Title: First Flight Author: Ellie (windblownellie@yahoo.com) Rating: PG-13, for language and graphic images Category: X, M/S UST, AU (veers off mid-S4) Summary: Mulder and Scully meet a woman who may provide answers about the origins of Scully's cancer. Author's Notes: Major beta thanks to XScribe for comments, advice, and smoothing over the rough edges. **** Chapter 9 **** Mulder shifted impatiently from foot to foot as Scully and Byers took turns gazing though the microscope. He was getting an eerie feeling of déjà vu as Langly called a series of images up on the computer monitor. "Yeah, so this looks pretty similar," Langly said, nodding to the side-by-side images on the monitor. They looked identical to Mulder. "Which is which?" "This one's from before," said Langly as he pointed to the image on the left. "And this one is the one you brought us tonight." Mulder stood frozen, captivated by the images before him. His fixation on the monitor broke only when Scully took a few steps backwards. She'd been quiet since they'd opened the tiny tube to reveal a microchip. Now she was slowly disengaging from the situation. The Gunmen were too engrossed in examining their newest piece of mystery technology to pay much heed, but Mulder noticed, saying nothing as she edged out of the computer-filled room. He simply followed her. She had to know he was behind her; the poured concrete floor did little to muffle either of their footsteps. Still, neither of them spoke as she strode rapidly down the cluttered hallway, maneuvering adroitly around racks of electronics and piles of old magazines. Mulder trailed two steps behind. When she reached what passed for the Gunmen's kitchen, she finally halted, her back to Mulder and her hands planted firmly on the counter on either side of her. "Scully?" Mulder's voice seemed terribly loud as it echoed off the Formica and plastic of the kitchen. Without thinking, he reached out for her, fingers barely grazing her shoulder. She drew up and away from his touch, pressing closer against the battered puce countertop. "Mulder, I just.... Give me a minute, okay?" She didn't turn to face him. He didn't respond, simply stepped away towards the refrigerator. He pulled out two Diet Cokes and walked to the ancient dinette set, sitting down and placing the second can directly across the table from him. He could hear her drawing a few deep breaths as he snapped open the can. The sharp sound finally drew Scully's attention, and she glanced back over her shoulder at him. Without a word, she crossed to the table and dropped into the rickety metal chair across from him. "Thanks." She popped open the can and took a sip, buying herself yet more time to think. Mulder waited. "I don't know what to think," she finally said. Mulder nodded and sat his can on the table, staring at it rather than her. Abruptly, he looked up at her. "How do you feel?" Mulder could see the panic flicker across her face before she replied. "It scares the shit out of me. This is so far outside the realm of what I understand about our medical technology that I don't even know how to think about it." She drew a deep breath and continued in a whisper, "It terrifies me to think that I'm entangled in this." All Mulder could do was nod and let her talk. He was startled when she reached across the table and latched onto his hand. "There's someone out there with the ability to get to anyone, anywhere. Who got to me. Someone who can make information disappear and answers appear out of thin air. And I don't know whether to be more frightened by the power that these unknowns have, or by the fact that this chip might not do what we're meant to think it will." "But Scully--" "No, that's a possibility we have to consider. We have no idea where that chip came from. I know you want to believe it's a cure for me, but we have no proof at all that putting a chip back into my neck will ameliorate matters. What if it makes them worse?" Mulder saw the unspoken fear in her eyes, and being a natural paranoid, he knew what was worrying her. What if this chip did nothing? What if it caused her cancer to metastasize more rapidly? What if They could use it to control her? What if this chip killed her? Too many what-ifs. For once, he kept his darker concerns to himself. "What do you want to do?" She graced him with a watery smile. "Do you think the risk is worth taking?" He was stunned and it took him a moment to formulate a response. "I can't fathom not taking a chance that could save your life. I think that potential good outweighs all the other risks." Slowly, her head bobbed in assent, and it seemed an eternity before she quietly responded, "I'm not ready to die yet." "I'm not going to let you." He rose from the table and used her grip on his hand to draw her up as well, watching as the protest died on her lips. For just a moment she tensed as he wrapped his arms around her, then she returned the embrace. He reluctantly drew away from her and looked down at her face. There was fear and worry there, but also determination. "So let's go figure out how to make this happen." The mood was much lighter as they maneuvered back down the Gunmen's cluttered hallway. The men looked up as Mulder and Scully returned to the room, seemingly startled to realize they'd been missing at all. **** Charlotte walked down the dim hallway, heels connecting sharply with the herringboned hardwood floor. When she reached the elegantly carved door that loomed over the corridor, she rapped three times. After a moment, the door swung open. All the old familiar faces were there, though once more it struck her how odd it was to see Marcus sitting in what had been her father's wingback chair. It should be her place. The room was brighter than the hallway, but not by much. Heavy draperies hung at the windows, blocking much of the bright morning light. Two white stripes broke through, making the darkness elsewhere seem much more prominent. In the light beams, she could see flecks of dust floating in the air. Everything here smelled faintly of cigars. "Charlotte my dear, so glad you could join us." Stepping out of the darkness between two windows, CGB Spender approached her. He gestured towards one of the old cordovan leather chairs, urging her to sit. The others, who had been socializing in small groups around the room, moved to do the same. A wizened man with a faintly British accent spoke as the last members gathered around. "So has the Stevens issue been resolved, Charles?" Spender exhaled a cloud of smoke, which drifted up to join the smoky haze lingering around the ceiling. "It has, Richard, unless there's something our own Miss Stevens would like to add." Everyone in the room turned to look at her. She still wasn't quite sure what to say to them, despite a day spent thinking of little else. Even the funeral planning had fallen to Thom as she planned for this meeting. After a deep breath, she said, "Yes, there is something I would like to add. While I realize that some action was necessary to prevent Beatrice Stevens from revealing information to the FBI, I don't believe the manner of resolution was an appropriate one." "And what would you have had me do?" Spender continued to gaze placidly at her. "Certainly those who have crossed us in the past have met worse ends. Of the possible solutions, this was the most humane." Several of the other men nodded in assent. Charlotte shook her head. "I don't know that it was necessary to dispatch with her at all. She was a woman of discretion, who knew that some information was best kept to oneself. She was privy to secrets over the years that she managed to keep. I feel sure that had this been discussed with me before any action was taken, I could have spoken with her and dissuaded her from cooperating further with Agent Mulder." "Just as you avoided cooperating with Agent Mulder?" There was a nasty edge to Spender's voice. "Just as you've done so much to hinder him over the years." The assemblage looked between the two of them as they spoke, like the crowd at Wimbledon. "You're treading on dangerous ground, Miss Stevens. Don't speak on matters you have not been fully apprised of." "I think I know enough to put two and two together on this. I did meet with Agents Mulder and Scully over lunch, but told them nothing of help. Unless you count the suggestion that my mother was involved in fraud 'helpful'." "Enough of this," barked a voice with a harsh New York accent. "We're getting nowhere here. What's done is done. As much power as the committee has, Charlotte, we cannot raise the dead." "I understand that very well, Johnny." "So what would you have me do?" Johnny took a long drag on his cigar, the end sparking to red. "Nothing here can be undone," Charlotte said. "But I ask that in the future, should such situations arise with the families of those involved here, they be apprised of the circumstances. My mother didn't know what she was revealing--if she'd known it was a matter of such importance, she would never have spoken a word." Around the room, heads nodded in assent. Their families may not have known the nature of their work, but they all understood its importance. "Agreed," said Richard with a nod. "Now, on to more pressing matters. I believe you have an update for us, Marcus?" Charlotte relaxed back into the comfortable leather chair as Marcus began outlining his engineers' most recent achievement. **** End Chapter 9 To be concluded in Chapter 10 **** Feedback makes my day: windblownellie@yahoo.com www.geocities.com/windblownellie/firstflight.htm