87 Shades of Black III: Night Sky
By Slippin’ Mickeys
red_phile@yahoo.com
Classification: MSR, Series
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Part three in the series “87 Shades of Black.” Just
when you think you’re out, they suck you back in.
Spoilers: Nada.
Disclaimer: If we lived in a communist community, I wouldn’t
have to write this. But we don’t, so I do. They belong to Chris
Carter, although they should belong to everyone. And they
kind of do. But anyway, not mine. No money. So sad. Oh
yeah, and the entire first paragraph comes from the mind of
Tom Clancy, not Slippin’ Mickeys. I read it and it fit so
perfectly that I had to steal it. So I did. The names were
changed to protect the characters. Again, I’m begging not to
be sued. :)
Archive: Ask, and I’ll most likely give you permission. Trust
me.
Feedback: Feed me. Oh yes, feed me. red_phile@yahoo.com
87 Shades of Black Part III: Night Sky
By Slippin’ Mickeys
It had to be the shock of the moment, Mulder thought. He
seemed to be two people at the same time. One part of him
looked out the window of the lunchroom of CNN’s
Washington bureau and saw the fires that grew from the
remains of the Capitol building—yellow points springing up
from an orange glow like some sort of ghastly floral
arrangement, representing over a thousand lives that had been
snuffed out not an hour earlier. Numbness suppressed grief for
the moment, though he knew that would come, too, as pain
always followed a hard blow to the face, but not right away.
Once more, Death in all its horrid majesty had reached out for
him. He’d seen it come, and stop, and withdraw, and the best
thing to be said about it was that his children didn’t know how
to close their young lives had come to an early conclusion. To
them, it had simply been an accident they didn’t understand.
They were with their mother now, and they’d feel safe in her
company while their father was away somewhere. It was a
situation to which both they and he long since had unhappily
become accustomed. And so Fox William Mulder looked at
the residue of Death, and one part of him as yet felt nothing.
XxXxXxXxXxX
The event, or string of events actually, that brought Mulder
back to Washington D.C. were set into motion almost before
he had left the Capitol city 5 years earlier.
And because of these events, he found himself, 5 years older,
2 mortgages later, and with a considerably larger family than
he had left with, looking over the city he used to call home
with a long face and nasty feeling deep in his gut.
Colonization had begun, or at least he thought it had, and no
one even knew it yet.
XxXxXxXxXxX
4 Years, 6 Months Earlier:
The flat, gray landscape passed Scully’s window, seemingly
unchanging. They could have been travelling in a circle for the
past two hours and not have been able to tell the difference.
The only thing that seemed to change were the mile markers.
But the monotony of the trip didn’t bother her. In fact, it
calmed her. This trip wasn’t business, though she hadn’t been
on one of those in months. It was a vacation pure and simple,
and the best part was that Mulder was still sitting beside her.
Driving.
He glanced over at her and smiled, turning on his headlights.
The days had been getting steadily longer, but it was still dark
by 5:30. They hadn’t gotten on the road that morning until
well after noon, and had to head back to the house twice to
retrieve things they’d forgotten to bring. It had been a spur of
the moment trip, but luckily, they hadn’t left the city limits of
Ann Arbor on either occasion.
“Were they worried when you called in sick?” He asked her,
turning the radio down so they could talk. There hadn’t been
anything but country and NPR on for the past hour, anyway.
“Yes,” she answered, “but I ‘fessed up and told them I needed
a vacation day today and Monday, and they didn’t seem to
mind. Dr. Prasad is there anyway.”
“The two of you still getting along?”
“Fabulously.”
Scully had been introduced to Seema Prasad the week before.
Her superiors had wanted to bring in another doctor to the
Pathology department later in the year, but Scully’s
announcement of her pregnancy after her first trimester had
spurred them into hiring the Indian woman early, so that the
position would be filled when it came time for Scully to give
birth. The two women had had instant chemistry and their first
day working together, two different lab technicians had come
into the room they’d been in, to see what the uproarious
laughter had been about. She was going to be sorry to leave
the woman behind in the spring, even if it was only for
maternity leave.
“That’s good,” Mulder nodded to himself, “I guess we’re both
lucky I don’t have any Friday classes.”
“What about your office hours?” Scully hedged.
“Eh, nobody comes, anyway.”
“Mulder,” she warned, her tone almost surprised.
“What?” He said, chancing a look in her direction, “I asked
Kayla to be there for me. It’s not like anybody is going to
show, anyway.”
He’d mumbled the last sentence and Scully ignored it, instead
teasing him about the previous.
“Kayla, huh?”
“Do you have a preoccupation with my teaching assistant,
Scully? Every time I mention her you get that weird little tone
of voice. ”
“I don’t have any kind of preoccupation with your TA,
Mulder, but she certainly has one with you.”
“What are you talking about?” He asked.
Scully shook her head, Mulder’s powers of perception were
distinctly selective.
“She so obviously has a crush on you, Professor Mulder.”
Mulder looked a bit startled for a moment, but then turned to
her with that shit-eating smirk of his.
“Jealous?” He asked.
“Of her crush?” Scully feigned incredulity, “Of course not.
I’ve got one of my own.”
With that, she put on a smirk of her own and reveled in the
pleasant hum and heat inside the van that had nothing to do
with the climate control system.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Vance Carson looked up from the steaming cup of coffee in
his hands and took a deep breath of fresh air. It was the first
time that winter that his nostrils actually threatened to stick
together. The winter had been cold, but mildly so, and Sharper
& Earnest, the shipping company he worked for, had started
their vessels out on the Lakes for spring that week. He’d been
a lakeman for the better part of his 37 years and had been crew
aboard a ship in February only once before in all of them. His
captain, Sean McTierney, had been wary about shoving off
from Chicago three days before, but had agreed that if the
weather didn’t change, they’d certainly stand to make a great
deal of money from the amount of iron ore they could deliver
in the months they had until next November. None of the bays
on the Lakes had frozen over that he knew of, except for a
few, far to the north on the shores of Lake Superior.
The bow of the William Joely made slow headway through the
waters of Lake Michigan, slowed by the icebreaking fixture
firmly affixed to the forward hull. Though it had slowed their
progress to Detroit, Captain McTierney had refused to leave
the Chicago pier without it.
Vance peered over the bow, only an hour left on his watch
duty, and then back along the 300 feet of ship to the William
Joely’s stern. A lone light shone in the upper deck in the
cabin, indicating that Bruce Abbott, the first mate of the ship
and helmsman of the moment was still manning his station.
Vance pulled his wool knit cap lower over his ears and made
his way down the ladder and along the ships side, glancing
down at the clamps holding down the 3,000 pound hatches
that covered their shipment of ore, assuring himself that they
were all clamped securely.
He glanced over the edge of the ship, down at the dark water
of the lake, and up at the shore several miles away, a very few
lights shining in the dark of the early February morning. He
threw up a silent thank you to the saints that looked over
seafaring men and the ships they sailed on, that the water had
remained calm, the only waves that lapped at the ship’s hull
only a few feet high at their peak. The last thing the ship
would need was the wind and waves picking up as they made
their way through the Straits of Mackinac and into Lake
Huron, halfway to Detroit, and halfway home. The sooner the
ship made port, the better, thought Vance. He’d had a bad
feeling about the early spring trip since he’d received the
phone call from Bruce the week before, asking if he’d crew.
Glancing at his watch again, which he found he’d done far
more frequently in his younger days, showed that the time was
3:45 am, leaving him only 45 more minutes until his watch
was over and he could retire down below where warm sheets
and warmer temperatures were beckoning his tired body.
Halfway to the helm now, he paused for a moment.
Wondering if his ears were deceiving him. He stood stock
still, listening raptly for the humming he’d thought he’d heard
over the port side of the ship. After a moment, he shook his
head, mentally berating himself for thinking he heard anything
over the reverberating engines below him, and the waves
methodically breaking over the ship’s bow.
However, a few minutes later, as he was climbing the metal
staircase that lead to the helm, he heard it again, undeniably.
Climbing back down, he moved to the rail along the ship’s
port side, his head cocked and ears attentive. It was a low,
throbbing sound, and he could only guess that it was coming
from somewhere in the water. The humming intensified, and
he brought up the small binoculars he kept in his front pocket
to his eyes. The only illumination of the night was the
Cheshire Cat moon smiling down on him, and the stars,
plentiful outside the light pollution that dulled their luminance
in the cities far to the south. The scant light illuminated
nothing out on the water, and yet the humming seemed to
increase in intensity and volume.
Vance reached for the Motorola radio handset attached to his
belt, and put in a call to Bruce up in the cockpit.
“Bruce, this is Vance, come back, over.”
The radio crackled a moment, a strange feedback emanating
from it that lasted not two seconds, and then with Bruce’s
voice.
“Vance, what can I do for you this fine morning, over.”
“Are you hearing this? Over.” Vance spoke, his breath puffing
bursts of steam that settled white and thin on the black plastic
of the radio.
“Other than the engines?” Bruce said, his tone confused.
“Over.”
“Yep,” Vance responded. “Over.”
“Sorry, buddy. I’m not hearing anything. I’m directly over the
engines. Over.”
Vance paused for a moment, squinting out over the water, and
brought the radio back to his mouth.
“Are you picking up anything on the radar? I swear I hear
something out there. Over.”
Bruce Abbott set down his handset on the countertop in the
cockpit and made his way over to the radar console. The
display showed nothing out of the ordinary, but as he was
about to turn back toward the radio, the display went black,
and then flashed back on with a loud beep. Momentarily
confused, Bruce paused, and reached for the portable radio. As
he was doing so, the power in the cabin shut off, and the
customary rumble of the engines below him went completely
dead and silent.
“What the hell…” He said to himself, and then he made his
way to door leading out to the deck of the ship. He opened the
door and took a step out, about to swing down and onto the
small ladder descending down to the deck, when he froze.
Below him, he saw Vance Carson frozen in place also, gazing
out over the water to the port side. Following Vance’s line of
sight, Bruce saw it too.
Under the water, about 200 yards off the ship was a yellow
light, shining brightly under the murky water of the lake,
nearly the size of a large truck. Bruce heard the humming
then, it seemed to be emanating from the light.
Instantly, the light—whatever it was, came speeding toward
them, faster than any kind of marine craft Bruce had ever seen,
and shot underneath the ship’s hull, pausing without effect
now, not twenty feet off of the ship’s starboard side.
“What the hell is that thing, Bruce?!” Vance shouted to his
first mate, staring dumbfounded over the hulk of the ship and
at the unidentified object just under the water’s surface.
Bruce couldn’t speak and merely shook his head, his eyes not
moving from the craft.
Just then, the object, it’s luminescence still an eerie yellow
moved slowly aft of the ship, and then the water above it
parted, and the craft rose up slowly out of the lake. It’s shade
of light shifted then to fiery blue, and the light that shone from
it grew brighter and brighter.
It rose up slowly over the hulking ship and hovered above it,
water pouring over it’s sides and splashing coldly onto the
steel of the freighter.
Bruce shifted a little toward the door of the cockpit, unsure if
he should move, but fright spurred him on, and he moved
backward slowly. Suddenly he jumped, adrenaline shooting
through his veins, as the ship’s power shot back on, and the
engines below him roared to life.
XxXxXxXxXxX
“It’s beautiful up here,” Scully said, her hand wrapping around
the water glass in front of her, as her eyes cast out the large
bay window they were seated in front of.
“It’s beautiful in here,” Mulder countered quickly.
Scully was quick to notice that he hadn’t looked around the
restaurant at all when he’d said it, his eyes remaining
steadfastly on her.
She turned to him slowly, regarding his enigmatic smile with
small one of her own.
“You’re flirty tonight,” she said without pretense.
Mulder merely shrugged at her and went back to eating his
entrée of grilled whitefish and garlic potatoes.
Scully took another sip from her water glass and then rose to
excuse herself for the third time that evening.
“I should really stop drinking that water,” she said, rising. She
made no effort to tell Mulder where she was going- frequent
bathroom breaks were old-hat that night, already.
Nevertheless, Mulder still rose when she got up, the
gentlemanly gesture bringing a smile to her face as she walked
away. Gender equality aside, she loved when men did that.
Mulder sat back down as she made her way to the restroom
and leaned back in his chair, satisfied—his stomach and heart
both full.
The spontaneity of this trip had surprised him coming from
Scully, but he’d agreed that it was just what the doctor
ordered, so to speak. He’d been actively seducing Scully for
the past few odd months. The kiss they’d shared earlier in the
week merely a prelude to what he’d been planning.
Despite what they’d lost, domestic bliss had satisfied a part of
Mulder he thought had long since dissipated. It had been
difficult to adjust at first to his new way of life. To switch
gears so quickly from single-minded truth seeker to a normal
professional American. But he’d concentrated on Scully, and
marveled in what they’d always had but hadn’t yet discovered.
The fact that she was pregnant, the fact that the child was his,
struck an awe in him that pushed the lingering thoughts of
regret completely out of the picture.
True, the consequences that had brought about their current
situation and her pregnancy had been anything but ideal and
not the least bit planned, but the 180 of their lives fit them
both surprisingly well. They’d discussed recently what the
future held for them, and how it affected the search for the
truth that they both had never really stopped thinking about.
Mulder had thought about it long and hard, and decided that
the best thing to be done was nothing at all. He had bigger fish
to fry at the moment, in the form of the woman that crossed
the room to him right then, and the child in her belly.
Mulder rose and pulled her seat out for her, a gesture to which
she gave him a sideways glance for, but accepted nonetheless.
He reseated himself and speared an asparagus that was
threatening to fall off of his plate.
The smoking man, Krycek, and whoever else was involved in
placing them in their current situation had been correct in
predicting the tailspin that resulted from what they’d done—
kidnapped and impregnated Scully and then effectively using
it as leverage to force them both to give up—but what they
hadn’t counted on, never counted on, was that the action only
spurred them both on further in their desire to find out the
truth. And while this certainly slowed their progress, and
brought about the added obstacle of a child to protect, it only
added fuel to the fire of their hunger to carry on. And carry on
they would, Mulder mused, but only after he’d figured out a
sufficient way of protecting the child, Scully, and lastly
himself from the dangers that delving back into anything X-
Files was sure to bring about. He’d been promised that much
from the smoking man himself.
“Third time the charm?” Mulder asked quietly from behind his
pint of beer.
“I certainly hope so,” Scully responded, “I’m surprised my
pork chop isn’t cold.”
“I held it over the candle while you were gone,” Mulder lied.
Scully merely smiled at him and Mulder again sat back and
looked out the window before him, pushing his empty plate
toward centerpiece.
“Full?” Scully asked in between bites.
Mulder nodded and gazed out over the bay that the restaurant
sat on. The boat slips were all empty throughout the pier, and
the breakwater spread out just beyond them, reaching out into
the water toward the horizon. The breakwall served no
purpose at the moment, as there were no boats to protect, and
eerily no pounding waves to protect them from. The small
white lighthouse that sat at the end of it flashed it’s red-lighted
beacon morosely into the dusky sky, the crescent moon rising
up behind it.
“It’s getting late,” Mulder said, leaning forward onto his
elbows and looking at Scully over folded hands. “Any dessert
tonight?”
“I think I might,” Scully said, surprising him. He cocked his
head and looked at her—she never usually ordered dessert and
it made him wonder what other surprises she had in store for
him that night. “The tiramisu looks good.”
She finished her dinner and ordered one when the waitress
came to clear their plates. They finished it off quickly with the
two spoons she brought with it, and Scully went to retrieve
their coats while Mulder paid.
She met him at the door and offered him his new coat, shoving
on an endearing knit cap while he put it on. They stepped out
and onto the sidewalk, a blast of cold air hitting them full
force from the lake as they exited.
Mulder paused and blew into fists.
“What I wouldn’t give for valet right about now,” he said.
Scully simply grabbed his hand and pulled him around the
side of the building and up the street to where they’d parked
the car, not even a block from the restaurant.
“Sissy,” she said conspiratorially as she crossed to the
passenger side of their van.
Mulder held up the keys in front of him and squinted his eyes
at her.
“You know, if you weren’t pregnant,” he said, finally hitting
the unlock button on them, “I’d take my sweet time.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
Mulder dropped Scully off at the enormous front door of the
resort which they’d checked into earlier that evening, and
parked the car in the parking lot around the side of it.
As he walked back toward the hotel, his fists shoved deep in
his pockets for warmth, he took in the serenity that surrounded
him. The sounds of the forest that entreated upon the rugged
resort, were muffled by a thick blanket of snow that covered
everything from the roof of the hotel to hills that stretched
skyward to the east. He could barely make out the soft sound
of the surf of Lake Michigan beyond the resort to the west.
Their room had a spectacular view of the lake, which stretched
out to the horizon and further beyond that.
Mulder guessed that the resort would be teaming with people
in the summertime, eager to partake in the sandy beaches and
dunes that stretched as far as the eye could see to the north and
south. As it were though, the only other tourists in the area
were a few skiers that seemed to be more interested in the
limited nightlife of the city nearby in which they had eaten
dinner, than the rugged forests and deserted white beaches that
surrounded them here. Mulder only hoped that the revelers
weren’t too loud returning when the bars closed at 2am. He’d
gotten enough of that living in the student district in Ann
Arbor. He then wondered when exactly it was that he’d gotten
so damn old.
He breathed in the peace while it lasted, and reached for the
large ornate door that lead into the reception area of the resort.
Scully was there waiting for him, sitting on the edge of the
fireplace that sat in the middle of it, staring at the flames as
they licked her face with warmth and light.
When she looked up to him staring at her, she flashed him a
smile that rivaled the light of the fire and stood.
“You know what time the slopes open tomorrow?” She said,
matching her step with his as they made their way to the
staircase that led to their second floor suite.
“Who cares,” Mulder said, shifting his right hand to the small
of her back, “we’re on vacation.”
“Free lift tickets, Mulder,” she said, slowing her progress and
turning to him a little.
“My point exactly,” he answered, “we didn’t have to pay, we
can use them at our leisure.”
“Someone is looking forward to sleeping in,” Scully intoned,
not without humor, as she pulled out the key card from her
coat pocket and slid it expertly in the door.
“I’m looking forward to more than that,” he responded
enigmatically, slipping into the bathroom as soon as he closed
the door behind him.
When he emerged, he found Scully sitting on the sofa that
faced their elongated balcony with her shoes and socks
unceremoniously piled next to her on the floor. Her eyes were
closed, and Mulder walked quietly over, not sure if she was
dozing or merely resting her eyes.
When the couch dipped from his added weight at the other
side, her eyes fluttered open, stayed warmly on him for a
moment and then shifted toward the balcony and stayed there.
There wasn’t much to see out of the window, but she gazed at
what beauty she could.
Mulder did the same, occasionally stealing glances at the
beauty inside the room as well.
After a deep, contented sigh, Scully unfurled her legs and
dropped her feet into Mulder’s lap, sinking deeper into the
couch.
“I’m glad we did this,” she said with a soft voice. “It seems
freeing somehow, getting away from it all.”
“How do you mean?” Mulder asked in an equally gentle tone,
genuinely curious.
“I don’t know,” Scully floundered for a second, stretching her
legs and feet out in Mulder’s lap and giving her toes a good
curl before relaxing. Mulder took it as a hint and picked one of
her feet up, beginning to gently massage it. “I think,” she
began again with a quick smile of thanks to him, “I think it’s
just that we were thrown into this so quickly and it was such a
big adjustment that we immediately got into habits and ways
of doing things without having ever taken a step back to look
at the big picture. I guess I see this get-away as an opportunity
to do just that.”
Mulder nodded his agreement at her and picked up her other
foot, giving it equal treatment.
“And in this picture,” he said, moving his gaze from her face
to his lap, “what do you see?”
For the first time in a long time, Scully got the impression that
Mulder was a harboring more than a little hope, but instead of
pursuing it as he’d been doing lately, he kept it to himself in a
boyish way that more than a little endearing.
“I see you,” she answered, “I see me. But I can’t quite make
out the rest.”
“Well,” Mulder said, setting her feet down on the couch next
to him with purpose, “let’s see if we can’t clarify it, then.”
With that, he crawled up the couch along the length of her
body like a cat and stopped when they were eye to eye.
“How about that?” He asked, giving her a soft, quick peck on
the end of her nose.
She fanned her fingers through his hair on either side of his
head and answered him with a wicked flattering of eyelashes
and a predatory kiss.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Scully came awake slowly to the feel of Mulder’s hot breath
across her bare neck. She could tell by the way he was
breathing that he was awake.
She rolled over slowly, stretching her naked body
languorously while she moved. When she was fully turned
over, she was met with a large smile and sleepy eyes.
Mulder’s head was propped up on his arm and the sheets were
pulled down far enough on his body to reveal most of his
torso. Scully enjoyed the sight for a moment before she spoke.
“Hey,” she said in a quiet, scratchy voice, “what time is it?”
“A little after three,” Mulder answered, reaching across to
push a piece of hair back from her forehead, his eyes
following his actions.
“What are you doing awake?” Scully asked him on a yawn.
He regarded her for a moment, resting his other hand on her
distending belly for a moment before he lifted his eyes to hers.
“Come on,” he said, slipping toward her side of the bed in an
effort to get her to get out of the bed as well, “I want to show
you something.”
She acquiesced, however reluctant to leave the warmth of the
covers, and he immediately followed. She stood next to him
for a moment while he grabbed the large goose down quilt
from the bed and wrapped it around both of their shoulders,
taking her hand and leading her toward the balcony. Once they
were up to it, he lifted his hand out and pointed to the sky just
above the lake and trees to the right.
“Look,” he said.
Scully’s eyes followed his finger and she saw it. Above the
treeline that skirted the lodge and a bit of the shoreline, the
Northern Lights were dancing in the sky, yellow, green, and
blue.
She stood for a moment with him, watching the lights play
across the vast expanse, and then turned to him.
“Let’s go out there,” she said, “along the shore. I bet they’re
amazing from out there.”
Mulder suddenly looked at her as though she’d grown another
head, and said, “we’re naked.”
She ignored the look and walked out from under the down
comforter, enjoying the feel of the cold air on her naked skin
as she walked to the armoire.
“Then get dressed,” she said simply.
XxXxXxXxXxX
The snow crunched under their feet as they made slow
progress toward the lodge’s staircase that led down to the
lakeshore. Luckily, they found that someone had had the
decency to salt the steps, and it made the going easier when
they reached them.
As they descended the few steps and stepped out onto the
shore, the dark sand mixing with the dusting of snow that
ensconced the beach, Scully sucked in a quick breath.
The lights were even more brilliant from the vantage point on
the shore, and lit up the northern sky almost like fireworks.
Scully missed the accompanying noise they would bring, but
only for a second, and reveled in the sight before her and utter
silence around her.
Mulder stood just beside and behind her, and rested his hands
on her hips, his warm breath fanning over her hair. He
watched the lights dance in equal silence, his fingers flexing
and squeezing her hips every so often, letting her know he was
enjoying the show just as much as she was.
The water was exceptionally calm at that moment, and only
made an occasional lapping noise far out to sea.
After a few minutes however, Mulder found that the sound
seemed to be increasing in frequency and volume, and turned
his gaze from the lights in the north to the water stretching in
expanse to the west. At first, he could see nothing, almost
ready to ascribe to sounds to breezes blowing across the lake,
when movement caught his eye.
In the black of the night, he never would have seen it, but with
the stars and the moon, and the brilliance of the Northern
Lights playing off of the water, he could see it. A black shape
coming steadily closer to the shore, low to the water.
At once, Mulder grabbed Scully by the arm and moved her
behind him, shielding her from the object as best he could. She
opened her mouth to ask him just what the hell he was doing
when he turned to her and brought his finger to his lips,
pointing quickly to the shape on the water.
At first confused, Scully scanned the water and saw nothing,
but then, she saw it too, and tugged a little on Mulder’s arm,
trying to step around him a bit so she could better see.
“I think it’s boat,” she said at a whisper. His attempt to shield
her irritated her a bit and she tried to move closer to the water
to get a better look.
Mulder grabbed her arm and gave her an apologetic grin.
“Maybe if you had your gun,” he said, barely at a whisper.
They both then turned back to the object and saw that it was,
indeed a boat. A small life boat by the looks of it, and off of a
flash of reflected moonlight, they could see the oar dip into the
water frantically, the lapping sounds on its hull getting louder
and more frenetic.
“Hello!” Mulder then shouted out over the water.
Scully grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and in return, he
turned to her.
“Who the *hell* would be out on the water in February?” He
asked her.
She merely shook her head and continued to watch as the craft
moved closer.
“Hello!” Mulder shouted again, louder this time.
Suddenly, they could make out a head as it popped up to the
bow of the small craft and they heard scraping and shifting
against it’s hull.
“Hell… Hello!!” A voice called back at them.
“Are you okay?” Mulder shouted back in a voice meant to
sound friendly and helpful, but he took a step back away from
the water and pulled Scully with him nonetheless.
“Help me!” The voice shouted, the oar dipping back into the
water frantically and sending the boat lurching forward until it
ground against the sand and rocks near the shore. The man in
the boat then rocketed himself over the side and splashed into
the frigid water, running at them.
“Help me!” It shouted again. “You gotta, you gotta help me!”
With that, the man collapsed into a shivering heap on top of
the mix of sand and snow.
Scully brushed by Mulder and leaned down to help him,
Mulder on her heels.
“My name is Carson,” he said through chattering lips, “Vance
Carson. I crew on the William Joely and you gotta help me.
You gotta help them!”
XxXxXxXxXxX
Mulder sat at the table in the small dining area and ruminated
about the night before as he waited for Scully to come down
for breakfast.
After nearly ten minutes of getting the man to try to calm
down, and follow them inside the lodge to get warm, they
finally did have him sitting by the fire with a blanket around
his shoulders, and the sheriff on the way. They had to wait
another 45 minutes after that for the sheriff to get their
statements and actually process what exactly had happened. It
took no small amount of coaching from Mulder.
It had been a long night for both of them, and each was
equally wary of what had actually happened. They had
decided to skip the skiing, sleep late, do some shopping
around the Marina District and leave a day early. The threat,
no matter how unlikely, and the import of the UFO tale that
Vance Carson had spun had made them wary, Scully
especially so, and the mood and ambiance of the weekend had
been sufficiently broken.
Fucking figures, Mulder thought, as he looked around the
fairly full dining area and signaled to the waitress that he
needed a little more coffee. As soon as you stop looking for a
UFO, one comes along and finds you. As much as it seemed to
scare Scully, it intrigued Mulder, but warily so.
The waitress came by once more and asked if he was ready to
order.
“Not quite yet,” he said, “I’m still waiting for someone.”
“Will your wife want some coffee too?” She asked, and he
didn’t bother correcting her assumption, he rather liked it.
“I think so,” he answered, “but decaf.”
The waitress nodded and went off in search of the
decaffeinated carafe, and Mulder leaned back once again,
looking around the room.
Two men were seated to the table immediately to his left, and
their conversation caught his attention.
“I can’t believe what happened here last night,” the man on
the left said, reaching for his bagel and smothering more
cream cheese than was necessary on it.
“I know,” the other man answered, flashing the other man’s
bagel a look of disgust as if he’d just been told it contained a
highly infectious strain of leprosy.
“It’s crazy,” the other man continued. “But I heard that the
man’s ship was anchored in the bay in Petoskey this morning.
The kids have never seen a ship that big before. I’m taking
them down there once they finish up with breakfast.”
“Yeah,” his friend responded, still eyeing the bagel with
disdain. “It’s a good idea. Mind if I take my kids too?”
“Not at all,” the man said, “I was just about to offer.”
Their conversation continued but Mulder had heard all he’d
wanted to.
The ship anchored in the bay aroused his curiosity. He
wondered to himself if he had the time to run into town and
check the boat out. If he stayed in his car and simply drove
down the waterfront, it was surely safe for him. He wanted
more than ever to know what exactly had happened, and what,
if anything, about the freighter would attract a bona fide UFO.
He decided he’d run into town quickly while Scully was
showering and have a quick look.
Just as he’d made his decision, Scully entered the dining area
and made directly for their table. Mulder rose to greet her and
was pleasantly surprised by longer than customary kiss on the
lips for his effort.
“Morning,” she said, flashing him a dazzling smile and folding
her napkin in her lap as she sat.
“Good morning,” Mulder answered, a smile of his own
creeping unbidden across his face. “I ordered you some
coffee.”
“Great,” she said, picking up the menu, “I’m starving. What
looks good?”
“I think I’m having the cherry french toast,” he answered.
“Good,” she said, “I want to try that. I’ll get the country hash
and we’ll share.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mulder said as the waitress finally
arrived at their table with the carafe of decaf.
They ordered their breakfast and ate it with relish, discussing
everything but what had happened the night before. Mulder
could tell that the subject had become instant taboo.
When she had finished what was on her plate and what
remained on his, Scully sat back, her hands finding her belly
and rubbing it lightly.
“What time is check-out?” She asked.
“It’s supposed to be at eleven,” Mulder answered, “but I
talked to the girl at the front desk and she said we can wait
until one or two. We were supposed to have the room until
tomorrow, so there isn’t anyone checking in.”
“Oh great,” Scully said with a satisfied sigh, “in that case, I
think I may give the Jacuzzi a try.”
“That should be nice,” Mulder said a little absently, his eyes
following her hands at her stomach.
“You mean you don’t want to join me?” She asked slyly.
Mulder smiled at her to show that the offer was tempting, but
turned her down.
“No, you should relax a little,” he said, “take some time to
yourself. I think I’m going to head into Petoskey and have a
look around.”
“Taking some time for yourself, too?” Scully asked quietly,
reaching across the table to take his hand.
He gave it a squeeze and continued to hold it.
“You could call it that,” he answered.
They signed the check and headed back toward the staircase
that led up to their room, hand in hand. Mulder stopped at the
bottom as Scully took a step up and turned to him, for once
eye-level.
“Enjoy your dip,” he said, bringing the hand he was holding to
his lips and kissing her palm. “I won’t be long.”
With that, he turned and headed out the door of the lodge and
out to their van.
It didn’t take him long to get into town and find the entrance
to the waterfront drive. He drove along it and parked near the
end, in a section that he guessed was the town’s answer to
make-out point.
The freighter was anchored not far off of the pier, in between
Petoskey on the bay’s southern shore, and Harbor Springs on
it’s north. There were many people walking along the empty
docks and taking pictures of the enormous ship, milling about
and clustering, most likely discussing the ship and the last
time one had anchored in the area.
Mulder looked out to the ship again and studied it. He couldn’t
ascertain anything that would differentiate it from any other
ship, and wondered what exactly about it attracted UFO
activity.
He looked out to the people milling about once more and was
surprised at the number of people that were now swarming
around the docks and shore, clustering and pointing at the
anchored freighter. There was excitement in the air that he
could pick up from his seat in the van nearly 300 yards from
the closest person.
Suddenly, a sheriff’s cruiser pulled out onto the waterfront
with it’s lights flashing, and the sheriff and two deputy’s that
Mulder recognized from the night before got out of the car,
and moved toward the ever-growing crowd of people.
Mulder zipped up his coat and shoved on his gloves, turning
off the van’s ignition and pocketing the keys. He opened his
door and starting walking toward the crowding masses to find
out just what the hell was going on.
XxXxXxXxXxX
Scully sat on the edge of the red Jacuzzi watching it fill. She
was about to shed the clothing she had thrown on for
breakfast, but decided to hit the controls for the water jets on
the wall before she did so. She turned the knob that controlled
the water temperature up a bit and hit the button for the jets.
Nothing happened. She hit it a few more times and then made
her way to the bedside phone to call the front desk. When she
was met with a beeping busy tone, she decided it would be
easier to simply walk down and inquire about the exact
operating procedure of their Jacuzzi.
As she made her way down the stairs, she picked up the
conversation that the receptionist was having with another
patron, and stopped dead in her tracks.
“Any plans for the day, sir?” The receptionist asked.
“I think I’m taking the kids into Petoskey,” the man answered,
“that big freighter is anchored in the bay and I want them to
have a look at it. The William Joely is it?”
The receptionist nodded and smiled back at him.
“That should be fun for them,” she said, “that boat seems to be
the buzz of the day around here.”
“That’s for sure,” the man said, and then turned to take a seat
on the sofa that sat in front of the fireplace, checking his watch
with a slight amount of irritation.
Scully stood frozen on the staircase and tried to mentally
digest what she’d just heard.
Mulder had gone into town to see the ship. She knew it.
Anger battled with abject fear in an attempt to overtake her
emotions. She was suddenly furious with him for both not
telling her what he was doing, and for the fact that he was
doing it at all. At the same time, a panicky prelude to terror
nudged at her mind, and she grabbed at her distended belly,
trying to calm herself.
It was then that the receptionist noticed her.
“Mrs. Mulder?” She asked, “is there anything I can do for
you?”
Scully shook her head and headed the rest of the way down
the stairs.
“No. Thank you,” she said, and then turned to the man sitting
on the sofa in front of the fire. “Sir?” She asked politely and
more calmly than she felt, “would you mind if I tagged along
with you into town?”
XxXxXxXxXxX
Mulder squeezed his way through the crowds of people and
made his way toward the sheriff from his right.
“Would everyone please just calm down!” The sheriff shouted
above the mumbling noise of the crowd. “I know you’ve heard
the rumors, but please, there is nothing wrong with this ship or
it’s crew. I ask you please to all just go home!”
A few negative remarks were barked out at him, and he stood
back, a bit miffed.
Mulder watched the scene unfold for a few minutes, trying to
pick up snippets of conversation from the crowds of people
around him. Apparently, the UFO rumor had gotten out and
spread like wildfire.
He then made his way to the sheriff and was about to step up
to the man when he felt a tugging on his elbow. He turned to
find it’s source and froze for an instant.
“Scully?” He said, turning to face her in full.
Her eyes were wild, and he saw the emotions warring behind
them, both fury and fright.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, and Mulder
recognized her tone. It was calm but barely kept in check. He
immediately mentally kicked himself in the ass.
“I was just,” he started, but knew anything that came out of his
mouth right then would sound as stupid as he felt.
“It’ll be all right, Scully,” he said, flashing her a small smile of
reassurance. “I was just…”
He lifted his eyes from her and caught himself again. He
looked to the left at the crowd of people and his mouth paused,
mid-sentence. A gripping fear seized him as he again scanned
the faces of the people standing around, looking for
confirmation of the one thing he hoped he hadn’t seen. And
then, he saw it again.
Krycek.
He’d been walking in between the many people, and paused at
that moment, staring directly into Mulder’s eyes.
“You were just what?” Scully asked, her calm tone slipping
somewhat as she took another step closer to Mulder. “You
were just *what* Mulder!?”
Mulder then tore his eyes away from Krycek and stared down
at Scully, effectively stopping her mid-rant.
She paused and looked up at him.
“Mulder, you’re making that face.”
He only nodded and grabbed for her hand, pulling her away
from the crowd and back toward the van.
“Mulder, what is it?” She asked, trotting somewhat to try to
keep up with his pace.
“Let’s just go,” he said, not taking his eyes from the target of
their van.
She squeezed his hand and stopped, causing him to stop as
well and swing to back to face her.
“Mulder you’re scaring me.”
“Come on, Scully let’s just get in the van,” he said, turning to
walk, but she wouldn’t move.
“Mulder?” She asked again, her frightened tone infusing every
question she wanted to ask.
“Dana,” Mulder said, in a voice he was trying hard to control,
“get in the van.”
Scully blinked once and quickly complied, his use of her first
name scaring her into action.
She slammed the passenger door shut behind her and swung
her seatbelt on, turning to Mulder in the same movement. He
already had his on, and jammed the keys in the ignition, the
engine roaring to life. He threw the van into gear and only
when they were on the road and past the crowd of people did
he look at her.
“Mulder what is it?” She asked quietly, afraid of the answer.
Mulder turned to her and gripped the steering wheel hard, his
knuckles white.
“It’s Krycek,” he said, “I just saw him.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
It hadn’t been a good week.
Mulder had almost been resigned to sleeping on the couch.
The fact that Scully didn’t want to be alone in their own house
while she was sleeping, however, made his own private dog
house a living hell.
He made a turn up the small sidewalk that led to the hospital’s
main entrance where he’d walked from his last class to pick
Scully up every day that week. He felt horrible for what he’d
done, and wasn’t comfortable leaving her to do her customary
walk home from work.
She was standing just inside the entrance reading the school
newspaper and waiting for him.
“Hey Mulder,” she said, folding it under arm, “how was your
day?”
Her tone hadn’t indicated that she actually *cared* how his
day had been, but it had been a few more words than he’d
gotten in the past three days combined, and he took it as a
good sign.
“It was good. How was yours?”
“Fine,” she answered, but didn’t take his offered arm as they
started the short walk from the University of Michigan
hospital to their house. When Mulder grabbed her to steady
her as she slipped on a patch of early March ice, however, she
didn’t shrug him off.
Perhaps they’d be able to sit down and have a talk after dinner,
Mulder thought, she’d been too angry at him on their trip back
down to Ann Arbor, and had claimed exhaustion every other
night that week.
Mulder did feel guilty for doing what he’d done, but he
honestly, at the time, hadn’t thought it’d been dangerous. He
was merely trying to satisfy a curiosity in a non-threatening
way. He’d obviously been wrong.
Though they’d been alert since they arrived back downstate,
neither of them had noticed any indication that they were
being watched. Mulder began to wonder if he’d even ever
really seen Krycek at the waterfront that day.
Mulder shook his head when he realized Scully had said
something to him and was waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry, what?” He said apologetically.
“I said,” Scully said, her earlier irritation rearing it’s head
once more, “I have an ultra-sound tomorrow morning, did you
want to come with me?”
“I wouldn’t miss it, Scully,” he answered, his tone
supplicating her to forgive him.
“Okay,” she said, her own tone answering his a little more
kindly, “it’s at 10.”
They turned onto their block and crossed to their side of John
Street. As they climbed up their steps, and Mulder fished out
his set of keys, he turned to their next door neighbors, a group
of four young men who at that moment were enjoying an early
evening round of beers.
“Morning, professor!” One of them called over cheerily.
“Good evening,” Mulder answered him, smiling.
“Evening. Right,” the student answered back, and Mulder
turned the key and held the door open for Scully, waving to
the boy as he followed her inside.
“So,” Mulder said, taking her coat from her and hanging it up
next to his own, “have we decided whether or not we want to
know?”
At Scully’s confused look, he continued.
“The sex,” he went on, “do we want to know the sex of the
baby?”
Scully sighed at him and turned toward the kitchen.
“It’s up to you,” she said, her level of sudden stoicism
frightening Mulder somewhat.
He followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the
countertop while she rummaged around in the fridge.
“I think I’d like to know,” Mulder said with a searching smile.
“Well then, we’ll find out,” she replied, opening a container of
pineapple and leaning against the fridge while she ate it.
“Scully your level of apathy right now is scaring me.”
Scully sighed and put the container of pineapple on the
counter behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut with her
forefinger and thumb, and turned back to Mulder.
“Mulder it’s not…” She rubbed at her face and searched for
the right words. “It’s not apathy. It’s… It’s me being angry
and afraid and not knowing what to do about it.”
Mulder merely sat there in silence, not knowing how to
respond.
“What you did this weekend, Mulder,” she said, shaking her
head and walking toward him, “Why did you do it? Why did
go snooping into something that you knew, you *knew*
threatened our safety and the baby’s? Especially at a time
when the strands of our personal relationship were so…” She
finally sighed and leaned her hands against the countertop
facing Mulder, looking him in the eye. “Tenuous.”
“To be honest Scully,” he answered, “I didn’t think of the
situation as all that threatening. I mean, I know we weren’t
supposed to go out looking for the paranormal, but I wasn’t
prepared for the paranormal to come looking for us.”
Her face softened a little, but she made no move to answer
him, obviously awaiting a little more explanation.
“Scully, when I think about it, what I did scares *me*. I would
never, never do anything like it again.”
He stood and crossed over to stand beside her. She turned to
face him.
“I swear Scully, from now on, if a UFO goes that way,” he
pointed to his left, “I go *that* way,” he finished, shoving his
other hand sharply to the right. “This ,” he moved his
outstretched hand to her stomach and rested it there, “is too
important to me. Understand?”
She continued to look at him, and he wasn’t sure she did.
“Scully, I didn’t go out there because I long for what I gave up
when we left. I don’t. In fact, I’m glad we left. I’m glad I’m
here with you. There isn’t anywhere I’d rather be.”
Scully gave him a small smile and leaned into him, leaning her
forehead against his chest.
“I’m sorry for the last week,” she said, bringing her hands
around his middle to hug him tightly.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Scully. Nothing.” He
replied, returning her hug fiercely and planting a solid kiss to
the top of her head.
“Now,” he said, backing up a little bit to get a good look at
her, “why don’t you go change and relax, and I’ll do dinner
tonight.”
She smiled up at him and squeezed him one last time.
“Sounds good,” she said, and headed out of the kitchen and up
the stairs.
Mulder’s mood sufficiently perked up, he turned on the radio
that sat on the window sill above the sink and cranked up the
volume to the classic rock station that it was preset on. As Lee
Michael’s “Do You Know What I Mean” came on, he
shimmied his way to the fridge, no doubt looking ridiculous as
he bounced his ass along with the music with his head shoved
in between the shelves looking for something decent to cook.
When he popped up again with a head of lettuce in one hand
and a tomato in the other, he whirled around to find Scully
standing in the doorway of the kitchen sporting an enormous
smile. He paused for a second, embarrassed, and then decided
to hell with it, and continued grooving his way on over to the
countertop.
He saw Scully’s shoulder’s chuckle and she reached for her
purse that she’d left on the counter, and headed back upstairs.
As he was getting out a knife from the silverware drawer, the
phone hanging next to the refrigerator rang, and he reached for
it.
“Hello,” he said, pulling it’s cord along with him as he walked
to the sink to turn down the radio.
“Leave the radio on, Mulder,” the voice answered.
Mulder froze until recognition dawned on him and he found
his voice.
“I told you to never call here,” he said, his voice a venomous
hiss.
“We had no choice, Mulder, it’s urgent,” it answered.
“Frohike, so help me God,” Mulder began, but Frohike
interrupted him.
“Mulder we’ll make this quick,” he said, and Mulder brought
his other hand to his ear trying to better hear what the man had
to say above the din of the music. “We’ve been keeping track
of Krycek like you asked us to before you left.”
Mulder didn’t say anything and the man continued.
“We lost him for a while, but earlier this week, we found him
again, and intercepted a cell phone call. You need to hear it.”
Mulder nodded to the phone without reply, and Frohike took it
correctly as an indication to play the recording for him.
“’It’s me,’” one voice began, obviously not Krycek’s, “’I think
maybe they’re onto me.’”
“’Why would you say that?’” Krycek’s voice replied.
“’Because, they left, and then they came back to the house,
then left again and came back again. I think they knew I was
following them.’”
“’They don’t know anything,’” Krycek answered. “’Trust me,
they wouldn’t still be there if they knew they were being
watched.’”
Mulder’s gut felt like it dropped out from under him as the
voices continued.
“’You’re sure?’” The other voice asked.
“’Yes,’” Krycek said, “’stay at your post, and call me if
anything *really* changes.’”
“’How much longer?’”
“’Scully’s how many months along, now?’”
“’She’s got about 5 more,’” the man answered.
“’Then that’s how much longer *you’ve* got,’” Krycek
answered, “’there won’t be any need for you once the baby is
born. We won’t need to watch them anymore, and once we
have the kid, they won’t be able to find us.’”
Mulder almost dropped the phone. So they didn’t want their
child as leverage after all, they just wanted their child.
Frohike stopped the recording then, and got back on the
phone.
“You’ve got to get out of there, Mulder,” he said, “you’re
going to have to go underground.”
“Yeah,” Mulder said absently, and then “but… Why? Why
would they want our baby?”
“Do you really have to ask yourself that?” Frohike said after a
pause.
“It’s immune,” Mulder said, realization dawning on him, “it’s
immune to the alien virus.”
“That’s what we think too,” Frohike said, and then he shifted
gears. “Mulder, go to the location we arranged before you left,
and we’ll go from there. You know what to do, we’ll talk to
you then.”
With that, the man hung up, and Mulder stood there with the
phone still to his ear for a few moments. Then, like a flash, he
hit the switch on the radio, shutting it off and nearly spinning
into the sink below, and ran upstairs, taking them two at a
time.
When he burst through their bedroom door, he found Scully
sitting on the bed, calmly retying her shoes.
He stopped at the end of the bed, out of breath, and expected
Scully to jet upright and ask him what the hell was the matter.
She didn’t however, and simply met his frantic gaze with a
steady one of her own.
“Scully,” he said, “grab a bag and pack up as much as you
can. We’ve got to be out of here in ten minutes.”
“Fuck you, Mulder,” she said poisonously.
He stood struck dumb, not knowing what to say.
When she didn’t move, he moved to the closet and grabbed a
duffel bag, tossing it on the bed next to her.
“Scully, we need to get out of here. I’ll explain later.”
She curled her hand around the bag, and looked at him
pointedly.
“Explain now.”
He stood there in silence.
“I heard the phone call, Mulder. I picked it up the same time
as you and recognized the voice. What else have you been
keeping from me?”
Mulder glanced around the room, not knowing what else to
say. He’d only told the Gunmen to keep track of Krycek
before they’d left. Nothing more. He thought he’d told her so.
Maybe he hadn’t.
“Scully, I…” He stopped when his eyes landed on three
packed bags sitting by the bed room door.
Scully then stood and shoved the duffel bag into his chest.
“Pack whatever else you want,” she said angrily, “I think I got
most of it.”
She moved to the window that looked out the side of their
bedroom then, and froze.
“Mulder,” she said quietly.
Mulder moved to the window and followed her gaze.
One of the “students” that lived next door to them had just left
the house and was moving stealthily along the front yard
towards theirs with a large automatic handgun in his grip.
“Stay here,” Mulder said, and moved with purpose to the
nightstand next to the bed and removed his old service
weapon. He cocked it, shut the door behind him and made his
way slowly down the staircase, his gun at the ready.
He saw a shadow at the front door, and moved beside it
quietly.
The man silently opened the door and inched his way inside,
obviously not thinking that either of them had seen him. As
soon as he was inside, Mulder burst out from behind the door,
and cold cocked the man before he knew what hit him. The
man crumpled, and Mulder dragged him inside, kicking the
door shut behind him. He pulled the man toward the fireplace
and dumped him unceremoniously onto the tile in front of it,
flipping off the preppy hat off of the man’s head to get a good
look at his face. Not recognizing him, Mulder kneed him in
the groin to make sure he wasn’t faking unconsciousness, and
when it provided no response, he raced back upstairs.
He flung the door open and walked directly into the barrel of
Scully’s gun.
“Jesus, Mulder,” she said, dropping her arm.
“Sorry,” he apologized, and then grabbed two of the largest
bags, shoving his gun into his jeans and leaving Scully the
smallest to carry.
She glanced at the man as they made their way to the front
door and she paused when she saw it.
“Barin Corey,” she said, as Mulder opened the door for her.
“He worked at the hospital with me.”
She nearly deflated then, and Mulder rushed to her side,
shouldering the bag she was carrying, and leading her toward
the open door.
“Come on, Scully.”
He threw their luggage into the side door, and helped Scully
into the passenger seat, worrying more than a little at her
sudden empty state.
He then got into the van himself and nearly peeled out of their
driveway and onto the street. He buckled his seatbelt and
turned to her, throwing her a worried glance.
She looked straight forward and didn’t return it.
He was about to open his mouth, when she finally did hers.
“Why, Mulder?” She asked. “Why us? Why the fuck is it
*always* us?”
Mulder didn’t have the answer to it and she knew it. She
reached across the console and grabbed the fabric of his pants
in a death grip. He put his own hand over hers to calm her.
“It’s going to be alright, Scully,” he said. “It will.”
She pursed her lips together, trying not to let any tears fall
from her eyes, and then spoke.
“Where are we going to go?” She asked.
Mulder gave her hand a squeeze. He didn’t know, but he was
determined to find it. There was somewhere out there where
they’d be safe. There had to be. He was sick of living east of
the syndicate and west of the aliens.
“We’re going somewhere where we won’t be the ones in the
dark,” he said, “we’re going somewhere where there’s a new
shade of black.”
XxXxXxXxXxX
THE END… Until Part IV, anyway.
Thanks for sticking with me!
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