From: ANNAOTTO1@aol.com Date: Mon, 22 Nov 1999 12:03:50 EST Subject: NEW "Searchlights" (6/10) by Anna Otto Source: xff Searchlights By Anna Otto Email: annaotto1@aol.com Part 6/10 The Lack of Mistrust If hell existed, surely we stood upon its first circle. 'Stood' was perhaps too loud a word for it, we had to crouch and, at one point, get down on hands and knees to crawl through the especially narrow spaces. The darkness was absolute. I haven't realized just how accustomed I've become to being constantly surrounded by the bright light - sun during the day, searchlights during the night. I couldn't see Alex's form, and had to reassure myself of his presence by the sound of his steps and regular breathing. "You all right?" he whispered. "Fine," I lied. "It's the most exciting Halloween activity I've done in all my life. It puts visiting graveyards at midnight to shame." Alex snickered and groped for my hand. "Something useful I've learned during my days underground: no matter what you do, if you have no sources of light, you will not see in the darkness. The best thing is to just close your eyes and feel with your other senses - amplify them, be dependent on them. The touch," he squeezed my fingers. "The hearing," he breathed in my ear. "And most importantly, the smell. And this particular sense tells me that," he sniffed, "a stray cat died here." Carefully, he led me around the disintegrating small corpse. "I get your point." I shivered, extremely anxious to be out of here. "Let's just walk really fast." "Your wish is my command." After a few dozen feet, we came to a brick wall that closed off our access to the halls of the prison. "This must be recent," Alex mused. "Luckily, if I know anything about humans, it's also not very well-made. And," he took out a gun and aimed it at the center, "we will just have to make our presence known a little sooner than planned." The resulting gunshot crack gave way under our combined weight, and we fell through to the hard floor. "Let's split," I suggested. "You go right, I go left, we meet back here." "Good idea," Alex groaned, getting up with effort. "Only it won't work." "Hands up," someone demanded. "Turn around slowly and take off your mask." I did as the man behind me asked, realizing that I had no time to reach for a weapon. In retrospect, I was glad that I didn't, because in the uneven light of the torch, I was able to recognize John. His implacable face was more than a reassurance to me that we still had time enough. "Tanya, what the..." he breathed a sigh of relief and lowered the gun. "Who is that?" he glared at Alex. I realized that even if they had known each other before, odds were John wouldn't guess the identity of the masked stranger. "A friend," I said quickly. "We need to find the others and warn them - there is a veritable army waiting for you outside." "And you knew this because...nevermind," John shrugged. "I will go warn Scully's team - you go there," he pointed towards the other end of the hall. "Meet us here in fifteen." "Make it five," Alex ordered uncompromisingly and walked away. "John, wait," I ran after the retreating figure. "Did you at least find Xavier?" "Yes," he replied too abruptly and shooed me away. "Now go." Momentarily elated, I caught up with Alex as he rounded a corner. But I didn't have a chance to cover the distance between us before I saw him take out a gun and aim it unwaveringly at the man he'd just come to rescue. "Old habits are hard to shake," he said calmly. "Wouldn't you agree, Mulder?" * * * The gun reflected the orange flames from the torch that Mulder carried. Perhaps he was just as mesmerized by the sight as I was, because he slowly walked towards the deadly weapon, as if inviting the danger. Transfixed, I could only watch as his fingers reached out blindly, first to touch the mask on Alex's face, then to strip it away. I felt prepared for any reaction from Mulder when he saw the crooked scars and deformities, the ugliness that transformed a formerly handsome man into a monster. Any reaction but a smile. It lit up his features, instantly erasing the years and wrinkles, otherwise plainly visible. I wasn't sure if he noticed that the offending gun had cluttered to the floor - or if he had even seen it to begin with. "Damn you," Alex breathed resignedly and knelt to pick up both the mask and the discarded weapon. With his shield against the world securely back in place, he straightened up to face Mulder. "Let's skip the 'welcome back' speeches, all right? This is a trap, and we're all meat if we walk out the front door." "Alex, wait," Mulder beseeched. "We thought we'd lost you - can't you just explain..." "How you sold me out or how I survived in spite of it?" Alex sneered. "Maybe later." If I had ever had doubts about Mulder's honesty, they were effectively eradicated when I saw his expression of genuine horror. "What?" he asked softly. "Did I mention that we have no time?" I spoke up, reluctant to act as an intervention, but hoping that one of them would remember the precariousness of our position. Never did I expect that I would hear an answer to my question from behind me - or that it would be accompanied by a touch of cold metal upon my temple. "Come to think of it, you did, Tanya," John's voice lacked his earlier friendliness. "But Mulder never listens." With a practiced maneuver, he cuffed my hands behind me. "Let her go!" Alex demanded, and I wondered if it was truly pathetic that, at this ghastly moment, I could be pleased at hearing genuine concern in his voice. His order went unheeded as we were surrounded by the guards, as our guns were taken away, as yet another man we trusted faced us contemptuously. "It's such a sweet scene, Krycek," Troy addressed Alex. "I would have almost loved to finish watching it from the shadows - you are convinced that Mulder betrayed you, and yet you come to warn him and his friends of the imminent danger - it's something worthy of a Greek tragedy." "And you," he turned to Mulder. "Don't you wish you had just killed me when you found out about my mistake instead of concocting this elaborate scheme that only landed all of you in trouble?" the lament in his words was almost sincere. "I do still wonder how you learned that I traded Krycek's life for my own - thought I took care of all the loose ends, but I guess I was wrong." Hazel eyes scorched him with disdain. "Too many people to kill? I gave you a chance to die as a hero, Troy. Now you will die a traitor." "But, Mulder," Troy smiled as the guards gripped his enemy's hands, effectively immobilizing him. "You're the one who dies." I should have been expecting the blow that came from Troy's heavy boot. It was a beautiful strikeout that seemed to require no effort on his part, and yet was devastating to its recipient. Mulder sagged, his breath coming out in short gasps from a wounded chest. He made almost no sound, but two screams compensated for his silence - one that erupted from my throat and the other that came from Alex. Troy listened, apparently satisfied with the level of grief he caused. "As I said, it's rather sweet." "Where are the others?" John asked impatiently. His tone was faintly irritated, as if he had no taste for this display of violence. "Just joining the party," Troy nodded towards the back. John turned around, swerving me with him. There, the guards held the handcuffed Scully and two other men who participated in the raid, Tim and Russ. I realized that the decision had been made to use as few people as possible, and in the light of current events, I appreciated Mulder's foresight: the fewer men caught in the trap, the better. I scanned the newly arrived group for Xavier, and almost wished that I hadn't, because his appearance, more than anything tonight, made my blood freeze in my veins. He was practically carried by the two guards, his leg turned at a strange angle. His pallid face testified to the pain he must have been in, but his eyes were alert and they alone acknowledged my presence. I prayed that he would pass out. I prayed that my own consciousness would somehow desert me for just a few minutes, so that I could wake up later when everything was finally all right - a wish of the child who stumbled upon a particularly nasty bedtime monster. Scully evaluated the situation in front of her, her sharp blue eyes focusing incredulously first on Alex, then on her still incapacitated partner, then on Troy. But it was John to whom she addressed her question, "How long have you planned this for?" "Oh, Dana," he seemed to enjoy her first name rolling over his tongue. "I can't take the credit. Troy did the planning and graciously let me participate." "Why, John?" her tone was impeccably civil. "Why now, when we finally had the chance for a victory?" "Dana, the war is over," John replied with conviction. "The aliens have left, the humans are back in power - why do we fight our own kind? Why not combine our forces and bring this country back to its original state?" "How about because this government is worse than totalitarian in nature? We're not even speaking of democracy here," she laughed. "My god, John, these people are only in power by virtue of having more guns. They didn't even inform the population that aliens were gone." "Scully, Scully, this is really beside the point," Troy waved her away as an annoying distraction. "Let's concentrate on business at hand. Put them in the available cells," he directed the guards. "We would have loved to kill you all right here and now, but the governor wants to have the general population witness the example of what happens to the criminal elements." "Public executions," Alex translated for our benefit. "How not surprising." "You're the one who said it, Krycek," Troy replied. "Until then, have a pleasant stay." "Let them go," Mulder's whisper still carried an unmistakable edge of power. "You've got me, you don't need the others." "Sorry," Troy apologized. "Wait: no, I'm not." "It's me you want, not them. Please, reconsider." John's grip on me was suddenly a bit loose. Before I could use it to my advantage, he pushed me forward, towards Scully and the other captives. "We really don't need them, Troy. Let them go." "They will try to break in again," Troy objected. "They still have more men." "Men who will never obey the command of a woman," John winked at Scully. "With Mulder, you, and myself out of the picture, most leaders are gone and the troops will scatter into the wilderness." Troy appeared to hesitate, then shrugged in the gesture of unexpected benevolence. "Yeah, why the hell not. But," he pointed his finger sharply at Alex, "he stays. " Scully opened her mouth to interject, but one of the other resistance members silenced her, and she accepted the condition for the time being. Alex barely paid attention to their exchange, his eyes focused only on the weakened man beside him. Now, when his life hung on a bare thread and he was about to be incarcerated in the very place that he feared the most, there was an expression of near-contentment in his features. Gone were the nervous restlessness and the nearly visible cloak of darkness that surrounded him, as if finally, he was where he wanted to be. Or rather, I understood in chagrin, he was with the one person who really mattered to him. "I don't think he would object to staying," John smiled, this truth not escaping him either. "It's settled." Without another word, we were ushered out of the hall, towards the winding staircase that led above. Scully's feet, even more than Xavier's, refused to cooperate - and I could understand her feelings only too well. The image of Mulder being cruelly shoved away was enough to make me ill. But it was the thought of leaving Alex here, in the prison where he had been tortured, that truly undid me. Back above the ground, the handcuffs off my hands, the foe army safely behind us, I turned my eyes upward, to the ailing white sky redefined by searchlights as if it could provide me with some reassurance, some answer as to why my promise to him, the promise of a happier ending, should have been broken. But the inanimate lights kept on sweeping over the city in silence. * * * After being carried on the shoulders of Tim and Russ for half- an-hour and realizing that the two men must have been exhausted, Xavier demanded to be allowed to walk on his own. It was Scully who intervened, in the uncommonly ungracious way, by telling him to mind his own business. She and I took over the duty instead and, stubbornly, we kept on walking back towards the city, each of us digesting the events of this night in silence. Two more changes of hands and one hour later, we stood at the door of Backstage. The carnival was long over - either destroyed by the police or dispersed on its own, and the streets were deserted around us. Scully's fingers fumbled with a lock, dropping the keys in the process and prompting an angry exclamation to fall off her lips. I realized that the show of strength she'd been projecting was only for our benefit, and in truth she was devastated, her only remaining source of support extinguished. Still, Scully held on somehow while she found the box of medical supplies and fit a makeshift cast over Xavier's leg. He jerked under her fingers, moaning and finally screaming from the pain, and she instructed me to hold him securely while she worked. Tim and Russ watched from the side, cringing in sympathy, probably waiting for any words of wisdom that she had to offer. Her task completed, she left a barely conscious Xavier lying on the conference table and faced the two men wearily. "We have a scheduled meeting tomorrow, and it will commence as usual," she declared. "I want everyone present." "Everyone?" Russ asked, surprised. "Is it really necessary?" "Yes," Scully cut him off. "We cannot rely on the team leaders any longer." Tim opened his mouth, as if to voice an objection, then changed his mind. "We'll get him back, Scully." "Them," she corrected him. "Mulder *and* Krycek." "Wasn't he presumed dead?" Russ asked. "Or at least missing in action?" "Sometimes I think the man is a cat of nine lives," Scully quipped dryly. "And so alive he will stay." She retreated to another room while Tim and Russ helped carry Xavier to bed. They left shortly after, and I sank down onto bed next to him, barely able to stand on my feet. The sudden chill that shook my body was impossible to ward off, and I recognized it as one of the symptoms of belated shock. Still, the only thing that I could do was sit huddled under a stray blanket and wait while the silent tears rolled down my cheeks. Xavier's hand encircled my shoulders tentatively, pulling me closer, and I settled my weight against his chest, grateful to be so close to this source of warmth. He winced at my touch, and I shifted away quickly. "Is it your leg? Are you not comfortable?" I questioned him, concerned. He shook his head abruptly, too busy gnashing his teeth to talk. Instinct alone led me to unbutton his shirt, and I stared in stupefaction at the multitude of bloody bruises that covered his chest. "They treated me as a good floor rug," he tried to crack a joke. "And were they going to throw you away when they were done?" I asked, stifling the urge to cry. "I will go get the bandages." "Hold on a second," Xavier pushed me back down. "It will wait...I think by now the numbness is kicking in and I don't feel my own body," he grinned weakly. "Tanya, I'm sorry to have caused you and everyone else such pain. I was an idiot. But when I saw you being harassed by the guards, and you were taking so long inside the house... I had to do something." "I wish you hadn't. I was going out of my mind, Xavier. I thought we'd lost you for good." "And yet," he mused, "that night I felt as if I had no choice. No choice at all." Wordlessly, I took his hand and stroked his fingers, willing him to find some rest. His eyelids drifted shut, and his breathing evened out eventually. Just before he fell asleep, he mumbled something and I leaned closer to him to hear the words. "Nice costume," he whispered. I laughed despite myself - I had forgotten that I was still dressed for Halloween. My laughter quickly froze on my lips when I remembered the real monsters and ghouls I encountered tonight. And seeing what happened to Xavier provided my imagination with ample room to exhaust myself worrying about Alex and Mulder. We had a day, only one day, to somehow prevent the deaths of the man who meant everything in the world to me and of the other man whom I'd come to respect as an older brother. For the first time in my twenty-year-long life, I mastered the principles of insomnia and partook in its ageless ritual. By morning, the resistance members were streaming in through the open doors of Backstage, and I had to leave Xavier to attend the meeting. I kissed his forehead before walking out, careful not to wake him. He was back, and alive, and why couldn't it bring me some relief? Nothing was right with the world, and life went on as usual. End Part 6/10 Searchlights By Anna Otto Email: annaotto1@aol.com Part 7/10 Viva La Resistance! "We must surrender." The words may have been spoken as a chorus - and no one rose to challenge them. Even Scully remained silent, as if she could not find a single argument to refute them. The men and women crammed into the Backstage were frightened - but even more than that, they were apathetic, as if the greatest war of their lives had already been fought and lost, behind their backs. "We have no choice," Tim spoke up shyly. "And maybe if we give in, they will let Mulder and Krycek go." "They would never let Mulder go," Scully objected acerbically. "Of us all, he presents them with the most danger." "Scully," Tim whispered brokenly. "Don't you realize that they no longer consider us a danger?" It was hard to swallow the bitterness of the sentiment, hard to acknowledge its truth. The police knew our location, they could easily come in any time and gun us down. The fact that they didn't signified not the quality of their mercy, but rather the fact that they considered us unworthy of attention. "Our chances of winning this round are extremely low," someone spoke up from the back. "The executions are scheduled for tomorrow, and they will be guarding Mulder and Krycek with a special zeal. Raiding the prison was never going to work, as we know now." "We only lose more people each time we go in," Russ agreed. "And let's admit it: we're greatly outnumbered." Scully's eyes were focused on the scratched table surface as if she could divine some answers from it. "We've always been outnumbered and that didn't stop us before." "Perhaps it's time." A woman lay a hand on her shoulder considerately, and Scully didn't seem to have enough strength to remove the offending object. I couldn't maintain my silence any longer. "Are you suggesting that we forget about Mulder and Alex?" I posed a question, articulating what no one else was willing to. "That we simply abandon them?" It was Russ who answered, his grave eyes settling with pity first on me, then on Scully. "Will you even listen to yourselves? You're proposing sacrificing all these lives," he gestured widely at the audience, "to save just two men. Krycek was one of the main reasons why we failed to overthrow the rebels. And Mulder didn't even consider it necessary to inform us that Troy may have been dirty; he preferred to keep it a secret and deal with it as if it had been a personal vendetta. And, Scully, I have not the slightest doubt that you knew about it as well. Weigh it carefully, friends," he addressed everyone, "two lives against two hundred." My throat moved convulsively, wanting to unleash all of my anger right then and there, to prove him wrong. But seeing the agreeable nods from everyone in the room, I understood that it was no use. "Mulder was always good at making enemies out of friends," Scully whispered, not heeding who heard her. Visibly steeling herself, she asked, "Am I to understand that this is mutiny?" "I think," Russ scanned the embarrassed faces, "that this is simply an admission of defeat." "Everyone, if you feel that you're no longer able to be a part of this organization, I thank you for your time," Scully stood up. "If your weapon is borrowed, please surrender it at the exit." One by one, I watched men and women walk out of the room. With each revolver laid at the table, with each pair of eyes shamefully averted from us, I knew that we were losing one more chance at getting Mulder and Alex back alive. I cringed when the door swung the last time, and my breath stopped for a moment when I saw the small handful of people remaining. Scully seemed surprised when she saw Tim among them. "That door is still open," she reminded the man who argued just a few minutes ago about the hopelessness of our cause. He rubbed his hands together nervously. "I don't believe we can win, Scully," he said skeptically. "But if I didn't try to help Mulder - and you - I'd consider myself the lowest scum that ever crawled this Earth." "No, that was aliens," I quipped, surprised and relieved to hear laughter that immediately followed my remark. "Fifteen," Scully counted the heads and chuckled sadly. "At least I know that we're all committed to the same goal." "It's sixteen." I turned around at the sound of Xavier's voice, appalled to discover him out of bed, hanging on to the door. Scully appeared just as unhappy to see him standing as I was, but instead of reprimanding him, she repeated softly and gratefully, "Sixteen." * * * "Well, I suppose we all agree that charging in like a cavalry is out of the question," Tim summarized. "Any other suggestions?" he looked around the group. "Scully?" She blinked, visibly returning from a dream into reality. Wherever she'd been, it wasn't a better place, judging by her gray face and pained eyes. "I'm sorry," she apologized softly. "I was just thinking..." she stopped herself forcibly. "I agree that we can't use brute force. But what about making a trade? Something valuable enough to the government that they'd be willing to exchange for the prisoners?" "Or someone," Xavier added, nodding approvingly. "A life for a life." Tim shook his head, disheartened. "The only person valuable enough to forego the entertainment of public executions? The governor himself, without whom, let's admit, it just won't be the same." "Well, then the governor it will have to be," Scully shrugged. I wasn't sure if she was joking. "Do you realize that we don't even know his name?" "Much less where he lives?" Xavier questioned. "I can't believe that no one in this entire city knows how to find him," Scully clenched her fist painfully. "And unless anyone has better solutions, I suggest we start looking right now." She picked up her weapon and a jacket. "Tap all your sources, see what you can find out, and let's meet back here in three hours." "Where are you going?" Tim asked, concerned. She smiled grimly. "To speak with my source. Tanya," she turned to me unexpectedly. "Would you accompany me, please?" I was slightly taken aback by the invitation, but immediately stood up and went to join her. "See you in three," Tim shouted at us as we left the building. Scully walked briskly, glancing at me furtively from time to time, as if she wanted to ask something and wasn't sure how to begin. "You know Alex," she stated finally, and the name sounded wrong on her lips. "A little," I mumbled and thought that I didn't really, not even after what I'd witnessed last night. "He rented a room from my father." "That explains how you found us," she commented, her eyes downcast. "How long has he been staying with you?" "About four months, maybe less. I don't think he meant to ignore everyone," I felt as if I had to make excuses for him. "You have to understand that he thought - well, you know what he thought. He said that he tried to find Rick." Scully stopped so abruptly that I had to walk a few steps back to the place where she stood, rooted to the ground. "Do you know if he actually met with Rick?" "I don't believe so, no." "The day Rick died, he said he'd received some information from a source he couldn't disclose. Information about what happened to Krycek," she closed her eyes, concentrating on the memory. "Everyone was in the room...Mulder, John, the others...Troy. He left and never came back." "Scully..." I reached out to support her when she swayed, her hands covering her eyes. I looked around for a place to sit down but could find nothing except ruined buildings. "I'm all right," she steadied herself. "For three months, I spoke and worked every day with a man who murdered someone I loved, but we all make mistakes, I suppose. The worst thing was that I trusted Troy, I respected him," she added in wonder. "I refused to believe that he betrayed Krycek." "How did it happen?" "Apparently, he was captured by the rebels about a year ago. In order to save his own skin, he told them he'd make a trade and give them some information they would appreciate..." Scully shuddered. "Troy did great work for the resistance. How did he end up on the other side? Where did we go wrong?" "You didn't," I objected. What would I have done in his place? How loud would my scream be upon the sight of the unlit, claustrophobic cell in which I was to be incarcerated? My voice strained when I declared, "Troy is a coward." "How could he have killed Rick?" she asked me longingly as if begging for some explanation. Because he was simply another life caught in the avalanche that started as a simple mistake. "One of Troy's loose ends." "I will tie up the rest for him," Scully's words were below temperature. "We're going to visit one of them right now." I had to run to catch up with her determined stride. If it was possible, I was more worried about her now than I was about the men about to be executed tomorrow. There wasn't a trace left of the broken woman who stood in front of me a minute ago, there was only a soldier determined to destroy her greatest enemy. "Prepare," Scully knocked on the brown door of the dilapidated old house. "You're about to meet one of the men who sold out the planet." After such a dramatic introduction, I was anticipating to see anyone but the not as well dressed elderly gentleman that Scully brought in for questioning a few days ago. Seeing her, he ducked back into the shadows, unmistakably wary. "Agent Scully," he greeted her resignedly with a 'what is it now' look. "How can I help you today?" "You can help by inviting us in," she replied unceremoniously. "We have a long conversation ahead." "I've already told you all that I knew," he objected hurriedly. "There is only so much...but come in," he changed his mind when she took out her gun. He led the way inside the poorly furnished room and pointed us to the chairs around the table, then shuffled over to the windows and opened the draperies, letting the daylight in. "What can I do for you?" "Who is the governor and where does he live?" Scully asked bluntly. The old man's laugh was mirthless. "Why do you come to me? I'm not friendly with the current government." After some hesitation, she put her gun away and showed him her empty hands. "I didn't come to fight," she announced politely. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're the only hope we have left. Mulder and Krycek will die tomorrow if you don't help us." There was compassion in his voice. "I'm very sorry, Agent. But I don't know who the governor is. Even if I did, I don't think he'd listen to your plea." Her eyes flashed angrily and he hastened to pacify her before she had a chance to speak. "Of course, you wouldn't beg... what did you have in mind, threats?" Neither of us answered, and he averted his gaze, as if embarrassed to have spied the weakness of his interrogators. "I am but an old, useless man from an organization that outlived its usefulness, probably the only surviving member of the Consortium. Even the smoker was killed when the rebels came into power," he paused to ponder. "The new ruling class is a younger and crueler lot. All they care about is demonstrating their might. Your friends will die, and there is nothing any of us can do." "A human that worked in their ranks came to me..." I repeated, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into their places. "You worked with Alex for the rebels. Didn't you?" When he didn't reply, I shouted, "Didn't you?" "Alex was a spy for them," he nodded at Scully, who watched me concerned. "What is this all about?" "You lied to him!" I screamed at him. "You told Alex that it was Mulder who betrayed him. You deliberately deceived him!" He glanced at Scully as if seeking protection. "I...I'm not sure I understand." "Admit it," I demanded. "And then you came to his friends and told them without any shame that Alex was dead." "Tanya," Scully implored, grabbing my hand. "Tanya, please, sit down - let's sort this out rationally." I shook her off, feeling far from rational. "He is the man responsible for what happened to Alex!" "Well, not quite," he reasoned. "I wasn't the one who betrayed him and I wasn't the one who threw him in prison. But, my dear young lady, you have to understand that Alex Krycek is not an angel you're apparently convinced he is. We had a lot of...let's call them disagreements in the past...and yes, I was glad to have a chance to pay him back the only way I knew how." By adding salt in his bleeding wounds, I wanted to shout. I couldn't erase the image from my mind, the image I knew would haunt me for too long a time to come: Alex, crouched on the floor of the too-small cell, and this man, his face lit by the red flame of the torch, telling him lies and taking pleasure in his pain. There was so much hatred in my heart at that moment I thought myself quite capable of killing this reptile, and if Scully didn't step between us, I just might have. "I was convinced that Krycek was dead, otherwise I wouldn't have told Mulder and Scully about that," the old man explained as if it absolved him of all crimes. "I've seen few men who survived that prison." He shuddered visibly and looked at me speculatively. "Anyway - who are you and why all this concern about Krycek? I'd say you were in love with him if I weren't..." I wasn't sure what expression my face held at that moment but he aborted the speech and scratched his forehead. "I see," he finished softly, and Scully's expression changed to one of understanding - and, something I couldn't bear to recognize, pity. Unable to be with either one of them any longer, I practically ran to the door with Scully following closely on my heels. "Young lady!" the old man's voice stopped me. "One second of your time." I grabbed the doorknob and turned it. "I have something you will be interested in," he was out of breath, showing us a piece of paper. "Perhaps they wanted to laugh at my expense or maybe it was a mistake, but I've been invited to a party tonight in governor's honor. You will notice it doesn't mention his name. I didn't want to go, but you," he waggled his eyebrows at me, "you just might want to give it a shot." I took the card wordlessly. "Thank you," Scully told him gratefully and stood back as he closed the door. She touched my shoulder tentatively, as if she thought I might shatter. "Are you all right?" I shook my head numbly, convinced that I'd never be able to walk or speak again. "I'm not sure how to say this..." she began and fell silent at my beseeching look. This wasn't the time to present me with any new revelations but one: Alex was not going to die. "Please tell me you have a plan," I whispered, and the words scratched my throat. Scully turned up the collar of her coat, shielding herself from the cold wind. "*We* have a plan." * * * An hour later, I tried on a simple black dress borrowed from Tim's wife. We were the same height, but where she had soft curves, I had sharp angles, and the silky material hung on me unflatteringly. Cinderella I wasn't, especially in the shoes that could have been used as torture devices by the Inquisition. "We need to do something with your hair." Scully studied me critically. "Sometimes I feel hopelessly inadequate - where we need the skills of a hairdresser, I fail miserably." I shook my dark hair free and let it fall around my face, then reached for the scissors to make a few precise cuts, corrected a few imperfections in my make-up. "I don't want to let you go alone," Scully spoke fiercely. "I won't be alone," I hurried to reassure her. "Tim will be watching." "Remember, we will be waiting at the northwest corner of the building," she reminded me unnecessarily. "Try to get him outside and walking in our direction, and we will take care of the rest. And if it doesn't work out, don't panic. The main thing is that we don't lose yet more people." I bit my lip. If it didn't work out, if I weren't able to somehow sweep the governor off his feet and into our trap, then we would be witnesses to the slaughter of our friends in less than twenty-four hours. I knew that Scully wished she could go instead of me, if only to have something to do rather than wait, but we agreed that she might be recognized. None of us spoke of the possibility of Troy and John being at the party as well - we all knew it would preordain our failure. I evaluated my appearance yet again, trying to reach beneath the layers of desperation and anxiety and find the girl who was always only too excited to be asked on a date or invited to a party. But even if some of that carefree spirit remained, I appeared too intense, my eyes were too unsettled, and my complexion was too pale. Moreover, I realized in shock, I looked almost old. "Smile," Scully said with a strain, as if she'd read my thoughts. "You've already wrapped Eric Nelson around your finger, and this will be even easier." "Of course," I flashed a fake smile at the mirror. The picture didn't improve. "You look beautiful, Tanya." Xavier stood in the doorway and while his eyes swept over me approvingly, apparently satisfied with the image I projected, it was Scully on whom he finally focused his warm and concerned gaze. "How are you holding up?" If he hoped that Scully would admit to feeling anything but fine, he was out of luck. I'd already learned not to rely on her words - but the imperceptible shift in her body language, the slight quiver of her lips told me more than I needed to know. "Just fine," she said brusquely and left the room. Xavier watched me in silence for a few seconds, then limped away. And as much as I wanted to find the words to stop him, I couldn't. With only my reflection for company, I felt alone and somehow detached from reality. At the sight of Tim dressed in the evening clothes and fully prepared for the charade we were about to play, I was desperately relieved to have at least one friend by my side. "My lady," he bowed before me and grinned with unforced cheerfulness. "Ready to rock and roll?" I curtsied mockingly in reply and thought that I might crumble into a million pieces before we even set out of the house. But for the sake of everyone who relied on me, I gave him an answer that he wanted to hear. "Ready, willing, and able." End Part 7/10 Searchlights By Anna Otto Email: annaotto1@aol.com Part 8/10 The Art of Light Where I expected to see a beautiful mansion, was only a functional glass-and-chrome building that seemed alive under the dancing searchlights. Four guards stood at the entrance and I had an unpleasant flashback to the search I endured before stepping into Nelson's house. Tim's casual flash of an invitation card, gold engraving on its cover, was enough today to let us proceed without impediments. At the doorway leading to the brightly-lit ballroom, Tim separated from me discreetly and disappeared up the stairs. I allowed the crowd to sweep me inside, to make me a part of them. Most of the men attending the party were young, in their twenties and thirties, most of them accompanied by even younger women dressed to dazzle. The music filled the high- ceilinged space, seemingly coming from everywhere and adding to the surrealism of the proceedings. When someone asked me to dance, I agreed. My reflexes took over and while my body obeyed the rhythm of the song, my eyes desperately searched the room for my one true goal. The dance over, I nodded politely to my accidental partner and turned around only to find myself face to face with Eric Nelson. "This is a surprise," his thick pink nostrils flared happily. "A very nice surprise," he emphasized. "Care to dance?" Before I could squeak out my assent, he was clutching me in his hands and performing a poor imitation of the waltz movements. "Our last meeting was so cruelly interrupted," Nelson murmured somewhere below my ear. "I wondered what happened to you." "I didn't want to be in anyone's way, sir," I replied as he gripped me tighter. We must have looked comical to the casual observer, so poorly suited were we as dance partners. He was at least one head shorter than I was, and his thick neck loomed like a constant temptation in my field of vision. But, as I had been taught, I unleashed my most seductive smile and whispered, "You're a great dancer, Mr. Nelson." "You're flattering me, young lady," he scolded me coyly. "But flattery will get you anywhere. Well, have you got any more news for me?" "After you captured the leader of the resistance movement, what news could I possibly give you?" I asked in admiration. "Their organization must be dead and of no concern to you." "I suppose." He stopped dancing when the music swelled down, and I was immeasurably relieved. "The governor will be glad to see these men finally terminated - and since we caught them in my prison, I can count on some sort of a promotion," he beamed at me. "Now, my lady, the question is - would you like to come and work for me?" "I already said yes, sir," I nodded. "Come," he tugged my hand possessively. "I will introduce you to the man of the evening." Stifling any undue happiness at the proposal, I rushed after him, oddly grateful for his unwitting assistance. "Sir," Nelson bowed before the composed, powerfully built man in his forties with an obvious military bearing. "Allow me to introduce a woman who assisted in conquering the resistance movement." "Tanya Sharpe," I stated softly, terrified at this overture. If I only hadn't interfered with Mulder's plans, if I only didn't put Xavier in danger, if I only could foresee yesterday's events. "And I can't take the credit." The governor smiled at both of us condescendingly, prepared to dismiss us. "I'm pleased to finally meet a man responsible for our victory," I spoke quickly. "I've been waiting for this moment a long time." The governor was apparently susceptible to praise as well. "Now, what is a man like you doing with a woman like this?" he addressed Nelson who seemed to shrink into his glistening coat of skin. "If you don't mind, I will abduct her from you for an evening." Not waiting for an answer, the governor grasped my hand and led me back to the dance floor. This new development should have gladdened me, but instead I had the distinct sense of something going awry already - if only because he was more pleased at having taken something away from Nelson rather than at the prospect of having me by his side. His frosty gray eyes didn't once focus on me while we whirled under the changing lights. The distinct sense of unreality that trailed after me all evening was back and this time I could trace its source to an empty stomach and lack of sleep. The floor seemed to tilt under me, disappearing beneath my feet, and at one strange moment, my dancing partner had to catch me before I fell. Dizzily, I leaned my head against him, trying to remind myself that falling apart now would be a really bad idea. He looked at me curiously, as if for the first time realizing that he was in the presence of another human being and pushed me away, just enough to prevent unnecessary contact between us. "You all right?" he checked and I remembered Alex's voice speaking the same words in the same tone - just barely concerned, more perfunctory than caring. The sensation was sobering. "Better now," I replied and tried to switch the topic. "I don't believe I caught your name." "No one knows my name but some people closest to me," the governor cut me off coldly. "You cannot underestimate the security that anonymity provides." "That is wise," I admitted. "I use this house only on special occasions," he explained. "Few people know where I really live." I slid my hands down his arms, cozying up to him and only felt him stiffen in response. "What is the special occasion today?" "The birth of my son." This wasn't something I anticipated. "You must be very proud." "My wife and I are fortunate," he nodded. "I love her more today than I've ever believed possible." I gritted my teeth and flashed him a brilliant smile. At this moment, I hated his wife, son, and him more than I've ever believed possible. While he celebrated a birth, I would be mourning two deaths, and I knew that this excursion was already a failure. "Why did you stop?" he asked me laughingly. "No reason," I replied, resuming our dance and trying to think of something empty to say. "It's a beautiful ballroom, by the way." "The best place in the city to watch searchlights," the governor agreed. I probed his face, startled by his answer. Did he stand at the highest floor of this building on the clear nights just as many other citizens, watching the city? Did he look for something - or someone? "Was it your invention?" I whispered in realization. For the first time this evening, his eyes softened and he held me closer as we whirled under the silver illumination. "Yes." * * * The dance over, we walked to the table piled high with refreshments. Nelson scurried away upon seeing us, bearing a full plate and a glass of champagne, and the governor's lips turned downward in distaste. "You don't like him," I hazarded a guess. "Do you?" I had a distinct impression that any positive answer would put hundreds of miles between us, placing me further behind than I was at the beginning of this evening. I settled on a safe lie. "He is my future employer." The news visibly unsettled him. "Come to work for me instead." "Is this offer due to any extraordinary qualities of mine? Or simply because of your aversion to Mr. Nelson?" He studied me appraisingly. "You're a capable young woman, and I'm sure I could find some use for your skills." The champagne tasted bitter in my mouth. "How could I say no?" "Nelson is one of the remaining relics that I've worked so hard to destroy," the governor explained, disgusted. "I wish I could find some legitimate reason to get rid of him. In fact," he suggested easily, "seeing how taken he is with you, it would be your first assignment." I couldn't help but smile at the offer. "Something tells me that I will greatly enjoy this job." Pleased with my attitude, he clinked my glass of champagne with his own. "Here is to our new partnership." I drank to the bottom, my eyes locked with his, and when his hand fell possessively on my shoulder, it felt almost natural for me to be here, with the man who owned the city, with my life suddenly full of new possibilities. "Tell me about the searchlights," I asked. "I will do something better," the governor promised, leading me out of the ballroom and up the staircase. "I will show you the keys to the city." Casually, he took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, prompting a near-panicked sigh from my chest. It was a reflex I couldn't control, but he took seemingly no notice of my trembling hands when they accepted the cigarette, or of my ecstatic sigh when I inhaled the smoke. A forgotten sensation, it rasped through me like a wave of the ocean as it rolled towards its destination. Coming home would not have been half as sweet. "Been a long time?" he questioned curiously. "Longer than you could imagine." He opened the door to a small room, presenting me with rows upon rows of controls. "Every night, a guard turns on the illumination," his fingers ran lovingly over the red switch, "and forever abolishes darkness." And there was a strange light in his face, origins of which I couldn't fathom. "Are you afraid of the dark, Tanya?" He was taking up all the air in the room, and I had to remind myself to breathe. "No." "It was dark when they took me from my parents," he whispered, his apparent fear incongruous with his chiseled face and assured posture. "And they tried to make me forget them, but I couldn't. Are your parents still alive?" "My father is." I swallowed painfully, trying to push down the surging emotion. "My mother died during the first invasion." His face reflected sympathy. "I've never seen my family since I was ten years old. I assume they must have been killed by those men who separated us in the first place." "Why have they done this?" "I wasn't the only one... they prepared us rigorously, to serve this country, this planet when the colonization began. Military training, education in engineering and sciences, even," he chuckled, "arts. All so that we could help destroy the aliens when they came. One of just many many projects," he added, "that they put in place to hold off the disaster." "Then it worked," I said. "Haven't you won?" "I've waited for my turn very patiently." He clenched his jaw. "I knew that we couldn't fight the first invasion - no weapon of ours was effective enough. Those old men who worked with the aliens - how pathetic had they been! We could have utilized our resources to do something then, I suppose," he mused. "But it was only when the rebels came to power that we decided to move forward, and now we're ripping the seeds of our victory." In other words, I understood, he wanted to see the men responsible pay for his own broken childhood and that of his friends. By betraying their confidence, and by withholding the resources he was in charge of at the crucial moment, he defeated them - and effectively defeated humanity in the process. "I know that some people - these people you see on the streets - are unhappy with the new order, but it's only a matter of time before they accept it. The city is ours, Tanya," he spread his hands, as if giving me a gift. "And now it's yours, as well." I leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Thank you." He took my gesture in stride and offered me a hand. "For the last part of my tour, I will show you the electric station we started building." Quickly, he ran down the stairs, and I could hardly keep after him in my high heels. Perhaps, in the perfect tradition of all Cinderellas in the world, I should have left a crystal slipper on the step. When this night was over, the prince would stumble across it and search all over the city for his princess. And she would have all her wishes satisfied, and as many cigarettes as she ever wanted. And she would make him much happier than his wife and son ever could. Outside, the governor shook off the guards who tried to come with us and motioned me excitedly to follow him. "It's only a short walk." When we were about a couple hundred feet from the house, the dancing lights flickered, and he halted. "What is this?" I asked, my heart beating too quickly. The darkness that enveloped us was too abrupt and I blinked furiously, hoping that my eyes would start working again. For a moment, there was nothing around me, not even moon and stars, not even the solid presence of the older man whose ragged breathing alerted me to his mounting panic. Was it as dark now in the prison where Alex and Mulder awaited their deaths? I felt something inside me shatter. I haven't taken too long yet. Tim was probably walking out of the house right now after disengaging the main illumination switch. Scully and the others were still waiting at the northwest corner of the building. I closed my eyes and relied upon my senses, remembering my lessons. I could take this man, this precious prize, in the direction of my friends. "Sir," I grasped the governor's hand, clammy with sweat. "Let me lead you back to the house." "It's dark again," he whispered. "What happened?" "Nothing to worry about, I'm sure," I replied decisively. "Follow me." We didn't have to walk far to escape the screams coming from the main house. I didn't feel the pain from my too tight shoes, and my bare shoulders didn't shiver in the cold air. Without making one extra step, I brought the governor to the agreed upon place and watched as Tim stunned him with a well- placed blow. Someone pulled a dark hood over his head, someone else tied his hands securely behind him. Scully knelt down next to him and felt his pulse. Reassured that he was alive and entirely within our power, I could breathe easier for the first time since leaving Mulder and Alex behind. "Where are we taking him?" Tim asked. I realized that the plans hadn't been made yet towards that end, simply because no one believed in the success of this operation. It wouldn't be safe to bring him to Backstage. "My house," I suggested. "It's not that far, and no one will be looking for him there." "Tanya," Scully approached me. "Thank you," she said simply. Her face, initially so peaceful in the calm moonlight, changed swiftly when she took my hand. As if she'd glimpsed in me something that she wasn't prepared to see, she stepped away cautiously. "What is it?" I asked. The sensation of unbearable loneliness, as if I'd been in solitary confinement for too long a time, was creeping back inside me and I couldn't fight it. Scully flicked a few stray pieces of cigarette ash from my black dress. "Nothing, Tanya," she whispered. "Nothing at all." * * * My father didn't seem surprised to see his house invaded by numerous visitors. Stoically, he endured the noise and the chaos that we brought with us, while I searched for extra pillows and blankets. And I thought that I was unfair to him by running away, that he would have let me go if I'd only asked. Tim prepared a light supper for everyone, and I was relieved to finally relinquish my kitchen duty. Our hostage moaned, and I watched him a few moments to make sure that he was still unconscious. I hoped he wouldn't wake until the morning, wouldn't notice the artificial darkness enveloping him. I wondered how soon his absence would be noticed, and whether Backstage would be ransacked soon after. Once everyone settled down for the night, and even Scully appeared to be lost to an uneasy slumber, I kissed my father wordlessly and went upstairs to the attic. The searchlights danced over the city once again, the brief interruption of their flow long forgotten. I pulled Alex's favorite and only chair closer to the large window and curled up in a ball. And as I watched, I began to hate every one of these silver rays. I thought that maybe after all this was over, after we have finally won, I would become afraid of the light. Maybe when the streetlights were lit on the rebuilt streets, I would hurry home and close the blinds, and restore the darkness. I didn't hear the footsteps behind me and started when someone's hand fell upon my shoulder. "I didn't mean to scare you," Xavier whispered. "You should get some sleep." Expressively, he nodded at the narrow bed, the only place in the house that I didn't offer to my guests. I wanted to tell him to leave. This room still bore the presence of Alex, and I felt as if no one else would ever belong here. "So should you," I said instead. "Lie down here." He shook his head stubbornly. "I just wanted to talk to you." "What about?" Xavier sat on the edge of the bed. I noticed that his brown hair was more disheveled than usual. "Assuming that no one dies tomorrow," he started awkwardly. "And fully realizing the fact of no interesting places to go to in this city...and assuming that you are even listening to me right now -" I swiveled around in the chair to face him. "I was listening," I assured him gravely. "I like you, Tanya," he faced me openly. "And I wanted to say that before things got more complicated, though this is probably the worst time to ask anyone out...or expect you to agree." I wondered if maybe the attic was cursed somehow, its walls forever destined to hear painful admissions and stilted rejections. Just to reverse the trend, I decided not to answer at all. My head hung low, I watched miserably as he collected his crutches and stood up. "Where did you get these?" I whispered. "Your father found them," he explained evenly. "Please tell him thank you for me again." Xavier left the attic as soundlessly as he came and, exhausted beyond measure, I lay down on the bed and smelled Alex's unique scent, already fading away. I fell asleep thinking that tomorrow morning no one would die. End Part 8/10 Searchlights By Anna Otto Email: annaotto1@aol.com Part 9/10 Lessons Not Learned Scully's voice remained perfectly even, her posture non- threatening as she put a barrel of a gun to the governor's still shrouded head. "We won't cause you any harm," she reiterated. "We only want to perform an exchange. A life for a life." "Who do you wish to exchange me for?" He sounded stilted, muted by the thick cloth and unfavorable situation. "The men about to be executed today." "That can be done," he agreed hastily. She nodded in satisfaction, though visible tension still coiled her small body. "This is a simple trade," she emphasized. "Be cooperative and you will live." Tim checked the security of the bonds that still bound the governor's hands, then pulled him to the upright position. "Please," he asked, subdued, "take the hood off me." My hands ached to help him - I could feel the anxiety radiating off him, seeping into my bones, overpowering me. Doing so would not compromise us more than we'd already been. He knew my face. Soon, he'd know the faces of others. Moreover, we couldn't possibly hope to walk through the streets unnoticed with a hooded man. With Scully's mute agreement, I reached out to remove the offending cloth. His eyes blinked, disoriented in the morning light, and settled on me. There was no surprise, only cold calculation, as he recognized the traitor who lulled him into the trap. And though I knew how dangerous it was to sympathize with our enemy, I couldn't help the pang of guilt I felt. My father stopped me before we walked out. "I wish you good luck, Tanya," he said. "Even if I don't know what it is you're a part of." I hugged him quickly. "Only a simple trade," I explained. "I will be back soon, I am sure." Shielding the governor from the gazes of pedestrians, our small company walked towards our final destination. The realization that this was the last day for the resistance movement did not escape me. This gamble would put an end to our effectiveness, rendering the remaining members useless. When Mulder and Alex were back, we would have to live as the rest of the population did: in fear and submission, under the rule of the men who sold us out, under the constant glare of searchlights. I slowed down my step and waited up for Xavier who, while already handy with the crutches, was still falling behind. "Tanya," he acknowledged my presence, and I thought that if it were possible, he appeared even paler than he was before. "Xavier," I began and wasn't sure what I wanted to say. I'm sorry? I'm not worth such affection? I'm in love with a man who considers me a child and could win hands down in the competition for the least emotionally available? He freed me from picking out an appropriately poor explanation. "It's a suitable day for the medieval age execution, don't you think?" he asked, changing the non- existent topic of the conversation. "Overcast skies, the menace of the storm...I remember the illustration from one of Alexander Dumas' novels. Although he did like describing the guillotines a lot more." I diverted my eyes away from the gallows that I could see in the distance. "We will talk after this is over," I promised. "Let's just get through the morning, okay?" Xavier suggested coolly. "Let's," I agreed in chagrin, understanding that he wished for no such dialogue to occur. Unsettled, I slowed down my step even as he sped up. I pretended not to get the message. The gallows were crudely built as if the men who labored on this task didn't know how it was supposed to be done. But though unrefined, the apparatus was functional and just as terrifying. The drifting white mist embraced the two empty nooses that hung limply in the windless cold air. While I was mesmerized by the vision, Scully put a hand to her forehead, averting her gaze immediately, her lips quickly mouthing what could have been a prayer or a curse. And I wondered what Mulder meant to her, and tried to imagine what they had gone through together if she was willing to sacrifice everything she worked for and potentially all of our lives, only to see him survive. Then again, Alex's life was just as precious to me - what difference was there between us? I stared at the nooses unblinkingly until Tim forcefully turned me away and pointed me instead in the direction of the prime row seats being filled by the government officials. Among them I recognized a few men from the last night's ball, Eric Nelson who appeared to take up two seats, and John who had the audacity to smile at us. At exactly eight o'clock, Troy stepped on the podium and surveyed the crowd. His expression at once triumphant and serious, he waited for absolute silence. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began unimaginatively. "Tomorrow, we face the new challenges - rebuilding this city and our country. Tomorrow, we celebrate the new order of life. But today, we put to death the men who have opposed us, who have prevented us from restoring law in our society. Today, we bring an end to their disruptive organization." Scully jerked next to me. "I can't take it anymore," she squeezed through her teeth. Someone put a calming hand on her arm, begging her to wait silently for an appropriate moment to strike. "I present to you," Troy extended his hand in a mocking grand introduction, "the leaders of the resistance movement." The first thing that caught my eye and made me clench my fists was the absence of a mask on Alex's face. I had no doubt that he had no choice in the matter - that he still preferred to cover his deformities rather than flaunt them. But even in this humiliation, he faced the crowd with a faint expression of contempt, carrying his scars like medals. This look of disdain changed drastically to one of grave concern as he glanced over at his companion, and I needn't have wondered why. Mulder had to lean against the more stable frame of Alex just to remain standing. His head hung low, not from shame, but from the apparent dizziness, and in one moment when he turned to the side, I saw the tracks of fresh blood staining the pale skin on his temple. Their hands were bound behind their backs as they were pushed forward. In the deadly quiet, I could clearly distinguish Mulder's irregular, shallow breathing as well as hear the whisper of Alex directed to him, "Stay with me." "The governor could not be here today to witness this act of justice," Troy explained, and I could detect a slight nervousness in him. I realized that they were worried about their leader but preferred to keep the news of his disappearance secret. "But I'm sure that he will have approved of our actions." "The governor is here," Scully said harshly, setting the events of the day in motion. Unceremoniously, she pushed our captive onto the stage. "And he doesn't approve of your actions." * * * With Troy and about a dozen guards pointing their guns at her, Scully clicked the safety off the revolver she held to the governor's temple. "One step," she warned them away, "and the man responsible for the new order will be blown to pieces." Troy clenched his jaw and motioned the guards away, warily putting his own gun hand down. "Conditions of release," he barked. "Guess," she snarled. "I can only guess that I shouldn't have let you go," Troy replied with exaggerated calmness. Scully's fingers gripped the gun harder, and I could tell that she was unnerved by his not too anxious attitude. Her position was precarious: if she was forced to pull the trigger, she would become a target herself, and we would lose her as well as the two men she was trying to save. "I'm warning you," she repeated. "Even with a bullet in me, I can still squeeze at least one shot." It was the governor who ended the standoff. "Make the trade," he ordered Troy uncompromisingly. "I've promised her a deal." Troy's lips twitched in disappointment. "Of course," he bowed imperceptibly and, for some reason, his eyes faced neither Scully nor the man who gave the order. "Let's do it." Perhaps, I wasn't the only one who sensed the peculiarity of his behavior. But before I could understand what was happening, I heard the whistle of a bullet and Mulder's cry to Scully to get down. Acting on pure instinct, she threw herself on the floor, releasing the hostage in the process, and now I could see the group of guards standing just to the side of the gallows, the group that until now was concealed from everyone but the prisoners and Troy himself. The rest of the events felt like images in the particularly horrifying movie that I couldn't stop, couldn't rewind, couldn't refuse to watch. One of the men brought a violent strike to Mulder's head with a butt of his gun while Scully watched with eyes wide open, unable to do more than flinch, as she found herself lying on the floor, without any leverage and with a few guns pointing at her. Mulder's lanky body crumpled ungracefully, but even though he lay still, obviously unconscious, he received a few more blows. Alex, who automatically dropped on his knees, was hauled to the upright position by the guards and dragged a few feet away. "Stop!" the governor's booming voice interrupted the proceedings momentarily. "We had a deal," he said. "I intend to uphold it." "Sir," Troy objected quickly, "you have no obligations towards these criminals who abducted you." The governor smiled benevolently, a born leader facing his followers. In spite of the humiliating beginning, this was becoming his day, and he was visibly becoming a ruler of the people who watched him rule. "A life for a life," he postulated. "It's only fair." Abruptly, Scully was released. Her first action, as I knew it would be, was to run a few feet over to where Mulder lay and cradle him in her arms, trying to awaken him. "One life for another," Troy repeated ominously as he stepped in front of her. "And I believe you've just made your choice." * * * Scully didn't look up at the face of the man who betrayed us all, as if not wishing to waste her energy and time on the representative of human subspecies. Instead, her gaze, at once pleading and apologetic, settled on Alex. No words passed between them, but the question was asked and the answer was given, without hesitation. She stood up, pulling Mulder's unresponsive body along with her. "You win," she said to Troy resignedly. "You win because you know us so well." His head crooked to the side, he appraised her with a faint smile, as if he was surprised that she was still looking for reasons, still trying to elicit some reaction from him. "No, Scully," he replied, apparently trying to correct her mistake. "I win because I'm on the right side." Scully and Mulder were helped from the stage while Alex remained behind. Studying and memorizing his face through the darkening lenses of the world around me, I saw no inherent bitterness and no unreleased cry for justice. And I hated him for accepting this fate so easily. Troy, now fully recovered from all the upheaval we've caused, faced the crowd once again. "Unfortunately, this is one of the lessons that will be taught," he sneered. "From now on, this is how we deal with criminals." Abruptly, he gestured at the guards who held Alex and they led him closer to the noose. "Example must be set." I could feel Xavier's hand holding me back after I made the first step. He didn't speak, probably understanding the futility of any words he could say, but even his ironclad grip couldn't restrain me from making yet one more mistake. Mistake that, in my eyes, was the only acceptable course of action. I opened up my hands, displaying the absence of any weapon or other treachery that they might have expected. I faced Troy and, for once, I didn't allow emotion to cloud my judgment. This was a simple business deal. If he needed a body to kill, any body that would set the example to the citizens, then I could provide him with one. "Take me instead," I demanded sharply. "I'm as much a criminal as that man is." Troy watched me in stupefaction as if seeing the evidence of my insanity for the first time. Really, after I performed my stunt with stealing documents from Nelson's house, he should have known better. "Tanya, please leave," he asked, unaccountably polite. "No," I said and took a step towards Alex who watched me in alarm and the men who were about to fit him with a noose. "Do you really care who you kill today?" I asked Troy. "What is the difference between him and me?" He shrugged indifferently. "On second thought," he replied coldly, "none at all." Troy motioned to the group of the guards waiting to the side and I felt my hands being forced behind me. I tried not to resist, and for the first time I felt my instinct of self- preservation fight a war with my resolve to die, an ultimately losing battle. "Wait a minute," the governor waved off the guards and stepped closer to me. His face was inches away from mine, as if he were about to kiss me. Instead, he placed his hands on my shoulders in the imitation of the dance pose and leaned closer to my ear. "Do you remember what it's like being in the dark, Tanya?" he whispered. I swallowed back my fear, suddenly realizing that I was less terrified of the device of execution waiting for me than of this strange man who now fully inhabited my physical space. "I remember," I replied just as softly. "Are you still unafraid?" the governor posed another question, and there was something cold pressing into my ribcage, then traveling down, settling against my stomach. I wanted to tell him that I was afraid, that I lied, that I simply wanted to wake up tomorrow with the knowledge that Alex was still alive. And if I didn't wake up, then it might still be worth it. "No," I answered instead and wished that he didn't obscure my field of vision, that I could see the people I worked with and friends I loved. "I'm not afraid." The gunshot made barely a sound at such a close range and for a few seconds I could still stand straight, half-supported by the man who killed me. "Why this way?" I asked and understood even before he gave me the answer. "Personal enemy," he explained warmly. "Personal death." He released me then and mercifully stepped away, finally allowing my eyes to see everyone whom I was leaving behind. I singled out Xavier who stumbled backwards, horrified, then Scully who knelt beside the still-unconscious Mulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. The people surrounding them were no longer dormant, and I could feel the first tremble of unrest surging through them. And most of all I wished that I could see Alex, but I guessed that he was still being held by the guards behind me. I saw more than heard the third gunshot of the day when Tim pulled the trigger and killed some guard who was trying to protect the governor. The next bullet released lodged itself in Tim's forehead, and I couldn't tell who was responsible. He fell down heavily, and I was dismayed that I remained conscious long enough to see his death. But the ascending level of noise that came from all around me was somehow pleasant to hear, akin to a distant rumble of thunder and promise of the storm to end all storms. If I tried hard enough, I could distinguish the separate exclamations and gunshots, even though I could not understand the reason behind them. Suddenly, it was Alex's face looming over me, and he repeated to me the words he said previously to Mulder, over and over again, as if he thought I didn't hear him. "Stay with me, Tanya," he reiterated insistently. "Stay." And then he was brushed away by a stranger who pressed his hands onto my stomach, upping the agony another notch even while effectively slowing down the flow of blood. I tried to tell him to leave, that I didn't wish for his presence here, but realized that I could no longer speak. Listening to the growing reverberation of voices and feeling the first drops of rain on my face, I closed my eyes and reached out my hand for Alex, not finding him. End Part 9/10 Searchlights By Anna Otto Email: annaotto1@aol.com Part 10/10 Epilogue It was night when I woke up the first time. I lay quietly for what could have been hours, trying to understand what was wrong with this picture, vaguely puzzled by the yellow moonlight streaming in through the open window. Perhaps my biggest surprise lay in the fact that the sky was exactly the same as it was before the colonization. There were no new stars. None of them appeared more menacing than the others, none of them told the story of where the first invaders came from. I wanted to come closer to the window, but my ill-fated attempt to stand up only brought me pain and the too-bright memory of being shot. My fingers brushed over the bandages that covered my stomach, then explored the bed I lay on. Finally recognizing one of the rear rooms of the Backstage and marveling that it should have remained undamaged, I drifted off. In the morning, I was awakened by the sound of laughter, and it was strange to my ears, more even so when I realized that it was Alex laughing. He opened the door and looked in at me, and his grin widened when he saw that I was awake. "You slept through the revolution," he came in and sat on my bed. "How do you feel?" "Not bad," I considered, then backtracked. "What did you say?" Alex lay a comforting hand on my shoulder, pushing me slightly down when I tried to sit up. "It only confirms my hypothesis," he shared with me thoughtfully. "I'd always known that the underground resistance movements, revolutionary ideals, leaders who invite us to follow them are just so much useless nonsense. Every true revolution starts with a single act of courage, by the person who usually doesn't have any kind of insurrection in mind." I narrowed my eyes, still not comprehending. "Still, Tanya," he instructed me pedantically, "you did a stupid thing. I just wanted to be the first one to tell you that. I'm sure everyone else is dying to do the same, so brace yourself." "Hey," I objected, "you could at least thank me for starting the revolution." Alex leaned in to place a long kiss on my cheek. "Every day," he promised seriously. "Every day." "What about Troy...John?" I named the men whose faces were fated to haunt me for some time to come. "Killed," he said curtly, without affect. "And I do believe," he added with what could only have been subtle pride, "that Scully was responsible for Troy's death." "The governor?" "Couldn't find him," Alex said grimly. "This war isn't over yet, but..." "It has begun," I finished for him. And I was content to simply have him alive and present, but this idyll was shortly interrupted by Scully who stepped into the room. "Tanya, you need rest," she admonished and turned her disapproving gaze at Alex who sprung up from my bed guiltily and flashed me another grin before disappearing. With professional efficiency, Scully checked the appearance of my wound and took my temperature, then carefully pulled the blanket around me. "You're lucky to have survived," she told me, her expression grim and somehow guilty. I caught her nervous hand before she could walk away. "Thank you," I said. "For helping me." "I didn't," she replied, clenching my fingers too tightly. "One of the people who came to watch the executions was a surgeon. The true old-fashioned doctor," she chuckled. "He carried his medical bag everywhere with him, scalpels, even painkillers. He is the one who saved you. I was..." "Making sure that Mulder survived," I nodded, understanding. "How is he?" "Almost there," Scully said wistfully. "Anxious to see you, but I think you both need to take it easy for a few days." "Are they happy?" I searched her eyes, trying to divine the truth from them even if she didn't wish to share it with me. "Yes," she smiled gently. "I know they are." Strange that her words didn't cause me pain. I wasn't sure whether it was from the presence of anesthetics or from the absence of regrets. "Is Xavier around?" I asked. Scully's eyes cautioned me, but I insisted. "I promised him that we'd talk." "Five minutes," she said sternly. "And all the time in the world after you get better." Xavier limped into my room shortly after and sat cautiously at the edge of my bed. "Hey," he greeted me awkwardly, and I threaded my fingers through his, marveling at this sensation of coming home that evaded me until now. "Assuming that no new revolutions happen tomorrow," I began, "and fully realizing the fact of no interesting places to go to in this city - yet - can I hope to..." I lost my nerve suddenly and frowned, waiting for the right words to come to my mind. Thankfully, I was freed from finishing this particular speech as well when Xavier rolled his eyes. "You have to rehearse this kind of things," he explained ruefully. I laughed, and the effort cost me more dull pain from my stomach. "I bet." "And the answer is - of course," Xavier reached out to correct a lock of my hair. "Get some rest, Tanya." I closed my eyes as he settled into a more comfortable position. "No more searchlights?" I checked before succumbing to the warm darkness of sleep. "No more searchlights," he promised. The End. Author's Notes: Thanks are in order, of course, first of all to Leigh for beta-reading and encouragement, and for simply being there. Second, to Ashlea, for another beautiful cover, for telling me that this was a long story, not a vignette (blame her if you wish), and for writing The Fire Eaters with me (to anyone interested, it will be finished soon, and Searchlights took no time away from that other WIP). Third, to Rachel, who praised and criticized, not necessarily in that order, and made this story better. This was an unusual story for me - perhaps my only venture into the land of romantics (of course... darn it... only one kiss on the lips in the whole damn thing! Sometimes I'm more frustrated with myself than all the readers must be...). It is also the only story of mine told from the point of view of someone who was genuinely unfamiliar with all the nuances and issues of the X-Files characters. I know I wouldn't want to be in her place, although Tanya would probably disagree. I think she was happy at the end, which is yet another idiosyncrasy on my part: most of my stories do not end in such rainbow-y places. Hopefully, there still was enough darkness, death, and blood to keep everyone occupied until the epilogue. For all the readers who feel that there are certain things from which this story could benefit, there is a missing scene, "Hidden Passages," which will be posted along with Searchlights and you can already find it on my homepage. It has its own warnings that I will not repeat here. And, as usual - I would love to know what you thought. Feedback box is open and it's asking for some substance! annaotto1@aol.com