Genesis
Ally

Chapter 13

E-Z 8 motel. Route 49, San Diego CA. 11:21p.m.

Scully had only awoken once from her deep sleep, a result of her body's need for food which had been pretty scarce over the past couple of days. She had tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but found herself unable. Instead, she had got up, showered and changed in to jeans and a sweatshirt, and ordered a pizza. While she waited for it's arrival, she put in a call to the hospital to inquire on Mulder's current condition, and was relieved to discover that, although he remained largely unchanged, his temperature had dropped slightly during the course of the afternoon, and was now hovering around the 104 mark.

She had attempted to gain information regarding the results of the Tox screen, but the hospital had refused to share the information down a phone line, so Scully had given up. She had then phoned Skinner on his cellular, and was further mollified to discover she had caught him on route to the hospital.

They had spoken briefly regarding his meeting with Christine Stevens, and then Skinner had repeated his earlier instructions that she rest, that he would handle things for her, and after assuring him that she would comply, Scully had hung up and waited for the pizza guy to arrive. She had spent the remainder of the evening curled up in a chair watching T.V.

It was something she did only rarely, neither having the time nor the inclination, but after eating, she had found it impossible to go back to sleep and had instead attempted to do some work. She had nixed that idea pretty quickly when she had found her mind drifting from the job in hand and settling all too often on her partner, so had instead opted to simply empty her mind by focusing it on mindless game shows and an unlikely mini-series.

The comforting blurb emitted by the TV had slowly had the desired effect, lulling her in to a state of relaxation that allowed her to drift back to sleep, to escape from her problems for a while. The relaxation though, didn't last for long, before the sharp trill of her cell phone caused her to sit bolt upright in the chair. For a second she let it ring, strangely wary of answering it and facing more bad news, but also because she couldn't help remembering Skinner's earlier words.

Alone in the motel room she felt suddenly vulnerable, and she mentally scanned the list of people who would have access to her number, and also who would call her at eleven o'clock at night. The list came up pretty short, and it was with some trepidation that Scully palmed the phone and depressed the call button.

"Scully." Despite herself, she was gratified to hear her voice come across as strong and even, not a hint of nerves were displayed, and she visibly relaxed as she recognised the voice on the other end.

"Scully, it's John Wickham. Sorry to call you so late, but something's just happened that I thought you should know."

Scully tensed. "What have you got, John?"

The voice on the other end disappeared suddenly as a burst of static swallowed the connection, but Scully caught the tail end of Wickham's words. She swallowed dryly, her heart beginning to pound, and she forced herself to remain calm.

"Say again, you broke up back then."

This time the words came to her strong and clear, verifying what she had heard.

"I said we've found the girl. I'm sending one of my guys to pick you up and we'll meet you there, OK?"

For a second, Scully found herself unable to respond, and then Wickham's voice, urgent now.

"Scully? Did you hear what I said?"

Scully pulled herself together. "Um, yes. Does A.D. Skinner know?"

"I called him. He's on his way here now." A muffled voice in the background, then, "Look, Scully, I've got to go. My guy'll be with you in about ten minutes. Be ready."

The soft purring of the dial tone replaced Wickham's voice and Scully placed the phone back on the table, trying to get her thoughts in some kind of order. For some reason she felt the first stirrings of a general undeniable unease, but she pushed the thoughts in to the background as she began to get ready to go.

Whatever personal feelings she had towards this case, she knew she had a job to do, a role to play as she had done so many times in the past. She was sure that whatever misgivings she may have were in part at least a direct result of that personal involvement. It was something she would have to deal with later.

The knock on the door came just as Scully was reaching for her coat, and although it was expected, the sound made her start slightly. She shook her head, annoyed at herself for being so jumpy, but almost unconsciously, her hand rested lightly on the holster which held her gun at her hip as she went to the door.

Unlike Mulder's room, hers was not equipped with a spy hole, so she stood slightly to the side of the door to verify the identity of the caller. "Who is it?"

The voice that answered was slightly muffled, masked by the wood which separated them.

"Special Agent Walsh. California Bureau. I was sent to get you by SAIC Wickham."

Knowing that she had only one way to verify his identity, Scully eased the door open cautiously, and relaxed when the first thing she saw were his FBI credentials. She scrutinised them carefully, to the obvious bemusement of the younger Agent, who shifted uncomfortably before her.

"Um, is there a problem, Agent Scully?"

Scully raised her head, and smiled for the first time since his arrival. Too many years spent with Mulder she thought ruefully, noting that suspicion was one thing. Outright paranoia, now that was something else altogether, something that was usually to be found in her partner, but rarely in her.

She stepped out of the door and shut it behind her. "No," she assured him, "there's no problem."

It was clear by Agent Walsh's statement that he remained unconvinced, but he wisely let the matter drop and instead gestured towards a dark blue Ford Sedan that was parked a few yards away.

It was, Scully noted, a standard issue Bureau vehicle, it's very design rendering it indistinguishable from the thousands of other such cars on the American highways and making it indispensable as a surveillance or pursuit tool.

In short, the car was just too damn normal to belong to the FBI and it was just such a misconception which had led to the arrests of many unscrupulous, dangerous perpetrators, which of course was the point exactly. If there was one thing that Scully had learned during her eight years as a Special Agent it was that the Bureau had a reason for everything, from the weapons they carried to the cars they drove. Although over the years, FBI Agents had become something of a joke amongst other law enforcement agencies with regards to the strict dress code forced upon them, and many had surmised that the easiest way to spot a Fed was to look for the suit.

Scully glanced down at her jeans and sneakers and smiled ruefully. Being over dressed for the occasion wasn't something she could be accused of tonight. The casual cotton jacket she slung over her shoulders only served to reinforce that image, and were it not for the powerful automatic weapon resting comfortably against her side, she was totally indistinguishable as an FBI Agent. Mulder, never one for keeping a tie on for long, would have been proud, she decided as she lowered herself in to the passenger seat of the car.

She glanced across at Agent Walsh who wore the uniform with all the arrogance of a newly recruited Agent, and tried to remember a time when she herself had looked like he did. She failed miserably. It was a long time ago. Too much had happened to get in the way.

"So where are we going?" she asked when the younger Agent made no move to start the engine.

"Agent Walsh?"

He did not respond, simply sat staring out of the window in to the darkness beyond. As Scully fixed her eyes on his reflection, something in the set of his face caused her heart to painfully skip a beat and with a lurching feeling of dread, she realised that all her instincts had been correct.

Blindly her hand reached out to grab the door handle, knowing even in her panic that her only chance was to exit the vehicle, to get away from it's confines, but there was nothing there, only the feel of soft vinyl where the car had been customised to prevent such an escape. With her free hand she pushed her jacket aside and went for her gun, but even as her fingers brushed the grip, the cold steel she felt at the base of her neck caused her to freeze. She didn't need to be told what it was, or that to go any further would be akin to signing her own death warrant.

Slowly, she let her hand fall back in to her lap, her eyes travelling back to the window which now clearly showed the reflection of the second man in the back seat, the one who held a gun to her head, and who was smiling mirthlessly back at her. Scully had never seen him before, of that she was certain, but she had seen his statement a thousand times reflected in other adversaries she and Mulder had encountered along the years. He had the face of a killer.

"Who are you?" she managed finally, after they had stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

The man tutted softly.

"Names are not important, Dana. They get in the way don't you think?"

Beside her Walsh was fiddling with something, but he remained just out of her field of vision. She found herself unable to shift her gaze away from the man behind her, his eyes had mesmerised her like she was a rabbit caught in the glare of headlights, needing, wanting to escape, but unable to command frozen limbs to move.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"Oh, I know everything about you, Dana. You and your partner. About where you've been . . . where you're going. I've studied you, learned what's important to you, and now I own you. You belong to me."

Scully felt a shiver work it's way up her spine as she listened to his voice, absorbed the meaning of his words, and despite her fear, she was still thinking coherently enough to realise that she had reached the end. That this man had been sent to kill her, and that no matter how many resources were made available, that she would never be found, she would simply disappear. An image of her partner flashed before her eyes, and with it the knowledge that by killing her, they would also kill him, and she was powerless to prevent it.

The man fell silent, and Scully heard nothing aside from the beating of her heart which seemed to fill her very being, and every fibre was focused on the feel of the gun against her skin, waiting for the inevitable shot to ring out. Would she hear it before she died? Or would everything simply cease? She had often wondered about whether a violent and sudden death would impinge on the conscious mind before it succumbed, although she had hoped never to find out first hand.

"Time to go, Dana." The whispered words pierced Scully's soul as the survival instinct inside of her screamed out that she fight, run, do anything she could to escape her fate. But instead she did nothing, knowing that it would be pointless, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the face in front of her. She did not want it to be the last thing she ever saw, preferring instead to see blackness, and she waited for the inevitable to happen.

She did not have to wait for long before the confined space of the car exploded in a barrage of sound. The act was so violent and sudden that, for a second, Scully did not register the pain in the back of her neck as she opened her eyes and focused on the blood which had splattered across the upholstery and was still pumping out of Walsh's chest.

She tried desperately to make sense of it, but within a few seconds, she had slumped sideways, her body covering that of the dead man as she succumbed to the darkness that enveloped her, not registering the sounds of the body being removed from the car, nor herself being transferred tenderly into the back seat.

The killer quickly disposed of the gun and climbed in to the driver's position, knowing that he had scant minutes to escape the scene before it would be crawling with cops. He couldn't afford to fail now. Not now he was so close to claiming all that rightfully was his. He allowed himself the luxury of glancing back to study the inert form of the woman behind him, absorbing the image that had haunted him for many long nights as he prepared for his assignment, knowing that for now at least, he had spoken the truth, that she belonged to him. The thought made him smile, and he was still smiling as he piloted the car out on to the highway and in to the night.

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