<"It's so
dark without you...please, please Scully.">> He desperately clung to her
hand as he pleaded with her.

<<"I'm sorry. But you'll understand.">> Scully broke away from him,
gasping slightly, her mind reeling and her thoughts in complete turmoil.
She was beginning to feel as if she was never going to get solid ground
beneath her feet.

She was in her apartment again. <<"I just witnessed Mulder's dream. No.
No, it can't be possible.">> She closed her mind to that possibility,
shut him out. Her thoughts were interrupted by Mulder's cries.

"Scully...why? Come back... so dark without you..." She pulled Mulder to
her and began to speak softly. "Mulder, Mulder, wake up. I'm here with
you, I'm ok.  You're ok. It's ok, everything will be ok..." She
continued administering to him, speaking softly, gently wiping the tears
from his face. <<"This is real. This is really happening to us. How is
this possible? What strange parallel universe have we fallen into?">>

*	*	*	*	*	*
The bounty hunter moved away from the car and sheathed his gun. He
turned and began to make his way up the front steps.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Mulder didn't open his eyes for several moments after he had regained
consciousness. He thought at first it was merely a twisted continuation
of his dream but slowly he realized the blessed truth.

Scully was back, alive, and he was in her arms. He sat up quickly, his
dreams forgotten. Scully was not prepared for this sudden movement and
would have been unceremoniously dumped on the floor if Mulder hadn't
held her at her waist as he rose. Standing there at that moment, holding
her close, Mulder felt a wave of affection and love wash over him that
nearly dropped him to his knees. Mulder pulled her into his arms and
nearly crushed her with the force of his hug and the relief behind it.
Scully held on just as tight.  "How? How can this be? This can't be
real, but it feels so damn good." Fresh tears began to form.

She was pulling away, why was she pulling away? "Scully?"

She pulled away just enough to meet his eyes. "We have to get out of
here Mulder. We're in serious danger."

"What do you mean? Tell me what is happening Scully. How did you even
get here?"

"I'll tell you everything on the way." She fully disengaged her body
from him but held onto his hand. She began to lead him to the door. "You
have to trust me on this... I don't have time to explain it all right
now."

Mulder was still hesitant. This was happen far to quickly. Not less that
2 minutes ago he was convinced he would never see her again and now...
An evil idea came into his head, so unpleasant that he was reluctant to
even put it into words. <<"Is this really Scully? Could it be someone
else, something else?">>

His doubt loomed almost tangibly. Scully felt his hesitation and turned
to face him. "Mulder, it's me." She looked up to meet his eyes. There
was an iridescence to the blue irises, a silver glow. It was as if
instead of just merely reflecting light, it was an actual source. Mulder
blinked slowly, and the impression disappeared.

She was speaking again. "You said once that I've saved you, let me save
you now. Mulder, you have to trust me now. Do you trust me, don't you?"

Mulder felt shame. Shame and guilt for his doubt and hesitation. "Of
course Scully. I'll always--"

Mulder never got to finish.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Outside Scully's Apartment Building
9:23pm

Dagen had barely unhooked his seat belt before Krycek had leaped out of
the car. Dagen hurried to catch up.

Krycek ran past a car that sat immediately in front of the building and
pulled himself up short. "Shit!" He only paused for a moment before
continuing, running even faster this time.

A second later Dagen passed the car, and he too paused. Blood and tissue
and bone fragments were splattered on the inside of glass, so thick that
he could barely see inside. But he saw enough. Through the round hole
the bullet made as it passed through the glass before it passed through
Diana's head, he could see her dark hair, now stained a deep maroon.

By the time he looked up from the car, Krycek had already entered the
building. Dagen hurried to catch up again.

*	*	*	*	*	*

When the bounty hunter burst through the Scully's door, it was as if a
glass ball had shattered to let air and the world in. They'd just began
to head for the door, Scully leading Mulder by his hand, when the sudden
noise tore them apart.

Scully saw what happened next as if she were merely an observer looking
in. The figure stood in the doorway. Without a word he raised his gun
and pointed it at Mulder.

Mulder had had his back to the door and he didn't see what she did. It
took him a half-second before he could turn around. A half-second that
he didn't have. Scully saw the situation before he did, and without
hesitation she pushed him to the floor just as the bounty hunter fired
his weapon.

Scully looked down at Mulder lying on the floor. <<"God, is he hurt?
Please, please God, not like this. Be ok, be ok Mulder.">>

She approached him, unthinking. There was no blood and he had sat up. He
was ok. <<"He was ok. Thank God.">>

But her momentary relief was brief as she looked into Mulder's horror
stricken eyes. It was then that she discovered that she had been the one
to get shot. She realized then that while she had felt the bullet hit
her, she felt no other sensation. <<"Something is terribly wrong here.
This is not like last time.">> She slowly dropped her eyes, reluctantly
moving them down. She had to know; yet feared that knowledge. As her
eyes finally met the wound, she saw that instead of seeing the expected
red of blood, she saw a noxious green fluid.

Scully's look of terror matched Mulder's as she looked to him, the
intruder forgotten.  "My god Mulder, what does this mean?" But she knew,
as did Mulder. <<"I've been changed.">>

Mulder tried to rise to his feet, but before he could, the toxic fumes
began to have their affect. He stumbled to his knees as he brought his
hands to his face. The doctor in Scully began to approach him. She
realized her mistake as his symptoms began to worsen. <<"It is me. I am
doing this to him. I'm killing him!">> She moved to the opposite side of
the room. "Mulder! Mulder, can you answer me?" Panic colored her voice.

Scully met his tortured eyes once more, and then he was lost to
unconsciousness.

The intruder had not moved since the single shot had been fired. He
looked to Mulder, saw that he was no longer a threat, and calmly put his
gun away.

Scully turned her attention to the intruder. Her wound now healed, she
asked, "What do you want from us?" Anger and fear were equally
represented in her voice.

"You need to come with me." That was all he said. He reached his hand
into his pocket and slowly pulled out his weapon. He hit the switch, and
with a "phitt" the stiletto extended.

Scully could feel the cold fear as it flooded her. He began to advance.

*       *       *       *       *       *

9:24pm

*       *       *       *       *       *
You're an extraordinary woman; how do you expect
to lead an ordinary life?-- Louisa May Alcott
*       *       *       *       *       *

Krycek could hear nothing. After the single chirp of a silencer he
hadn't heard a sound. He pulled out the stiletto weapon from his inside
jacket pocket. He always carried one.

He slowed as he approached the open door, not knowing what to expect.

The bounty hunter's back was to him as Krycek looked in the room. He
couldn't see Mulder anywhere, but he could see Scully clearly. She was
slowly backing away from the bounty hunter.

Krycek met her eyes. She hid her surprise well; there was only the
briefest widening of her eyes. He brought a finger to his lips, then
held up his weapon.

She understood. She looked away from Krycek. "Tell me what you want. Why
are you here?" She asked again, trying to keep the bounty hunter
distracted.

Krycek moved in. The bounty hunter began to speak, "I told you. You
need--", but he broke himself off. He abruptly spun around to face
Krycek and his raised weapon.

Krycek suddenly found himself airborne. He metered across the room and
slammed into the far wall with the sound of a wet sack of potatoes. He
slid to the floor, stunned. Krycek had lost his grip on his weapon and
he watched helplessly as it lazily spun on the floorboards across the
room

The bounty hunter towered above him as Krycek lay on his back. Krycek
tried to use his leverage as best as he could. He raised his legs forced
them down square onto the bounty hunter' kneecaps. It hardly seemed to
phase him.

Instead of bringing him down to the floor, as Krycek hoped, it merely
caused the figure to lose his balance slightly. The bounty hunter
stumbled and leaned forward to help regain his balance.

That was all he did, but that was enough.

Scully had advanced unnoticed and she took advantage of the bounty
hunter's distraction. She'd picked up the fallen weapon and without
hesitation drove it into the neck of her assailant. The force she used
easily brought him to his knees.

The figure grimaced and futilely tried to stop her but was unsuccessful.
She withdrew the stiletto from his neck as the body began to dissolve.
Krycek quickly moved out of the way as the body slammed into the floor.

*	*	*	*	*	*
9:25pm

"Grab him." These were the first words out of Krycek's mouth when Dagen
finally arrived. Krycek stood rubbing his shoulder, wincing painfully,
and motioned to Mulder lying on the floor. "Could have used your help
you know."

Dagen ignored his comment and walked over to Mulder. Scully was crouched
over him, doing her best to assess his situation. She didn't look up
when Dagen knelt beside her. "We have to get both of you out of here."

"I have my own ride."

"Diana's dead." There was no real response from Scully. She didn't seem
surprised. "This was why she wasn't supposed to get him." it was not a
question, and Dagen didn't respond.

"He needs medical aid first." She said

"We can treat him, but we need to get out of here."

To punctuate Dagen's comment, Krycek chose that moment to yell, "Come
on! Dagen, just grab him so we can get the hell out of here."

"I don't know you, and I certainly don't trust him," she motioned to
Krycek, now standing in the doorway keeping a lookout. "I can't just
blindly follow you."

Dagen felt completely helpless. "If-- there really isn't anything I can
say or do right now to show you that we are here to help you. If there
was..."

Scully met his eyes and he felt as if she were looking deep within him.
<<"She probably is. She should he displaying some of those abilities by
now.">> Eyes as sharp as boning knives. Afraid they would see too much,
he avoided looking straight into them.

"I think that there is a way. May I?" She held up her hand. Warily, he
nodded yes.

She reached her hand and cupped his face. Her hand felt ice cold against
his cheek.

-Flash-

What the hell was that? There was a flash of bright light for a second,
but it disappeared. Scully removed her hand and stood up. "Like you
said, we have to get out of here." She held her hand out to Dagen and
helped him stand. Together they grabbed Mulder.

*	*	*	*	*	*
George Washington Parkway
9:33pm

Scully sat in the back of the car with Dagen; Mulder sat between the
two. She watched as he reached down to the floor of the car and grab a
bag. From it, he pulled a syringe and a vial. Carefully measuring the
dose, he pulled the needle from the vial and turned to Mulder. Lifting
up his sleeve, he injected the substance into his arm.

"This should help counter act the side effects of his exposure." He
briefly looked Scully in the eye, before sliding his gaze away. <<"He is
hiding something. He isn't telling me everything. But he will not hurt
us.">>

"What are you hiding?" She asked, point blank.

Dagen lifted his eyes to meet Krycek's in the rearview mirror. When
Krycek nodded slightly, Dagen spoke. "His body is having a type of
hypersensitivity reaction to the exposure. What I have given him will
help his body tolerate it."

"A hypersensitivity reaction to what exactly?"

He hesitated. "To the DNA that you now have within you."

Scully's pale skin became even whiter as the color drained from her
cheeks. "What are you talking about? What do you mean by this?"

"You've been changed, surely you've realized this."

Scully closed her eyes tightly, and asked the question she didn't want
to know the answer to. "What have I been changed into?"

"Something..." Dagen paused, he couldn't seem to find the right words,
"something more than human. I don't...I don't really have a better way
of saying it really. I'm sorry."

Scully took a slow breath before speaking again. "Who did this to me?
Why would they do this?"

Krycek spoke. "The tattered remains of the consortium. A few old men
clinging to the past and trying one last desperate ploy to ensure their
survival."

"And what is this?" She said gesturing to the car around them,
indicating the situation they were in.

He smiled, without humor. "This is our own desperate ploy, of course."

*	*	*	*	*	*
9:41pm

Scully's arm was in the process of going numb, but she didn't care. She
was gently supported Mulder with one arm, and with her other hand she
lightly brushed the hair from his forehead.

She looked up in surprise when a high pitched chirping sound erupted
from Krycek. She watched as he reached into his pocket and pulled out
what was making the noise.

Without a word, he rolled down his window and tossed the device out into
the night.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Resistance Headquarters
11:46pm

Krycek pulled the car into a compound, isolated from the rest of the
world by a thick forest. The compound was modeled after a military base;
it was well blockaded and heavily armed guards abounded.

Krycek stepped out quickly and barked at one of the guards. "We need
some help here. We have a man injured." Only a second or two passed
before they were met by a group of individuals and a gurney. They began
to take Mulder away, with Dagen following closely, but Scully stopped
them by physically blocking the entrance to the doorway. "I need to stay
with him," she said sharply.

Krycek placed his arm over hers in an attempt to move her out of the
way. Looking down on her, he spoke. "He needs to be treated. The
medication Dagen gave him in the car was only a temporary fix."

Scully tossed his arm off of her, and stared him back. "And I said that
I need to be with him." Krycek didn't flinch, and he didn't move away
from her.

"Look, we have to treat him, please let us through." Dagen pleaded.

Ignoring Krycek, Scully turned to Dagen. He was a good man, although he
felt a great guilt surrounding her. Perhaps she could use that to her
advantage.

"Look, after all I have gone through, after all the choices so
indelicately removed from me, let me have this one. I need to be with
him."

Dagen looked at Krycek, an unsure look on his face. Irritated, Krycek
gave in. "Do what ever the hell you want to do. Take her or don't, I
really don't care. My job is finished." He walked away and left Dagen
speaking nervously to Scully as she nearly dragged him over to the door.
"Don't worry. We have some of the finest doctors here..." The rest was
lost as Krycek rounded a corner.

He opened one of the other entrances with a sweep of his code card
through the scanner. This entrance led directly into the main
headquarters, where the monitoring and the planning took place. That was
where he found Allen.

Allen was in the center of a small group, speaking quietly when he
noticed Krycek's approach. Pyka also noticed and crossed the room to
meet Krycek. Was the damn dog salivating? It seemed like it. When the
dog began to aggressively lick Krycek's only other hand; he resisted the
urge to kick the dog across the room. How he hated that dog. He wished
with a deep passion that Allen would just get rid of the damn animal.

Allen approached and he pulled the dog off of Krycek. "Come on girl, you
know that uncle Krycek doesn't like it when you do that." The dog moved
away reluctantly and sat down next to her master. She looked at Krycek,
hunger in her eyes.

"I wish you had better control of that damn dog. She does that every
time."

"She only does that with you. I guess you could say she has good taste."
Before Krycek could respond, Allen glanced at his watch and said,
"You're finally back."

"This didn't go as well as we had planned. Mulder's with us. He's
injured. Even unconscious his presence is already interfering. She
insists on staying with him."

"Perhaps it will be for the best."

"*Perhaps*?" Krycek asked, incredulous. "I think that we should be far
beyond the *perhaps* stage. Everything should be certain by now."

"Are we treating him?"

"Yes."

"Then he will be fine by morning. We would have given her that much time
to adjust anyway. Nothing's delayed."

"I don't think that you understand what I'm saying."

"I don't?" Allen raised his eyebrows.

Krycek had the feeling that Allen was mocking him. "No you don't. You
seem to underestimate the control he exerts over her. If he doesn't want
her to do what we need her to do..."

"I think you underestimate both of them. They are both intelligent
people. Once we tell them what they need to know, they'll make the right
decision."

*	*	*	*	*	*
March 7, 1999
Operating Room
12:12am

Scully felt like an animal trapped in a too tight cage. The urge to pace
restlessly was strong, but she stilled the impulse. If she moved she
would lose sight of Mulder, and she didn't intend losing sight of him
ever again.

She waited in the anteroom  outside the operating room and peered
through the small window. Well, perhaps operating room was a misnomer.
An operation wasn't being conducted, but 'what' was being conducted was
still unclear. Dagen was inside the room, supervising what ever was
happening. He had told her to wait here (as if she would leave) and that
someone would be by soon enough to answer some of her questions.

So much had happen in such a short amount of time, her head reeled with
 the idea of it all. She looked at the clock on the wall. 12:12. When
had all this started? Was it only four hours ago? It hardly seemed as if
enough time had gone by, yet it also felt like it had been eons ago when
Diana awakened her.

Diana. She was dead; Scully felt her loss. Who would have imagined that
just a few short weeks ago? <<"I guess that just shows  how much has
changed within these few hours.">> She didn't let herself dwell on the
potential grief that Diana's passing could bring. Instead, she felt an
overwhelming need for information. Why was she here? What had been done
to her? Why? What was happening to Mulder?

And, the question most pressing on her mind: What had happened to her?

"Hell if I know." She spoke into the empty room.

But she was lying to herself. She did know, at least she had an inkling.
She had admitted it to herself, and Diana, earlier; hell she even had
consciously used it to read Dagen to find out if he could be trusted.
Physical contact afforded mind reading abilities, without it, simply
empathic ones. And if she chose, she could sense nothing. She was
learning quickly how it was done and how to control it.

'It' being the mind reading of course.

She hated that term. It just felt so false and pretentious somehow. If
Mulder was awake now he would offer up many other words as
substitutions. Clairvoyant, psychic, telepathic abilities, precognizant,
extrasensory perception... she was sure that he could go on forever.

Scully smiled. He would love this. Finally a case where she couldn't
disprove him, no matter how much she wished she could. Her smile faded.
How she wished this could go back to how they were before...

Distracted by her own thoughts, Scully did not see nor feel the other
person's entrance into the small room. Before she knew what was
happening, Scully found herself enveloped in two strong arms. Scully had
hardly gotten a chance to see the woman's face, but she could tell by
her thoughts who it was. <<"thank god she is ok...so worried...looks
better than i thought... how is she handling it... better than it did, I
think... I hope this will all work... please god, let all of this
work...she's such a wonderful women...">>

Out loud, Cassandra said, "Oh, it's so good to see you. I was worried
about you when you hadn't arrived as expected."

"Scully gently pealed away from her.  "You knew I was coming?  How?"

"It was part of the plan. When we discovered what was happening to you,
we knew we had to act."

Scully was far too startled to really read Cassandra when they had
hugged, and now that physical contact was broken, she could only feel
Cassandra's excitement and clear pleasure at Scully's presence. Scully
briefly considered grabbing her hand, but dismissed it quickly. It
seemed like too much of a violation. The other times...well, Diana had
initiated the first time, and with Dagen it had been an emergency, and
with Mulder... well, that had been an accident.

The thought of Mulder turned Scully's attention away from Cassandra, and
back to the window. "Can you tell me how he is? Can you find out for
me?"

Cassandra stepped up to the window to gain a better look. "I wouldn't
worry about him. They'll take good care of him. They're highly trained
and are familiar with his condition. Also..." She hesitated, moved away
from the window and turned to look at Scully. "They have healers here
that can do what science can not."

"What do you mean by that?"

"They have abilities. They can help the body use its own resources to
fight the illness or heal the injury. Although... I don't think that
Mulder will need much outside help."

Scully felt... 'something' from that statement. She didn't have a word
for it, it was so fleeting, but it had been there. Something more that
what it seemed. "What do you mean by that?"

Cassandra didn't seem to hear her. Concern filled her voice as she asked
the next question. "How are you?"

"Do you know what they did to me?" Scully had a feeling that she did.

"They did the same thing to you that they did to me." Bitterness filled
Cassandra's voice.

"Can you tell me why?  What purpose does it serve?"

"It served their own selfish purposes." Cassandra spat out the words
distastefully. But the emotion lasted only for a moment. A smile
appeared on her lips with her next words. "But that isn't important now.
The why isn't important because you will not be used for those
purposes."

"What do you mean *used*? I'm not going to let myself be *used* by
anyone."

She just smiled at Scully's alarm. "You misunderstand. No one will force
you to do anything that you don't want to do. You will not have to do
anything against your will. But I think, once you learn, and come to
accept the truth, you'll understand the role that you must come to
play."

"My role?" Scully asked carefully.

"Why yes." Cassandra's voice was completely sincere as she spoke the
next words. "You represent the future. The future of mankind, as well as
its savior."

*       *       *       *       *       *

Ethiopia
20 million years ago

*	*	*	*	*	*
Deterministically inclined astronomers are convinced by statistical
Reasoning that what has happened on the earth must also have
happened on planets of stars other than the sun. Biologists,
impressed by the evolution of man, consider... "the prevalence of
humanoids" exceedingly improbable. --Ernst Mayr

*	*	*	*	*	*

The animal was exploring. It was a young male, venturing off on its own
away from the rest of the band. He was a curious animal by nature, and
it did not take much to distract him. Moving away from the relative
safety of the forest, he climbed out of a tree and began to approach the
cleared area where the fire and noisy explosion had been.

The ground was still smoldering from the intense flames of the previous
day. The shattered remains of the meteorite littered the ground for
several miles, leaving decimated trees and charred remains in its wake.

The animal approached the edge of the charred ground and eyed the thing
in front of him warily. The oil lay pooled on the blackened barren
ground. The reflective nature of the oil had attracted him, but now he
was beginning to feel uneasy. The smell of fire and smoke was still
heavy in the air, and now it seemed as if the oil had moved of its own
volition.

He waited several moments; the oil remained motionless. Quickly
forgetting his concern, the animal began to move even closer. Pausing
just within arms length of the oil, he cautiously reached out to the
substance. Pulling its hand back, the animal looked at the viscous fluid
clinging to his fingers.

The oil shattered and the tiny worm-like segments began their assent up
the animal's body. The animal began to cry out as he felt the pinpricks
of pain as each segment pierced the skin. The startled cry was abruptly
cut short. The animal's eyes clouded over briefly.

Although his cries had been interrupted, they had been enough to alert
some of the members of the band, one of which was the animal's mother.
Grunting with displeasure, the mother scurried out to her young.
Sweeping him into her arms, she pulled him to her breast and he clinged
to her as she hurried back to the forest and away from the openness of
the desert.

The child had already forgotten what had disturbed him.

And mankind took his first step.

*       *       *       *       *       *
March 7, 1999
Resistance Headquarters
Mulder's Room
1:57am

When Mulder woke up, he had the oddest sensation of dj vu, like a cool
breeze from an unseen window. It was Scully's soft, soothing voice that
first roused him, as well as her light touch on his forehead. "Mulder?
Mulder, can you hear me?" He stirred and slowly opened his eyes.
"Scully?" A soft voice, barely a whisper, called her name. "Scully is
that you?" Hadn't this just happened?

"Mulder? Are you awake? How do you feel?" She pulled a chair closer to
the bed and sat down. Her eyes met his confused ones.

He shook his head in confusion, trying his best to organize his
thoughts. Didn't he just wake up? Or had that been a dream? "I feel
like.........  I don't know... how am I supposed to feel?" He shifted in
the bed, and only then did he realize that they were no longer in her
apartment. He was in a hospital type bed, but the rest of the room did
not look like a hospital room. Aside from the bed, the rest of the room
gave no hint as to where he could be. The room was sparsely furnished; a
cheap looking dresser, mismatched nightstands and a single chair which
Scully now occupied. He could be anywhere.  "Where are we?  How did we
get here?  What's going on?"

"Do you remember what happened in my apartment?" She asked carefully.

He smiled a lazy, loopy smile that stemmed from the narcotics and beamed
up at her. "Of course. You came back to me. I missed you so much."

She nodded slightly, and chose her next words carefully. "That did
happen. Do you remember what happened after that?" She prompted.

His forehead furrowed as he tried to think through the haze of
medication. He blinks rapidly and she watches as his eyes clear, his
mind following slowly behind. And then he remembered. And the lightness
and joy in his eyes vanished. "The bounty hunter came. He tried to shoot
me, but you pushed me out of the way." He smiled a thank you before
continuing.  "I didn't get hit, but you did. And instead of blood..." He
stopped, unable to finish. Instead, he changed the subject. "How did we
escape?" He paused as he considered something else. "How did you even
get away in the first place?"

"Diana."

"Diana? Really?" If Mulder hadn't been fully awake before, he was now.
Surprised flashed over his features.

Scully smiled slightly. "Surprised me as well. She rescued me, and you."

"What do you mean, me?"

"She wasn't supposed to get you. 'Wasn't the plan.'" She paused now.

Mulder could read that look. It was bad news. "What?"

"She was killed." Mulder's face maintained its careful impassiveness.
How should he feel about that? He didn't know. Things had ended so badly
last time he had seen her, he never thought that he could feel anything
toward her again. But if she really had saved Scully like Scully
claimed...

All of this flashed through his head in an instant. Scully was still
speaking. "She died for you Mulder. You're not supposed to be here with
me now, and you wouldn't be if it weren't for her. It was just me that
they wanted."

"Wanted for what? Do we even know? How can we even know if these people
are any better than the others?"

"They are." Another pause. She was having trouble finding the words. "I
don't think that they'll hurt us, although no one has answered any of my
questions to my satisfaction."

"How can you know, though? As you say, they haven't answered your
questions... we don't know anything about them..."

She hesitated once again. Beats of silence and then she plunged.
"Mulder, I have...I've been changed. I'm not quite the same as I once
was."

"I know." Mulder whispered.

Scully shook her head. "No you don't, not all of it. It's not just..."
She looked down to her abdomen. Mulder's eyes followed hers. She didn't
finish.

"But I do." He squeezed her hand tightly, then loosened. "A report was
given to me. Diana actually. I know what they did to you."

His comment distracted Scully from telling him her news. "What did they
do to me? How did they change me?"

Now it was he who hesitated. "They altered your genes."

Fear filled the room. Fear of the unknown. Fear of her. Scully gasped
from the strength of it, and it was a moment or two before she could
concentrate enough to form the words to speak. "What are you saying?"

If he noticed her reaction, he was kind enough to ignore it. "Genes were
added." He watched as her eyes widened in fear and he hurried to finish.
"Not foreign genes, your own. Your own introns were prevented from being
removed."

"Something more than human..." Scully softly echoed Dagen's words of
before. She was starting to understand.

"Did you say something?"

"Hmmm? Oh, no, I didn't." Her eyes refocused on him, although when she
spoke, her voice was distant. "Mulder, I'm sorry that I woke you, I
really should have let you sleep..." She began to stand.

"No, don't leave me." The strength as well as pure need in his voice
startled them both. "Please don't run away. What ever has happened, what
ever will happen, I'll still need you. We need each other to get through
this together." Pause. "Nothing's changed." But the hesitation in his
voice belied his own words.

<<"Except her. Nothing's changed, except her.">>

She's silent. Unconsciously her hand slowly traced circles on the thin
cotton of the blue shirt she wore. Her hands moved restlessly on her
abdomen, the circles becoming tighter and tighter the longer she stood
thinking.

Silence as they both stared at one another. Her expression was
impenetrable to him.

Finally she sat down again.

It was obvious that she was upset, yet...what could he do to make it
better? "Scully, I--" Mulder didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry. If you
want to go you can. You probably need your rest too."

"No. I'm fine. I'll stay here with you."

Silence.

"Ok." Pause. "Goodnight Scully."

"Goodnight."

And the silence settled uncomfortably around them. It was hours before
either fell asleep.

*       *       *       *       *       *
Kenya
500,000 years ago

The young man called out, alerting the others of his tribe. "Fire, I see
fire over there. It came from out of the sky. Come with me and we will
get it together." He said this with half formed words and gestures, but
the message was clear. Another man approached and they left together.

The men set out in the direction of the billowing smoke over the
horizon. It would be a full days travel, but both understood the
importance of obtaining fire. They had been without fire for several
days, ever since the savage storm. They had lost the fire and they were
not close enough to another band to obtain more. They had feared that
they would have to wait for the stormy season, the time of the flashing
streaks of light, to get more, but it seemed like things were beginning
to look up.

The two men traveled in silence all day, always on the lookout for food,
as well as the wild animals that could attack. The trip was uneventful,
though slow. Everywhere they turned, they saw the effects the storm had
had on the land. Trees fallen, branches broken, and carcasses of animals
spotted the ground. The men had investigated the killed animals, but
found them to be in such foul form that they were useless. They left the
remains to the scavenging animals.

As the day progressed, they made their way out of the ruins of the
storm, and into an entirely different type of ruins. They'd just cleared
a bluff when they took in a startling sight. Here, the trees were
toppled, but not in the haphazard, random way of before. And instead of
just a few of the older, weaker trees falling, the entire forest before
them had fallen, all laying in the same direction, toppled as if mere
branches. The tips of the trees singed and striped of their bark. They
had never seen any thing like it before.

They paused at the crest, confused and uncertain as to what to do next.
Then the first man, the one who had first spotted the smoke, made their
choice. The fire was far to valuable to give up, to pass up this
opportunity.

They continued.

It was  approaching dusk when they arrived at the place of fire. Knowing
the late hour, and hazards of traveling at night, the two prepared to
stay.

First wrapping  a segment of  animal skin to the end of a fallen branch,
they walked up to the edge of the billowing smoke. The stench of the
surrounding animal carcasses, as well as the gray ash, remnants of the
life now being burned, filled the air, causing their chests to tighten,
and left them gasping for air.

Once completed, they set up their impromptu campsite. The men moved to a
safe distance away from the glowing fire and settled on the blackened
earth. They had learned long ago that fire cannot go to the blackened
areas, so they knew that this would be a safe region.

Although they were both hungry and tired from their travels, they were
both pleased to have warmth after so many nights without. The first man
indicated to the second that he was to stay awake to keep guard since
they were in an open and unfamiliar territory.  The second man got up
and gathered some of the easily accessible wood to fuel the fire and
pulled out his stone knife. It wasn't much, but his other, larger weapon
had been loss in the storm. He sat close to the fire for warmth, while
the other man slept.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The heat was bothering the oil, speeding up its processes to an
uncomfortable level. Driven by instinct, it strove to clear the flames.
The oil couldn't find what it needed. It had been seeking for awhile,
but nothing it found triggered nothing more than a passing
acknowledgment. Everything around it was far too simple in nature.

Moments later it managed to clear the last of the flames. Moving easier
now, it explored its environment. Still only nothing. It needed
something more-and then it found it.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The second man had just begun to nod off when he heard movement, a
rustling sound, like leaves against the earth. But he knew that there
were no leaves in this area that had not burned. He stood up, knife in
hand and surveyed his surroundings. He saw nothing; he heard nothing
more. He stood still, motionless. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he
saw something. Moving his head almost imperceptibly, the man turned to
face that direction. He saw the movement again.

He couldn't tell what it was. He had never seen anything that reflected
light like it did. The man began to cautiously move toward the
substance, curious.

Squatting before it, he slowly brought his hand down to touch the
material. Bringing his hand up, he rolled the oil between his
fingertips, feeling its smooth texture and watching the light play
against the liquid substance.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The man's contact was all that was necessary to catapult the creature
into action. Pulling itself into the man, the creature had found its
place. If it could have sighed, it would have in relief.

*       *       *       *       *       *
When the first man woke up in the middle of the night, he saw his
companion a few paces away, staring off and motionless. He signaled to
him "What's wrong? Danger?"

The second man turned. "No. I thought I saw something, but I was wrong.
My turn to sleep?"

The other man looked at him, his eyes slightly squinting, before he
responded. "Yes, we can switch now."

*       *       *       *       *       *
The next day the two men set off, each carrying a torch. The first man
had forgotten about his misgiving of the previous night, while the
second man's memory of the event had disappeared with the night

And man took another step.

*       *       *       *       *       *
March 7, 1999
Resistance Headquarters
Ed Bower's Office
6:42 am

Ed Bower wearily opened the door to his office and dropped his overnight
bag just inside. He pulled off his well worn, dust covered jacket, and
placed it on his coat rack. He happened to glance at his reflection in
the mirror next to the door. Something looked odd. He ran his hand over
his bearded cheeks, in the process disturbing much of the dust that had
settled there from before he'd gotten the urgent call twelve hours ago.
He had gotten on the first flight available straight from the field and
hadn't even paused to clean up.

His hand was still on his beard as he leaned closer to the mirror. Had
he been this gray before he left? He didn't quite remember having this
much salt to his pepper. <<"I wouldn't be surprised if I've gone total
white by the time this as all said and done.">>

He turned away from the mirror and crossed to his desk, bring his
overnight bag with him. He sighed with relief as he sat in his
comfortable chair. He suddenly felt incredibly old.

It had been a long flight, but it was going to be an even longer day. He
sat heavily in his chair and rested his head on his cupped hands.
<<"God, had it finally come to this?">> Not for the first time he wished
he were like everyone else, blissfully ignorant. If only he had taken
that teaching position... what was it now? 20 years ago?... he could be
the head of the department by now, published... But no, he had chosen to
return to the field. Seeking glory. He'd wanted to find something new
and revolutionary. What a damn cocky kid he had been; he had certainly
gotten what he wished for.

He brushed those thoughts away with an ease born of many years of
practice. No use looking to the past. The present needed all of his
attention.

Thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Come in." He didn't
look up.

"I'm glad to see that you're back. How was your trip?" He could feel
Cassandra's smile through her words.

He raised his eyes to meet Cassandra's. "Long. I didn't get much sleep
either. What time is it anyway? I'm still on Tunisian time."

She glanced at her watch. "About a quarter to seven."

Her answer spurred him into action. "Already? I'm not even
half-prepared...and I still need to speak with that new guy, Dagen is
his name I think..." His voice trailed off as he set the overnight bag
on the floor and began to sift through the mess that he called a desk.

She leaned across his desk and laid a calming hand over his, halting his
motion. "Don't worry about that. Dagen is organizing the evidence in the
conference room, and you already know much of the story."

"It's not that so much, as I'm worried about how I present it. This
isn't something that is easily excepted. I just don't want to scare her
off. From what Allen has told me, she is crucial to our efforts."

She walked up behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders. "I'm
sure that you will do just fine. You just have to speak the truth." As
she spoke, she began to massage the tense muscles of his shoulders and
neck. Ed let out a sigh of relief as warmth infused his tired muscles.
"You always give the best shoulder rubs."

"It's a gift." The irony of that statement did not escape him. A moment
passed before he spoke again. "And how are our guests?"

"You know that Mulder is here with us?" She asked.

He nodded. "Allen has kept me updated."

He placed his hands over hers and halted her motion. He turned his chair
to face her. "Are you sure that we can trust them?"

"We can trust them. This is what they've been working for all of these
years. Once everything is explained I am sure that she will help us."
She said this confidently.

"Are you sure?" Concern laced his words.

"Yes. Mulder will be easiest to convince, but Scully will believe once
we show her the evidence. Of course," she amended,  "she will be forced
to believe once she begins to witness the evidence first hand."

"I'm not worried about that so much as I am worried about her
participation. If they are as close as you say, will he let her do
this?"

She couldn't help but smile at his comment. "'Let' her? How
progressive." She was only slightly teasing.

Ed had the sense to look contrite. "That's not what I meant. It's
just..."

Cassandra let him struggle for a moment longer before rescuing him.
"They will both see that this is the only option. And I don't see either
of them putting themselves before the rest of the world."

"Is it wrong for me to be happy that we can't have you do it?"

"It would make things much simpler for everyone." She acknowledged.

He looked up to her face. Their eyes met. "If I were in Mulder's place,
I don't know if I could let you do it."

"You would. I know you, and I know that you would do what was right."

He squeezed her hand. Softly, he said, "I missed you."

She smiled down at him. "I know. I missed you too."

She let the moment linger before changing the subject. "So, what was so
important at the site that you had to rush out of here like a maniac
last week? Did you find anything worth mentioning?"

His eyes immediately lit up with excitement. "I can't believe that I
almost forgot to tell you this." He bent at his waist and pulled his bag
from the floor. From it, he pulled out a large piece of paper with an
intricate etching on it. "You know how we haven't discovered anything
that could be construed as art, or writing or anything that indicates
creativity at the site?"

Cassandra nodded, she remembered what he had told her.

"Well anyway," He continued, "we have studied this specific site for
nearly twenty years and haven't found anything remotely like this. This
is a first major breakthrough in five years.

"A couple of months ago we decided to expand the dig, to explore the
surrounding area. To our surprise, we found another settlement about 500
yards from the main site. It was clearly from the same era, the
materials and methods used for the buildings were the same as the
original site, but there was a huge difference. There was art. This," He
opened the folded paper and spread it flat against the desktop, "this is
just a part of a series of complex pictographs that adorned the walls of
the dwellings."

Cassandra looked down at the paper with amazement. "What do you think
that this means?" She asked as she looked up from the paper to his face.

"This is only a segment of a much larger..." He paused, searching for
the correct word, "...story. Yes, story is the right word. The carvings
seem to depict a story, perhaps even a history of these people. I took a
great deal of pictures of the various carvings, but I knew that the
pictures could not do it justice, as far as the grand scope of this art,
as well as the intricate depictions presented, so I took an etching.
This is the final picture in the series, and the one that I feel is the
most significant."

Ed met Cassandra's eyes. "I know what I think I see, but I want you to
tell me what you see when you look at this. What do you think this
represents?"

She carefully studied the etching for several moments before speaking.
She chose her words carefully. "It looks... well this right here," she
pointed to a corner, "looks like a group of people..." She hesitated,
still studying the picture. "No, actually it looks like two specific
groups. Yes..." She murmured to herself. She pointed to two different
areas. "Yes, there are two groups, one here, and the other, smaller
group here."

Although he did not wish to influence her take on the etching, Ed
couldn't help but nod with enthusiasm at her interpretation. If she,
most definitely a layperson, could see what he did... He needn't have
worried about Cassandra witnessing his reaction; she had not yet taken
her eyes off the paper.

Ed watched as her eyes took in the sight before her; as tried to make
sense of it all. He saw the moment she comprehended; he knew that she
saw what he, and the others, saw, even before she spoke. Cassandra began
to speak excitedly. "Yes, two groups, and this right here," she pointed
to the large geometric figure that took up much of the center of the
carving, "this is a spacecraft, and this group, the larger one," once
more she gestured toward one of the groups that represented the people,
"this larger group is going to it, boarding the ship."

Only now did she look up and meet Ed's eyes as her last comment took a
firm hold in her psyche. "This group is boarding the ship and leaving on
it."

*	*	*	*	*	*

Conference Room
7:09 am

*       *       *       *       *       *
A single event can awaken within us a stranger
totally unknown to us.--Antoine de Saint-Exupery
*       *       *       *       *       *

Dagen set the large stack of papers down. They sat precariously on the
table in the spacious conference room. He was gathering the evidence so
that the agents could look at it during the presentation. He happened to
glance down to the paper on the top of the stack. It was a copy of a
gene sequence from that Praise boy. The sequence that had started it
all...

He sighed as he set the paper down. Who would have thought that there
was such a thing as too much success? Surely not him ten years ago when
they had recruited him right out of grad school. He had been the 'golden
boy,' hand picked  by Dr. Eugene Mitchell, project head. Even though he
had been young, he had been the leader of the research team that had
developed new methods for gene splicing.

The offers that had come in after that study had been published...
Sometimes, too often, he wondered what would have happened if he had
followed his mother's advice and taken that nice steady job at that
pharmaceutical company, instead of taking the offer that paid the most.
He could be developing the cure for cancer instead of...

What would have happened? How much better would the world be if he'd
just followed that advice? He picked up another paper. This one had a
section of Scully's genes. Her *new* genes. Well, he knew how much
better off Scully would be.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. God, he was only 31 years
old, and all he wished was that he had become a failure.

"So how are our guests doing?"

Dagen's eyes had still been closed so he had not seen the man enter. The
unexpected noise startled him and had sent the stacked papers fluttering
to the ground. He bent at the waist and began picking up the papers as
he replied to Krycek's inquiry. "About as well as we hoped. I believe
that Mulder has  recovered. Ed has just gone to get them."

"So you've spoken with Ed?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing now?" Krycek casually leaned over the table and
peered down on Dagen, who was hunched over the floor, trying to shuffle
the papers back into some semblance of order.

"I need to gather some of the evidence so that we can present it to them
as we tell them the story."

"Ah, the story...the explanation for everything, right? In the
beginning...'God created man in his own image'...He took a rather
circuitous route of doing that, wouldn't you say?" He looked at Dagen.

Dagen had only been half listening to Krycek. "He?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Or She if you prefer, or maybe It? Who am I
to say what God is? I can't wait to see their faces as the story
unfolds. I'm sure that it will be priceless."

Dagen finally stood and set the papers down, this time in smaller
stacks. "You won't be here."

"Oh why not?" Krycek looked genuinely disappointed, even though his tone
was light.

Dagen met his eyes. "They loathe you. You'd only be a distraction."

Krycek snorted with disbelief. "And you won't? Once you spill your news
you think that you will be their best friend?"

"Look, what I did, what I was part of...it wasn't supposed to be like
that. I didn't mean--"

"You didn't mean for this to happen? This isn't something that you just
stumbled on." He strode over to the pile of documents sitting on the
table. He picked up a fat stack with his hand and waved the papers under
Dagen's face. "This sure doesn't look like you stumbled over this
treatment. How many months did it take you until you were able to
isolate the specific gene in the boy? Huh? I'm sure that there was a
moment or two where you could have thought about the possible
consequences of your experiments." He slammed the stack back down on the
table. "What the hell did you think they were going to do with the
information? They weren't shelling out the big bucks just so you could
play with you chemistry set. And--"

"Shut up." Dagen interrupted Krycek's tirade. "I don't need a lecture on
ethics or morals, and certainly not from you."

"Are you implying something, Dagen?" He said this with a smirk.

Krycek's smugness was insufferable, but Dagen refused to act angry or
upset, which would have pleased him immensely. Instead, he kept his
features expressionless and his voice cool. He ignored Krycek's comment;
instead he just said, "Get out."

"You know, I don't understand where all of this hostility is coming
from. You should be thanking me, not cursing me. I brought you into
this. Now you have the chance to try to make things right. This is your
shot at redemption. You should be thanking me."

"Thanks. Now get the hell out of here."

"Only because you asked so nicely..." And with that last comment, Krycek
left.

Dagen sat heavily in one of the chairs at the table. He brought his
hands up to his head, cradling each side of his face. His head was
beginning to pound.

*	*	*	*	*	*

Mulder's Room
7:15 am

Scully had somehow managed to fall asleep, even though the chair she sat
on was immensely uncomfortable and her nerves fried to the point of
blistering. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion from maintaining her sanity
in this strange and awful universe she had fallen into, that had allowed
her to rest.

She was cold, but she was powerless to find some way to cover herself.
Her limbs didn't respond to her commands. Her teeth wanted to chatter,
but her jaw did not respond. She was flat on her back,  that she was
sure of, but other than that, she couldn't be sure of anything.

She tried to open her eyes, but could not. They were frozen shut.

Yes, frozen. She was frozen solid. The cold seeped into her bones and
she wanted to shiver, she wanted to shiver so badly, anything to try to
shake the chill off, but she could not.

And she just lay there.

Then suddenly she could see, even though her eyes remained shut, but
this did not surprise her.

She blinked, or seemed to, even though her eyes remained closed. Bright
light shined in her eyes. But she didn't want to close them. She was
afraid of the dark.

Incredibly bright light. A light that should have hurt her eyes,  but it
did not.

She stared into the light, not quite sure what she was looking at. It
was familiar. Yes very familiar. It was the sun. Yes it was the sun.

Was she outside now?

That must be it. That made sense. She could see the blue sky surrounding
the bright circle above. How had she missed that before?

She wasn't cold now, either. The radiant sun was lending its warmth to
her, and she was beginning to thaw. She could turn her head now; open
her eyes for real.

Turning her head to the side, Scully was able see more of her
surroundings. She was in a clearing in the center of a forest. She lay
on a luxurious bed of grass. She could feel the grass's gentle tickling
against her cheek and wished she could run her fingers through it.

She couldn't do it then, the rest of her body remained immobilized, but
she could feel the delightful pin prickling sensations that foretold
returning movement. She waited impatiently.

Scully felt as if time was running out.

Scully was thawing in degrees. She looked down to her hands folded
neatly on her abdomen. She could move her fingers now, and they waited
restlessly for her arms to catch up.

Seconds or minutes later, she couldn't be sure, her arms were freed. Her
fingers dug into the thick grass as she raised herself up into a sitting
position. Her legs remained numb, and as she waited, a delicate
butterfly lightly fluttered into view. The insect hovered near her face,
and Scully shifted her weight onto her left arm so that she could bring
her right hand up.

Scully extended her index finger and to her surprise and delight the
butterfly landed, and sat perched on her fingertip. The multicolored
wings beat gently. The wings were nearly transparent in the intense
light, and she could see the fragile veins that coursed through the
wings.

A shadow suddenly fell across her hand. The butterfly, sensing a danger
before Scully, made its departure. Before she could turn to see who had
approached, Scully felt hands grip her shoulders, and with great force,
she was driven back into the grass.

Except it wasn't grass any longer.

It was a table. A hard, cold, metal table. And she was beginning to
freeze again.

<<"NO!">> She tried to scream, but her lips and tongue were already
incapacitated. But she struggled anyway. She didn't want to be here, on
this table, in this cold white room. She had been here too many times
already.

Scully felt a hand stroke her forehead, and even though the only thing
that now remained thawed was her eyelids, the hand felt incredibly cold,
cold as one of the bodies found in autopsy bays, colder than her own
frozen skin.

She rolled her eyes back to try to gain a glimpse at her companion and
then wished she hadn't. A scream tried to claw its way from her vocal
cords, but became strangled in her paralyzed throat.

Scully was looking at herself, but it wasn't her, couldn't be. The head
was too bulbous, skin too pasty, eyes too vacant. <<"Please God">>, she
prayed, <<"please don't let this be me.">> But it was her. The second it
began to speak she knew.

"It's ok Dana. Everything will be ok. I know that you're scared now, but
it'll all work out for the best. I know what's best for you, for us.
Trust me... It is so much better feeling nothing. So much better than
being afraid..."

Scully couldn't talk, couldn't move. She tried begging to her alter ego
with her eyes, to no avail. The other her just ran her hand over
Scully's forehead again. "I told you, don't worry. You'll like having
all of the pain, and fear, and worry gone." She pulled a light to the
table, and placed it directly over Scully's head. As much as Scully
wanted to look away, her paralyzed body could not let her. But it wasn't
a real light; no it was something much worse. It was indicative of an
outer darkness; it was only mere reflective light

"Don't worry. This won't hurt a bit. And soon you'll be just like me."

*	*	*	*	*	*
Her own scream woke her. Scully went from sleep to wakefulness with a
painful jolt and she sat up straight in her chair, heart pounding, mouth
dry.  Realization swept over her: There was a presence in the room.

The after images of her dream remained and it took several seconds
before she realized that the thin being that stood in front of her was
no and alien, but in fact a man. A tall, thin man with a graying beard,
leathery skin from too many years in the merciless sun. The lines of his
face spoke of wide grins and a gentleness that could only have been
etched over decades. He had one hand on his chest, and on his face he
wore a look of surprise mixed with concern. It seemed that she wasn't
the only one startled by her cry.

"Are you ok?" He asked, concerned. "I'm sorry if I frightened you. That
wasn't my intention."

"No, it wasn't you, but something else. It was I who startled you. I'm
sorry." She stood, and straightened her disheveled clothing.

"I was coming to wake you both."

Walking a short distance away from the bed, she motioned for the man to
follow. She spoke quietly, trying not to disturb Mulder, although he had
already slept through her calling out. "Can you help us? We need some
questions answered and you seem to be someone that can help us."

"Yes, that is actually the reason I'm here. I've come to bring both of
you to a meeting I've set up." He paused, then laughed again holding out
his hand. "I'm sorry, I haven't even introduced myself yet. I'm Dr.
Bower, but you can call me Ed."

"Nice to meet you." She gripped his hand.

-Flash-

The sun... so bright above...the earth below, the innards revealing its
secrets. Men bent double over ancient pits, dusting away the secrets,
particle by particle.

-Flash-

Excitement... confusion, a realization...then-

Scully jerked away as if he struck her with a live electrical wire.

Ed looked at her, and blinked slowly. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine." She whispered.

Ed was talking again, but she couldn't seem to comprehend the words. She
was having after-images, after-thoughts from her contact. A tablet--no,
a mural of some kind, and the realization of what it all meant... She
mentally shook her head in an attempt to clear her head. <<"This has to
stop.">> In her mind, she visualized bricks being stacked.  One on top
of the other, mortar spread thick between.

She could hear him now. Ed was mid sentence when she began listening
again.

"-- thought that it would be best to let you both have the night before
we..." He laughed nervously. "Before we deluge you with information. We
also thought it would be best to give Mulder time to finish getting
better, and to give you time to adjust to all that is happening." He
paused, and concerned laced his words. "How are you adjusting?"

<<"Adjusting? Can he actually be serious? Well, except for the mind
reading thing, the double abduction thing, oh and of course the toxic
green blood, things are swell.">>

She didn't say any of this of course, instead, she responded with her
stand-by. "I'll be fine."

Ed seemed to believe her and he turned to leave. But he then remembered
something. "I almost forgot. Across the hall, there's a bathroom where
you both can freshen up. We have some clothing for both of you as well.
I'll come back in a few minutes and then we can begin."

"Then we can begin." She agreed.

*       *       *       *       *       *

Conference Room
7:27am

*       *       *       *       *       *
A creation out of nothing, by an infinite Being if you like, is a
hypothesis that cannot be ruled out by the physical evidence
presently available. But neither is it in any degree confirmed
by that evidence, nor is it the only possible hypothesis.
-- Wallace I. Matson
*       *       *       *       *       *

Mulder and Scully were ushered into a large room, which was set up with
an expansive table and chairs around it. Tall gray filing cabinets lined
one wall, and on another were bookcases filled with various medical and
science books, as well as journals.

Dagen moved to the end of the table where Scully noticed that a
projector had been set up. He motioned to the chairs next to him.
"Please, sit." Scully and Mulder sat down next to each other, side by
side.

"Would you like some coffee?" Ed held up a previously hidden coffeepot.
They both nodded.

"Cream, no sugar." He set one cup before Scully. "And black for you." As
he set the other before Mulder. "Correct?" he asked with a questioning
look on his face. Warily, they nodded again. For some absurd reason,
Mulder found this very unnerving, more so than everything else that they
had been through. <<"They know how we take our coffee? What else do they
know?">>

Both Ed and Dagen sat down across from them, each with their own cup. Ed
looked at the couple in front of him and sighed. "I really don't know
how to start. There is a lot that we have to cover."

"I can think of any number of places to begin." Scully began to count on
her fingers. "What was done to me... why...who...what are we doing
here...the treatment that was given to Mulder..." her hand fell to the
table, "I could go on."

Mulder spoke up. "Perhaps it would just be best if you began at the
beginning."

The two doctors shared a long look. Ed spoke again. "He wants us to
start at the beginning." A heavy sigh escaped his lips. " I guess that
is as good a place as any. But before I do that, let me tell you a bit
about us. As you know my name is Ed Bower. I have a Ph.D. in
paleoanthropology." He looked at the doctor. "Dr. Dagen here is an
immunogeneticist. We have been elected by the others, because of our
extensive knowledge in our respective fields to tell you both
everything."

Mulder leaned forward. "Everything, everything?"

Ed smiled. "As much as you can take."

Mulder's hands rubbed together eagerly. "We're ready."

Ed continued. "First, I think that I should explain how we have come to
know all that we do.  We worked for a group, a kind of consortium, if
you will."

Mulder glanced to Scully, and they shared a slightly worried look. This
exchanged did not pass Ed unnoticed. "You are familiar with it I
believe. We were both recruited to the project many years ago.
Unfortunately, at the time of our recruitments, we were not fully aware
of what the group was all about. And once we did... well, let's us just
say that the jobs we took aren't the kind you can quit easily ... or put
on a resume."

"So what are you saying? Are you still working for them, what parts that
are left?" Mulder questioned, concern evident in his voice. "Not any
longer." Ed hurried to correct. "Actually, we were recruited again, by
another group, but this time for a much greater purpose."

"And what is that purpose?" This time it was Scully.

"Prevent colonization." Ed answered.

Scully asked, "And just who is this group?"

Dagen spoke now. "The resistance. I know that they've done horrible
things--"

Scully cut him off. "But they had their reasons, right?" Scully remained
calm, but her tone took on a decidedly icy turn. "We all have our
reasons. I understand, really I do. It was necessary, right? Necessary
to  kill those men of the consortium as well as their entire families.
It was necessary to lure me and a great number of others to our almost
certain death on a bridge."

Dagen sighed; frustrated by the turn this meeting had already taken.
"Please, wait. I know that this doesn't sound the best yet...but...this
isn't how I expected it to go." He murmured the last part under his
breath. He tried again. "The story needs to go in order for everything
to be adequately understood. I don't mean to say that the activities
that were conducted will be... justified... but..." He faltered once
again. He looked to Ed for help.

Ed took his cue. "What I think he is trying to say, what *we* are trying
to say, is that you need to know the big picture before you should make
up your minds. And it is a big picture. What you know now, is only a
mere fraction of everything." Both Ed and Dagen looked at them with an
almost pathetic look on each of their faces. They pleaded with Mulder
and Scully to understand, or at the very least give them a chance.

Mulder reached his hand under the table and found Scully's hand. He
squeezed it once, reassuring her of his presence. He was willing to give
them a chance. Scully spoke. "We'll hear everything? Including what
exactly what was done to me?"

Ed nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I promise we will tell you
everything we know." He resumed speaking, starting from were he had left
off previously. "We were chosen to speak with you because our respective
specialties highly relate to the story. I personally worked mostly in
the field on digs, uncovering fossils, archeological sites, et cetera.
The doctor here worked in a lab, studying and researching both human and
alien genetics."

Dagen spoke. "I feel that we need to be completely honest here, if we
have any hope of establishing a relationship with you. I don't want you
to feel that we are hiding something important from you. "He paused and
took a deep breath and said the rest in one great burst. "I was fully
aware that experiments were taking place on the public.  I was a part of
the research group that studied and compiled the information that was
gathered on the..."His eyes briefly met Scully's, but then shifted away.
"...the subjects. Including Scully. Also, the work that I did, much of
it was used to create the treatment that Scully under went. And..." Only
now did he pause. This was the most difficult to admit. "And I worked on
the project that chose Agent Scully as the subject that would be used
for...he paused. Briefly looking at them both before continuing with the
weight next word would hold, "...conversion."

Mulder glanced at Scully next to him, trying to judge her response.
There was tension at the edges of her mouth, and her back became  a
little more rigid; her shoulders a bit more square. But she didn't
flinch. They all were silent as they waited for her response.

More than anything, Mulder wanted to reach over the table and strangle
the men sitting across from them for their part of the deception and
what was done to her, but he also understood that this was her choice.
She was the one who would decide how this meeting turned out. God knows
how many choices had already been ripped away from her.

They all waited tensely for Scully to speak. When she finally did, her
voice was composed. "I understand. Please begin at the beginning." The
men in the room all seemed to share a collective sigh of relief.

Dagen paused a moment before he began. "The beginning... I guess the
*very* beginning would be the most appropriate." He paused. "Agent
Scully, what is the normally accepted theory as to the origin of life on
earth?"

"Well," she paused, briefly confused at the odd turn of the
conversation; "the most commonly accepted view of the origin of life
amongst the scientific community is the theory of abiogenesis, the
theory that living matter may be produced from non-living matter." She
paused and looked to the others. "Of course it isn't as simple as that.
We aren't talking about spontaneous generation here. We're talking about
a situation that no longer exists on earth that through good fortune and
perhaps a little luck were conductive to creating life."

"And what do you think of this theory?" Dagen prodded, seeking more of
an answer.

"What do I think? I'm not really an expert on this subject, but I think
it is a valid theory. Tests have been done that have attempted to
recreate primitive earth of 4 billion years ago, and from these tests
simple amino acids were created. There is the classic experiment by
Miller and Urey."

The two doctors nodded, but she continued, mostly for Mulder's benefit.
 "The experiment was rather simple really. In a flask they created an
'ocean' of water, which was heated, which forced the water vapor  to
circulate through an apparatus. In the top contained an 'atmosphere'
made up of methane, ammonia, hydrogen, and the circulating water vapor.
They exposed the gases to a continuous electrical discharge, or
'lightning', which caused the gases to interact. The water-soluble
products of those reactions then passed through a condenser and
dissolved in the mock ocean. The experiment yielded many amino acids."

"Do you think that is what happened?" Ed asked as she finished.

"You know, I asked for you to begin at the beginning, but I really don't
see the point of this."

"There is, trust me." Ed assured. "What do you think happened?"

She sighed, but continued. "Well of course we will never *really* know,
but for the most part I agree with that theory."

"For the most part?" Ed asked.

"Well, perhaps it is just part of the human ego, or all of those years
of Sunday School, but I don't really like the idea that we are all just
a cosmic accident. I would like to think that maybe there is some
ultimate purpose. I mean, don't we all?"

"What if I were to say it wasn't an accident?" Ed didn't give her a
chance to respond. "Agents, have you heard about the theory of
panspermia?"

She spoke again, this time humoring him. "I believe it's an alternate
theory concerning the origin of life on Earth. The basic tenet of the
theory is that life on Earth was seeded from space, and that life's
evolution to higher forms depended on genetic programs that came from
space."

"From the look on your face, I take it that you don't hold much credence
in that theory." Ed turned to address Mulder. "Mulder, have you heard
about this theory?"

"Actually, yes I have. A lot of research has gone into it, and there is
evidence that life could have originated from outside this planet. In
1996 it was determined that there was fossilized evidence of ancient
life in a meteorite from Mars. In 1997 a NASA scientist published
evidence of fossilized microscopic life forms in a meteorite not from
Mars. And--"

She interrupted. "That was never concluded absolutely. There was
evidence that suggested that it was merely post-impact contamination.
Besides, the age of these meteorites don't correlate with the time
period when they would have had to *seed* the earth. And--".

Scully was in turn interrupted by Mulder. "True," he acknowledged, "but
in 1996 they found traces of a carbon in rocks from southwest Greenland
that could have only come from life. These are the oldest signs of life
on Earth, dating back 3.85 billion years. Nearly 400 million years
earlier than was previous thought.  This evidence suggests that microbes
existed remarkably close to a time when giant meteorites bombarded the
planet."

Mulder was in his element and clearly enjoying it.

She turned to look pointedly at him, mildly irritated at his
interruption, before continuing. "As I was saying, the sheer amount of
genetic material that would be needed to start this process..."

"Wouldn't it explain how life originated on this planet?" Mulder leaned
forward on the table. He was beginning to really warm up to this theory.
It seems that this would be an easier, and more realistic possibility
than non life becoming life."

"That this planet was *seeded* by extraterrestrial organisms? But that
just begs the question Mulder. Life would still have to *begin*, just
with this theory, life would begin somewhere else. You would still have
to deal with *how* life began in the first place."

"Well, who says that there is a beginning? Could we say that there has
always been life, that it is just one big cycle?"

"Like the circle of life?" She said sarcastically. "It's a nice thought,
but the universe is only about 12 billion years old. You're talking
about an infinite concept existing in a finite universe. It just doesn't
work that way."

Ed stopped them before they could continue. "Whoa! Hold up here. I think
that we got a little off track." He waited until he regained their
attention before continuing. He summarized her comments.  "So, it is my
understanding that you don't agree with this theory that I suggested?"

Another sigh, this was becoming tedious. "No, I don't hold much credence
in this theory."

"What would you think if we had evidence that proved otherwise?"

Scully placed her most skeptical face on and answered. "I think that I
would definitely need to see this 'evidence'."

"We have the evidence right here." Dagen tapped the top of the stack of
papers.

"Evidence can be faked." She said simply.

"Yes it can, I'm not denying that...But you're welcome to check to see
if I'm telling the truth." Dagen held out his hand across the table.
Scully instinctively pulled away from his outstretched arm.

Mulder was confused. What was all of this about? He made eye contact
with Scully but all he got was her abstract gaze. He leaned toward her,
intent on deciphering her expression, and mouthed the word 'What?' She
just held up her hand and brushed him off. She would tell him later, was
the message she gave him. He would have to wait.

Ed and Dagen watched this silence communication without speaking.

Scully spoke. "No, that isn't necessary. We'll just go on the assumption
that these reports are accurate for now." Scully's fingers were cramped
from the force of her grip on the coffee mug, and willed them to loosen.
She lifted the mug, inhaled the acrid steam, and sucked up a great gulp
of coffee.

<<"Why, Scully? Why should we just trust them on this?">> Mulder
thought. Yes, they would most definitely talk later.

Dagen withdrew his hand, then changed the subject. "Agent Mulder, I
understand that you have traveled to Tunguska, Russia. Is that correct?"

Mulder appears to consider this for a moment, the corners of his mouth
edging upward ever so slightly and quirking into an odd smile. "Yes, it
is. I wouldn't recommend traveling there either, they have terrible room
service."

Ed smiled at Mulder's light tone and continued. "Then I assume that you
are familiar with what occurred there in 1908?"

Mulder nodded. "Yes. The Tunguska event in 1908 was due to the
atmospheric explosion of a meteor. The energy released has been
estimated to be the equivalent of 10-100 megatons TNT. The air blast
resulted in the devastation of 2000 sq. km of Siberian forest."

"I also understand that both of you were able to study part of that
meteor, as well as the substance that was in it?" Ed looked expectantly
at them.

"Well, I don't think that it was ever concluded that that substance
*came* from the rock..." Scully interjected, but her voice carried
little force.

"Well, it did come from the rock, and yes I can show you proof, but
we'll save that for later. This substance is an extraterrestrial life
form, and we do not think that this is the first time it has come to
earth."

"What are you saying?" Mulder asked.

Dagen began to speak. "I've studied this substance, we'll call it black
oil for lack of a better term, for many years. I have been able to do
extensive tests on this oil, including a little bit of mapping its
extensive genetic code. I've also been able to study samples of the
earliest known life on this planet. Rocks as old as 3.5 billion years
old that have prokaryotic fossils within them." He pulled out several
papers and passed them across the table.

Dagen continued. "I tested and compared the two life forms and I
discovered that they share the same genes. The bacterium that I studied
had the same genes as the oil. It was as if a small segment of the oil
was directly cut from it and placed into the bacterium. The genetic
variation was so slight that it was insignificant."

"Are you saying that this oil, that was inside a meteor, crashed into
earth, seeding it, providing the planet with extraneous genetic
information, and this bacteria is proof of this? What you have  is
tenuous at best." She said.

"Ah, wait!" Dagen held up one finger and used is other hand to dig
through the increasingly disorganized stack. He kept talking, even
though he hadn't yet found the paper. "There is another thing that I
haven't mentioned. Other studies have been done by several other groups
on this same bacteria and each confirmed that the genes are
significantly older than the fossil record would indicate." He found the
paper and slid it over to Scully. "These genes are some 4 billion years
older than the earth itself is. Can you guess how old the oil's genes
are?"

Scully glanced at the paper and sighed. "The same."

"Exactly." Dagen smiled.

"What do you think that this *oil* is specifically?" Mulder asked.

"Here is our theory: We think that this oil was purposefully sent for
two reasons. When we studied this substance, we discovered that it had
268 chromosomes. That's nearly six times the amount that humans have. It
was also organized in a highly specific pattern, a pattern that I have
never seen in nature." More papers were shuffled and handed out. Mulder
just glanced at them briefly before passing them along to Scully. She
would explain them to him later.

"We discovered something else. When the oil was subjected to high
temperatures, instead of breaking along the weakest bonds, areas that
one would clearly expect it to split, it would break in other areas.
Every time. We did the experiment over and over again with the same
results. I can't begin to explain how this happened. It goes against the
very nature of chemical bonds and frankly, well, everything." Dagen
finally took a breath. Still had a hard time believing his own data,
even now. "One of these segments was an exact match that the bacterium
had."

Mulder leaned forward eagerly. "You think that this organism was
artificially created by something else, and sent through the universe
with the purpose of seeding life on other planets. It was created in
such a way that made it capable of bringing a wide range of life forms
on the planet, increasing the chance that one would eventually develop
sentience." He tried to keep his voice calm and neutral, but there was
excitement in his tone.

Ed stood and walked over to the wall and dimmed the lights and moved
toward the projector at the end of the table. "We mentioned that we
thought it was sent for two reasons; we've only mentioned one so far.
This is where we get into my field of study, the origins of humankind.
One of the more puzzling things about this field is the missing links.
The in between stages of human evolution."

Ed hit the switch on the projector and it whirled to life. A picture of
an evolutionary tree appeared, and was projected onto the screen. The
picture had several primitive species displayed, Australopithecus
afarensis; Homo habilis; Homo erectus; modern man, and the corresponding
dates for each.  "Each stage lasts thousands, even millions of years,
nearly unchanged, and then boom, a dramatic shift. We've not found these
missing links and that is what is frustrating. We're able to see the
before and after, but we can not see the in between, and until then, we
can't begin to explain how it occurred."

"There's a popular theory among the scientific community as to how these
changes took place that I personally subscribe to. The basic tenant is
this: each major turning point came from a single group of advanced
individuals that replace the more archaic human types. These groups of
advanced individuals would have originally been the same as the others,
but for some reason got isolated from others, either through
geographical reasons, or even social ones. This group, cut off from the
others, and unable to interbreed, would have developed different types
of characteristics just through normal genetic mutations as well as
environmental factors. If these changes were conductive toward life,
this group would of course thrive. After however many years, this group,
now *evolved* would then go out into the rest of the world and begin to
replace the others, either by direct conflicts, or, more likely, just
the simple fact that they would be better adapted and more likely to
survive."

Ed paused. "I like this theory. It makes sense to me. But one thing
still always bothered me about it. It still did not explain the missing
parts of the fossil record. However, I have been able to expand this
theory because of the evidence that we've gathered. I think that there
was an outside influence that effected the course humanity took."

Mulder glanced sidelong at Scully. This was getting...he searched for
the right word.  This was getting... heavy. What was she thinking? She
was hardly speaking any more and he was having a hard time reading her.

If she noticed Mulder's look, she didn't give any indication.

Dagen took his cue from Ed. "Among the tests that we did on the oil, one
was infecting lab animals. The first thing that we discovered was that
the oil seemed most attracted to the animals with the higher brain
function. Time and time again, if given a choice, it chose the animal
with the most active brain waves. We think that it can somehow pick up
on these waves."

Mulder leaned forward on the table. "Are you saying that this oil, what
ever it may be, has an intelligence of some sort? That it picked these
subjects for a specific reason?"

Dagen shook his head. "We don't think so. We think that it's just a well
developed instinct."

"There are some who would say the same thing about us." Mulder pointed
out.

"I guess that some could say that." Dagen agreed before continuing.
"Another thing that we noticed was that once infected the animals began
to change almost immediately. The oil changed the animals' genetic
makeup. Well, changing is perhaps the wrong word. The oil merely
activated those genes that up until recently were thought just to be
junk DNA."

Mulder's eyes widened with surprise. That was what the Gunmen said had
been done to Scully. He looked in her direction. Had she picked up on
that? Had she made the same connection as he? Scully didn't turn to look
at him; he had no idea what she was thinking.

"These changes were passed on to the offspring. Additionally, we
discovered that the offspring had been infected in the womb, although
the changes, independent of the mother, did not begin until birth."

"What were these changes?" Mulder asked.

"The first and most significant change was an increase in mental
function. The physical changes included enhanced strength and a
decreased susceptibility to disease. Also, the animals' life spans
dramatically increased. Some as high as five to ten times their normal
life span."  The screen changed to display some of the animals in cages
as the Dagen advanced the projector. "The actual morphological changes
included increased brain cavity; the frontal and temporal lobes enlarged
in mass." Click! A close up of a chimpanzee with a noticeably enlarged
head. Dagen passed an image of a MRI across the table. "This is the scan
of this creatures head. Notice the increased mass as well as activity."
Mulder held it up against the light. Greek to him.

Mulder passed it on to Scully. As he did, their fingertips touched. He
looked up into her eyes. He had her attention and used it to silently
mouth 'Ok?' Scully's head tipped forward ever so slightly. 'I'm fine.'
Was what that nod meant. But he didn't believe it, not for a minute.
Something was wrong. She was far too accepting of this and she was
hardly saying anything.

Dagen was still speaking. "The animals also began to lose their hair and
gain more subcutaneous fat; there even was some evidence that these
animals were becoming bipedal." Click! Another picture. This one was of
three chimpanzees. Each displayed the characteristics that Dagen had
described. They were looking into the camera and in their eyes was an
unnerving quality that Mulder had trouble identifying. There was an
intelligence about them... an unnatural, and disconcerting one.

Dagen had paused to give them a chance to study the picture. "All of
these, I might add, were crucial steps in man's evolution."

"Where are these animals at now? I mean, what stage are they at?" Mulder
asked.

"Unfortunately, we had to halt the tests." Dagen looked apologetic. "The
animals were getting far too smart. We had a series of near escapes, for
one thing. We couldn't risk letting the animals loose into the
population, and well, it was sort of frightening actually, working with
the animals. In the end, they really weren't animals any more." Dagen
paused, taking a small break.

Ed took this opportunity to interject a comment of his own. "Recently,
we learned that the Russians also performed tests of this nature, but
their methods and security measures were considerably more lax. There
have been reports of instances where an animal escaped into the
population. They have of course denied this."

<<"Flukeman.">>, was Mulder's sudden realization.

And then another realization hit. "I've seen these creatures, I think. I
was on a ship, we were on a ship, in the Antarctic and I saw these
horrible monsters that were created... this is what they became?"

Ed and Dagen looked at one another. Dagen was the one that spoke. "No,
that is another matter entirely. You see, we aren't really sure what
those creature are, or how they came to be. We do know that they seem to
be related to the oil. We believe that the creatures you saw resulted
from oil that has mutated, took an evolutionary turn if you will.
Remember, these meteors have been pelting the planet for billions of
years. It makes sense that not every one that arrived had contact with
human ancestors. We think that the creature you saw resulted from the
oil's interaction with another life form."

Mulder nodded, he seemed satisfied with that explanation, at least for
now.

Ed continued. "But I think that this can help explain why there are gaps
in the fossil record. There are gaps in the record because there were no
intermediate steps. These changes took place within a generation, maybe
two."

"Are you saying that at each crucial juncture of human evolution can be
attributed to this oil? It served as a catalyst, perhaps speeding the
process up?" Mulder's voice was taking on an exuberance that seemed to
brighten the room. "Or was it changing man into something specific?"

Mulder felt a hand on his knee. A small hand. It was then that he
noticed the projector vibrating slightly and he made the connection
between it and his knee. His knee was bouncing with excitement, and with
each bounce, the table moved slightly. He willed his leg still, and much
to his regret, Scully removed her hand.

"We think that it was changing man into something very specific." Ed
said quietly.

"And what do you think that would be?" Mulder asked carefully.

Dagen glanced at Ed. Ed nodded, and Dagen continued. "I am not sure if
you were aware, but we had access to an alien embryo. One of the tests
that we conducted involved comparing it to the genetic make up of the
oil. We didn't really know what to expect. We didn't know if the oil and
it were related somehow. For awhile we believed that maybe the aliens
were from another planet that had also been seeded. But we were
mistaken. The embryo did have many characteristics and genes that
indicated that it  was closely related to the oil. But we also found
that it was closely related to something else. "

"What did you find?" Mulder asked carefully.

It was Scully who answered. "What they are saying Mulder, is that your
aliens, your little green men, are us."

*       *       *       *       *       *

Tunisia
120,000 years ago

*       *       *       *       *       *
Humanity has in the course of time had to endure from the hands of
science two great outrages upon its naive self-love. The first was when
it realized that our earth was not the center of the universe, but only
a speck in a world-system of a magnitude hardly conceivable... The
second was when biological research robbed man of his particular
privilege of having been specially created, and relegated him to a
descent from the animal world. --Sigmund Freud
*       *       *       *       *       *

The project had begun years ago. No one was sure how it had started, but
all knew how it was going to end. The call to leave was ever present in
their minds.

With the increased intelligence and physical health endowed by the oil,
this group thrived. The heightened intelligence provided them with the
technology and the means to complete the project, while the enhanced
health gave them an increased life span to see that the project was
completed.

And completed it had to be.

No one knew why.

But no one questioned it.

The call to leave was ever present in their minds.

*       *       *       *       *       *
There was another group, one nearly identical to the first except for
one crucial exception.

They heard no call.

In the times past, in the oil's previous interactions with humanity's
lineage, it was just a single encounter with a life form. The oil had
its influence, but was limited to an individual. But in this time and
place the oil had not been limited. The one infected had been female
instead of a male, and this meant that there was not a natural limit.
The oil was passed from mother to child in the womb, and the effects
began to compound from one generation to the next.

Any number of things could have happened that would have changed things.
The first infected could have been a male; or it could have been a
barren female. The first infected could have been a female who only had
male children, which would have halted the changes after only two
generations.

But none of this happened, and that made the critical difference.

It wasn't just the people who were changing.

The oil was mutating as well. Its prolonged contact with the human mind
and the advancing intelligence had an unexpected reaction. The oil began
to gain its own intelligence.

The instincts within it began to amplify and coalesce into so much more.
The deep-seated need to find life, to find organisms of high
intelligence was increased, and there was an overwhelming need to leave,
to look for others.

And so they built.

The others watched, confused.

*	*	*	*	*	*
These others had inherited the altered genetics from their infected
fathers, but were born from uninfected mothers and therefore they
remained uninfected, and they maintained their free will.

They watched with confusion as those infected worked from dusk to dawn,
with no breaks, no pauses for meals, nothing. They worked until they
could no longer move, and when they collapsed, no one even paused. There
was no joy, no happiness, nothing amongst these people. Only the
compulsion to leave, to find something better filled them.

All was sacrificed for the project.

*       *       *       *       *       *
When it was time, they left.

No one looked back at the group that they were leaving behind as they
boarded the craft.

The others could not stop them.

They watched in amazement as the craft rose from the ground. It hovered
for a few moments, then it disappeared into the blue sky. All watched as
their families disappeared from their lives forever.

*	*	*	*	*	*
This was a hardy group, the ones left behind.  The group survived and
thrived. It grew and expanded and began to take over new territories.
The original group grew into the thousands and their evolved genes were
passed on to the next generations.

And so man took another step, and he conquered the world.

*       *       *       *       *       *

March 7, 1999
Resistance Headquarters
Conference Room
8:32 am

To say that Mulder was excited would have been a vast understatement. To
say that he was like an eight year old with ADD minus the Ritalin and
plus a few cups of sugar laced with caffeine, would have been a more apt
distraction. Scully noticed out of the corner of her eye that once again
the projector was bobbing. She wondered when he would actually take
flight from all of his pent up energy.

Her comment had started the countdown. 10...9...8...

"What do you mean, 'us'?" Mulder asked, but it really wasn't a question.
She knew that he had already leapt to this conclusion. He was studying
her, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with her. <<"Nothing's
wrong Mulder. I'm just not feeling quite myself today.">> She didn't
need any of her newfound skills to realize this. She had worked with him
for so many years that reading him had become second nature to her.

But she could read him, him more than the others. The excitement was
obvious. One could be deaf, dumb, and mute and still be able to know
that... but underneath was concern and a fear and this only she could
feel. A fear of what had been done to her... or was it an actual fear
'of' her? Was he afraid of her? The thought came unbidden to her, and
with almost physical effort she pushed it away.

She didn't want to know the answer to that question.

Scully reluctantly turned to meet his face. He asked the question again,
"What do you mean, 'us'?", and reached his hand to touch hers. She
instinctively recoiled from him. She didn't want to know his fear.

Mulder's fingers were frozen, midair,  inches from where her hand had
been moments before. He held the pose a moment too long before turning
to the men across from them.

With hesitation, Ed answered the question that had first been directed
at Scully. "Scully's correct. The so-called 'aliens' used to be human at
some point in their history. As near as we can figure, from the genetic
drift and taking into account the increased effects the oil has, it is
my guess that they separated from us close to 120,000 years ago. This is
the time period when Homo sapiens sapiens, or modern man began to first
appear. This also fits the timetable of the archaeological site I
discovered in 1979, the year I was 'recruited' into the project."

"You found a site?" Mulder eyes widened even further, if that was
possible. "What did you discover?"

Cue projector. Click! A series of pictures depicting various aspects of
excavation of the site flashed in quick secession. "It was a city, a
highly sophisticated city. A city, which according to everything I knew
at the time, should not exist. It was far too highly advanced, too high
tech so to speak. The only time in history when man has come close to
creating something as complex as this has only been in the last few
years."

"The people of the city were a highly evolved group of several thousand
individuals. We have only recently begun to comprehend the technology
that we discovered from the site. Many of the synthetic polymers and
metal compounds we found we are still unable to recreate."

"How do you even know that this was a human settlement?" Mulder asked.

"We have found human remains that match modern man's. There is nothing
that suggests that there was an outside source. These people mined for
their minerals and metals. The polymers and metal compounds were created
there as well; there were remains of foundries." Click! Picture of said
foundries.

Ed paused. "One thing that disturbs me about the city, however, is
it's...sterility I guess would be the right word.  The buildings were of
a high quality, yet emotionally void."  Click! Close ups of blank walls,
barren pots, and empty hearths. "There was no indication of art or
entertainment, or religion, and we haven't as of yet uncovered anything
that could be considered a personal item. There was no evidence of
writing, or a language, and no indication of what their power structure
was like. It has really been somewhat a puzzle over the years. Only
recently have the pieces been coming together."

Ed chuckled under his breath. "Sorry to bore you with this, it's just
that this is my area of study and I am simply fascinated with it."

"No, this is great. This is just too great. This is the kind of stuff we
like to hear." Mulder said quickly. "Please, continue. How have things
been coming together?"

"As I've said, I discovered this site in 1979, so I've been working on
this for 20 years, and for the majority of that time, I was working for
the consortium. While working with them, I was not informed of exactly
what I was looking for. I thought that it simply was just another
previously undiscovered civilization. Important yes, but I never
believed that what I was studying would have such a far-reaching
significance."

"When I was recruited to the resistance several years ago, I was told
everything else, and in the ensuing years learned the rest. This is what
we've just told you. Recently, we had a break through at the site. We
found a second settlement, not more than 500 yards away that was from
the same era. The structures where built the same, same materials were
used, et cetera. But there was one rather remarkable difference." Ed
pulled out a large folded up paper and spread it flat on the tabletop.
"We found art. This is just one of the examples of the carvings that
decorated the walls." Mulder stood up next to her to gain a better
overall view, and Scully followed suit.

"There are over a hundred scenes that depict their life and history, all
impressive, but this one is by far the most telling."

Scully looked at the picture. Even to her untrained eye, she could
clearly see what was meant to be depicted. Two groups, one leaving on a
craft of some sort.

"This is their history?" Mulder asked. "If it is, like you say, then
this is the proof that they are us, that we had the same ancestors."

"Yes, it is. We'd already pretty much came to this conclusion, but as
you can see, this just strengthens this theory."

"Think that we have moved beyond theory into fact." Mulder said, still
somewhat awed.

Ed nodded, agreeing with Mulder. "Yes, I think that it is safe to say
that."

Moments passed as they all stared at the paper spread across the table.
Scully finally spoke. "You know, not to interrupt, or make light of what
you have discovered here, but I would really like to get back to what
was done to me... how... why..."

"Of course. I'm sorry about this." Ed looked apologetic, Mulder guilty.
"Dagen will explain that." Ed took the etching off the table and
carefully put it away as everyone else sat back down.

Dagen began. "While still working with the group I discovered a way to
activate dormant genes. The same genes that the oil activates when it
invades the body." He shrugged his shoulders almost apologetically. "I
really just stumbled upon it actually. We were still years away from
developing it. Cassandra was the first person that we tested it on and
it was a success. Too much of a success."

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "We had spent so many years trying to
come up with and alien/human hybrid. Yet once we discovered the true
nature of the *aliens* it became a relatively easy procedure. That was
why the rebels sacrificed the scientists and the majority of the
consortium. The knowledge had to be kept away from the aliens. This
base, where we are now, is headquarters for the resistance. We're the
ones fighting against the incoming invasion. The aliens never found out
about Cassandra, but they know of the existence of Scully, and will do
anything in their power to get her."

"Why?" Mulder's excitement of before was muted by a growing
apprehension.

"Once they have her, they will also have the means to create others like
her, and the invasion will begin. She was given the treatment I
discovered. The majority of the genes that would normally have been
turned off in her are now on. She is where man will be in 500,000 years
if allowed to evolve at the current rate. She is at the intermediate
stage between human and alien."

*	*	*	*	*	*
North Texas
37,000 years ago

The wolves' hot breath froze the second it passed their panting mouths.
The white mist hung in the air, but was lost against the backdrop the
frozen landscape provided. The pack of wolves chased after and
surrounded the prey with ease. With the confidence the pack provided, as
well as the brutal instinct honed by several millennia of evolution, the
deer was brought down with little trouble.

The wolves surrounded the carcass of the fallen deer, and with gusto,
tore in. The warm, bright red blood soaked into the white snow, staining
it. The motion of the wolves tearing into the animal, as well as the
melting snow caused the body to shift, revealing the ground underneath.

The creature beneath awoke.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The deer was nearly consumed when one of the wolves from the pack
noticed something. Perhaps there'd been the slightest amount of
movement, or perhaps there was just the sense that there was something
odd. But what ever it was, her curiosity took over. Something had caught
her attention. This particular wolf wasn't as mature and experienced at
life as the others of the pack. The scar on her right hind leg that
could be seen through her thick, light brown fur was evidence of that
fact.  A scar that she'd received from another, more dominant member of
the pack, when she had ventured into territory that she didn't belong.

She was venturing into dangerous territory again.

The tip of the her nose brushed the black oil, but that was all that it
took for the oil to take hold. She tumbled back with a high pitched
yelp, her head whipping back and forth vigorously making her fall to the
snow covered ground twitching in an attempt to gain back some kind of
control. Those violent motions stopped as the wolf's eyes clouded over.

The other wolves, sensing danger, and a possible threat, turned to face
the victim. This victim was now rising with a newfound confidence and
focus. She began to bare her teeth and growl in low tones at the others,
as if she no longer recognized them. She snapped and barked as the pack
cautiously approached her.

Noticing the change within the female, the rest of the wolves approached
to purge the pack of this new and now unknown enemy. Their heads down,
ears drawn back, eyes piercing and squinting, they bared their teeth and
growled even deeper. Not able to fight against the others, the infected
wolf backed away, finding an escape route off into the woods. The pack
did not pursue, but instead left the area in haste in search of more
food.

*       *       *       *       *       *
Something unusual happened with this infection. As in the past, when a
female becomes infected, the oil, as well as the genetic changes, are
passed on to the offspring. But in this case the female was pregnant
when infection took place.

As the oil actively invaded the mother's body, and changes began to
occur, the fetuses were also invaded. Instead of a passive infection
through the womb, the fetuses were attacked directly and changes began
to take place.

The oil's increased ability to change its host, combined with the
rapidly dividing cells of the gestating embryos had a profound and
synergetic effect.

The wolf, isolated from her kind, sought shelter in an abandoned cave.
Now unable to effectively hunt on her own, and with the increase in
energy requirements needed for the rapidly growing and mutating life
forms within her, the wolf was soon too weak to leave. Isolated, cut
off, and too weak to care, she died, alone.

That was for the best, for moments later, a newly synthesized organism
literally burst forth from the womb. This creature, having consumed its
siblings in the womb, now turned to its mother and ate her with a
fervor. Still ravenous, and still continuing to grow at an alarming
rate, this new creation knew it would have to venture out to seek more
subsistence.

Leaving the cave, the creature paused in the half darkness outside. The
moon was shinning, sending its blue rays bouncing off the snow and
falling lightly upon the sleeping earth. With the exception of a slight
breeze that filtered through the naked trees, it was oddly quiet.
Lifting its head into the wind, the creature sought out its next meal.
Finding a direction, it took off.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The camp's serene stillness was shattered by a scream of pure terror.
The rest of the camp was roused to the site where the horrible cries
emanated. The men grabbed their weapons and gathered around the entrance
of the sleeping chamber.

The cries abruptly ended.

If it had been the cries that had first moved the men to action, it was
the cessation of those same cries that moved the men to attack.  The
first men to enter the chamber were quickly disposed of, and the rest of
the men hesitated. The creature left the confines of the enclosure, and
snarled. Red gleamed from its mouth, and its fully extended claws
dripped with blood. The men could only look in horror.

One man, able to shake off the terror that had immobilized the others,
led the battle cry and moved to attack. The other men, seeing the man's
courage, were able to break from the spell as well. The men converged on
the beast.

The creature, calculating the risks, decided at that moment to depart.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The two men ran at a frenetic pace through the snow. They had been
running all night, following the obvious tracks in the snow the creature
had left behind. The only sound that could be heard was their heavy
breathing, the crunch of the snow beneath their feet, and the empty
howling of the wind.

Several hours after daybreak they had managed to follow the tracks into
a cave of ice. The two entered cautiously. One of the men pulled out two
rocks and with a crack he hit the pair together, creating a spark that
lit the torches.

They cautiously made their way though the cavernous structure, slowly
swinging the torches back and forth looking for any sign of the
creature. One of the men momentarily paused to look at something that
appeared to be frozen in the ice, but before he could make anything out,
the creature broadsided him.

The beast attacked with an intensity that the man was not prepared for.
He was only able to do one quick thrust into the creature's underbelly
before being brought down.

The other man, reacting on instinct, attacked the creature from behind
in an effort to save his partner. Bringing down his own weapon to the
creature, he struck with as much force as he could muster. He was
roughly thrown off the creature's back and on to the frozen ground.

Still stunned from the blow, the man quickly turned onto his back to
face his attacker. To his surprise, the creature had retreated and it
was not clear as to where it had gone. Pausing momentarily, he bent over
the fallen man. He was obviously dead.

Tossing his emotions aside, the man continued into the cave. Climbing
over a slight rise, the man discovered the creature, lying motionless
and clearly wounded. The man brought the torch close to the head and
waved it back and forth to see if it would react. The creature was
unresponsive.

Gathering his courage, the man brought up his weapon to strike once
more. The beast responded to this. Summoning its strength, the creature
catapulted toward the human. It was only able to strike a few blows
before the man got the upper hand. The man, forcing the creature to the
ground, struck a blow to the chest that effectively killed it.

He sat up, breathing heavily, relieved.

Then the man noticed the oil moving from the wound of the creature to
him.

And the man began to cry out in horror.

*       *       *       *       *       *
The oil would remain undiscovered, hidden from the world's prying eyes,
until one afternoon many, many years later, when a young boy named
Stevie decided to go digging with his father's shovel.

*       *       *       *       *       *

Resistance Headquarters
Conference Room
9:00am

*       *       *       *       *       *
Two are better than one, because they have a good reward to their toil.
For if one falls, one will lift up the other; but woe is to one who falls
alone, for he has no one to get him up. Again, if two lie together, they
can keep each other warm, but how can one keep warm alone? Even if one
prevails against the other, two shall always withstand one.
--Ecclesiastes, 4:9-12
*       *       *       *       *       *


Ed and Dagen had excused themselves only a few moments before; Scully
and Mulder were finally alone. Mulder wasn't sure if the men suspected
that he and Scully needed time alone to discuss the situation, or if
they really needed to check on 'things,' but whatever the reason, he was
grateful for their absence.

"So." The word echoed in the room.

"So." She parroted the word back at him. The room was silent for several
moments. Mulder's gaze had not left Scully, while Scully's eyes had not
wavered from the floor below her feet.

He acted first. "Scully I need to know what is wrong. I know that this
is hard to accept--"

"You don't know the half of it." Almost a whisper as she tried to avert
his dark seeking eyes.

"Then maybe you should fill me in."

Silence.

"Scully," he began again, "look, I know that this is hard, it's hard
even for me to completely agree with. But the evidence they've shown
us..." He trailed off.

"The evidence they've shown us...what?" She finally at him, and stood
there waiting expectantly.

"I really didn't have an ending in mind. You usually interrupt me before
I get that far." He smiled at her, hoping to coax a similar reaction
from her.

No such luck. She simply blinked several times, then gave him a long,
hard look. The colors in his eyes changed, darkening with frustration
and concern. He sighed, frustrated. "See, this is what I mean..." he
half muttered under his breath.

"What ever do you mean? I'm the same Scully that I've always been." Her
voice was as flat as level ground, emotionless, and it hurt his ears.

"How can you say that?" His voice boarded on incredulity.

"How can I say that when it's obvious that I'm so different now, that is
what you mean, right?"

"No!" Too sharp. He did his best to smooth out his voice before speaking
again. "That's not it at all. It's just...it's just, you're not acting
like yourself. So much has happened, so much revealed, but you're hardly
reacting. Where are your arguments? Your need to see the proof and know
for sure it's the real thing?" He paused. "It's like... it's like you
don't even care. And that just isn't you."

"I do care. How can you possibly think that I don't? They did this to
*me*. *Me* Mulder." With each word, her voice increased in volume and
intensity. "They changed me into something else. They stripped me of my
choices and now I'm nothing more than... a lab rat! A creature designed
in a laboratory. I'm--"

"Scully." He finished for her in an attempt to draw her back. "You're
still Scully."

Seconds ticked off as Mulder waited for her answer. The tension between
them thickened like a fog, obscuring his sight and increasing his
discernment. She finally spoke again. "If I'm still Scully, why are you
afraid of me?"

"Afraid? What are you talking about?" He was confused now. Afraid of
her?

"I can tell. You fear me, what I've become."

Mulder was totally speechless. How could she possibly think that? "That
is ridiculous... How could you even think that?"

"Mulder, I can read you. I can feel the fear in you."

"What...", he began. He knew, but he finished his question, "what are
you saying?"

"Just another one of those nice side effects of my *metamorphosis.*

"I still don't--"

"Understand?" she finished for him and looked directly at him. The hurt
and disappointment was evident in her eyes, and it nearly undid him.

How could she even think that? He could never be afraid of her. For
her...maybe, but not afraid of her.

"Mulder, I've been changed."

"Yes, I know that." He didn't see her point. Maybe that was what the
whole problem was.

"Mulder, I can read your mind." There, it was finally out.

The comment hung in the air, the word refusing to dissipate. Mulder
stared straight ahead, as if reading the words over and over.

He blinked. "Now?" He believed her.

"Not quite thoughts," she amended, "but I can tell what you're feeling."

"And I'm afraid of you?" He asked to clarify. He didn't think that he
felt afraid; stunned, amazed, yes, afraid no.

"Yes."

"So you can read my thoughts?"

She seemed to struggle with an internal conflict before finally
speaking. "No, not like this."

"Like what?"

"I have to have contact with you, that seems to be the only way."

Mulder thought for a moment. He raised his arm. "Touch me."

The mere thought caused her to recoil. "I don't want to. I don't want to
know."

He continued to hold his arm up, and said it again, "Touch me." She
raised her eyes to meet his, and they held it for nearly a minute
without moving. Mulder felt like a silent battle of wills was being
waged, and he hated it, but he also knew that she had to know the truth.

He was just about to give up, to give in, when she reached to grab his
hand.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Outside, Main Yard

Ed found Allen outside playing with Pyka. He stood for a moment watching
the absurd ordinariness of it.  A man playing fetch with his dog. Except
this was no ordinary man, and this was no ordinary situation.

"Allen?" Ed asked as a way of announcing his presence.

Allen glanced toward him. "I guess this means you've finished?"

"You didn't know already?"

"I did." He said with a shrug. "I was just trying to make conversation."

Pyka, noticing that someone else was there to play, ran up to Ed and
deposited a well-chewed baseball at his feet. She sat and waited
expectantly. Ed took the hint and bent to retrieve the ball. Chuckling
at her eagerness, he said, "You want me to throw the ball girl? Do you?
Ok, here goes."

He lobbed the ball, and both men watched silently as the ball flew in a
high graceful arc across the enclosed yard. The silence was interrupted
when the ball slammed into the fence. Its contact with the electrified
barrier sent up a flurry of sparks. Pyka had the sense to wait for the
ball to still, a few feet away from the fence, before grabbing it
between her teeth to bring it back.

The shower of electrical sparks seemed to trigger something in Ed. The
intenseness of their situation suddenly hit him, as if he was the one
slammed into the fence. He felt isolated out here in the wilderness, and
it had nothing to do with being alone. He had been alone before, out on
digs, out in land God had forsaken, but never like this. They were
fighting for the world, winner take all...

Allen spoke, interrupting Ed's thoughts, probably just as he intended
to. "Nice throw. For a second there I thought it was going to clear the
fence."

"Yeah, like a homerun." Ed smiled.

The joke fell flat, and Allen gave Ed a look that he didn't understand.
It suggested regret and hinted at tenderness. Allen turned away.

Pyka came running up and dropped the ball at Allen's feet, perhaps
decided that he was the safer of the two. His throws didn't result in
loud explosive sparks.

Allen leaned down and picked up the ball. But instead of throwing it, he
held it in his hand, studying it as if it held all the answers. "You
ever play baseball?" He asked suddenly.

Ed softly chuckled. "Not since I was a kid, and that was mostly just
sandlot games with my brothers and the neighborhood kids."

Allen never took his eyes off the ball. "My brother loved the game. He
said that it was the only thing that really made him smile. I couldn't
understand its appeal until recently, but by then it was too late." Pyka
whined then, frustrated that Allen had not relinquished the ball to
continue their game. Allen threw it, but instead of lobbing it high like
Ed had, he kept the ball close to the ground. Like a skipping stone on a
glass smooth lake, the ball hopped across the yard.

A grounder, as far from a homerun as you could get.

Ed's eyes widened slightly, Allen never mentioned a brother before. "Why
too late?"

"He died."

Allen refused to expand, and Ed let the subject drop. "Are you ready to
talk with them?"

Allen nodded. "Yes, but they aren't ready for me. They need more time to
digest the information."

"How long?" Ed wasn't asking out of impatience, only curiosity.

Allen shrugged his shoulders. "As long as it takes. It's not as if we
can proceed if she isn't ready. She needs to feel." He added
cryptically.

"What do you mean, 'she needs to feel?'

Again, the same shrugged shoulders. "Just that. She needs to feel. Right
now there's nothing, not really. Just... cold. I can't explain it any
other way." Pyka deposited the ball at Allen's feet, and he bent to pick
it up.

"Are you saying you can read her? I thought... I mean," Ed stammered,
"if you can, then this whole thing won't work... everything hinges on
that..."

"It'll work." He smiled reassuringly to Ed, but his tone remained
serious. "She's just so busy blocking herself that she can't block me."

"Can we do anything about that?"

"No, not us." He paused, and threw the ball again. This time it was a
line drive. "I'm beginning to think that having Mulder here will be of
great benefit."

"Are you saying that *he* can do something?"

"I think that they'll end up helping each other."

Gusts of wind came up, sending a small cloud of dust whirling into the
air. Pyka seemed undisturbed and plowed through to deposit the ball once
more. Ed looked up to the sky, now growing dark with clouds full of
rain. The smell of rain promised a storm to come.

Ed wanted to question him further, but Allen had already turned away,
indicating the conversation was over. He called over his shoulder, "Ed,
how about I come get *you* when they are ready?"

"I don't think that they will ever be fully ready. They aren't going to
like what you have to say, Mulder especially."

Allen sighed, "No, I don't imagine he will."

*	*	*	*	*	*
Conference Room
9:08am

Nothing happened.

Scully had steeled herself against the expected inundation of images and
thoughts and words, each leading to the conclusion that he was terrified
of her, but there was nothing.

She'd closed her eyes as her hand clasped Mulder's, but she opened them
now. Mulder looked to her warily. "Can you read me?"

"No."

"No? But I thought that--"

"Maybe I can control it. Maybe now I'm not forced to read thoughts each
time I touch someone."

"You don't know?" He asked, surprised.

"And how would I know anything about what is happening to me? It's not
as if I have a how-to guide to read to figure out what's going on with
me."

"But you've done this with the others, right? That's why you say we can
trust them. This is why you aren't questioning them any more. You *know*
that they're telling the truth."

"Congratulations Mulder. I'll give you a gold star for figuring me out."

"Scully, I'm not afraid of you, and trying to drive me away won't keep
me from telling you that."

She hated that voice. Mulder the psychologist talking. "Mulder, how can
you say that? Stand there right in front of me and say that when I can
clearly feel it practically radiate off of you?"

"What I don't understand is how you can so clearly feel this so called
fear of mine, and yet can't, or more likely won't see what I'm
thinking."

"It's a mystery I guess."

Mulder looked away, frustration written in the furrows of his forehead.
"Damn it Scully! Don't use this against me! I'm offering my mind to you,
does that sound like someone who is afraid of you? It sounds like you
are the one who is afraid." The challenge was in his voice, would she
have the courage to meet it?

They just looked at each other. The stare stretched into seconds, then
moments, long, still, quiet moments on the outside, but clamorous where
emotions were housed.

"Fine." That single word rattled against his spine. "Give me your hand."
She demanded.

He gave it to her, and their hands grasped tightly to the other, almost
painfully.

-Flash-

<<"...is this working... i feel like saying testing one two
three...anybody out there... how can she think that i'm afraid of
her...still scully... always be scully to me... what's the plan ...what
are they going to do with scully... with me... will we get the
answers... how could they have done this... we still don't know why...
what was the plan... what is it now... yes, maybe i am afraid... afraid
of what will happen...  so happy to see her... this shouldn't have
happened... should have been me... wasn't her quest, until i forced it
on her...should've gotten her out of my life years ago, before it became
hers... but i was selfish i wanted her in my life i needed her, even if
she didn't need me... i remember before, before her... but only as one
would remember a bleak and distant nightmare... i never wanted to go
back to that... i should have, shouldn't have sacrificed her for my own
happiness... yes, afraid... afraid of what was done to her... afraid of
what will happen--">>

<<"...but not of me?">>A soft voice broke through Mulder's thinking. So
soft and almost childlike in it's need for reassurance.

<<"...never you scully... never you... is this how it is... is this how
it is when you do this...">>

<<"...no, not like this... the others couldn't hear me... only you...
the last time with you was different too...">>

<<"...last time... i don't remember last time...">>

<<"...last time... in my apartment... you were asleep... do you remember
the dream...">>

<<"...the beach...">>

-Flash-

With that single word, they found themselves on that beach, standing
bare feet in the sand, side by side, facing the waves that came crashing
in. It was so realistic. Scully could feel the wind ruffle her hair, and
taste the salt on her lips from the light spray that hissed up with each
incoming wave. The tide was coming in and the water began to pool at
their feet.

Mulder turned to face her. <<"It's not like this with the others?">>

<<"No, nothing like this. This...">> she looked around to take in the
surroundings, <<"this is only with you.">>

<<"Maybe I just have a really active imagination.">> He smiled.

Scully smiled back at him. <<"That must be it. I don't know why this is
different with you. Maybe because I know you and I don't know the
others.">>

<<"But it is working now, right? You can read my thought?">>

<<"Yes.">>

<<"Am I afraid of you?">>

Pause. <<"No.">>

<<"Then what was all of that about?">>

<<"I don't know. I can still feel it here.">> She could. It seemed that
with every incoming wave came just a bit more of the fear. Like the sand
that being deposited with the waves, the sand that was beginning to hide
her feet.

<<"Why did you think it was me?">>

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from him. <<"Who else could
it be?">> she said quietly.

<<"There is another possibility.">>

She turned back to look closely at him, studying him and his thoughts.
<<"Me. You think that it's my fear that I'm feeling?">> She laughed
nervously, dismissing the idea almost immediately. <<"You think that I'm
so detached from my emotions that I don't know what I'm feeling? You
think that I would project my feelings to you like that?">>

<<"You've been through a very stressful situation here, it is
possible--">>

She interrupted him harshly. She simply did not want to hear it.
<<"Don't start playing psychologist with me here. I am fully capable of
figuring out my own emotions and--">> Her voice cracked, and she lost
her train of thought.

Mulder watched as she bent at the waist and grabbed a handful of sand.
Without saying anything, she began to pour the sand from one hand to the
next. With each pass, more sand escaped from between her fingers; until
finally, she was left with empty hands. Sand wasn't the only thing that
was slipping through her fingers, she felt as if her hold on sanity was
just as precarious as the ever-shifting sand. She stood there, feeling
as if she'd been cut adrift- alone, floating. Unattached to anyone or
any thing around her.

It seemed to Mulder that she stood at the edge of a precipice,
teetering, gazing down to the rocks below. All he could do is stand
behind her and watch, helpless. He's afraid of what will happen to her
if she falls.

-Flash-

The beach was gone.

*	*	*	*	*	*
Mulder opened his eyes and found himself back in the conference room.
Scully had disconnected from him, and had moved across the room. She was
shivering. Her arms were wrapped around herself, and there, in the
middle of the warm room, she was shivering.

He immediately knew what was happening. All of this time she had managed
to keep everything bottled up. She had detached herself from the fear
and uncertainly, from the terror that accompanied her from the moment
Diana awakened her.

Mulder went to her and put his arms around her. She tried to pull away,
but the effort lacked force. "Accept this," he urged softly. "Accept
what I can give you. Please. For my sake as much as your own." He felt
her nod against his chest, and then the sobs began.

His voice was quiet and gentle. "It's ok, it's ok. Let it out Scully.
Let it all come out."  She nodded, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth
from chattering. She didn't pull away from him now, instead she trembled
even more violently, and one of her hands clamped onto his upper arm
with such fierceness that Mulder had to stifle the impulse to push her
hand away.

He stroked her face, and continued to make soft, comforting noises.
Letting her know it was ok to be afraid, to be terrified of all that
happened, and all that may happen. As he spoke, she drew herself closer
to him, pressing against him and readjusting his arms so that he
completely enveloped her. The trembling still convulsed her body. The
tears rolled down her face, but she did not cry out loud. Her complete
silence was almost eerie.

Mulder didn't say anything further. He merely rocked her, back and
forth, gently, letting his mere presence be something from which she
could draw reassurance. And slowly, ever so slowly, the shaking
diminished and eventually stopped. The tears ceased, and she brought her
hand up and wiped away the remainder of the moisture.

She pulled away from him, and he reluctantly let her. "I'm sorry," she
said uncertainly, trailing off.

"You have nothing to be sorry about."

"I shouldn't have thought that about you. I know you better than that."
She laughed, and it came out high pitched and pinched off. "You know,
I've been called a cold fish before, but this is ridiculous. To be so
removed from my emotions..."

"Scully, this is not an ordinary situation..."

She laughed. "No, no it isn't." She continued to wipe the tears from her
eyes. "I'm sorry about this too." She held up her wet hand.

"No, don't be. Scully, we're all that we have now. We have to rely on
one other."

"Hasn't  it always been that way?" Scully asked.

"Yes, I guess it has. And we've depended on each other all those other
times, and we need to do it now."

"Is this where I say, 'We've been through harder times than this, and we
can get through this'?" She was not being entirely facetious; there was
a touch of hope in her voice.

"Now would be the time, if I thought that we'd been through harder times
than this. But for some reason, I think that this will be the hardest
thing that we will ever have to go through."

*	*	*	*	*	*
Southwest Colorado
800 years ago

*       *       *       *       *       *
All men and women are born, to live, suffer and die; what distinguishes
us one from another is our dreams, whether they be dreams about worldly
or unworldly things, and what we do to make them come about... We do
not choose to be born. We do not choose our parents. We do not choose
our historical epoch, the country of our birth, or the immediate
circumstances of our upbringing. We do not, most of us, choose to die;
nor do we choose the time and conditions of our death. But within this
realm of choicelessness, we do choose how we live. -Joseph Epstein
*       *       *       *       *       *

The blazing sun mercilessly beat down on to the hard baked clay of the
earth. The land seemed to absorb the white light from above, and
radiated the light back to the boy's eyes. The colors all seemed wrong.
The young boy rubbed his eyes, hoping that action would pull the colors
back to their original hue.

He opened his eyes. It was the same. The colors were much too bright.
The red-orange of the earth glowed as if lit by a fire within; the
cloudless sky too brilliant a blue. The green mass of pine and fir trees
that covered the tableland rippled in the wind. He stared in amazement
as the rest of the land followed the trees' example, and began to ripple
as well. He closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the wave of
dizziness that washed over him.

He had to get his eyes off the endless horizon and focus on something
near. He picked up the hallowed out eagle bone at his side and set to
carving what would ultimately become a flute. His grandfather had been
teaching him how to play, and it was time for him to create his own
instrument. He worked carefully, making sure that each stroke, and each
shaving was as it was supposed to be.

The boy worked in silence for several moments, occasionally looking over
the outcropping that he was stationed at, when he heard movement behind
him. He rapidly stood and whirled on his feet, which didn't do much to
calm the queasiness within him. He held his small carving knife in his
hand and tensed, ready to act.

He was met by his little brother's laughing face. "You call that a
weapon? You couldn't kill a lizard with that." He motioned disparagingly
at the small stone knife. He continued to laugh as he set his package on
the ground.

The older boy ignored the taunting and sat back on the ground, taking
his previous position. "What do you want?" He spoke gruffly, trying to
cover his embarrassment.

The other boy sat down next to him. "Mother sent me to get you. She said
that you'll get sun sickness if you stay out here much longer."

"I can't leave. I have a very important job to do, one that I must take
very seriously."

His younger brother snorted. "Important? Ha! The only reason they told
you to do this was because you were getting in the way of the *men*." He
stressed the last word pointedly.

As predicted, his inflection got the expected response from his older
brother. "I *am* a man, and this is a man's job."

"Maybe in a few seasons. Anyway, if you were a real man... why is he,"
the younger boy pointed to the east of them, at another lookout, "why is
he looking in the same area you are?"

"I'm making sure that he is doing his job." The younger boy just looked
at him a moment longer before a smile cracked his face and a stream of
giggles poured out.

The elder looked distastefully at the giggling boy next to him. "You
laugh too much."

"And you don't laugh enough. I like to laugh, it makes me feel alive."
His brother didn't respond to his comment, so he continued. "So you
aren't coming back with me?"

"No, I have my job to do."

The younger boy smiled at this news, unsurprised. "That's what mother
figured you would say, that's why she had me take this." He twisted his
torso and reached for the package he had set on the ground behind them.
He pulled out a container filled with water and handed it over. The
older boy eagerly took it from his grasp and gratefully drank the
liquid.

As he drank, his younger brother set into motion. He pulled out  a woven
blanket. "If we are going to stay out here," he tossed one end of the
blanket out, unfolding it, "we need to get out of the sun."

He pulled the refreshing liquid away from his lips. "We? I don't need
you out here with me."

"Sure you do. Who else will get you more water when you need it? Come
on, help me with this."  He stood up and pulled on his older brother's
hand.

The older boy sighed, hiding his smile. With a great show of reluctance
he stood and helped his grinning brother.

*	*	*	*	*	*
The sweet smell of pine filled the air as night set in, brought by the
night breeze that ruffled the needles on nearby trees that covered the
hills that led to the canyon below. Looking out past the cliff and to
the broad rolling forest below, the older boy could see the trees shift
in the silver touch of moonlight.

He looked down at his younger sibling, sleeping peacefully next to him.
The young boy had kept his word and had restocked both their water and
food supply so that the older boy could remain at his post. He'd done
well, never complaining, even as his older brother sent him on even more
useless and mundane tasks as the day progressed. Now exhausted, the boy
slept upon one of the woven mats he had been sent to get on one of his
many missions.

The boy glanced in the direction of his home. He couldn't see it of
course, the way that it was tucked into the sandstone cliff  both
protected it from the elements, as well as hid it from casual
observation. But because he knew where to look, he was able to make out
the radiant light from the numerous fires that warmed the hearths.
Should he start a fire? No, he quickly brushed the thought away. It
wasn't cold enough for that; the earth retained much of the heat from
the midday sun. He looked up into the nearly full moon above him; it
wasn't as if he needed the light either. Yes, they could do without a
fire tonight.

He lifted his now completed flute and brought it up to his lips. He
played a few halting notes to test the pitch and tone of the instrument.
After making  a few moderate adjustments, he began to play. He played
the melody that his grandfather had taught him. Once it was over,
instead of stopping, he continued, improvising as he went. The melody
changed, it took on a lilting quality, and seemed to fill the night. The
song hung in the air, and seemed to softly float down to the floor of
the canyon. The chirps and screeches had paused as he began to play, but
after a moment, they started once again. It was not nature's way to
remain silent. The player altered his song and incorporated the sounds
and it all came together to form a chorus. Time slowed and spread. The
notes of music moved apart without losing tempo.

The boy closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. This is what his
grandfather was talking about. This moment when everything came
together. He felt light, as if weightless, and relished this sensation.
His pursed lips slightly turned up into a smile as he listened to the
magic he was creating. His grandfather said the boy had a great gift and
had done his best to foster it in his grandson.

His music was halted, however, by a cry that filled the night air. The
boy's eye flew open in surprise and he turned in the direction of the
village, the direction the sound had originated. The boy looked to his
sleeping brother and placed his hand on his sibling's arm. The young boy
made a wordless mumble and tried to shrug lower into his makeshift bed.
The older brother, now impatient, woke him with much less courtesy by
yanking him to his feet.

"What-what is going on?" His voice was thick with sleep. His brother
didn't answer; instead, he  began to lead the way back to the village.
They began hurriedly climbing down one of the ladders that provided
access to the cliff dwelling. Half way down, the boys paused to see what
was happening. They looked down the steeply sloping cave floor with its
rows of terraced stone and mud houses and open courts. Here and there on
the lower rooftops were shadowy figures that also had been roused from
sleep by the cry.

Following the direction of their gaze, they saw to their left and a
hundred feet below, a small campfire blazing in one of the open courts.
The flickering light played over half a dozen figures huddled around a
dark shape sprawled on the rock. Hushed voices and the occasional murmur
of concern drifted up to them on the heels of the cool night breeze.

"Come on." The older brother urged them forward. By the time they had
arrived, several minutes later, things had become more settled, but the
fear in the night air had dramatically increased.

The boys wandered around, and by hearing fragments of conversations,
began to piece together what had taken place.

A scout had returned from his mission. Only one of the six who had left
several weeks earlier. The scouts were the ones the boys had been
looking for, because they had been over due to return. The scout had
managed to slip in to the village under the cover of the night unnoticed
by the boys or the other look outs. He had made it to  the outside of
his lodging before collapsing. It had been his wife who had discovered
his emaciated and scarred body and cried out, alerting everyone else.

The scout hadn't been able to speak before surrendering to
unconsciousness. Several men, under the orders of the Healer, carried
the man down into one of the circular, ceremonial chambers that were dug
below the courtyard. The Healer disappeared through the rooftop entry to
begin the healing process.

The village waited quietly; no one would be getting anymore sleep that
night. Small groups of people sat clustered together throughout, some
speaking in soft tones, others not speaking at all.

The two boys sat next to each other close enough to the entrance that
they could hear what was taking place, but yet not close enough to be
shooed away. As the smoke from the fire rose through the entrance hole,
the rhythmic beats of the drum began  to lead the healing song.

*	*	*	*	*	*
The sky was  beginning to lighten when the drums halted. The sudden
secession of the beat stirred the people as silence filled the air.
Moments later men emerged from the hole in the earth and were met by
several anxious women.

He would survive, they said, but he hadn't awaken yet. It might be days,
it might be hours, no one could be sure when he would awaken, or even if
he had any information to provide.

And the waiting continued.

*	*	*	*	*	*
The scout woke several hours later, and a meeting of the village leaders
was held. They gathered in the largest of the ceremonial chambers.
Although it was  the largest, the men moved restlessly as they sat
together on the cramped built in benches. But there was no complaint;
what the scout had to say was far too important to miss.

The scout sat in the center, on the stone floor where the fire would
normally be burning, all eyes directed on him. He looked drawn and weak.
He hadn't yet recovered fully, and he shifted uncomfortably on the hard
ground.

The Chief Elder began to speak and all  the men in attendance quieted
down so that he could be heard. "We need to hear what he saw." He paused
as he turned to the scout. "Please, tell us what you witnessed."

The scout hesitantly looked around to all of the eyes silently boring
into him, waiting for his response. Nervously he began to speak. "It
took us two days and nights to travel to the place of bright lights.
When we arrived we decided to split into two groups; one of us would
approach from the west, the other from the east. My group approached
from the west."

"What did you see?" Someone interrupted, impatiently.

"I saw... I don't have words to describe it...It was this..." He
struggled. He moved his arms futilely, trying to show what he had seen.
After struggling for a few more moments, inspiration struck. He began to
speak excitedly. "I know, I'll show you." He cleared of an area off the
ground immediately before him and began to use his finger to draw in the
black ashes of past fires.

The men shifted impatiently, each trying to view the diagram. It was a
large circular object with various designs on it. "This is what we saw.
There was this," he pointed to the circle, "and all around it were
bright lights, bright as the sun, but they came from inside this. And it
was very, very large. At least as big as this village. And these beings,
these beings came from it."

Murmurs of disbelieve rippled over the men. The scout looked around.
"I'm telling the truth, this is what we saw."

The Elder spoke. "Continue."

"We saw the others, the ones that have been missing...but they were
different somehow. It's hard to explain...they were there, but you they
weren't. They seemed empty...as if..."

"What?" Someone called out, impatient.

"It was as if their sprits were taken, leaving only the bodies behind.
The group that I was with was further away than the other scouting
group. Two from the other group reached those who had been missing and
tried speaking with them, but the two scouts were ignored. And