Genesis
Ally

Chapter 15

7:16a.m.

Scully was cold. She wasn't exactly conscious of the thought, or even if it could be called a thought at all. It was more of a general feeling that pushed itself up through the murky darkness she had found herself to be imprisoned by, acknowledged only by her body's in built survival instincts as she groaned softly and pulled her knees tighter towards her.

The surface she was laid on was hard and unyielding and her clothes felt damp against her skin, adding to the chill she felt invading her to her very core. She was vaguely aware of this fact, but her mind as yet refused to co-operate sufficiently to rationalise the thought in to action.

She was aware of one thing though, in fact she had been aware of it for quite some time, how long exactly she couldn't be sure, but so intense was the feeling that it overrode all others, did not allow room for denial or acceptance. It was simply there. It existed in her consciousness and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't block it out, in fact even before she could conceive it in her mind, she had cried throughout the night.

Again and again, the tears that accompanied it escaping from the confines of her closed eyes and running down her cheeks to collect in a salty pool by her on the cold stone floor. It was like a demon inside her head, bringing with it a pain so intense she wished that she might die. She had never known hurt like it, it invaded every part of her body only to centre in the back of her neck, stabbing her with such ferocity that, had Scully been capable, she would surely have sought to end her own suffering in whatever way she could.

The drugs that had been fed in to her at least gave her some respite, rendering her incapable of even recognising thought or feeling, and she had welcomed the oblivion they afforded her as she slipped away during the night.

Initially she had fought them, the survival instinct within her not allowing her to slip in to nothingness lest it be her final condition. Finally sheer fatigue and hopelessness had overcome her and she opened herself to them willingly, grateful to be able to escape the pain even for a short time.

As the hours dragged by though, these periods of respite had become less and less as she entered in to this strange state where she hovered somewhere between wakefulness and repose. Her body becoming more alert even as her mind remained in limbo, and deep inside of her she knew the time was approaching when she would be forced to open her eyes to confront the full horror of her situation. It was something she wanted to delay for as long as was humanly possible, and so, she continued to let her mind drift, unwilling as yet to defy her instinct to ignore what was fast becoming impossible to disregard.

"She's beginning to wake up."

"Yes."

The two men centred their gaze through the one way glass that afforded them a murky view of the room beyond and the woman held within it's confines. They had stood for a long while, the only spectators to Scully's night within the prison they themselves had created for her, had listened to her feeble cries without so much as a flicker of emotion or guilt.

Guilt was a luxury and a hindrance they could ill afford, especially now that their plan was coming to fruition, and they viewed her with all the detachment that one might expect from a scientist viewing a lab rat. To them she had ceased to be a person and was now seen as simply a means to an end.

The taller of the two men turned his attention away from the glass and reached casually in to the pocket of his jacket, withdrawing a crumpled packet of cigarettes and tipping one in to his hand.

The long night had taken it's toll on him, reminding him that he wasn't so young anymore, and he needed the boost that the nicotine would bring him. It was a boost he sought often, and over the years his intake had grown considerably. As a young man he had abhorred the mere act of smoking, having lost his mother to terminal lung cancer when he was little more than a boy, and he often wondered whether things might have turned out differently for him had she still been alive. He remembered her as being a gentle woman, firm but fair, and although he tried not to think of her too often, he knew that she would have been horrified by the paths he had chosen for himself, and for those held in his not inconsiderable power.

To wield this power in the way he did was not without it's downfalls, and for years he had battled with the guilt such actions brought with them, but now he could distance himself from it, disregard the consequences to their lives as he had come to disregard his own.

The path had been chosen. He would walk it until the day he died and he held that knowledge with a weary acceptance of one who knows that freedom of choice was a precious commodity that few could boast.

He brought the lighter flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding on to the noxious fumes for longer than was strictly necessary before exhaling slowly. The blue smoke swirled around the close confines of the small room and hung like a mist in the damp air, causing the second man to blink in an effort to take the sting from his eyes. He had expected some kind of response from the Smoking man in respect to his observation regarding Scully, and the silence of the man unnerved him slightly. He had played his part well, securing himself a future within the Consortium and in the very future of Humankind itself, but his responsibilities were not yet finished and he still had much to do.

He was well aware that time was running short and that if Scully were allowed to awaken before all was put in to place, everything he had sought to do would be in vain. Although he certainly hadn't been present at the time of her removing, he had been instrumental in it's planning.

The Smoking man's apparent disregard of this fact irked him slightly.

"Shouldn't we be moving her?" he prompted a little more forcibly, "Because if she wakes up before . . . "

The Smoking man turned his attention back towards the glass, a small smile beginning to play across his face as the sounds of Scully's piteous whimpering once more reached his ears from inside the tinny speakers which lined the walls.

"She's not going to wake up for a while yet." He assured the second man, the smile on his face becoming almost fatherly as he observed the woman who had haunted his dreams for over five years.

It seemed strange that in all that time he had never really allowed himself the luxury of actually looking at her. She had always been just an extension of Fox Mulder, a worthy adversary in her own right, and, he had thought, just as invincible. Time and time again she had beaten him, but this time it would be different. This time he would be the winner, just as he had foretold it to Mulder so long ago, only this time he was going to win in style. It would be a victory that no one would ever forget.

The man standing beside him watched the Smoking man's face with something akin to revulsion as the smile grew ever wider. He knew the man was living out some personal vendetta against the two Agents, and it was this knowledge that had almost prompted him to decline to become involved. Greed had overtaken him at the last minute though, and despite his best intentions he had been sucked in far deeper than he had ever wanted to go. His involvement should have begun and ended in the enticing of the two Agents down from Washington, but somehow events had spiraled out of control and he now found himself in way beyond his depth. It was far too late though to get out now. To do so would be to sign his own death warrant.

He knew these men, of their capabilities, and it would be all too easy to put a bullet through his brain and orchestrate it in such a way as to divert attention away from their group should he opt to go his own way.

Watching the smug statement filter across the older man's face, he wondered if becoming like him was to be his fate. It was not a pleasant thought and suddenly the confines of the small room became almost unbearable, the need to escape overriding his every thought and action, and he stumbled toward the door.

"I'm going outside for some air."

The Smoking man nodded sagely without turning, but the threat was clear as he spoke softly.

"Don't get lost out there."

The words themselves were innocent enough but they caused the second man to pause, gripped suddenly by the eerie feeling that somehow, the Smoking man had been granted access to his thoughts and fears, that he had been able to look straight in to his head and see all the weakness that lay within it. He knew that such insight was impossible, but nonetheless, it took several long seconds before he was able to still the trembling inside himself in order to leave the room. Finally though, good sense once more prevailed, and it was with more than a little relief that Special Agent John Wickham exited the cheerless room and escaped outside in to the sweet, clean air of the Californian day break.

The Smoking Man observed his exit expressionlessly. It did not surprise him in the least that Wickham was getting cold feet regarding his recent escapades, in fact it was a reaction he had seen time and time again when suddenly these men found the stakes becoming ever higher in what was expected of them. Most got over their initial misgivings when they were faced with the realisation that whatever choices they had made they had made them for life. Some foolishly attempted to bow out gracefully, deeming the potential consequences for their actions as outweighing the rewards. None of these men had lived to tell the tale. They had simply been removed by the Consortium who viewed such desertion in a very dim light.

Total unbending loyalty was the key to survival amongst these men. Anything less spelled disaster for them.

He dropped the spent cigarette to the floor and ground it with the toe of his highly polished shoe and fixed his shrewd grey eyes once again on Scully. Despite the assurances he had given Wickham to the contrary, by observing the small fluttering movements coming from her, it was apparent that the sedatives administered to her were lessening in their effects. If their plans were to come to fruition, it was imperative that she be moved from here as quickly as possible.

He allowed himself a small smile as he reached inside his jacket for his cell phone. So far the complexity of the operation which had taken Mulder and Scully from Washington and away from each other had been mere child's play compared with what was to come. A plan so ingenious in it's very simplicity, it would render both the Agents incapable of even existing within the worlds they had left, and more prudently, it would effectively split the partnership forever.

He had tried and failed to destroy them so many times before he had come to the logical conclusion that only by turning them on each other could he ever hope to win.

The smile grew wider as he imagined Scully's reaction when told of her *betrayal* regarding her partner. It was a sight he had only dreamed about until now, but one which was now close enough for him to almost taste it.

He stiffened slightly as the cell phone connected.

He did not confirm his identity. He did not need to. He simply spoke the two words which would put the wheels of deceit in motion.

"It's time."

Without waiting for a response, The Smoking Man ended the call and slipped the phone back in to his pocket, glancing at his watch as he did so, aware that with every minute that ticked by, he was one step closer to the confrontation he had awaited for so many years. The knowledge that within forty- eight hours he would witness the destruction of Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully at their own hands.

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