Genesis
Ally

Chapter 2

San Diego International Airport. 5:15 a.m.

Despite the early morning hour, the airport was packed with people intent on reaching their respective destinations as quickly and easily as possible.

Mulder and Scully had arrived at the airport at the worst time, a time when early morning commuters joined the throngs of tourists either on their way to, or departing the famous city, and Mulder knew that it would be some time before they escaped the stuffy confines of the building.

Their FBI status would hurry things up somewhat, but he suspected as he gazed around the bustling concourse, that they would be here for some considerable time.

They headed for the security check point, nodded at the two heavy set security guards, and briefly displayed their badges. In doing so they bypassed the metal detector, knowing that should they pass through it, the weapons they carried would provoke the kind of high pitched scream from the machine of which Mulder was acutely conscious would cause his headache to swell to mammoth proportions, swiftly rendering him unable to think straight.

He was not usually prone to headaches, in fact he was rarely sick at all, but a combination of a lack of sleep and the concern he felt for his partner had taken their toll on him.

Scully had been silent and uncommunicative during the six hour flight, responding to his questions and comments with a monosyllabic terseness that was quite unlike her, and Mulder had eventually admitted defeat, turning away from her and staring out of the window at the black nothingness which surrounded the plane.

He had remained painfully aware of her though, as she unsuccessfully feigned sleep next to him, and now as he regarded her before him, it was clear that she was still having a tough time handling the news he had brought her, that whatever resources she had draw on to get her through the last few hours were now stretched to the point of breaking.

Wearily, Mulder brought his hand up to his face briefly, and rubbed his temple, trying to dispel the pounding in his skull as he glanced around the concourse, attempting to get his bearings.

He felt a hand touch his arm.

"Are you OK, Mulder?"

He nodded slowly, careful to limit the movement.

"I'm fine. Just a headache that's all."

He slung his overnight bag over his shoulder and smiled reassuringly down at her.

"C'mon Scully, let's get out of here."

They began to walk through the concourse corridor which led to the arrivals lounge, fighting their way through the crowds, and when Mulder was elbowed sharply by a small unassuming looking man with wire rimmed glasses who was obviously not looking where he was going, he thought nothing of it, just nodded slightly at the man's mumbled apology and carried on his way.

The man though, didn't proceed, he simply remained standing, staring at the departing Agents, a small smile playing around his face. When he was sure they were out of sight he raised his hand to his mouth, a gesture which from a distance resembled a simple covering of a cough or a sneeze. On closer inspection however, it would become obvious that his reasons were of a much more sinister nature, for hidden inside the opening of his shirt cuff, a tiny radio transmitter was pinned.

State of the art in it's design, it could be neither monitored nor detected with any of the current systems in use amongst the security or law enforcement agencies. The man spoke in to the receiver, his voice barely above a whisper.

"They're here, and the cargo has been delivered."

He did not wait for a response, he didn't need to. His job was done, at least for now, and with an ease that made him so adept at what he did, he walked back in to the crowds, immediately becoming just another face amongst the many. No different from any other small time businessman in a suit on his way to work, the kind of man people looked through rather than directly at, forgotten in an instant. It was exactly that kind of ordinariness which served him more completely than any disguise could ever hope to.

The man kept his smile as his thoughts settled on to the assignment in hand, his most intriguing to date, and one which could secure his future within the consortium.

Oh yeah, this was going to some fun he decided.

********************

It was past seven when the two Agents finally checked in to their respective motel rooms, and as Mulder had feared, his headache had swelled in magnitude with every passing second, so much so that he had insisted Scully drive the rental car the short distance from the Airport, provoking a worried glance from his partner, but she had not questioned him, recognising that in his current state driving would be both dangerous and foolhardy.

Mulder had spent the journey with his eyes closed, head resting back as he fought the feeling of nausea brought on by the car's movement and when they had reached the motel Scully had suggested he rest for a while. He had checked his watch, and almost argued with her, wanting to proceed with the investigation, not wanting to waste any more time.

He had eventually concluded though that to proceed to the FBI field office would be pointless. At such an early hour it was doubtful whether there would be anyone there who was qualified to answer their questions, and despite himself he had had to admit that he needed some sleep if only to clear the headache.

He had eyed the bed in his room, considering and rejecting thoughts of unpacking, and after drawing the curtains to block out the early morning sun, had fallen on to it fully clothed, sleep coming mercifully rapidly, dispelling the incessant hammering inside his head.

Scully on the other hand, had not slept at all. She had intended to, but a hot shower had put paid to that, driving away her exhaustion and causing her to come fully awake once more.

Despite the feelings of urgency she had toward getting to the bottom of this case she also appreciated that her partner needed to rest, that she needed him on this to temper her own emotions which would surely come to the fore. She had eyed the laptop computer which accompanied her on every case, like an extension of herself, and briefly considered attempting some work.

She had shelved the idea though, when she found herself staring blankly at it's muted grey screen, re-reading the same sentence for the fourth time as she struggled to take in the words in front of her. Eventually she gave up in disgust, and crossed to the bed. She knew she wouldn't sleep, but somehow she needed to empty her mind, so she lay, staring at the white ceiling of the motel room, waiting for the images of her daughter to stop haunting her, attempting to relax her mind so that instead, she thought of nothing at all, and in doing so she felt the tension leave her body. At least for the moment.

********************

The sound of a fist knocking on wood drove through Mulder's consciousness like a blade, and initially he squeezed his eyes shut tighter in an attempt to block it out. The familiar voice that accompanied it though caused him to sit up, dropping his head down quickly, as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. His throat felt gritty and raw, and he suddenly realised how cold he felt in the air conditioned room.

"Mulder? It's me."

The sound of Scully's voice prompted Mulder to rise from his position on the bed, and he groggily made his way to the door, knowing that he probably looked every bit as bad as he felt. His partner's statement as he swung the door open to face her affirmed his fears.

She took in his flushed, sweating face, and immediately propelled him back inside the room, gesturing to a chair. Mulder didn't need asking twice and he sat down heavily.

"I'm OK," he said weakly. "It's just a headache."

He flinched as Scully rested the back of her hand on his forehead.

"Mulder, you're burning up," she exclaimed, "You should be in bed."

Mulder held up a hand.

"I'll be fine. Just give me time to get a shower and change my clothes OK?"

"Mulder . . ."

Mulder recognised the concerned 'doctor in charge' tones which Scully had adopted, but this was no time to get sick, or worse to succumb to it. He suspected that a lack of sleep was making the symptoms worse, and that once he actually got himself moving, they would abate sufficiently to allow him to function enough to do his job. Shakily, he got to his feet, stepping carefully around Scully lest he betray just how badly he was feeling.

"Give me twenty minutes. I'll meet you in the car."

In actuality, Mulder slid in to the passenger seat next to Scully in just under fifteen. She scrutinised him carefully and was relieved to see, that on the surface at least he appeared to look much better. His dark hair was still slightly damp from the recent shower and Scully resisted the urge to point out that walking around with wet hair wasn't exactly going to serve his cause health- wise. He was freshly shaven and dressed in a clean shirt and jacket, his impeccable professional facade firmly in place once more, and she relaxed slightly.

Mulder, aware of his partner's swift medical evaluation with regard to him grinned crookedly at her.

"Are you planning on pondering my state of health for the remainder of the day or do I pass muster?"

He was cut off as Scully abruptly gunned the motor, shifting the car in to gear and pulling smoothly away from the motel. At the end of the drive she turned left on to the highway, heading for the city and the San Diego field office, where hopefully John Wickham would be waiting for them with some answers.

Scully had put in the call to him as she waited for Mulder to emerge from his room, feeling gratified by the easy warmth which had crept in to his voice when she had identified herself, and he had assured her that all the current information regarding the case would be made available to her on their arrival.

Finally, it was time to find the answers.

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