From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 18 Dec 2002 02:54:36 -0000
Subject: It\'s Gonna Get Better(1/9)by Virtie by Virtues & Vices
Source: direct

Reply To: virtuesandvices@aol.com


Title: It's Gonna Get Better
Author: Virtie
E-mail: virtuesandvices@aol.com
Web Site: http://www.geocities.com/fanficcorner/
Rating: NC-17
Category: TRA
Classification: Mythology, M&S Married
Spoilers: Up through Season 8...and *my* Season 9
Archive: Of course you can...but let me know where, please.
Summary: The sequel to 'Let's Face the Music and Dance'
Invasion is near, and the children that Mulder has been
protecting are in danger.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours. Not anybody's anymore.
They're legends now. 
Warning: This one gets complicated. If you haven't read
'Let's Face the Music and Dance' and it's companion 'Do You
Dream of Me?', you are going to get very lost.
Author's Notes: Please stay tuned for my dedications and
observances at the end of the story. Thanks!

*****

'It's Gonna Get Better' - Genesis

Reach out, hands in the air, don't care just what they're
saying
Hold out, just keep on hoping against hope that it's gonna
get better
Don't worry, there's no hurry for you, for me everything's
gonna come around
Shout out, someone will listen to you, to me, someone's
gonna see

He calls me over, calls me brother and I know
always fighting and moonlighting, well it never ends
in the city, if you're all alone
there's a sister and she's standing next to her man
in the darkness you feel the sharpness of steel
and it's always there, in the city, if you're all alone

So reach out, hands in the air, don't care just what they're
saying
Hold out, just keep on hoping against hope that it's gonna
get better
Don't worry, there's no hurry for you, for me everything's
gonna come around
Shout out, someone will listen to you, to me, someone's
gonna see

If it's gonna get better, it starts with a feeling
if it's gonna get better, it's gonna take time
if it's gonna get better, we've got to start now
'cause I know everybody can feel it
and I know everybody will see it
'cause it shows, and that shows I'm not dreaming
'cause you know, and I know, it's time for a change

***** 

The Sonora Desert
20 Miles Southwest of Tucson, Arizona


The stars were bright tonight.

Of course, they were always bright here in the desert, but
tonight they seemed even more so. Closer. Warmer. Sharper
than usual.

A man stood out in the dark of the desert, watching them
carefully, as if he was trying to read them. They told a
story, he knew. A story older than time itself. They were
magical, yet they were an accepted part of everyone's
average existence. They were a miracle, yet few thought of
them as such. There were thousands of stars. Millions.
Billions and billions. He smiled to himself, allowing his
thoughts to continue on that theme: If there was no other
life out there, then it was a whole lot of wasted space.

A grimace overtook the smile. It was a good thing that Carl
Sagan wasn't still alive today to see what those visitors he
had only imagined and wrote about were really like. And it
was fortunate many of the men he had grown up idolizing
weren't alive to see him so deeply buried in the lies and
conspiracies he had once fought so hard to uncover.

The man took a deep breath of the dry night air and closed
his eyes against the glare of the billions of suns shining
above him. Even the starlight that used to calm him,
especially after learning the truth about his long lost
sister, could not ease his suffering tonight. Not after what
he had learned at the base earlier in the day.

They were almost ready. The Grays were preparing to release
the virus. A virus so swift and deadly that even the most
dedicated and brilliant doctors would never be able to find
a cure in time. The country would be decimated in weeks. The
continent in a few short months. The world within the year.

Only those immune, either by nature or by scientific
dabbling, would survive.

He would be one of those survivors. As would his wife. And
his son. Yet he would give anything to be one of the
majority, a person unaware of the threat, facing a quick
demise, so as to not have to witness the destruction of the
earth as he knew it.

He had been working for months to find out the Grays' plans.
Slowly, after more than a year in their company, he had
gained a modicum of trust. He was the leader of the human
allies, therefore very powerful, but he was still only a
human. He was the caretaker of the Children of Eden, the
name given to the special children the Grays believed to be
sent by God. He was the natural father of the most powerful
of these children, thirteen of them at last count, all but
one kept in a commune at El Creyente. The replicants, the
protectors of the children, listened to his orders and
obeyed his commands. The children themselves looked up to
him, the only real father most of them had ever known. 

But he was still a human, not to be trusted or allowed to
have too much power. Nevertheless, he had managed to weasel
into the good graces of many of their leaders. The things he
had learned, he passed on...carefully...quietly.

A vaccine to the virus was possible, this he knew; it was
how he had become immune in the first place. The problem was
that it could never be replicated in the quantities
necessary, not in time, anyway. He shivered, despite the
heat in the late August night. This meant he needed to stop
this viral apocalypse before it started. He couldn't do that
alone.

It was time to go home.

*****  

Dana Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, Washington D.C.


William Mulder sat in the middle of the living room floor
and watched his mother with anxious eyes. It had been
another stressful day for her, he knew. She had come to pick
him up from his daycare later than usual, and the shadows
under her eyes had been darker than they had been that
morning. She almost always had those shadows now, shadows
that were invisible to most in her acquaintance thanks to
make-up, but that he could see clearly. Though he had long
ago been taught not to invade his mother's mind without
invitation, he didn't need to use any telepathic powers to
know why she was so stressed: She missed his father. She had
had no communication with him in months. 

And neither had he. 

'Aye, there's the rub,' he thought, not knowing where he had
heard that phrase before but liking it anyway. His father
had physically left his life more than a year ago, but until
the latter part of May he had kept close contact with Will
via telepathy. It had been rare indeed to not have some sort
of contact with Fox Mulder at least once a day, and many of
those times had included some sort of lesson in the use of
his talents. 

Then one day he had awakened to a hole in his mind. Not a
real hole, of course, but a deep, dark emptiness that
frightened him. He had begun screaming, wildly kicking his
legs and throwing his arms around, terrified by the
unfamiliar emptiness. His mother had come running, scared
and confused, and it had taken several minutes before,
trembling in her arms, he had been able to tell her what was
wrong.

"Daddy's gone!"

Though only a year and seven months old, William had known
what the loss in contact must mean: his father was dead. The
panic and sense of loss emanating from his mother at his
words only seemed to confirm his feelings. Then, sitting on
his bed wrapped up in each other, they had both felt him.
Alive. Alone. And angry.

He had been alive and well, but due to some unknown reason
he had ended all mental contact with his wife and son. No
more dreams. No more lessons. No more support.

Despite the loss, it had affected his mother more than it
had William. She had become withdrawn, uncommunicative. She
rarely smiled, slept poorly, and worked her ass off. Will
winced and reminded himself not to use that word; his father
had been fond of it, but had made Will promise not to use
it. Will wondered why he should even bother obeying his
father's rules when the man obviously didn't care about him
or his mother anymore. 

Often at night, he would try to ease his mother to sleep,
trying to provide her with the sweet dreams she always
wished on him at bedtime, and sometimes he succeeded.
However, more than once during one of these lighthearted,
candy-coated dreams, her consciousness would rip away from
his and go to a place he couldn't follow. She was able to
block him from her mind at these times, protecting him, he
guessed, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not break
in.

She never spoke of these nightmares, but he knew they
troubled her almost as much as the loss of contact with his
father. At times during the day, he was able to catch
flashes of what he assumed was the nightmare enter her mind
before she quickly and efficiently pushed him out. Flames.
Heat. The smell of burning flesh. A man with the strong,
willful presence of his father but who looked nothing like
the man of his memory. He was frightened by these images yet
curious about them as well.

She had had the nightmare last night, and this morning for
the first time he had asked her about it. He remembered how
her eyes had widened in surprise and how the corner of her
mouth had quirked up in a small smile, the first he had seen
from her since Uncle Frohike's last visit. "You're a baby,"
she had told him. "You aren't supposed to care about such
things."

Will had only looked at her, using the gaze he knew
instinctively reminded her of his father to cajole her into
answering him. It had worked...to a point. "You don't need
to know about it, Will. Not yet." Subject closed.

Now, William stared at her as she sat down at the computer,
worry combining with annoyance at her dismissal earlier this
morning. He knew he was far smarter than other children his
age, and she usually treated him appropriately. But some
days she treated him as if he was a normal twenty-month-old.
A baby.

"Hmmmm..."

Her curious humming had his anger dissipating and his own
curiosity rising. He stood up from his place on the floor
and made his way toward the computer. "Mama?"

She glanced back at him, quickly clicking the mouse as she
did so, the e-mail she had been reading disappearing off the
screen in front of her. "Yes, Will?"

"Who was that from?" He stopped by her chair, his eyes going
back and forth from her to the monitor.

She sighed. "I don't know, Will." She began to shut down the
computer, and he knew she was relieved that he had yet to
master the smart little machine on his own. "Nobody
important."

William Mulder loved his mother. And he trusted her. But at
that moment, he didn't believe her one bit.

*****   

The Lone Gunmen's Lair


Scully sat quietly, patiently waiting for the men around her
to stop their bickering and settle down to a sensible
discussion. Glancing across the room at Monica, who was also
watching the 'show' with a bemused look on her face, she
wondered if she would be waiting the rest of the night. The
younger female agent caught her eye and winked. Scully felt
the corners of her mouth lift in response. Men. You couldn't
live with them. You couldn't live without them. You couldn't
shoot them, either. Well, not without feeling very guilty
afterwards.

Finally, there was a break in the 'discussion'.

"Are you guys done?" Scully asked softly.

Four pairs of male eyes focused on her, all a tad bit wary,
she thought. Scully concentrated on the intense blue pair
closest to her. "I have to do this, John. He wouldn't be
asking me if it wasn't important."

"'He' who?" Special Agent John Doggett demanded. "Dana, you
don't even know who this guy you're supposed to meet is!"

"You're right, I don't know who the contact is," Scully
agreed, her voice calm. "But he or she is someone Mulder
trusts. That's all I need to know."

She watched as John's eyes clouded over with anger. "I still
don't get how you can believe that! Where's your proof? What
evidence do you have that this person is one of Mulder's
people?"

Scully understood his disbelief. He had only learned that
Mulder was still alive a few short months ago, and he had
yet to actually believe it. After all, he needed more proof
than just Scully's say so. Her story of telepathic
communication with her husband via dreams was not something
just anybody would accept. Scully herself had a hard time
reconciling what she had always known to be fact with what
she now knew in her heart was true: she and Mulder shared a
connection that went well beyond the physical.

Six months ago, Mulder had contacted her and Frohike by way
of a very elaborate and intriguing dream. In this dream, he
had told them that the blood of the Gray aliens, which was
deadly to humans, was the only thing that could kill the
Grays' unnatural creations, called Replicants by those in
the know. He had promised to send information on how to
produce a substance almost identical to the blood to
Frohike, and he had, sending the formula via an e-mail that
could not be traced. Even the Gunmen had been impressed by
the covert message.

Within that message, written in Navajo, was a list of post
office boxes and other storage facilities. Since that time,
Scully had received more open e-mails that contained only
one phrase: Present For You. She had learned that, upon
receiving these e-mails, she simply had to go to the next
place on her list to find some useful tidbit of information
that Mulder felt they needed to know. Scully did not know
who dropped off these 'presents,' but she knew it had to be
someone Mulder trusted with her and William's life. It was
during one of these jaunts to a locker at a bus station in
Manassas that Doggett had discovered her secret; suspicious
about her trips out of town alone, he had followed her,
cornered her, and demanded she tell him the truth.

Walter Skinner and Monica Reyes had learned about Mulder's
whereabouts soon after that, though Skinner hadn't seemed at
all shocked by the revelation. Monica had supported Scully's
quiet plan of defense, believing in the possible future
invasion of an alien species. Skinner had also stood at her
side, solid and stoic as always. Doggett, on the other
hand...

Last night, Scully had received another e-mail from her
'source,' but this one had been different. Instead of
"Present For You," it had read, "Meet Me." On her list of
Navajo names, only one wasn't a place to store or mail
something. It was a techno bar in downtown Richmond called
Wonderland. Apparently, Scully was finally going to meet her
'contact.' If Doggett let her go, of course.

"I've told you how I know, John," she said, trying hard to
keep her voice steady. "Mulder has been sending us
information through this person for months. If he or she is
calling for a meeting, then it's got to be something very
important." She sighed. "It's a very crowded bar, John. What
could happen to me there?"

Scully refused to answer her own question in her head. She
knew that, despite her reassuring words to her former
partner, there was a great deal of risk in this undertaking.

Fortunately, John refused to answer it as well. He simply
glared at her. "Okay," he finally said with a sharp nod of
his head. "But I'm going with you."

*****

The Lone Gunmen's Lair


Doggett wasn't sure what exactly he'd gotten himself into
this time. All he knew was that Dana was about to do
something dangerous, perhaps deadly, and he wasn't about to
let her go alone. He didn't know where this protectiveness
of her had come from. Perhaps it was simply left over from
when they had been partners on the X-Files. Or perhaps his
automatic devotion to baby William, an adoration that had
begun before the child's birth, caused him to still feel
responsible for the safety of his mother. 

'Or maybe you should just admit you have feelings for the
woman and deal with it,' he chastised himself.

Feelings. That was putting it mildly. Special Agent Dana
Mulder had stirred up emotions in him that were as strong as
the ones he'd once had for Barbara, his ex-wife and Luke's
mother. Love, lust, friendship. She inspired all these
feelings and more, and the fact that they no longer worked
together - the fact that his current partner saw more of
Dana than he did - didn't diminish these feelings one iota.
If anything, his physical separation from her had made those
feelings stronger.

Dana could take care of herself, he had never doubted that.
Her reputation, as well as that of her partner, Fox Mulder,
had been well known all throughout the Bureau. Known by
unflattering nicknames such as 'The Ice Queen' and 'Mrs.
Spooky,' Dana Scully had also been known for her quick mind,
astounding patience, incredible loyalty, and the ability to
handle men three times her size, both mentally and
physically. She was independent and, at times, so
unemotional one might think she had no feelings whatsoever.
Yet, Doggett had seen her at her best and at her worst. He
knew she had feelings, powerful feelings. He knew she would
gladly die for her son...but that she would rather live for
him. He also knew she loved Fox Mulder with all her heart
and soul; she would not only live for him, she would never
be happy living without him.

Doggett had known about her feelings for Mulder almost from
day one. Everyone did. She may have hidden them from view,
but the fact that she had remained his partner, despite all
the trouble he had brought to her life, both professionally
and personally, had said it all. They had been magic
together on the X-Files, and when Doggett had learned about
Dana's pregnancy, he realized they had been magic off the
X-Files as well. 

It had been quite a shock to find himself jealous when the
fact of her pregnancy had come out. He had hidden his
feelings, from her and from himself, for the next few
months. Until that time when Skinner had asked for his help
in digging up Mulder's grave. It had been insane, and he had
made sure Skinner knew his feelings on the matter, but it
had been the right thing to do. The hope and the love in
Scully's eyes as she waited patiently at Mulder's bedside
told him so. Then Mulder had awakened. Doggett clearly
remembered watching the joy pour from Dana as she welcomed
her lover back to the living. He clearly remembered his own
heart breaking. 

Dana had seen him that day, watching them from the doorway
of Mulder's hospital room. She hadn't spoken to him, but he
could tell from the look in her eye that she had known. His
face must have been as easy to read as a book.

Dana Scully knew he loved her.

It hadn't changed the way she treated him. She still had the
same respect and trust in him as before. She had even, on
occasion, defended him to Mulder, who had been worse than a
horse's ass to her upon his return from the dead. For one
brief shining moment, he had thought there might be hope.
However, Mulder's own protective side eventually emerged,
and by the time the baby had been born, Doggett knew his
chances with Dana were sunk.

Then Mulder and Scully had married, and Mulder had died.
Only he hadn't.

Doggett shouldn't have been surprised when Dana had
confessed to him that Mulder had faked his death and that
she was still communicating with him through secret
messages. The one she had picked up that day in Manassas
when he had followed her was the formula to an additive that
could be mixed with some kind of 'alien blood' (what Dana
had jokingly called 'Snake Oil') that kept it from
weakening. Dana hadn't wanted to tell him any more than
that, sure he wouldn't believe her anyway, but at his
constant pushing (he hadn't been called 'Doggett the Dogged'
in the Marines for nothing) she had finally told him
everything.

She had been right; he hadn't believed her.

Whatever she and the Three Stooges were involved with was
still dangerous, he was sure of it. Planning to meet a
contact she knew nothing about wasn't the first stupid thing
she had done since he had become acquainted with her, but he
was going to make sure it wasn't the last, either.

So now he was at the Gunmen's place, packed and ready for
the two hour drive to Richmond. It was late in the
afternoon, and Dana wanted to get there as soon as the doors
to Wonderland opened. They were driving down prepared to go
straight to the club, then they would find a motel in
Richmond afterwards. 

Provided they got out of this alive, of course.

Doggett paced the main room of the Gunmen's lair, waiting
impatiently for Dana to finish getting ready in the
bathroom. He was wearing blue jeans, a tight white T-shirt,
boots, and a denim jacket. It was his usual day off attire,
and he figured it would suffice for an evening out at a
club. Of course, he had never been to one of these so-called
Techno joints before. 

He stopped pacing when he noticed Frohike watching him from
his seat at one of the many computers in the room. The other
two Gunmen had gone out to get something to eat. The little
man was glaring at him, but there was no real malice in his
expression. Doggett and the little hacker had never really
gotten along, but they still managed to respect each other. 

"What?"

"She can do this, you know." 

Doggett nodded. "And I suppose you would let her go alone if
I wasn't going with her, right?"

Frohike's lips thinned and he didn't answer. Which was
answer enough.

A sound from behind him caused him to turn, but not before
he saw the stunned look on Frohike's face.

Special Agent Dana Mulder stepped out of the bathroom, her
overnight bag over her shoulder, her heels clacking on the
hard floor, but Doggett didn't notice the bag. Or the heels.

Tight, dark blue, lots of skin. That's what he did notice.
He didn't know if you could call the little piece of
material she was wearing a dress. The skirt only came down
to about mid thigh, and Doggett had to admit that he had
never seen that much leg on this particular woman before.
The spaghetti straps on the velvet sheath barely seemed to
hold up the dress, which scooped down dangerously low,
showing off more than a little cleavage. She had piled her
hair up on top of her head, but little wisps of it floated
down around her face, which exhibited more make up than
usual. He finally noticed the shoes. Navy sandals that
matched the dress, with heels so high he couldn't understand
how she could walk. 

She eyed him a little nervously, then looked behind him at
Frohike. "Too much?"

"Hell, no!" Frohike crowed. "You'll fit in perfectly."

Dana nodded, then looked Doggett up and down. "Is that what
you're wearing?"

For a moment, Doggett couldn't say a word. He was still
trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Dana Mulder was
a whole hell of a lot sexier than even he had imagined...
and he had imagined a lot. "Uh, yeah." He looked back at
Frohike who was glaring at him again. "Not good enough?"

Dana sighed and reached for her leather jacket, dropping the
overnight bag at her feet in order to put it on. The
movement caused Doggett to drop his eyes to her breasts.
When he felt a sudden tightening in his crotch, he
immediately focused on her face. It didn't help.

"It'll do," Dana said, reaching down to pick up the bag
again. 

Doggett closed his eyes to avoid looking directly down her
dress. Frohike groaned behind him, and Doggett knew the
little hacker had seen what he had. When he opened his eyes,
Dana was blushing, her eyes downcast.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I'm not used to..."

"Are you armed?" Doggett asked, changing the subject as
quickly as possible.

"She doesn't need a gun," Frohike rumbled. "She's a
dangerous weapon just as she is."

Doggett turned and glared at Frohike, then faced Dana, who
had bitten her lower lip to keep from laughing at Frohike's
half-assed compliment. The sight only caused Doggett more
discomfort.

"Yes," Dana finally said. "I'm armed."

"Wh--" Doggett started. "Never mind. I don't want to know."
He turned for the door. "Let's get this over with."

How in the hell was he going to be able to stand being in
the same car with her for two hours?

*****  

Wonderland
Richmond, Virginia


Scully sat alone at a table amidst the activity and music of
Wonderland, Richmond's most popular downtown club. She had
never been to a place like this before, not even on an
investigation. It wasn't your regular bar, that was for
sure. Not even the high class bars in D.C. could hold a
candle to this elegant yet slightly raunchy club. Not
stripper kind of raunchy, of course; it would take more than
a vague 'meet me' to get her to go to one of those places
without knowing exactly who she was meeting and why. Yet, it
was raunchy due to the clientele, most of whom wore less
than she did.

Completely comfortable in their skimpy clothing, the women
in Wonderland weren't at all afraid to show off their
attributes. And the men, though they were much more
conservatively dressed, were more than happy to help. The
dance floor was packed elbow to elbow with writhing bodies.
It was arousing just to watch, and it made Scully very
uncomfortable. She had been asked more than once to dance,
but she had only accepted two offers from the most
persistent of her 'suitors', hoping they might be the
contact she was meeting, but neither had done anything other
than hit on her. Pretending to enjoy dancing close to them,
especially when she had never thought of herself as a good
dancer, had been hard. The sight of so many young, seductive
bodies may have aroused her, but being among them had been
embarrassing and slightly revolting.

Doggett had not asked her to dance, and for that she was
grateful. While she knew she would be more comfortable with
him out there than with a stranger, she refused to tease
him, however inadvertently, any more than she had to. She
knew how much her appearance had affected him, and it made
her feel guilty. Guilty. She shook her head slightly at the
thought. She cared for John, but not in the same way he
cared for her. 

She looked up when she saw him approach the table from the
direction of the restrooms. He eyed her curiously, and she
shook her head again, much more firmly this time, indicating
that no one had approached her while he was away. She also
noticed the looks he was getting from some of the women as
he walked by. Scully had to admit that he looked damn good
in those jeans. She wished he had accepted at least one of
the offers he had had from several cute women to dance; his
social life was worse than hers. At least she now had the
excuse of single motherhood.

He sat down across from her, glancing at his watch. With a
glare, he leaned across the table toward her so she could
hear him speak over the loud music. "We've been here for
three hours now, Dana," he told her. "Maybe he's not gonna
show tonight."

She shook her head in reply. "I'm sure it's supposed to be
tonight. I got the message last night. Mulder knows I check
my e-mail every day."

Doggett sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know
how much longer I can stand this," he yelled to her. Scully
smirked. It was obvious he wasn't fond of the music; give
him a choice, and he would stick with his country music, a
taste he had developed when he had been partnered with a
former country boy turned New York cop. She, however, liked
the music. It was addicting. Alluring. She looked back at
the dance floor. Seductive.

A man stepped in front of her, blocking her view. She looked
up...and up. He had to be nearly six and a half feet tall.
He had close cropped blonde hair and pale blue eyes with
laugh lines that were clearly visible even in the dim light
of the club. He wasn't handsome, but he certainly wasn't
ugly, either. "Wanna dance?"

He looked nice enough, but as tired as she was, she really
didn't want to go out and fight the mass of people on the
dance floor, especially with a man more than a foot taller
than her, even in heels. "No, thanks," she said as politely
as she could.

"Please?" he persisted. "I might surprise you." 

Scully's eyes narrowed and she looked at Doggett. The man
noticed her action and turned toward Doggett. "If you don't
mind?" He tilted his head curiously, obviously wondering if
he stood a chance.

Doggett shrugged. "Hey, it's her choice." He seemed casual,
but Scully saw the intense wariness in his ice blue eyes.

The man looked at her again, hopeful and earnest. Scully
sighed and reached up for the man's outstretched hand,
allowing him to help her stand. She braced herself for a
return to the undulating mob in front of her, allowing
herself to take comfort in the feel of the small pistol
strapped to the inside of her left thigh. Uncomfortable as
it was physically, its psychological comfort was powerful.

She tried to relax as her partner lead her through the
crowd, but she instantly tensed when he didn't stop right
away. Instead, he continued to move her deeper into the mob.
As tall as he was, she was sure Doggett could still pick him
out if he wanted to, but the farther this man took her from
her table, the more she became convinced this was the man
she was supposed to meet.

He finally stopped and turned his laughing eyes toward her.
He moved in carefully and began swaying to the music. Scully
cast a glance in the direction of her table but wasn't
surprised when she couldn't see it or Doggett. With a
tentative smile, she looked up at the man in front of her.
"I'm not very good at this," she told him, speaking loudly
so he could hear her.

He shook his head. "It's not hard," he said, grasping her
hips lightly. "Just move with the music. Let your body take
over."

Just at that moment, the music changed from a rather fast,
almost violent beat to a slower, much more sensual one. 'Let
my body take over. Right,' Scully thought sarcastically. She
moved her hips carefully, trying to ignore the press of
bodies around her. She prayed that if this was indeed her
contact, he would hurry up and let her know.

His hands left her hips suddenly and she looked up at him
with surprise. He smiled, glanced behind her, and started to
back away from her. "Thanks for the dance," he told her.

Scully frowned and took a step forward. "Wait a min--"

Another pair of hands grabbed her hips from behind. She
tensed, not wanting to defend herself until she knew exactly
what the situation entailed. As she ran over the various
maneuvers she could use to get away from whoever was holding
her, the owner of the hands on her hips stepped into her,
bringing his entire body up against her. Male. Definitely
male. And large. And...

Her whole body seemed to sag back into the man behind her as
his familiar scent washed over her. Just as suddenly, she
tensed again. How? How had he snuck up on her? How had she
not sensed him? Read him? Felt him in her head?

His leather clad arms wrapped themselves around her and he
began to sway to the seductive beat of the music, which she
could barely hear over the pounding of her pulse in her
ears. She tried to turn her head, but he tightened his arms,
squeezing her lightly, telling her 'no.' She obeyed, a
shiver running up her spine. One of his hands began to stray
up her body, petting her, rewarding her. She closed her eyes
and moved her body with his, feeling his growing erection
against the crease of her buttocks. How amazing that he had
seduced her so easily, but she knew she wasn't the only one
seduced. She rubbed herself against his hardness and was
rewarded when he moaned softly in her ear.

His roaming hand found and cupped her breast through the
velvet of her dress. She wasn't embarrassed; she had been
witness to many intimate touches between partners on this
dance floor all night. She did however tilt her head back
and to the side, inviting him to touch her even more. He
obliged, his hot breath preceding his moist tongue and lips
on her bare neck. He squeezed her breast at the same time,
and Scully felt a wave of moisture saturate the skimpy,
uncomfortable thong she was wearing.

Then she felt his other hand move downward. Toward that very
place that was longing for him. 

'Not here. Not here. Not here.' She was chanting it in her
head, but the words never made it past her lips. How far
would he go, she wondered? He wouldn't--

Slowly, carefully, he reached down and pulled up her skirt,
his hand inching along from the outside of her thigh to the
inside. She dropped her head, noticing in the dim light of
the dance floor that not even she could see what he was
doing, so she should stop worrying about anyone else seeing
it. But she could feel it.

She could feel his fingers tease the elastic garter of her
thigh-highs. She felt his knuckles scrape against the gun
strapped to her other thigh. She felt the size of his own
'weapon' increase with his realization that she was armed.
She felt his hand disappear from her leg, only to return a
moment later, and she knew he had retrieved something from
his jacket pocket. Her senses became even more alert as he
carefully slid that something inside the garter of her right
leg.

With one last gentle touch of her bare thigh above the
stocking, he straightened her skirt and pulled back a bit.
Scully used that opportunity to spin around and face him.

He didn't look much different than he had the last time she
had seen him...in her dreams. His dark hair was slightly
long, past his collar. A goatee adorned his face and a
diamond stud earring pierced his left ear. His eyes were
dearly familiar to her and full of emotion. Lust. Love.
Yearning. Fear. Hope. Despair.

She reached up her hands and smoothed them over his face. He
closed his eyes, reveling in her touch. She carefully shaped
his face, skimming her hands down over his cheeks, letting
her thumbs brush his lower lip, over the soft hair on his
chin, down his throat, and past his collarbone. 

Her fingers tangled with the chain around his neck and found
the tiny cross hanging from it. She smiled and tears began
to track down her own cheeks. She looked back up at him,
taking a deep breath, trying to control her wayward
emotions.

His eyes were intent on her face, and upon sight of her
tears he brought his hand up to touch her wet cheek. He
leaned down and kissed her, his tongue delving deep into her
mouth. She responded without hesitation, not caring who saw
them, wrapping her arms tight around his neck and bringing
her body flush against his. She felt his hand sweep down her
back to cup her butt, and for a moment she wished he would
lift her skirt up and touch her bare skin again. Another
wave of moisture accompanied that thought. 

Logic returned to her in a heartbeat when he pulled away
from her with a look of fear. For a moment, she thought he
had sensed danger, but when he didn't take his eyes off her
she realized he was afraid of leaving her. Of being alone
once again.

She reached out to touch the cross around his neck, telling
him with her eyes that he would never be alone as long as he
wore it. She tried telling him the same thing with her mind,
but she knew she wasn't getting through. Again, she felt
anxiety fill her. Had he lost his ability? Had the aliens
found a way to block him from using it? Why couldn't he
'talk' to her?

He looked up suddenly, glancing behind her. His mouth
thinned and his eyes narrowed. She knew what he saw. Doggett
had come looking for her. She had been on the dance floor
with a 'stranger' for too long.

Mulder looked at her once last time, regret filling his
expression. 'Not yet,' he mouthed, not speaking aloud. She
nodded in understanding, her heart breaking. Then he let her
go and disappeared into the crowd.

Doggett found her standing stock still in the middle of the
dance floor. When he touched her bare arm, she jumped and
turned to face him. 

"Dana, are you okay?"

She nodded. "We've..." She cleared her throat and tried
again. "We've got to get back to the Gunmen's tonight. I
have something for them."

*****

End of Part 1/9  

Part 2/9

*****

The Lone Gunmen's Lair
2:30 A.M.


The guys were still up when Doggett knocked on their door,
Dana close behind him. No surprise there, he thought. He
wondered if the hackers ever slept. 

Frohike answered the door, his fingers flipping through the
various locks and bolts quickly in order to let his favorite
agent and her former partner in. "I thought you guys weren't
coming back until tomorrow," he said when the door finally
opened.

Dana shoved her way past Doggett and stalked into the room
on her fuck-me heels, totally unaware of how her posture and
movements caught the eye of every man in the room, Langly
and Byers included. Then she did something that made all
four pairs of male eyes widen. Doggett would have thought it
funny if he hadn't been one of those stunned.

Right there, in the middle of the room, Agent Dana Mulder
started to lift her already too short skirt even higher up
her leg, exposing the top of her thigh-high stockings to
them all. 'Jesus,' Doggett thought to himself. 'Did I bring
back the right woman?'

As quickly as she pulled her skirt up, she dropped it back
down, holding in her hand a computer disk. With a shake of
his head, Doggett realized she had had the disk tucked in
her garter. He watched as she handed it to Langly. The
blonde man took it carefully, as if he fully expected it to
jump out and bite him.

"Find out what this is," Dana told him. When he didn't move,
she included a sharp, "Quick!" He spun toward the computer
and popped it in. Dana folded her arms under her breasts,
only then seeming to realize everyone else in the room was
moving as slow as Langly had been. Byers and Frohike were
still staring at her in awe. Doggett coughed softly, trying
to grab their attention, but it didn't work. "What?!" Dana
demanded. "Do I have parsley in my teeth?"

"No!" "Of course not!" "You look great!" "Yeah, great!"

"Holy shit!"

Langly's curse caused everyone to turn their attention
toward him. Byers rushed forward, Frohike close behind.
"What is it?"

"Look at this! Look at this!" Langly was excited now,
practically jumping up and down in his seat.

Doggett sidled over, casting Scully a curious glance. She
still stood with her arms folded, her face flushed, showing
no interest in what Langly was crowing about. He looked over
Langly's head at the computer screen. "Looks like a
blueprint or something."

"Or something," Langly murmured.

"This is a diagram of El Creyente!" Frohike called out
excitedly.

"El What-e?" Doggett asked, earning a glare from Frohike.

"El Creyente, the base Mulder works out of now." The little
man looked back at the screen. "We knew it was in Arizona,
but not exactly where. This not only tells us how to find
it, but it also tells us how to get around in it once we get
there." 

Langly flipped to another screen and Byers pointed at it.
"Look! It even has a detailed blueprint of the air vents. We
could get in and out and nobody would be the wiser."

"And why would we want to do that?" Doggett asked, leaning
back. He folded his arms and raised his eyebrows in question
when all three of the men before him looked back with
bewildered expressions. "And even if we had a reason to go
into that base, how do we know we can trust this
information?"

"We can trust it," said a soft voice behind him.

Doggett turned to look at Dana, who still hadn't moved. She
met their eyes with her own one by one.

"You trust blondie that much?" he asked.

"Blondie?" Byers echoed. He looked at Dana. "Your contact?"

"He wasn't the contact," Scully said, dropping her arms and
her gaze. She nervously smoothed her skirt without looking
up. "He led me to the contact."

Doggett felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He
remembered finding her alone on the dance floor, looking
dazed and speechless. He remembered how quiet and tense she
seemed on the long drive back to D.C. He remembered the
subtle change in her scent; how he had tried to ignore it,
to pass it off as either his imagination or the result of
being in a club filled with dozens of lust-filled people.

Now he knew better.

"Mulder." He whispered the name, but it caused Dana's head
to snap up and her eyes to meet his. "It was Mulder who gave
you that disk."

She nodded slowly. "And if he risked himself like that to
give it to me personally, you know it's real." She looked
over at the Gunmen, who were once again speechless. "He gave
it to us for a reason, and I'm sure we'll find out that
reason very soon. In the meantime, we all need to memorize
those plans, then destroy that disk."

When she didn't continue, Langly took a deep breath and
spoke the question they were all thinking. "Then what?"

Dana sighed deeply and shrugged. "Then, I guess, we wait."

*****  

The Johnny Reb Motel
Richmond, Virginia


Fox Mulder lay sprawled on a lumpy bed in a rundown motel
room, mindlessly flipping through the channels on an equally
rundown TV set, trying to keep his mind occupied so he
didn't start thinking too much. It wasn't just difficult; it
was impossible. Mulder's mind was never still, and even
facing exhaustion, both physical and emotional, his thoughts
were continuous. 

He needed sleep, but he was afraid to relax enough to do so.
In sleep, he was more vulnerable, more apt to slip and let
his mind flow into places he should not go. Not anymore. Not
since...

He sighed heavily, flipping to another channel. His mood
brightening somewhat when he recognized 'Close Encounters of
the 3rd Kind' on the screen. He would never admit it to
anybody, but this had always been his favorite movie. Still
was, even after all that had happened to him in the last
several years. At least the visitors in this fictional
fantasy were friendly, and the end always held an incredible
amount of hope.

A knock sounded on his door and without looking away from
the screen, he mumbled, "Come in," knowing the 'person' on
the other side could hear him no matter how soft he talked.
The door opened, and Ken stepped inside. The tall blonde
stood still for a second, watching him carefully, then he
closed the door behind him and stepped closer to the bed.

Though Mulder wasn't looking at him, he could tell the man
was watching the TV screen with interest. He tensed and
waited for the expected questions. Finally, the first one
came. "How can you watch this lie?"

Mulder smiled. "It's not a lie. It's fiction. There's a
difference."

"What is the difference?"

"One is meant to hurt. The other to entertain."

Ken's silence was complete, but Mulder could swear he heard
wheels turning from somewhere. Finally, the man continued.

"And this is entertaining?"

Mulder nodded. "Yes. It is. And better than that, it has a
happy ending."

"Ahhh..." Ken said, nodding his head. "A happy ending. The
same thing you are looking for here."

Since it wasn't a question, Mulder didn't bother to answer.
He felt the bed move as the tall man sat down on the edge of
it. 

"Did you get what you needed from the red-headed woman?"

What I needed? Mulder thought wryly. Not nearly. "I didn't
meet with her to get anything from her. I met her to give
her something."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

Mulder finally faced the man, meeting the flashing blue eyes
with his own. "You're asking that now?"

Ken cocked his head to the left, thinking. Then he smiled.
"I guess it doesn't matter now, does it?"

Mulder quirked the corner of his mouth. "No, it doesn't." He
faced the TV again, watching as Richard Dreyfuss beat the
crap out of a station wagon by driving it through barbed
wire fences and across rough Wyoming prairie. "Thank you for
helping me, Kenny. Why don't you go get some sleep?" There
it was. Devil's Tower.

When the man didn't move, Mulder looked at him again. Ken
was watching him, his eyes curious. "What?"

"Why do you call me that?"

"What? Kenny?"

The man nodded. 

"It's a nickname," Mulder told him. 

"So I can call you Foxy?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Ken, just go to bed."

"Why?"

"Would you quit it? You sound like a three year old."

"A three year old what?"

Mulder bit his bottom lip to keep from smiling, knowing the
man was completely serious, not trying to be facetious.
"Ken, who is in charge here?"

The man's curious expression immediately disappeared, and a
serious one took it's place. "You are, sir."

"Very good," Mulder continued, striving for patience. "Now,
I'm tired. I'm going to finish watching this movie, then I'm
going to get some sleep. Therefore, I don't want you in
here. Go to bed."

The man sighed, then stood. "Yes, sir." He walked toward the
door and opened it, but before he left, he turned to face
Mulder once more. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Are we going back home tomorrow?"

Mulder paused before answering. Home? He was closer to home
right here in Virginia than he had been in almost two years.
He had held home in his arms just a few short hours ago.
"Yes," he said softly. "We're going back to Creyente in the
morning."

Ken nodded, but his eyes became downcast. "Thank you for
bringing me on this trip, sir," he said, and Mulder suddenly
realized that Ken didn't want to go back to Arizona any more
than he did. 

"You're welcome," he muttered, and he watched as the tall
man left the room, the knobs on his upper spine clearly
visible now that he had taken off the jacket Mulder had made
him wear to the club.

Mulder turned his attention back to the movie, but despite
the dramatic events on the screen he felt his mind drift
once more to events earlier in the evening. 

Flashing lights. Heady music. The soft, sultry body of a
sexy woman pressed against him. Not just a sexy woman, but
the sexiest of women. Her scent. Her taste. Her touch. For
one brief moment he had been whole once more. He reached up
to fondle the cross hanging from his neck, a reminder that
he wasn't alone.

A reminder that he had just put the most important person in
his life in even more danger, but also a reminder that he
still had hope in his own life.

That there was still a chance for his own happy ending.

***** 

Dana Mulder's Apartment


*William?*

Will jerked awake from sleep, startled by the voice in his
head. It was a voice that had brought both comfort and
discipline to his life since the day he was born, yet one he
hadn't heard in months. He lay still for a moment, wondering
if it hadn't been his imagination. 'Wishful thinking' his
mother would call it.

*William?* 

There is was again. It wasn't his imagination. He felt a
surge of happiness flow through him and he wanted to start
shouting his joy, but then he remembered that he was
supposed to be angry at his father. Suddenly, he didn't know
what to do. Did he ignore the call in his head? If he did,
would it work? He had learned a lot from his father about
how to use his special talent, but he had yet to figure out
how to keep the man out of his head like his mother could;
his father had never taught him that, and he had never
wanted to learn before.

*William, I know you can hear me,* his father's voice
continued. *Answer me. Please?*

It was the 'please' that decided Will. He would answer, but
he wasn't going to be pleasant. *What?* he 'said'
petulantly.

Though he couldn't see his father, he still sensed that the
man was smiling. As he concentrated, he could also sense the
tension in his father's mind. The fear. 

*I want you to give your mother a message for me.*

Will frowned. Why was his father scared? Suddenly any anger
he had been harboring for the man disappeared. *Why can't
you 'talk' to her yourself?* he asked.

*Our connection is strong,* his father told him. *But not as
strong as yours and mine. I need to concentrate on too many
other things to insure our conversation stays private.*

*I thought you could block out the others,* Will said. He
had never seen the gray aliens face to face, but he had seen
them through his father's eyes. They were the bad guys, even
if his father was working with them. It was confusing, but
Will had never questioned why his father did what he did.

*I used to be able to,* his father continued. *But there is
someone here now that can interrupt my thoughts. If my
shields go down even the slightest bit, he can read me. I
can't let that happen.*

Will knew it would indeed be bad if the Grays or their
minions knew what Fox Mulder was really up to. Though Will
himself didn't know his father's plans, he knew they were
supposed to be a secret. *Is that why we haven't 'talked' in
so long?*

*Yes.* His father hesitated. *I want you to tell your mother
that there is someone here who we all need to fear. Someone
who could ruin all our plans. Someone she knows.*

Will was nervous now. *Is it someone who will try to hurt
her?* He would never let that happen.

He felt his father smile again. *Good boy, wanting to
protect your mother, but right now you need to let her
protect you, okay?*

*But this person--*

*Is dangerous, but your mother will know how to handle him.
She's very good at blocking mind probes.* There was a tinge
of humor in his thoughts, and once again Will wished his
father had taught him how to block his thoughts. *She'll
show you how someday, kiddo,* his father said in a
comforting tone. *I have to go. I'm already getting too
tired to block him for much longer. Go tell your mother what
I told you right away.*

*But it's the middle of the night,* Will argued
half-heartedly.

*If I know your mother, she's probably not sleeping anyway,*
his father argued back. *Tell her now who she should be
careful of.*

*Who?*

*****

Scully sat on her bed, her son in her arms quickly dozing
off with his head upon her breast, a fine layer of sweat on
her body. Only minutes ago, Will had awakened her from a
light doze, telling her that Mulder had just 'talked' to him
and wanted to pass on a message. He wanted her to know why
he had stopped communicating with them. He wanted her to
know that someone had come close to entering Mulder's mind,
finding the dangerous secrets buried there. He wanted her to
know that she should be very careful around somebody he knew
would enter her life again in the future. Mulder had wanted
her to know that she should fear a child. 

A child known as Gibson Praise.

***** 

El Creyente Base
Arizona


Mulder walked along the cool hallway toward his office,
breathing deep the still, slightly stale air that permeated
the base. The ventilation system worked hard at keeping out
the hot, desert air, but it also had to work hard at keeping
away the humid heat from the underground levels that was
constantly trying to work its way upward.

He grimaced as he remembered he would have need to visit the
basement later today, a chore he despised but one he could
give to no other. He was one of only three humans allowed to
enter the private laboratories the Grays operated nearly 300
feet beneath him. Marita was also one of those 'honored.' As
was Gibson Praise.

Gibson. The boy wasn't a child anymore. Of course, he never
really had been, had he? Mulder knew how hard it was to
control the 'gift' of telepathy. Gibson was only now
starting to truly understand and use his power. And what a
power it was. He was much stronger than Mulder, and much
more adept than any of the children who lived here in
seclusion. Gibson thought that this power had strengthened
him, but Mulder knew that it had, in fact, weakened him.
Just as wealth could corrupt the most humble of souls,
Gibson's talents had led to his belief that he was far
better than any of his human counterparts, and that he
should act appropriately.

The Grays had found him only six months ago, living quietly
in a Children's Home just outside of Arlington. Scully had
helped place him shortly after Mulder's own abduction. He
said he had been waiting, but he did not know what for. Then
one of the Bounty Hunters had found him and brought him to
Arizona. At first, Mulder had been excited to see the boy,
anxious for any help with the children, sure that Gibson
would not want to be a part of the Grays' true plan any more
than he did. He had been wrong.

Gibson had been seduced by the promises of leadership and
long life after the coming apocalypse. He had begun to draw
the children's attention away from Mulder and the women and
toward himself, becoming their new hero and mentor. He
became as close to the Grays as any human ever could,
seeming to understand their ways better than Mulder. He
even, one stormy night, entered Mulder's dreams.

Terrified, Mulder had pushed Gibson out of his mind, but not
before the child had caught a glimpse of the secrets Mulder
was hiding. Nothing concrete, but enough to raise suspicion.
The Grays' went on guard. For a few weeks, Mulder thought he
was in danger of being 'arrested' and executed. However, the
aliens soon calmed, not believing Mulder could endanger
them, even if he wanted to. And life had gone on like
normal... except for the fact that Mulder could no longer
'talk' to his son. Could no longer dream with his wife.
Could no longer 'teach' the children that what the Grays
taught was not the whole truth. Could do nothing with his
mind that might tell Gibson what Mulder really had planned
for the future of the human race.

Reaching his office, Mulder entered and sat wearily down at
his desk. When he had come here over a year ago, he had
hoped to keep the children from the brainwashing the Grays
were attempting. With Gibson here, that was no longer an
option. How could he compete, an older man who had only been
a telepath for the last two years of his life, with a much
younger boy who had been, like the children he played with,
a telepath his entire life? Mulder's plan of destroying the
Conspiracy from the inside had died. But more than that, he
missed the kids.

Babies, really. All of them between the ages of five months
and three years, but all acting much older than they really
were. The twelve of them had bonded already, and together
they presented a grand display of power. What would it be
like in five years? Ten? How about when they were all grown?
That thought used to thrill him. Now, it terrified him.

A knock on the office door caused him to break off his
doomsday reflections and look up. "Yes?"

The door opened, admitting Susan Donahue and Ken. The tall
brunette had been the first person from this base that
Mulder had really gotten to know well. A pediatrician, Susan
was not only in charge of the children's medical care, but
was the mother of the oldest of the twelve, Wesley Miles.
The boy's father was also on base... or what was left of
him. Billy Miles had long since died, but his body remained,
the Grays having taken it and converted it into a replicant.
Mulder rarely went a day without remembering how close he
had come to ending up like Billy.

Or like Ken. "What's up?" he asked his visitors. These two
were about as close as he would ever come to having friends
in this hellhole.

Ken closed the office door and moved to stand behind Susan,
who had sat down heavily in the chair in front of Mulder's
desk. She looked as tired as Mulder felt. "I hear your trip
was successful." Her statement was not a question, but
Mulder heard the inquiry in her voice.

"Quit fishing, Susan," he said softly. "I won't bite."

A small smile appeared on her face, but her eyes darkened.
"Did you see her?"

Mulder didn't twitch.

"I hope not," she continued. "I would hate to think of the
danger you put her, your son, and us in if you did."

Mulder still didn't move. He knew the risks. He had weighed
them in his mind over and over. He had decided they were
worth it.

Susan sighed. "I don't know why I bother," she said softly.
"Just promise me that when things start getting dicey,
you'll let me know."

Mulder shook his head in frustration. "Susan, what makes you
think I wouldn't?" He stood suddenly and began pacing the
floor behind his desk. "Haven't we always been on the same
side, here?"

"Then why will you never tell me what you're doing?" She
whispered the question, but her fear and anger came through
loud and clear.

"There are telepaths here that are much stronger than you,
Susan. Especially now." He paused. "You have no secrets from
them."

The woman sat back in her chair. "Gibson?" Her eyes flashed.
"Is that why the children have started acting different? Is
he why...?"

Mulder stopped his pacing and looked at her. "Why what?"

"Why my son won't 'talk' to me anymore."

"Yes." Mulder was silent for a while. "They like him. They
trust him. They listen to him."

"And he tells them lies."

"Yes."

They were silent for a moment. Then Ken, who had not spoken
a word since their arrival, moved.

"Can we not change those lies into fiction?"

Mulder looked at the replicant sharply. Susan turned and
gave him a confused look. "What?"

"If we tell them these lies they are hearing are simply
fiction, they will not hurt anyone." He grinned at Mulder.
"They will entertain, instead."

Susan looked back at Mulder. "What the hell is he talking
about?"

Mulder looked intently at the blonde man smiling at him.
"Kenny, you might be on to something here." He took a deep
breath. "But it ain't gonna be easy."

*****

End of Part 2/9

Part 3/9

*****

The Lone Gunmen's Residence

   

"What d'ya suppose they have in that big, hanger-like room?"

"I'm not sure I want to know."

"You mean you'd rather get an unpleasant surprise when we
have to go in there?"

"Yeah, it could hold something nasty. Like a rancor."

Doggett lifted his head at these words, staring at Langly
with raised eyebrows. Both Frohike and Byers were doing the
same.

"You do realize Star Wars went out with the Rubicks Cube,
don't you?" Frohike said sarcastically.

"Are you kidding?!" Langly argued. "Star Wars will always be
cool!"

Doggett shook his head, sighed, and turned his attention
back to the newspaper in his hands. He would never
understand these men or the often childish way they acted,
but he had learned to respect their opinions and knowledge
in the last few years. However, sometimes it took more than
the little bit of patience he had to deal with them,
especially when they got to arguing. 

Instead of interrupting their 'discussion' of the recently
destroyed plans for the El Creyente base, Doggett decided to
wait it out. It wasn't like he had anything to go home to. A
frozen dinner in the microwave. A bottle of cold beer.
Repeats on the television...

He turned the page and was immediately drawn to a headline.
Carefully, he read through the brief article. "Fourth page,
only three paragraphs," he mumbled.

"What was that, Agent Dogbert?"

For once, Langly's nickname for him didn't make Doggett
grimace. "You guys ever hear of the Hanta Virus?"

The three men looked at each other warily. "Yeah," Byers
said carefully.

Doggett pointed to the newspaper. "Says here there was an
outbreak recently. FEMA moved in quick, but three people
still died."

"So?" Frohike asked.

"So the outbreak was just south of Tucson, Arizona. A mile
or so away from the Mexican border."

"And?" Langly this time.

Doggett sighed. "Isn't that where El Creyente is? And isn't
the Hanta Virus what was used as a supposed cover story when
Mulder's 'black oil' infected someone in Texas a few years
back?" He had read all the X-Files. Some had been forgetful.
But some were hard to forget.

"You think there's a connection?" Byers asked.

"Don't you?"

Again, the three men traded looks. "You know, Agent
Doggett," Frohike said. "You're beginning to resemble
Mulder, and it's scary."

Doggett frowned. "What d'ya mean?"

"Taking these giant leaps in logic," Byers elaborated.

"I don't think this is that giant a leap," Doggett argued. 

"The Hanta Virus is most common in the southwest. A few
small outbreaks are still seen on a regular basis. The fact
that this one is so close to El Creyente could just be
coincidence."

Doggett couldn't argue with Byers' logic, but something
about the story was making him nervous. Or maybe he was just
bored and making mountains out of molehills to keep himself
entertained.

A knock sounded on the door, and Doggett breathed a sigh of
relief. He was only here at the Gunmen's place to meet Dana
and Monica, and it appeared they had finally arrived.
Frohike admitted the two women...and one little toddler.

"Hey, kiddo!" Frohike's greeting was enthusiastic. It was
very obvious he cared about the kid, and the feeling was
apparently mutual.

"Uncle Fro!" William threw himself into Frohike's arms,
laughing joyously. "Did you know my mom saw my dad the other
day?"

Frohike's eyes widened and he looked at Dana. Doggett also
turned to look at her. Blushing slightly, she said softly,
"I slipped. He read me like a book."

"I don't know why she didn't want me to know," the boy said
with his lower lip sticking out in a pout.

Doggett stared at the child, amazed at how eloquent William
was. He wasn't even two years old yet; he shouldn't even be
able to speak in complete sentences. It had been several
months since Doggett had seen the youngest Mulder face to
face, so though he had heard of the child's rapid mental
growth, he had yet to see him in action.

William suddenly turned his head to look at Doggett. "John?"

Doggett started. Out of this bunch, only Monica called him
by his first name on a regular basis, though Dana was
getting better at it. "Hi, Will." 

The boy frowned. "You don't want me to call you John
anymore?"

Abashed, Doggett glanced at Dana, then back at William.
"Anymore?"

"You told me I could call you that. Remember?"

Doggett remembered. After the baby had tried spelling the
name Doggett with his wooden blocks one evening visit,
Doggett had told him to just call him John. It was shorter
and easier to spell. William had been all of ten months old
at the time. "Yeah, I remember," he whispered.

The boy smiled and reached his arms out to him. Casting
another nervous glance at Dana, whose face was serious but
whose eyes were laughing, Doggett reached back, taking the
boy in his arms. "Man, you're getting big," he said as he
hefted William onto his hip.

"Yep," William responded. "Mom says I'll be taller than her
in a few years."

Everyone laughed softly at the boy's words.

"Why'd you bring the tyke?" Byers asked. At William's sharp
look, he added, "Not that we mind!"

"He wanted to come," Dana said with a shrug. She walked over
to stand next to Doggett. "He told me that it's been too
long since he's been here, and he barely remembered what it
looked like."

"Dana," Langly said. "The last time he was here, Mulder was
with him." Mulder had left when William was only six months
old.

Dana nodded. "I know." 

Everyone looked at William with something akin to awe.
Doggett was the first to break the silence. "So, what's up?"
he asked Dana. "Why did you want me to meet you here?"

"I received another e-mail last night," she said, casting a
nervous look at her son, who sat silent on Doggett's hip.
"Another pick up."

"And?" Doggett asked when she didn't continue.

"It wasn't from Daddy," William said.

Doggett looked at the boy. "How do you know?"

The boy shrugged, then looked at his mother. A silent
discussion went on between the two of them; Doggett wondered
if they were actually trading words in their mind, or just
thoughts. Dana nodded, and the boy sighed deeply. "He told
me."

A tense silence filled the room. 

Byers broke it. "He's 'talking' to you again?"

"Only sometimes," William answered. "In my dreams." He
looked at his mother again, worry in his eyes. "Someone is
listening to him most of the time, so he can't 'talk' to us
like he used to. But he found me in my dreams. Twice."

Doggett looked at Dana. She nodded. "The first time was the
night before last. He warned us that there was a new player.
Someone we all had to avoid."

"Who?" Frohike asked.

"Gibson Praise."

"The chess kid?" Langly asked.

Dana nodded. "You guys need to stay away from him, or at
least block him from your thoughts."

Byers looked around anxiously. "And how do we do that?"

Dana smiled. "It's really not all that hard. Will and I will
teach you tonight."

William's face brightened. "We will? That means I get to
learn it, too?"

Dana smiled. "Yep."

"Finally!"

There was more laughter, though it was nervous this time.
Doggett waited for it to subside. "What about the second
time, Will?"

The child looked at him carefully. "He told me he was not
sending anymore messages for Mom, so we should ignore any we
get. Gibson found out he was talking to her with the
computer." The light in his eyes dimmed somewhat. "And he
told me they were starting with the tests."

"Tests?" 

Dana nodded. "They released the virus in a small town south
of Tucson."

Doggett glanced down at the paper he had set on the table at
Dana's arrival and felt a chill sweep up his spine. He
looked at the boy in his arms. William's expression mirrored
his own, serious and fearful.

It had begun.

*****  

Post Office
Opal, Virginia


Scully entered the little building that housed the post
office for the small town of Opal, glancing around her
warily. Doggett followed close behind. She hadn't wanted him
to come, but she also knew she needed visible backup, and
the people that were watching her would expect that backup
to be him. While she and Monica Reyes were good friends,
they hadn't worked together like she and Doggett had. The
trust and security that she and John had established during
those tense months looking for Mulder over two years ago
wasn't something that could be faked.

She trusted him, but she was worried that he might not be up
to the coming challenge. It was hard enough teaching a
natural telepath like her son how to block someone from
reading your thoughts. Trying to teach a man unconvinced
about the possibility of telepathic power was almost
impossible. William's ability to read Doggett's mind
yesterday had helped to convince the man it was possible...
somewhat. He still didn't want to believe.

Scully remembered a time when she had been that stubborn.

Still eyeing her surroundings carefully, Scully went up to
the main desk and told the lone woman behind it that she was
there to pick up a package sent in from out of town. She
gave her name and social security number and the woman went
to retrieve the package. Scully waited patiently, and she
wasn't surprised when the woman came back empty handed. "I'm
sorry," the gray-haired woman told her. "We must not have
received it yet. Are you sure you were supposed to pick it
up today?"

"Maybe I was mistaken," Scully told her, though she knew she
was not. "I'll try back later." She turned away from the
desk and started walking toward the door. Slowly.

"Agent Scully."

The voice was deeper than she remembered. Older. She stopped
and looked toward the young man walking toward her. She felt
Doggett move up to stand close behind her right shoulder.

"Gibson." Her greeting was quiet but steady.

The bespectacled young man stopped in front of her, his eyes
wide. "You're not surprised to see me."

"Should I be?" Scully asked him.

The boy's eyes narrowed in concentration. "You're good. Very
good." He turned his attention to Doggett. "But is he?"

Doggett remained silent, and Scully knew he was practicing
one of the rules she had taught last night: it's easier to
shut off your mind if your voice is shut off as well.

Gibson looked back at Scully, surprise evident in his eyes.
"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Talk to him."

"Who?"

The boy's brow furrowed. "Stop talking in circles, Agent
Scully. You know who. Mulder."

"I haven't talked to Mulder in months." She wasn't lying.

"We know you communicate with him. Why else would you be
here? And how else would you have known to teach Agent
Doggett to block his thoughts?" The boy cocked his head. "I
just can't figure out how. You're not like us. You aren't a
telepath."

No, she wasn't. Not like Mulder and her son, anyway.
However, the connection she and Mulder shared, a connection
that had been established almost on the day they first met,
was unique. Magical. Maybe even spiritual. She wasn't going
to try and explain that to Gibson, though.

Scully stood silent for a moment. Then she tilted her head
in imitation of Gibson. "Is there something we can help you
with, Gibson?"

Nervously, the boy glanced behind him. Scully looked at what
he was observing, and for the first time noticed the man
standing in the corner by the front window, newspaper in
hand. Gene Crane. Former FBI agent and friend of John
Doggett's. Believed to be deceased since the night of
William's birth. 

Scully felt a chill run up her spine at the same time she
felt John tense behind her. Gibson looked back at her. "I
wish there was something you could do for me, Agent Scully,
but I don't think that's possible." With that, he turned and
headed for Crane. The diminutive man put down his paper and
watched the boy walk toward him, his brow furrowed. He said
something to Gibson that Scully couldn't hear, and the boy
shook his head 'no.' Crane's eyes narrowed even more and he
turned his glare toward Scully. Placing his hand on Gibson's
back, he led the boy out of the building.

"That was weird."

Scully turned her head to look at Doggett. "Which part? The
part where big, bad Gibson barely interrogated us, or the
part where one of your former agents returned from the
dead?"

The corners of Doggett's mouth rose slightly. "Surprisingly
enough, I wasn't too shocked to see Gene standing there. But
I was a bit confused by the lack of force on the kid's part.
I was sure he would be able to break through my barriers."
He shook his head. "Hell, if Mulder has a hard time keeping
him out, how could I succeed?"

Scully was only slightly surprised that Doggett understood
what had just happened. "You're right. I don't think he was
trying very hard." She turned to look toward the door Gibson
and Crane had disappeared through. "It was almost like he
was simply putting on an act for Crane."

"But wouldn't Gene know?"

She shook her head. "Replicants can't read minds. And their
minds can't be read, either."

She felt Doggett's intense gaze on her and met his eyes with
her own. "Then what the hell is going on? Why is Mulder so
afraid of that kid?"

Scully shrugged. "I don't know. And there's only one way to
find out."

A frown formed on Doggett's already serious visage. "How?"

"I need to talk to Mulder," she said softly. "Face to face."

*****  

El Creyente Base


Mulder stood still, arms behind his back, eyes facing
forward, before his 'superior's' desk. He had never had any
inclination to join the military, even as a small boy when
all his friends wanted to play with toy soldiers, but he
felt as if he was there now.

Ever since he had arrived at this base, beginning his tenure
as the leader of the human conspirators, he had felt as if
he had joined the army. People, both human and otherwise,
called him 'sir,' and the real soldiers saluted him when he
passed by. He never saluted back, just nodded, but when he
was asked down to meet with 'the boss,' he could do nothing
but stand at attention in front of the - creature's - desk.

Mulder didn't know its name. Nor would he be able to
recognize the man off base. Like all the Grays, he was able
to shape-shift at will, taking whatever form was convenient
for him. In most instances, the persona he took was of an
older, silver haired General, a form that demanded respect
and discipline. Yet, this General never left the base.
Whenever the Gray ventured from the compound, he took on the
appearance of whoever he wanted to imitate that day. Like
the Bounty Hunters under his command, he was physically
stronger than the average human being in any form, and he
wasn't afraid to use that strength.

The General had come to the base only a few weeks after CGB
Spender's death. Fortunately, Spender had warned Mulder of
the dominant alien before his demise, or else Mulder would
have been unprepared; he had always assumed that there was
no real leader with the Grays, that they all thought so much
alike there was no need for one being to take charge. But
the General was in charge, and not one of the Grays, Bounty
Hunters or replicants argued.

In his fantasy/dream created for Scully and Frohike several
months ago, Mulder had made himself the General. At that
time, he almost had as much power as the Gray's leader, but
since Gibson's arrival, things had changed. The real General
had taken on more responsibility. He made more requests and
demands, and Mulder could do nothing but obey.

Which is what he was doing here in the General's presence
now, waiting for orders. He hated coming down to the lower
levels on any day, but today he really didn't want to be
here. Gibson had left the compound in the company of three
replicants only yesterday, and while Mulder was
extraordinarily curious about where the boy had gone, he was
also anxious to take advantage of his absence. Though Gibson
would be able to stay in mental contact with the children no
matter where he was, the greater the physical distance
between them, the weaker that connection was and the more
tiring it was to keep ahold of. Mulder suspected Gibson had
headed east, to D.C., and while this made him nervous, he
also knew the extensive distance between here and there was
what he needed to reestablish a connection with the
children.

But first, he had to wait for his orders.

"Mulder," the man in front of him said with a nod of the
head. While the General usually met with him in his human
form, there had been occasions in the past where he had
remained a Gray. Mulder hated staring into the blank, empty
gaze of a Gray, and was therefore relieved when he saw the
human shape in front of him.

He responded to the General's greeting with a nod of his
own. He refused to say 'sir.' Only people he respected
deserved that title. 

The General didn't know this, and if he did, probably
wouldn't care. "Rumor has it you've been meeting with your
wife."

Mulder didn't let his expression change. As adverse as the
Gray's were to everything human, they had learned to read
human body language and facial expressions. "You know what I
think about rumors."

The man in front of him smirked. "So you deny it?"

Mulder cocked his head, meeting the man's steady blue gaze.
It was almost as lifeless as the Gray's natural stare. "Of
course. There is no reason for me to meet with her until
it's time to take William away from her." He was surprised
the Grays were confronting him with their suspicions. 

The man looked at him intently, and Mulder felt the familiar
tug on his mind. It was no effort at all to push back. For a
moment the General looked angry, something that Mulder knew
was an extension of the Gray's human behavior programming,
rather than real anger.

"Gibson tells us you have been contacting her... and the
child."

Mulder easily fell into the lie he had trained himself to
live so long ago. "I won't deny I've made contact with my
son; I won't let him grow thinking I'm dead or that I
abandoned him." That much was the truth, at least. "But I
don't know why Gibson thinks I've been in contact with the
mother. I have no interest in her anymore."

"Not even as a... lover?" 

Mulder wanted to laugh at the Gray's hesitation on what it
saw as an abhorrent word, but he didn't. "I have enough
women here to keep me busy." It was commonly believed by
most of the base staff that Mulder often brought both Marita
Covarrubias and Susan Donahue to his bed. Sometimes both of
them at the same. Mulder didn't mind the speculation. The
two women were the only ones who knew Mulder hadn't had sex
since he left Scully; all those late night meetings in his
bedroom were just that: meetings.

The General sighed heavily, another human trait that he had
trained himself to learn. "Why would Gibson lie?"

"Why would I?" Mulder knew he had never had the alien's full
trust. Neither had Spender. But they feared him for some
reason that Mulder was still unsure about. Maybe that fear
was diminishing.

The General nodded, and for the first time Mulder began to
believe that they didn't truly trust Gibson either. Maybe he
still had hope of recovering his dwindling power. Among the
Grays, anyway. "That will be all," the General said. 

Mulder turned to go, anxious to get out of the hot, steamy
basement and back to the children.

"Remember," the General said suddenly, causing Mulder to
turn toward him once more. "We're watching you."

Mulder just smiled coldly. As if he could ever forget.

It took a full ten minutes to make his way through the maze
of the Gray's underground network, and he took a deep breath
of the cooler, drier air of the main compound when he
reached the upper floors. Without hesitating, he made his
way to the north wing of the huge building. Where the
children lived.

It was time to start taking full control, even if it meant
one child at a time. 

*****  

Tucson International Airport
Tucson, Arizona


"Damn, it's hot."

Scully didn't acknowledge the statement uttered by her
companion, though she was thinking the exact same thing in
her mind. She continued to make her way down the sidewalk
toward the car rental lot, which was in a distant location
due to construction near the airport.

"How do people live in this?"

Unlike his first statement, this comment was a question, and
Scully felt obliged to answer. She turned to Frohike with a
smirk. "Genetics."

"Huh?" the little hacker asked with his brow furrowed.

"Most of the people that live here were born here. They're
used to it. Doesn't mean they all like it, and central air
plays a big part on surviving it, but that's the way it is."
When the plane had begun its descent into Tucson, the pilot
had mentioned that the temperature was a 'balmy' 103
degrees, which wasn't bad for late summer. It was a drastic
change, however, from the cool, sunny 76 they had left
behind in D.C. Autumn was just around the corner up north,
but it never really arrived down here.

They reached the rental car lot and were pointed toward
their car by a helpful attendant. The lot was covered,
providing shade, but the temperature didn't feel any cooler.
"Hope the air conditioning is working," Frohike mumbled
grumpily.

Ten minutes later, they were on the road, the interior of
their car nice and cool, sunglasses providing necessary
protection against the glare of the sun on the pavement in
front of them. Scully sat at the wheel, occasionally
glancing at her 'partner,' who was trying to read a map.
When Scully had determined to come to Arizona to try and
contact Mulder in person, she had had to sit through the
ranting of five men and one woman on why she shouldn't do
it. She knew all the reasons why, but she had decided to
come anyway. She knew the risks, and it wasn't as if she had
come unprepared.

When Mulder had left her on the dance floor at Wonderland
less than two weeks ago, he had told her 'not yet.' For a
while, she felt as if she needed to wait for a signal from
him, but sitting still had never been her strong suit. She
knew Mulder knew this. Something deep inside, something she
had yet to put a name to, had told her to make the first
move. She hoped that Mulder was prepared and that he would
be ready when he discovered she was on the go. Ready for
what, she wasn't yet certain.

William had come as well, though he was now in the trusted
care of Walter Skinner and Monica Reyes. Their plane had
arrived earlier today, and Skinner had contacted Scully by
cell phone while she and Frohike were still in flight
letting her know they had arrived safely and were settled in
a motel. The decision to bring William to Arizona had been
hers, and it had been much more of a battle convincing
everyone that it was necessary than it had been to talk them
into letting *her* come. She had prevailed in the end,
managing to get both Skinner and Monica on her side. After
all, they agreed that with the long reach the Grays had, the
toddler wasn't any safer in D.C. than he would be in the
Grays' backyard. They also trusted Scully's slowly
developing 'gut feeling.' She couldn't explain why, but she
knew William needed to be here.

The Gunmen had grudgingly gone along with the decision, but
Doggett had hated it. Ever since meeting William again at
the Gunmen's the other night, he and the boy had been almost
inseparable. Anytime they were in the same room together,
William was in John's arms. At home, the little boy talked
about Doggett constantly, and Scully knew John's protective
instincts for the child, which had always existed, had been
turned on high. He hadn't liked giving the child up to the
care of Skinner and Monica, though he trusted them both.
William, too, had pouted at the separation, but had not
complained. Not verbally, anyway. Doggett, Byers and Langly
would be arriving on another flight later that day, and they
would all stay in their respective groupings, keeping in
contact via cell-phone. For now.

Using the plans for El Creyente in their head, Scully and
Frohike were planning on 'wandering' out into the desert in
the direction of the base. If they were stopped, as they
hoped they would be, Scully would tell the truth. She was
looking for Mulder. Then the story would begin. The lies: 

Gibson Praise had hinted that Mulder was here somewhere.
Scully, upset that he had apparently abandoned his son, was
wanting to confront him. She was not happy with him. She was
worried her son was not listening to her anymore. She needed
help. Badly.

If she could put up the front of being helpless and fearing
her son's gift, maybe she could put them more at ease. Catch
them off guard. Get inside the base and meet with Mulder.
Try to understand why he feared Gibson so much...and if he
really needed to.

Frohike was chosen as her companion because William had told
her he was the best at blocking his thoughts. Scully had
been surprised to hear this, as had Frohike, but she trusted
that her son was right. 

She looked over at her partner once more and recognized the
same nervousness she felt in his expression. "Hey," she said
softly.

He looked at her, his eyes wide. "Yeah?"

"We'll be fine." She kept her voice steady, reassuring.

"Of course we will," Frohike said with a little nod. "It's
not like we're jumping into a viper's nest or something.
We're just trying to get into a secret, alien base in the
middle of nowhere." 

Scully lifted the corner of her mouth slightly. "We've done
this before, you and I. We got out that time okay."

Frohike glared at her. "Cute." He knew she was referring to
the dream they had shared under Mulder's direction not so
long ago. "Somehow, I don't think the simple act of waking
up is going to help us here."

"Mulder will be there," she told him, finding comfort in
that thought alone.

Frohike obviously didn't share her faith in his old friend.
"Why does that not make me any more happy with this?"

Scully frowned, taking her eyes off the road briefly to
glance at him once more. "What do you mean?"

The hacker sighed. "Scully, he's on the edge. He was there
when he controlled that dream, and I'm sure he hasn't gotten
away from it yet. Who knows? Maybe he's already fallen off."

Scully didn't respond. She couldn't. Not when her own
subconscious had been worrying about the same thing Frohike
had voiced. She loved Mulder. She trusted him. But a small
part of her couldn't help wondering how he had managed to
make these creatures intent on taking over the world believe
that he was on their side for all these months. 

Silently, she began to pray. Pray that her faith, in both
her husband and in God, was not misplaced.

*****

End of Part 3/9  

Part 4/9

*****

El Creyente Base


Mulder leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes briefly,
trying to ease the headache that was steadily getting worse.
It didn't seem to help. In fact, closing his eyes made the
faint buzzing in his head worse. He opened them again and
tried to concentrate on the two small children in front of
him.

The buzzing continued. It wasn't actually noise, really, but
more a feeling. He had first felt it in Virginia, when he
and Ken had gone to meet Scully. At the time, he thought it
was probably due to a combination of nerves and the fact
that he hadn't used his gift of telepathy for a while. The
irritant had disappeared when he had arrived back at the
base, but now it was back, and he couldn't blame it on any
lack of telepathic exercise. He had been 'speaking' to the
children for days now, carefully keeping his mind in check
for fear that Gibson would 'hear' him even at a distance.

Gibson had arrived back at the base yesterday and Mulder had
resumed his silence... but his job had already been done.
Now he just needed to sit back and see if what he had
started would work. He had entered the training room (Mulder
preferred to call it the play room, but not in front of the
Grays) bright and early this morning, before Gibson had
arrived, and the children had greeted him with grins full of
mischief. Gibson had arrived, surprised to see Mulder there,
and then his surprise turned to confusion and worry as he
looked at the children. Mulder knew he was 'talking' to
them. Or trying to. They obviously weren't talking back.

Giving Mulder a glare, the young man had stormed out of the
room, more upset than Mulder would have expected. A couple
of the youngest children had looked at Mulder with fear on
their faces and on their conscience, too young yet to really
communicate with words, either verbally or mentally. Mulder
sent reassuring thoughts to them, using his short experience
as a father to comfort them. Though still worried, their
fear subsided.

Then the buzzing in Mulder's head had begun.

It was afternoon now, and Mulder had spent the entire day
with one or more of the children. Gibson had not returned,
and while that was unusual, the children decided it was
better than having him come back angry. Nap time had arrived
for all but the oldest, and Mulder sat watching them play
with an intricate puzzle-like toy, trying to understand what
his mind was trying to tell him. 

*Mulder?*

Mulder pulled his thoughts back outward as he heard R.J.
'say' his name.

*Yeah?*

*When will your little boy be able to come live with us?*

Mulder narrowed his eyes. He had never, even in the
beginning, talked to these children about Will. *Why do you
ask?*

R.J. glanced at Wes, and the younger boy nodded. They were
talking to each other, Mulder knew, though he could not
'hear' them. Wes finally spoke, his demeanor like that of an
eight year old child, not a toddler. *He's the one that's
supposed to lead us, isn't he?*

Mulder felt a cold chill shoot up his spine. *Who told you
that?*

*Gibson,* the boys said simultaneously. 

Just then, Gibson himself walked in the door, looking
nervous and slightly upset. The two boys smiled, clearly
happy to see him, but then they looked at each other, their
grins turning wolfish, and they faced away from him. Gibson
seemed to turn paler than he already was.

"Boys, why don't you go check on the others?" Mulder said
out loud. 

"'k, Mulder," R.J. said. 

Wes just nodded and followed his younger friend out of the
room. Before he left, Mulder heard him in his head. *Don't
give away the surprise, Mulder!*

*I won't,* Mulder promised. He glanced at Gibson, clearly
expecting the boy to interrupt his thoughts, as he had done
in the past, but he didn't.

Mulder sat looking at the kid for a while. "What's wrong,
Gibson? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Gibson met his eyes. "I can't hear them," he whispered.
"They're blocking me."

Mulder couldn't help the smug smile that inched its way onto
his face. "I know."

"You told them to do that?" Gibson asked, anger building.

"Yep."

"Why?!" the boy demanded. "What did you tell them about
me?!"

"Certainly not the same lies you've been telling them about
me," Mulder said, his humor gone. "That I hate my wife and
son. That I'm here to find a way to destroy the Children of
Eden, including my own son. That I've been poisoning their
minds with lies about what could be." It had taken a lot of
patience and persistence, but Mulder had finally been able
to get Wes to talk to him about why they no longer trusted
him. Once the boy had opened up, the others followed. Mulder
had done his best to disprove the lies, but he knew the
children still didn't trust him completely.

Gibson had started blushing as Mulder listed off the lies he
had told, and this surprised him. Gibson, embarrassed? Or
just really, really angry?

In a soft voice, Gibson asked, "What did you tell them?"

Mulder sighed. "I told them that your birthday was coming up
and that I was planning a surprise birthday party for you."
He cocked his head. "Which is true, by the way." Gibson
refused to look up. "I told them that because you were so
powerful, the best way to make sure the party stayed a
secret was to keep their minds closed off to you so you
wouldn't read them."

"You tricked them," Gibson said, finally looking up.

"No, I didn't. There's really going to be a party. You
better act surprised, or they'll feel real bad."

Gibson knew the story, and the party, had been set up to
insure Mulder had the children's complete attention for the
next few days. "Why?"

"You took them away from me, Gibson," Mulder said, his voice
dark. "They were mine, and you took them away."

"They didn't trust you!" the boy exclaimed, and Mulder knew
he meant the Grays, not the children. "They thought you may
be trying to brainwash them."

"Me? Brainwash them?" Mulder started laughing. "Damn,
Gibson. Don't you see what's really going on here? Don't you
care? Or are you so fond of them that they are your family
now?"

The boy looked at him, his jaw locked and his eyes bright.
Mulder wondered briefly if the kid was holding back tears.
"I'm not one of them," he finally ground out.

"Could have fooled me," Mulder said softly. "Slipping in and
out of my mind. Telling them everything you see."

"I haven't told them you plan on destroying the underground
chambers of the base," Gibson whispered. "Of how you plan to
use the children to mentally distract the Grays so you can
destroy the reproduction chambers. Kill the virus that
they're keeping there. I haven't told them any of that."
Gibson paused. "But I could."

Mulder had frozen in his seat, ice forming in his veins, as
he heard Gibson lay his plans on the floor in front of them.
Knowing the boy had gotten deeper into Mulder's mind than he
had first believed was no real surprise. The fact that the
boy had kept his secrets was. 

Suddenly, the buzzing in the back of his brain increased
tenfold, and Mulder suddenly realized what it meant.

"Scully," he whispered, ignoring Gibson's look of confusion.
"She's here."

*****  

TIA
Tucson, Arizona


John Doggett picked up his bag off the luggage carousel,
eyeing the people around him warily. Gripping the handle of
the suitcase tightly in his left hand, he hefted his
carry-on higher onto his right shoulder and headed for the
door. Byers and Langly, having already retrieved their bags,
were a few steps ahead of him, and he noticed with grim
humor that they looked as nervous as he felt. As if they
were all waiting for some uniformed guards to jump out of
the woodwork and arrest them. After all, all three of them
were carrying contraband.

Well, maybe he couldn't label it contraband. It wasn't
illegal. It wasn't even a substance that was known to 99.9%
of the human population. And even though security at
airports around the country had tightened significantly
since September 11, officials would have no reason to
suspect them of carrying anything dangerous.

If only they knew.

Tucked away in Doggett's carry-on were three thermoses full
of homemade apple juice. Before being allowed to board the
plane in D.C., one of the guards had opened one of these
small jugs and smelled the contents; he hadn't really been
too suspicious. After all, Doggett had already shown his
credentials, and the other guard was calling in for
permission to allow Doggett on the plane armed. The guards
had let him through, telling him that if he had any of the
juice left over after sharing with his sister back in Tucson
that they would like some. Doggett had to admit it smelled
delicious. However, he wouldn't dare take a sip. Not when he
knew that four vials of Dana's 'Snake oil' were taped to the
inside bottom of the thermos. 

The whole 'team' heading to Tucson had managed to store
vials of the stuff in similar containers. Doggett still
wasn't sure what they were planning to do with the faux
'alien blood,' but Dana and Frohike had been adamant about
taking as much as possible with them to Arizona.

Now they had finally arrived, the last of the team to do so.
He left the air conditioned terminal and entered the
supposed 'dry heat' of the desert. He knew right away that
he preferred the humidity of D.C. and New York. This
atmosphere was too similar to that of Mexico, and Mexico had
a few too many bad memories.

He trudged along behind the two Gunmen as they headed for
the car rental area, wondering once again why he was
following this bunch of lunatics, risking his career and
maybe even his life in the process.

'Because you're thinking that maybe they aren't crazy,' he
answered himself. The things he'd seen since joining the
X-Files more than two years ago had been astounding, and he
had even come to believe in some of the more bazaar theories
and ideas that both Agents Mulder and Reyes had come up
with. However, the idea of aliens from outer space taking up
residence on earth, disguising themselves as human, and
planning to invade and take over the planet... he just
couldn't believe it. Not yet. Not without a little more
proof.

He did know that whoever Mulder was now working for was
dangerous. And thanks to Mulder's son, he was beginning to
believe that telepathy wasn't something only characters from
Star Trek could do. The fact that Mulder's employers were
somehow connected to William only made Doggett that much
more determined to keep the boy safe. Even if that meant
secretly transporting a deadly substance across the country
in his carry-on.

God, it was nuts! Freakin' nuts!

He stood idly by as Byers acquired their car, noticing with
some appreciation that the sun was setting quite
spectacularly in the west. When Byers was done, Doggett
silently followed them to their car. He realized the bearded
man was talking to someone on his cell phone. Monica, he
figured as he listened in. Byers slid into the drivers seat
and Langly took the passenger seat. Not saying anything,
Doggett tossed his suitcase in the open trunk, closed it,
then slid into the back seat behind Byers. They knew he
hadn't wanted to come, and he supposed they were wishing
they could dump him off somewhere and be away with his
scowling face, but the fact that he was carrying twelve
vials of 'snake oil' told him they wouldn't dare leave him
behind.

Byers turned off his phone and started the engine.

"Everyone else make it okay?" Doggett asked softly.

"Yeah," Byers told him with forced cheer. "We're supposed to
meet Skinner, Reyes and Will at the motel and get things
ready."

"What things?" Doggett growled. He hated that he had been
left out of most of the planning. He may not believe in the
alien crap, but he knew he needed to be prepared for what
came next.

"Uh..." Byers started to say. "I'm not sure, exactly." He
looked nervously at Langly, who returned his glance with an
anxious one of his own.

Doggett felt a glimmer of triumph as he realized these two
had been kept out of the loop, too.

"Apparently, Agent Reyes is supposed to update us when we
get there," Byers continued.

"Oh," Doggett said softly. "Of course." It shouldn't
surprise him that Dana had confided her plan to Monica; the
two had become close friends and confidants ever since
Monica midwifed William's birth. He couldn't help but feel a
tad bit jealous, however, at being left out.

Well, he was here now, and about to discover what Ms. Mulder
had planned. Speaking of...

"What about Dana and Frohike?"

Byers paused again before answering. "They called in to let
Skinner know they had made it okay, then they headed out
into the desert."

"They what!?"

"Scully went to find Mulder."

Doggett didn't even comment on Byers use of the name Scully,
something Dana had put a stop to after her marriage to
Mulder. "You have got to be kidding me?!"

Doggett didn't expect a response, and he didn't get one.
With an exasperated sigh, he sat back heavily. "Damnit," he
whispered, knowing all he could do was wait until he knew
more.

And hope Dana's plan was working.

****  

El Creyente Base


"De-ja vu, man."

Scully's lips turned up at a corner in a wry smile at
Frohike's words, knowing exactly what he meant. Here they
were at El Creyente, and their journey here had been very
similar to the dream Mulder had instigated several months
ago. They had not been picked up by men in black armor on
dark horses, but the black Jeeps and desert fatigues had
been close enough. The base wasn't a big, misshapen rock
fort with hidden doorways and a central courtyard. Instead,
it was a large official looking building made of some kind
of material that matched the desert landscape surrounding
it. Though only three stories in height, Scully suspected
there was much more beneath the surface. 

Despite the differences, the inside of the Base held the
same feeling of dark intent as the dream fort had. 

Knowle Roahr led them through cool, sterile hallways, his
frown apparently a permanent expression. They entered a room
with several desks set about, and the people sitting at
those desks raised their eyes in curiosity upon their
arrival. Scully looked at their faces, searching for someone
familiar, but the men and women were all strangers to her.
And they were all human, of that she was certain. Military
personnel. Probably unaware of the real purpose of this
base.

How had the Grays managed to establish a legitimate, though
classified, base here in the U.S.? 'Easy, if you have enough
of your own "people" in the upper levels of the U.S.
government,' she thought, answering her own question. She
wondered just how many replicants were working directly for
the President.

A door off to her right opened, and two familiar faces
walked through it. Tall and coolly beautiful, Marita
Covarrubias stepped toward them, her blue eyes intent and
wary. Billy Miles followed closely behind her.

"Agent Scully," the blonde said in a controlled voice.

"Mulder," Scully automatically corrected.

Marita frowned in confusion for a moment, then her face
relaxed. "Of course. I'm sorry, Agent Mulder." She took a
deep breath and folded her hands behind her back. "I guess I
don't have to ask what you're doing here." She smiled
slightly. "I am wondering how you found us."

"I was told my husband was at a base somewhere south of
Tucson." Stick to the story. "Frohike and I took a chance
that you would find us if we got close enough."

"And who gave you this information?"

Scully only hesitated a second. "Gibson."

"I did not!"

Scully swung around to find Gibson himself standing in the
doorway behind her. His eyes were wide behind his glasses,
and his face was red with anger.

Behind him, his face expressionless, stood Mulder.

"Mulder!" Frohike's joy at seeing his friend in person once
more was obvious.

Mulder moved into the room. Like Marita, he carried his
hands folded behind his back, and he walked with an almost
military bearing. Scully noticed immediately how the
enlisted men and women seemed to sit straighter at their
desks as he came forward. 

"Welcome to El Creyente."

His voice was deep, dark, and firm. It sent a chill up
Scully's spine, and she wasn't sure if it was brought about
by fear or desire. Probably both. She remembered Frohike's
concerns about Mulder's mental state, and she thought back
to Mulder's own worries, which he had expressed to her
privately in their shared dream. The man in front of her was
far different from the man she married. Was it an act, this
darkness? Or had he truly sacrificed himself to insure the
safety of the children, and thereby protecting the earth
itself?

He stopped next to Marita and gave the woman a fond look.
"I'll take care of this."

With an expression that had gone amazingly soft, Marita
nodded her head and stepped back. Suddenly, a brand new fear
swept through Scully, one she had never even contemplated
before. Shortly after their wedding, Mulder had left for
Arizona with Marita, causing more than a little talk among
those who watched them leave. Of course, the mumbling had
stopped after their supposed death only minutes later, but
it hadn't been forgotten. Scully had, of course, known the
truth and had never felt jealous or fearful of Mulder's
feelings for her. But at the time, she had been in almost
constant mental contact with him. It had given her comfort.
It had supported her faith.

She didn't have that now. What if...?

"Come with me." Mulder's quiet demand jerked her back to the
present. He had turned toward the doorway Marita and Billy
had appeared from, obviously expecting her and Frohike to
follow. She glanced at her companion. Frohike looked as
worried as she felt. Taking a deep breath, she followed the
man she had once known better than herself into the hallway
beyond the door, Frohike close at her heels.

Mulder's stiff back never relaxed as he led them down the
corridor to an office. An office with his name on the door.
He stopped at the door and waited as they stepped through,
then closed it behind them. He moved past them and walked
toward his desk, and Scully literally felt the nervous
energy radiating off of him. He appeared calm, but she knew
better.

He stopped in front of his desk and turned to face them. For
the first time, his eyes met hers. She couldn't read him. He
wouldn't let her.

"Surprised to see us?" Scully's voice was rough.

"To say the least," Mulder commented darkly. "I thought I
told you to wait."

"I waited." She would not take her eyes off his, and her
steady gaze finally seemed to affect him; he swallowed hard.
"I'm ready. Are you?"

He glanced at Frohike. "I don't know if I'll ever be ready,"
he said quietly, and Scully breathed a sigh of relief as she
heard the human emotion in his statement. Even if it did
sound like defeat.

"It's now or never, buddy," Frohike said.

Mulder nodded. "The tests," he started. He folded his arms
in front of him and leaned back against the desk behind him.
Clearing his throat, he began again. "The tests will be
getting bigger. Come Christmas, the virus will be released
everywhere. Invasion will follow immediately."

Scully's heart started racing. Christmas? That was less than
four months away. "How do you know this?" she whispered. She
knew he was an important man at this base, but to know the
exact date of the invasion...

"Ken."

"Who?" Frohike asked.

"His human name was Seth Gordon. He was one of my fellow
abductees." Mulder smiled without humor. "Marita and I
played with him a bit. Reprogrammed him, if you will." Real
humor glinted in his eyes. "I called Marita 'Barbie' one
day, hence he became Ken."

At mention of Marita, Scully felt that sudden surge of
jealousy again. It scared her. "Is he the one I met in
Richmond?"

Mulder nodded. He brought his hand up to his forehead and
began to rub his temples as if he had a headache.
Instinctively, Scully stepped forward. "Are you okay?"

Mulder jerked upright, his body language clearly saying,
'don't touch me.' Scully stopped. "Yeah. I'm fine." He
glared at Scully, and she stepped back in surprise. "You
have to leave. You're distracting me."

"Mulder?" The hurt and confusion that swept through her was
powerful. She blinked and bit her lower lip. "We're ready to
go." This was wrong. She shouldn't have come. Why did she
think he was ready? She should have waited.

He nodded. "Then I will be, too." But he seemed distracted.
Worried.

"You want us to stay in Tucson, then?" She wanted to say
more, but she had no idea if the room was bugged or not. She
supposed it wasn't, or he wouldn't have told them about Ken,
his own, personal spy.

Mulder nodded, a grimace of pain on his face. 

"Mulder?" Scully felt fear course through her.

"I'm all right, Scully." It was the first time he had used
her name. "But you have to leave." He met her eyes with his
own, and she recognized fear. "I block them. But somehow,
your presence makes it harder. I don't know why or how.
They're trying to read us right now. They want proof that I
don't care about you anymore."

Pain stabbed through her heart. "Proof?"

"They think I left you because I wanted to. That I married
you to give Will my name." He winced again. "They think
Marita is my lover. And Susan." He smirked through the
apparent pain. "I'm a popular guy."

He looked at Frohike, who seemed to be trying to decide
whether he should be afraid, angry, or worried. "Get
whatever plan you've got ready," he told his friend, not
doubting that there was a plan. "Wait for a signal from me.
I'll find a way to let you know when I need you."

"Okay," Frohike mumbled.

"Guard!"

The door behind them opened, and two soldiers stepped into
the room. 

"Please escort these two off base." His expression became
stern once again. "They won't be back."

Scully looked at Mulder, trying desperately to read his
expression. But other than the lingering pain in his eyes,
she could make out nothing. She turned to follow Frohike out
the door, her heart screaming in pain, when a soft voice
sounded in her head.

*I love you, Scully. So much.*

Scully swung around to face her husband. His face was still
expressionless, but his eyes now held the jumble of emotions
she had seen in them at Wonderland. Pain overshadowed them
all, and she knew how much it had cost him to send her that
little bit of reassurance without letting anyone, or
anything, else read him.

Knowing she could not answer back either mentally or
verbally, Scully put as much emotion as she could into her
expression. His ever so slight nod told her he understood.

Fighting tears, Scully turned away and followed Frohike out
of the Base and away from the man she loved.

***** 

End of Part 4/9