From: ANNAOTTO1@aol.com
Date: Thu, 15 Jul 1999 04:52:27 EDT
Subject: xfc NEW "The Second Ones 3" 1of9 by A.Otto & R.Ehrentreu
Source: xfc

From: ANNAOTTO1@aol.com

The Second Ones III: Masters of War
By Anna Otto and Rachel Ehrentreu
annaotto1@aol.com & firephile@aol.com

"J'embrasse mon rival, mais c'est pour l'etouffer."

("I kiss my rival, but it is to suffocate him.")

		Neron, 'Britannicus'

"I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall."
	
	Bob Dylan, 'Hard Rain's Gonna Fall'

Rating: R (very strong R)
Classification: XA
Spoilers/Timeline: After The Beginning, nothing happened yet.
Disclaimer: everyone you recognize belongs to CC and company, and 
everyone else is ours, probably invented with evil intentions.
Archive: only with our permission.

Summary: Scully's new alliance brings her closer than ever to 
the truth while Mulder, Spender and Jody make their way to a 
place where rest may or may not await them.

Warning: This particular chapter may contain objectionable material. 
We will not disclose its nature, but if certain things make you 
queasy, maybe you should skip?

You may find the previous parts and all chapters at

http://www.geocities.com/~annaotto

or write one of us and we will send them over.


Part 1/9


Mulder:

The dread of walking along the idyllic shore, knowing that soon 
paradise would turn into hell, was as familiar as the act of 
breathing.

Inhalation and exhalation, one always followed another in an ancient 
rhythm, perfected over the years of evolution. Once the rhythm was 
broken, death was inevitable. And this time, I was too tired of running 
away, too weak to resist the black waters that moved towards me 
inexorably, each wave like an appendage of an octopus.

The last intake of air, and I would be ready to succumb to the water's 
relentless call.

The last intake of air, and death would receive me, and let me forget 
what I couldn't forgive in this lifetime. I was no longer afraid, for 
death was a natural part of life, a fateful and welcome conclusion to 
its cycle. 

The last intake of air, and I savored the sweet taste of oxygen for 
the too short a time. I dived headfirst into the ocean, welcoming the 
darkness, only to discover that though my eyes could no longer see 
the light, though my chest no longer rose and fell with the flow of 
air, though my blood no longer received oxygen necessary to sustain me, 
I still existed.

I could still feel.

I could still think.

But I no longer lived.

And I realized that I caught nary a glimpse of the horrors yet to come. 
I didn't know the meaning of fear until now. Because life without breath 
was possible.

But it was worse than death.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, a woman's hand was on my chest. For a mercilessly 
short second of oblivion, before I woke up fully, I hoped that I was 
seeing Scully's thin fingers, trembling slightly in the cold air. Even if 
it were nothing more than a dream, I ached to see her so badly, that I 
would settle for a mere flash of her face. To brush against her fingers, 
to touch her shoulder in a perfectly unrehearsed gesture of familiarity 
was a luxury I rarely allowed myself before, and something I didn't 
believe I'd be able to have again.

I raised my hand, covering my eyes for a few more seconds. An ideally 
flawed childish logic: if I couldn't see them, they wouldn't find me. 

"Mulder?"

Dammit, it almost never worked. 

"Jody," I replied inaudibly. "Where are we?"

"Illinois." She stared at her hand on my chest with obvious confusion, 
and I raised my eyebrows in a mute question. "I thought...no, it's not 
possible," Jody shook her head, snatching her fingers away.

"What is it?"

"It seemed...your chest wasn't moving. No," she smiled nervously. "It was 
probably just a trick of light."

Past the roar of cars passing us on the outside, I tried to focus on the 
sound of air inhaled and exhaled. I breathed deeply, then released the air 
with deliberate slowness. How silly of her. How silly of me to dream of... 
I opened the door, practically falling out of the car. I've been here 
before, I've been here before, god, please let it stop, I found myself 
chatting silently, fervently, as my intestines ripped themselves open and 
bile mixed with blood was expelled from my mouth. 

Once there was nothing left, I leaned against the cool metal of the car, 
not quite ready to climb back inside. We were at the gas station in the 
middle of absolutely nowhere, Illinois, USA, and I'd be damned if I knew 
how much time had passed since we left the hospital or how close we were 
to the desired goal.

But I knew with a vengeance that we were on the right track. 

I raised my head, only to be confronted by Jody's pale face, distorted 
either in fear or in anger. "You really did stop breathing, didn't you?"

Well, how about bringing me a glass of water or some tissues and 
interrogating me afterward? "You're being ridiculous."

"I know what you dreamt of," she spit out the words like they were 
bullets, destined to hit the target. "It would be really hard to lie to 
me."

She was right, fuck that cosmic link. "Where is Spender?"

"Your 'cousin,'" Jody pronounced mockingly, "went to get some food and 
directions. I guess he was getting tired of driving by nothing more than 
my feelings."

"Speaking of the devil," I muttered, as Spender walked out of the store, 
carrying packages and a map. "What time is it?"

"3 a.m.," he replied stiffly, starting to sort through his purchases.

He must have really been in a hurry to get here. Wherever the hell this 
was. "You want me to drive?"

Spender regarded me for a long moment. "Not really. Go clean yourself up 
and we'll get out of here."

"No. Let's go back," Jody demanded suddenly, her voice acquiring a steely 
edge that I never imagined she possessed. "This isn't right."

"Stop this hysteria," I turned my back on her, starting to fuss with 
whatever Spender brought, hoping that one of the bags held some cups of 
scalding, fresh coffee. 

She grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to turn around and face her. "Mulder, 
I know you feel this is the right way. I know because I feel it too. But 
maybe we should both wake up for a moment and think like lucid, rational 
adults! You could have died today! You could have died..."

I held her now quivering shoulders as her voice turned into hiccups and 
sobs, as her fists pounded my chest. 

Spender stared at her, wide-eyed and alert. "What are you talking about? 
Jody?"

"Nothing," I waved my hand, trying to distract his attention. "She just 
had a bad dream." As did I, and then we both woke up, the sun was shining 
brightly, and all was right with the world.

"I can't change your mind," Jody whispered, hopeless words like a bitter 
breath against my ear. "I'm afraid. Something terrible is about to 
happen."

The words of reassurance melted on my tongue before I could speak them. 
Instead, I gestured to Spender to open the car door, settling Jody inside 
as if she were a sleepy, tired child, whose eyes were drooping shut of 
their own volition. If she were very lucky, she would get some rest.

And if God weren't just a big cosmic joke, we wouldn't be in Illinois 
right now. 

"Mulder, wait!" Spender called after me as I stumbled in the direction of 
the restrooms. "What was that all about?"

I didn't turn around as I closed the door behind me, groping the wall for 
a light switch. I studied my face in the spidery web of a broken mirror. 
Bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks, and wrinkles on my forehead. This madness 
was really cramping my style. Quickly, I dropped my gaze toward the sink 
and splashed water on the face I couldn't bear to look at. 

Didn't she understand? Everything terrible that could have happened to me, 
already had. My work was out of my reach, my partner was now my enemy, and 
I couldn't even close my eyes for fear that I'd see yet another nightmare. 
If this road led me straight to hell, it couldn't be worse than the place 
I lived in right now.

I grabbed a few tissues and made my way back to the car. "You need to 
rest," I tossed to Spender. "I will drive while you're sleeping."

"There is no way - " he began and then stopped, apparently deciding it 
was fruitless to argue with an escaped psych patient. "Mulder, are you 
sure this is a good idea?"

He sounded so uncertain, so plainly out of his league that I couldn't 
help but grin at him slightly. "Look, you don't have to come if you 
don't want to. I can drop you off at the nearest airport and you can 
fly back home..."

His eyes searched mine, as if in their depths, he could find the answers 
to all questions that plagued him since birth. Sorry to disappoint you, 
buddy, I'm just as clueless as you are right now. "No, I'll go."

He offered me a cup of coffee that I gratefully accepted. I haven't had 
this blessed poison since after the OPR hearing. I turned the key in 
ignition, unerringly choosing the course due west. 

After all, who needed maps and directions, when stars led the way?

* * *

The white-hot sun of Nevada hung high in the sky, visibly turning the 
grass into burnt brown. I rolled down the window of the old Ford that 
Spender appropriated before we left Missouri. While at first I thought it 
prudent to disguise our trail, waiting for our faces to be plastered all 
over the newspapers and TV sets any moment, I was finally coming to the 
conclusion that there was no search being conducted. Intellectually, I 
realized that it was nothing more than wishful thinking. If the search 
was not going on in the open, it was certainly going on in secret, and 
sooner or later, we would be caught, no matter how many cars and license 
plates we switched.

"Do you think she is looking for you?" Spender asked suddenly, as if 
reading my thoughts, his tone almost shy.

Scully, whose courage and faith would give her the strength to forgive me 
and the determination to find me. Scully, who would weep from the 
debilitating pain when I touched her. Scully, who should have moved on 
with her life, leaving me in that gray area of failed quests and tainted 
memories, otherwise known as the past. 

Scully, who was still a partner in my heart, even if her presence could 
turn my world red and black.

"I hope not," I replied calmly. "It would be disastrous. What about your 
father?"

"My father," Spender grimaced, his self-deprecating smile somehow 
incongruous on the suddenly vulnerable face. "He would probably be 
interested in finding you, and her," he nodded at Jody who sprawled on 
the backseat, writing something in a notebook. Another letter to her son 
that would be put in an envelope with a stamp and a meticulously detailed 
address, and would never be sent. There was no comfort that I could offer 
to her, and I watched her slip further and further away from us, from the 
reality, with resignation and powerlessness.

"They're not interested in us," I shook my head, tearing myself away from 
such exhaustive thoughts. "Only in where we will lead them to."

"Speaking of which," he fiddled uselessly with a broken air conditioning 
as he spoke. "Where is it we're going? We're almost at the California 
border. Are you sure you didn't just want a vacation? You know, warm sun, 
blue ocean, white sand..."

"I've had some months' long vacation from the work I was supposed to be 
doing, Spender," I cut him off. "It's not like we worked ourselves to 
death checking up on fertilizer purchases."

He flexed his grip on the wheel, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. "I 
never wanted to work on the X-Files, Mulder," he spoke softly. "It just 
happened."

I tried to curb down the blind anger that flared up with his words. This 
man's only fault was passivity - the desire to please his father and his 
superiors, or simple stubbornness and inability to admit that he was the 
wrong man for the job he was offered. 

Besides, it was just too hot to argue.

"I've spent my time in the department chasing down any leads on my 
mother's disappearance," Spender continued, oblivious to my internal 
debate. "I wasn't successful, as you can see. I wasn't successful at 
a great many things. I wish I could fix all that went wrong, Mulder... 
and I'm still trying," he threw me a sideways glance. "If that is 
enough."

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. I knew with a doomed 
certainty that I'd never be able to step back into the Hoover building, 
much less into the basement full of files that I restored, that were a 
monumental part of my life.

"Take the next turn-off to the west," Jody spoke suddenly, without raising 
her head from the letter. 

"Yes," I grabbed a map, trying to pinpoint our location. "There should be 
a ramp to California S.R. 152 soon." Spender followed instructions 
obediently, and I chanced a smile in Jody's direction. "So, you don't 
think we're going the wrong way anymore?"

She shrugged, her haunted green eyes watching the approaching horizon. 
"It's already too late."

"Too late for what?" our chauffeur asked, sharing an anxious glance with 
me.

"To become what we were before," she whispered, turning to writing once 
again. 

"Well, shit," Spender summarized eloquently as we crossed the border 
between the two states. "Where does this route lead to, anyway?"

Ignoring a chill that settled inside me with Jody's words, I followed a 
white line from the brown of Nevada to the blue of the Pacific. 

"To the place where we can rest."

* * *

The town of Freedom, California, boasted a population of fifteen thousand, 
but only a few people were visible on the streets. A proud sign pointed 
travelers to the "Visitors Information and Gifts," a tiny wooden 
house with a broken window that was never properly repaired.

"This is it," Spender looked around with mock appreciation. "This is where 
you wanted to come. Charming. Wish you were here."

I kicked a stone, trying to ignore him. Something seemed amiss, as if the 
magic compass that led me on a string like a puppet suddenly broke, 
leaving me stranded at the last possible minute.

Flicking my eyes to Jody, I noticed that she was surveying the 
surroundings with the same half-surprised, half-betrayed expression. 

"I'm starving. I propose we start screaming at each other after we eat," 
Spender proclaimed defensively and started walking towards the store. "Are 
you coming?" he half-turned, seeing that neither of us was following. 

I shook my head, leaning against the hood of the car. Jody glanced at me 
apologetically and followed Spender. Well, at least one of us could 
stomach the idea of food. 

I turned my back to the store and waited for them, idly watching several 
girls swinging on the sets of a distant playground. Brightly colored 
dresses and braids flying with the wind, not a care in the world and life 
for the pure joy of the moment. I averted my gaze, feeling like a spy. 
Behind the rooftops and trees, I could almost make out the azure of the 
ocean, and I wondered if we could at least stop by the beach before 
we turned around and left. Or maybe, we could just stop for tonight and 
rest after this mad drive across the country.

If I was honest with myself, I was tired of running, tired of looking for 
something intangible. 

The occasional laughter that wind brought to me from the playground 
stopped suddenly, and I turned to look where the girls had gone. Only one 
of them was still swinging the set, clutching the ropes with childish 
determination and pushing higher and higher, as if she was trying to 
achieve a perfect ninety degrees angle with the earth, or gain enough 
energy to fly out and touch the sky.

Her hair was dark and long, just like Samantha's, the blue dress just like 
the one that she wore the day when she fell off the swing and broke her 
collarbone. The memory was scratching to break through, prompting a 
familiar tug on my heart. So many years and so many other tragedies, but 
it still hurt so much, just to hear a crack of that bone, just to see her 
sprawled on the grass, crying from the pain. 

A gust of wind, and the swing was flying higher than some rooftops. A 
shriek of terror, and the blue dress was suddenly lifeless, covering a 
still form on the ground. I felt dizzy, multitude of colors dancing in 
front of my eyes, as if I were watching TV with poor reception. The 
reality was always so much worse than the nightmares.

And I still couldn't move.

"Mulder," Spender sounded out of breath as he appeared in front of me, 
momentarily obscuring the view. "Did you see where she went?"

I pushed him away. "Who?" 

"Jody," he was looking around bewildered. "I was talking with the owner, 
and suddenly she looked like she saw a ghost. She flew out the door, and - 
you didn't see her?"

There was no one left on the playground. The swing was perfectly still, 
and the girl who fell might have never been there. "Samantha!" I bolted, 
running towards the spot where I could have sworn I just saw my sister. 
"Samantha!"

"Oh hell," I heard Spender curse, his footsteps heavy behind me. The 
playground was empty, the streets were deserted - where could she have 
gone?

"Where is she?" I grabbed him by the lapels, pulling him closer to my 
face. "*Where* is she?"

"Mulder, I told you, I didn't see where Jody went!" he shoved me away. 
"You were out there, how could you not have noticed? God, and that owner, 
he kept talking about the best water in town..."

"Jody," I repeated, slowly, trying to assimilate the name. "I don't know. 
Samantha was here, and she fell, and I -"

"Mulder, Mulder, listen to me!" Spender was screaming, plainly terrified. 
"Jody is gone! Do you understand? She is gone! We have to find her! And 
your sister can't possibly be here!"

I stepped away, feeling for some point of support. God, this couldn't be 
happening. I looked around wildly, taking deep breaths. I was going to 
hyperventilate. The air was sickening enough to make my stomach roll.

The movement across the street caught my eye. Blue dress, flickering like 
a light, asking me to follow. 

And I ran after it, seeing nothing else, hearing nothing else, just like 
I've done for so many years. Things never really changed.

* * *

Why did the sun have to be so obscenely bright?

The beach could have been lifted from the commercials of the Caribbean 
cruises, or straight from my nightmares. I could no longer run, having 
exhausted my energy. My shoes sunk inside the deep white sand, and I could 
barely lift my feet, but still I walked. I couldn't stop now. Not when the 
goal was so close in sight. 

I wouldn't succumb.

A thin, lanky body was sprawled on the ground, wet black hair obscuring a 
gray face. I sank to my knees, beyond comprehension, beyond feeling. 
"Jody," I whispered, searching for a pulse or a whisper of breath. "Wake 
up." I couldn't admit the cold truth - wouldn't accept the reality of her 
stillness, the evidence of her death. Carefully, I lifted her eyelids, 
seeing the familiar brilliant green already fading away. 

The wind gathered speed, and I glanced upward, at the dark clouds 
obscuring the perfect blue sky. The storm was coming. I picked my friend's 
body up, knowing that I had to get her away from the shore, to the 
firm ground where the turbulent waters wouldn't disturb her sleep.

"Fox," a small voice called to me, and I turned around to see a familiar 
girl in the water, struggling with the coming waves. Her frame wasn't 
strong enough to resist the pull of the ocean, and the tide was carrying 
her farther and farther away from land. 

I looked at Jody's lifeless face. I couldn't help her now, but I could 
still help my sister. Or if it wasn't my sister, I could help the little 
lost girl who would drown unless I pulled her out. Gently, I settled 
Jody's body on the ground, making a promise to come back.

Then, I walked into the ocean. I swam to the distant cries of my sibling, 
or of her apparition. What did it matter? When the water turned darker, I 
didn't feel surprised. When the rain started falling out of the sky, I 
knew that its color would be red. Still, no dreams could prepare me for 
this day, for this moment when the black water squeezed my chest, pushing 
the air out of my lungs and blocking the passage to more. 

I reached my fingers, feeling so close to the little body that thrashed 
helplessly against the waves, yet so appallingly far. There were only 
inches between us, but I couldn't stay above the surface for much longer. 
The beast that lived inside this ocean was already pulling me down to the 
bottom where he devoured all his victims.

Another desperate plunge, and I gripped the small hand, bringing her 
closer to me, if only for one moment. These were Sam's eyes, Sam's lips - 
Sam's hair bound in braids. It was her, it was blissfully her, and I 
laughed from happiness that I found her, and I wept from my impotence to 
save her and myself. 

One... more... breath...

My sister's tiny body was wiggling in my hands, and to my horror, I 
realized that she was growing... changing shape... becoming an adult woman 
with eyes black like the ocean, and skin white like alabaster. Still 
unmistakably Samantha, she gripped me tighter and pulled me up from the 
water with surprising strength. 

Her face approached mine, as if for an incestuous kiss, and the horror of 
this reunion was suddenly revealed to me. It couldn't be her. It was her. 
Feeling my resistance, she broke away and studied my terrified expression. 
A smile twisted her features, and now it was Melora, her eyes colder than 
I'd ever seen them, her blood-painted mouth on a collision course with my 
own. 

The lips closed around mine, and I twisted in her grasp, begging for this 
pain to stop. She inhaled my last breath, pulling the air and life out of 
me while her tongue ran against my teeth, teasing and tasting. All 
around, the rain fell in red splashes, mixing with the black waters of my 
nightmares.

I wept as Melora's mouth and hands suddenly abandoned me, the pain of 
being separated from them unimaginably sharper than the pain of being 
possessed by them. Weak, I fell back, gasping for air, and feeling that 
none of it was making its way inside my lungs. I closed my eyes and sank 
inside the ocean, succumbing at last to what was always my fate.

I died.

End of Part 1/9


The Second Ones III: Masters of War
By Anna Otto & Rachel Ehrentreu
annaotto1@aol.com & firephile.com

Part 2/9

Scully:

I crossed off another day on my mental calendar.  Five days, was it
possible it had only been five days since the world slipped and was
permanently altered to me?  Six days since Mulder disappeared, at
least nine days since I last saw him and as for the last time we 
worked together...I'd lost count.

Five days ago I was informed in no uncertain terms that Kersh
refused to drop the charges against Mulder, and I knew he was getting
advice from some "friends". This gave me the opening I needed to
turn my personal cause into a manhunt.  

"Sir?" I stood outside Skinner's door, he'd asked to see me when I got
in.

"Agent Scully, please have a seat."  He looked weary and he reached
for two Tylenols and swallowed them, then sat down himself.

"How did your meeting go, Agent Scully?"

"What meeting, sir?" I asked innocently, knowing full well what he
meant.

He mimed a cigarette and I blinked, "Oh, that meeting -- fine. Sir,
there is something I want to talk to you about.  Regarding Mulder's
case, is there any way to...?"

"My hands are tied."

"I understand that -- I want to be in charge of the investigation."

"Agent Scully, I'm afraid that's impossible.  Agent Denton has already
been assigned and is preparing a search as we speak."

"But Agent Denton's never even met Mulder.  I know him better
than anyone else, I'm the only one that can find him."  Even if this
wasn't true anymore -- I still wanted to believe it.

"Even if no one else was assigned to this case, I would still deny your
request.  You are in no shape to head any investigation."

"With all due respect, sir, I am.  Diana would be working with me.  I
know we could find Mulder."

"And you want to find him so that he'll face trial for the attempted
murder of Assistant Director Alvin Kersh?"

My silence was my answer. 

"Agent Scully..." Skinner's voice sounded hollow. "If he's found he 
will be tried.  Are you prepared to hand him over once you find him?"

"Yes." 

"And Kersh already approved your request?"

"He did," I lied easily. Kersh would have never approved of me being
in charge of this investigation, but I wasn't working under the FBI on
this anymore, anyway.

I sensed he no longer had the strength to argue. "Do you need Bureau
resources?"

"I have my own resources, sir," I looked at him meaningfully and I
felt he understood.

His knuckles rapped on the wood of the table nervously. "You remember 
our talk on this subject.  Did you follow my advice?"

"Yes, sir - they need me more than I need them."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. "I wish you luck, Agent."

"Thank you."

"I will inform Agent Denton of the change, Agent Scully - do not let
me down here.  If you do not bring Mulder back for a trial, both of our
asses are in a sling."

I nodded slightly, "Yes, sir."  Even if by now I was wondering what
finding Mulder would accomplish, I needed to see him again, on a
purely emotional level.

I went home, packed, and arranged for my mail to be picked up by a
neighbor. Then I went off for my real debriefing - to meet Diana at
Jeremy Larson's house.

It was another one of those meetings I knew I'd never forget.

* * *

Larson answered the door with dry eyes and a cool demeanor, a great
change from our previous encounter.  Behind him stood a stranger
with dark blonde hair, his face hidden by shadows.

"This is Jack Smith," Larson motioned towards the stranger.  Jack
took a step forward and stared at me with intense gray eyes.  "Jack is
in charge of travel and security, and is our most knowledgeable person on
what we're up against -- he should be a great help to you," Larson
explained.  He then turned towards Jack, "Smith - this is Agent Dana
Scully..."

"No introduction necessary.  Nice to finally meet you, Agent Scully." 
His deep voice was at odds with his appearance, it almost sounded as if
he had been exposed to some sort of a chemical.

"And this is Agent Diana..."

"We've met - nice to see you again, Jack," she cut Larson off quickly.

"Diana," Jack nodded in her direction and I wondered why every
man seemed to have a past with her.

If Larson was aware, he made no indication as he led us into the living
room.  

It was decorated in the style that was common for people living in 
Georgetown - simple, yet elegant.  Larson didn't have to
flaunt his wealth -- it was obvious in tiny details.  Leather couch,
expensive art work on the walls, beautiful flower arrangements -- 
I could almost forget what he was. Almost.  

I must have been staring at the wall for too long because Larson 
turned to me and pointed at the painting that held my attention. "I notice 
you have excellent taste. That's an original Thomas Cole, it's called 
'The Voyage of Life: Old Age'."  That explained why it looked so familiar, 
but I could only barely remember the art history course I took in college. 

"What is that one?" I pointed to the picture next to it.

"Ah, that is in the same series and is titled, 'Manhood'.  My Jody is in
that stage, while I am sailing towards heaven."  I showed no emotion
at his words but they were so human that I felt sorry for him despite
myself.  He looked away for a moment and then addressed the group,
"We should get started - Smith?"

Jack looked up, slightly startled, and cleared his throat.  He opened a
file, "Right, sir. Jeffrey Spender's car was recovered by team six about
two hundred miles from the hospital.  We found some blood in the backseat 
and are pretty confident that it will match the blood from the hospital
corridor.  Unfortunately, the night nurse never regained consciousness
and died yesterday.  On the plus side, our man was disposed of and as
always cannot be traced back to us, especially since the only person
who suspected us is now sitting in this room."

A strong pang of hatred flared up and then died out just as quickly. 
The cool way they talked about people dying, disposing of bodies...but
he did kill the night nurse, and, no, I couldn't start thinking like them.

"Are you all right, Agent Scully?"

"I'm fine.  Please continue."

"As for the pattern of bodies - well there isn't one.  Over the past few
weeks there have been at least ten cases of temporary insanity and
murder.  In all of the cases, the suspects claimed they remembered
nothing about the crime itself and were usually disoriented and scared
when captured, standing or sitting near the victim."

"Same area of country?" I asked, opening up the briefing file.

"No, all over."

"Why are these important?" I flipped through pages, looking for an
answer which probably didn't exist.

"We believe it has something to do with the chips...or people like
Melora, we're honestly not sure.  Cops couldn't get anything out of
these people, and they won't answer any of our questions."

"Let me try, I might be able to get through to one or two of them, get
more information."

"Excellent idea, Agent Scully, proceed at once," Larson announced,
standing and leading us towards the door.  "Contact me the minute
you find any information."

"Of course, sir."  For some reason calling him Mr. Larson felt wrong
and I needed to treat him like my superior - which of course, in effect,
he was.

"Yes, sir, we will assist in any way that we can," Diana promised.

"I will start the travel arrangements immediately,"  Jack said while
putting on his coat.

As we left the house it was clear I now had two partners whether I
liked it or not.

***

"I told them already -- I don't remember," Susan Berkovitz looked at
the mirror behind which Diana and Jack followed my interrogation. She 
stared at me pleadingly.  Her fingers tapped against the table top 
in a rhythm that echoed the pounding in my head.

"Can you think of any reason why you would want to kill your
husband?" I tried again for what felt like the hundredth time.  

"Agent Scully, we all have wanted to kill our husbands at one time or
another, but...I would never...I loved him!  I've been over and over it
and there's this large gap in my memory and..."  Tears dripped down
her face and she raised her cuffed hands, trying to hide her sadness.

At least I was finally getting somewhere. I'd interviewed three people
so far and none of their cases were connected to ours at all. Their acts
of madness all had a cause: one was an abused wife, another was a
husband having an affair and the other was a son who killed his
mother because she threw away his collection of baseball cards. But 
Susan Berkovitz...she had no such cause and effect, her act of
violence, stabbing her husband thirty eight times on the floor of 
their kitchen, was entirely unplanned -- and her remorse seemed genuine.

"Susan, you need to tell me the truth, any information at all, any
strange feelings...did you feel any pain at his touch?"  It was a wild 
guess and I knew it.

She peeked through her fingers. "How did you know?" she asked softly.

I resisted the urge to drop my eyes. "What happened, exactly?"

"I...don't know.  One day he was kissing me goodbye before he
went off to work, and I felt this sudden pain in my head. It 
disappeared once he left, but when he came home and kissed me, 
I actually whimpered in pain.  A few days later, whenever he 
came near me, the pain was so bad that I wished I would die."

"So you killed him?"

"No! It didn't happen that way...one day...the pain...it was
unstoppable and then I blanked out and when I woke up I was holding
a knife over his..." she bit her lip and tried unsuccessfully to hold in
her tears.

"I believe you." And in that instant, I did. The clarity of this 
situation was not comforting. "Have you..." a few weeks ago I would
have never thought of even asking this question, "ever experienced
missing time?"

Her gaze met mine and she lowered her head.  "It was...a while ago, 
I've tried - to forget.  Tom never believed me."

"May I?" I stood up and walked around the table. Her brown eyes
tracked me as I got closer. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to
look at your neck."

She moved her light blonde hair to the side and I sucked in a breath as
I looked at her pale skin - there was a definite subcutaneous scar to the
back of her neck.  I closed my eyes  - somehow I knew I would find the
small mark.  

"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Berkovitz," I turned and walked to the
door.   Diana and Jack walked out of the small room and faced me as I
reached the hallway.

"What happened in there, Dana?"

"Diana, she has the chip - it's connected.  Somehow, it's connected
and...I fear this is only a small part of what will happen."

"Are you saying more people will die?"

I took a deep breath, "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"I'm afraid you're right Agent Scully," Jack put down his cellular
phone. I hadn't even realized he had received a call.  "I just received
word of a murder not too far from here, the police found a man standing 
near the body and looking at a gun in disbelief.   All he is saying is 
'I have to be somewhere, I need to be somewhere, I can't be here 
anymore.' "

"We have to go there," Diana said after a moment.

"You'd better do that interview, Diana, something tells me I won't be of
much help."  I finally accepted what was going on, but had no
idea how to stop it.

The notion of causing another person to curl up into a ball and try to get
away from me was enough to make me want to forget about the whole
deal.   But I'd already promised my help - and there was also the
intensely personal reason that I tried to push away to the back of my
mind.

***

This time, Diana was on the other side of the glass.  A very fidgety
young man sat across from her and kept looking around anxiously.  I
could hear everything perfectly from inside the booth.  Jack stood near
me, and I couldn't stop shaking for some reason.

"Are you all right, Agent Scully?"

"I'm fine," I whispered and stared out of the glass. I wondered when
our conversations started to fall into a pattern.

"State your name and occupation please," Diana's voice filled the
room.

"Daniel James Cooke, police officer.  I need to be somewhere, this
can't be happening, I have to be somewhere."  

"Please calm down, Mr. Cooke.  Now, do you remember what
happened last night?"

He nodded fervently. "I couldn't concentrate around Cindy.  Her
words made no sense and I was drowning, I was drowning and I heard
someone say 'we will not succumb' and then I couldn't breathe and I
had the gun in my hand and...I have to leave here, I can't be here.  I
have to be somewhere."  If he could have he would have stood up and
started walking around -- he was such a ball of nervous energy.

"Mr. Cooke, please calm down, I'm not going to hurt you.  Do you
remember what happened next?"

He shook his head violently, "No and I want to get out of here.  Where
is Cindy?"

Diana glanced towards us for a moment and then looked back at Mr.
Cooke.  "She died several hours ago on the way to the hospital."

"No, I just wanted her to get away from me! I didn't mean to hurt her,
oh God...mom'll never forgive me.  I was driving her back from a
friend's house and the scream, oh God the scream when I touched her. 
I need to be somewhere and she was trying to stop me and we were
going in the wrong direction and her scream it dragged me back under
and I couldn't breathe and..." he started rocking back and forth, his
words becoming incoherent.  

Suddenly, his eyes focused sharply. "It's dripping...down the walls," 
he whispered, horrified.

It was like a repeat of the OPR hearing. I felt tears sting my eyes,
this was too painful, I couldn't watch it.  

His head suddenly jerked up, "There's one of them near here -- isn't
there?  He started walking towards the mirror, Diana was unable to
stop him.  "Stop tormenting me!  Leave me alone!" he screamed and
threw a chair through the mirrored glass.  I gasped as Jack dropped us
to the ground, and the chair flew over us, hitting electrical equipment.
 
I clutched my head and tried to stop the pain. Oh God, it was worse
than ever. Jack covered me with his body, but I was still in
agony. I could barely make out Diana's voice over the commotion.

"Mr. Cooke, step back or I will shoot you."  

Luckily, the room was soon filled with police officers who restrained
Mr. Cooke and tried to stop his progress forwards.  I glanced up in
time to hear him say,  "We will not succumb." He looked directly into
my eyes and I saw him being led away.

Diana reholstered her gun and walked towards us.  

"Dana?"

I bit my lip, sitting up gingerly. "I'll be fine." 

"Interesting, I didn't think they were so powerful," Jack mused,
staring at the cracked mirror.

"Didn't think who were so powerful?" I asked, standing up.

"No one - nothing.  Research has shown this kind of...sensitivity is
only followed by one thing."

"What?" Diana was now behind us, she'd walked around without me
realizing it.

"A break-out attempt.  Mr. Cooke could lead us right to where we need
to be."

"Mulder," I whispered, involuntarily.  I looked up at Jack and Diana
with a new sense of purpose.  "Mr. Cooke must escape, we must allow him
to escape.  He's the key."

"I agree," Diana backed me up. "But how do we arrange it?"

"It's already arranged.  We just have to sit and wait.  A stakeout -- 
he'll run away soon enough," Jack smiled slightly.

***

I checked my watch and leaned against the car door. It was already 
3:15 AM, when was Mr. Cooke going to escape?  Stifling a yawn, I 
flipped through the radio stations.  Didn't seem to be much 
selection in this part of Illinois.  I flipped it off in disgust 
and looked out the window. We had been sitting in this small car 
for at least ten hours.  Jack lay sleeping in the back, 
"conserving his energy" he'd said.  Diana was reading a book on 
market research, most likely trying to figure out where to invest 
the blood money from the Consortium, and I turned to look at the 
station with binoculars again.

"He's not going to escape tonight," Diana announced, dropping her
book on the seat next to her.

Jack sat up and blinked a few times, "Yes he will.  He just has to get
up the nerve, the signal needs to be at its peak, and that should
happen soon."

As if on cue, we saw a man running from the police station.   He
glanced around nervously and started down the road.

"Why isn't he being chased?" I whispered.

"Jack, did you drug the cops again?"

"Could you think of a better idea, Diana?  Now drive, but slowly, we
don't want to frighten him."  

Diana shot him a look that could freeze lava and slowly drove from the
police station.

Following him was not easy, and after about two miles he suddenly
veered off into the woods. 

We quickly pulled over to the side of the road.  "Dana, you'd better
wait here.  You could get hurt,"  Diana said while climbing out of the
car, but at that moment there was a loud bang and a thin scream.

I jumped out of the car and ran into the woods, forgetting how dark it
was and almost falling over tree roots a few times.  I pushed branches
out of my way just as I heard another scream.  I followed the noise 
and reached Mr. Cooke...and an older woman.  The moonlight 
illuminated the scene.

Mr. Cooke lay on the ground and a woman stood in shock near him.  I
quickly surmised from the gun in her hand and her expression that she
was the shooter.  I leaned down and checked his pulse. He was gone.

"Where am I?" She looked at me and then over at Mr. Cooke in terror. 
"Danny?" she whispered and fell to her knees.  "What just happened?
Did I...oh God Danny, baby..." she cradled his head in her lap and
rocked back and forth. "How...my poor baby." Her voice cracked.

"What are you doing out here?"  I leaned down towards her.

"This was our special place -- I came here to think and I
don't...remember what happened next."  I could tell she didn't even see
the blood that covered her pants and hands.  Her movements caused
her neck to become exposed, and I saw a very familiar mark. 

I closed my eyes against the blood rush and looked down at the woman
again.  "Was he your friend?"

"He was my son."  She glanced at me and then turned her attention
back to the limp body.

Mother, daughter, and son. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to
put her under arrest.  Diana and Jack came out of the shadows and
turned on a flashlight.

"Those bastards destroyed an entire family," I whispered to no one.  
The only person who would care was long gone and now it might not
even matter to him.  

"Agent Scully, what happened?" Jack asked while Diana handcuffed the
woman and called the police station, something I was unable to do.

"I don't know.  But I do know that we killed this man," my shoulders
drooped in resignation.  "If he had stayed in jail, he would still 
be alive."  

"We let him escape so he would lead us to the meeting place.  He was
dead anyway."

"No, if we hadn't interfered he would not be lying dead in his mother's
arms right now!"

"Remember why we're doing this, Agent Scully.  You want to find your
partner.  We want to find this meeting place.  Sometimes unscrupulous
methods are the best."

"This didn't get us anywhere -- we're back at the beginning."  I
realized my hand was sticky and when I lifted it I saw that it was
caked in blood.  "Too many deaths."

Jack's phone rang. "Hello?" he flipped it open. "Yes - okay, I'll tell 
them, yes we'll get right on it, thank you, sir." When he hung up his 
eyes were darker.  "They've found at least a hundred more bodies, this 
time there's a pattern, west.  Each is further west than the other, we 
know what direction they're heading."

"Of course.  The ocean...they must be headed towards the West Coast,"
I realized suddenly, that's what their dreams must have said.  And only
more people would die unless we did something.

Diana pulled a map from her pocket and opened it.  "Any ideas where
on the West Coast?"

"No," I admitted reluctantly.

"We could follow the trail of bodies..."

"Yes, we could." And one of those bodies could be Mulder's. I walked 
into the shadows to mask the tears running down my face. 

"Dana, I'm sure that Fox is safe, wherever he is,"  Diana's voice 
faltered slightly.

"I hope so," I whispered and walked back slowly towards the car.

The rising sun painted the air in bloody colors.

End of Part 2/9


The Second Ones III: Masters of War
By Anna Otto and Rachel Ehrentreu
annaotto1@aol.com & firephile@aol.com

Part 3/9

Spender:

Last night, I dreamed a dream...

No, wait, that was something that Mulder would have said. That is, if 
he ever talked about his nightmares. I didn't dream. My sleep remained 
mostly undisturbed, save for an occasional black-and-white image that 
I'd never be able to recall once I was awake. 

Jody screamed last night, prompting my hands to almost fly off the 
wheel of the car in sheer fright. And Mulder, sitting right next to 
me, struggling with his own exhaustion, just gazed at me tiredly. His 
eyes were asking a silent question: "Aren't you used to that yet?"

Never. I could never get used to that. Not even after several days in 
the company of two people who were no longer in control of their lives 
or their conscience. They perceived me as an outsider who was watching 
the horror show in perverted fascination. But whatever detachment I 
might have initially possessed was long gone. 

I started this journey because I needed the truth. Somewhere along the 
way, I realized that I wanted the answers as much for their sake as 
for my own. 

I paused in my ruminations, stopping for a brief second and catching 
my breath. I'd been running around the streets of this town for close 
to two hours, without a sign of either Jody or Mulder. Divide and 
conquer, I considered dully. They couldn't have run that far. 

This town was only so large. Fifteen thousand people. I used to be 
with the FBI. I could find them. 

The chill that just touched the hairs on the back of my neck had 
nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the unexpected gust 
of wind.

It sounded insane, but I thought that Mulder and I would have made 
good partners if we were paired at the FBI. We mistrusted each other 
just enough to keep us on our toes, and I could play a good skeptic 
just as well or even better than Dana Scully. I'd be upset if I lost 
such an annoying traveling companion. And Jody still had to get a 
chance to send all these letters to her son.

Maybe I was out in the sun for too long. Or maybe I just needed to sit 
down and think through my options. Running around the town with my 
tongue hanging open certainly wasn't helping any of us. 

Something - someone? - hit me from behind, and I stumbled forward from 
my precariously balanced position, barely regaining my footing. A 
young blonde woman whizzed by me, as if I was invisible. "Hey, 
watch it!" I shouted after her. "Damn."

She stopped, obviously hesitant, and took a slow step forward. I shook 
my head, disgusted, and turned away. 

"Wait," I heard a small scared voice calling to me. "Where're you 
from?"

I shot her an annoyed look over my shoulder. "Maybe an apology would 
suffice."

"Whatever. I'm sorry," she offered, not sounding sorry in the least. 
"You're not from around here, are you?"

I turned around, finally facing her. She was small and nicely shaped, 
and much younger than I'd initially judged her to be: seventeen or 
eighteen, at most. "How can you tell?" I asked, giving in.

The girl snorted. "Stupid question." 

I took a few steps in her direction, and she matched them, walking 
further away from me. "What are you scared of?"

"I have to go - if they notice that I missed the meeting..." she 
whispered, hugging her shoulders. "I'm sorry about your friends."

"What're you talking about?" All this cryptic bullshit was enough to 
give me a headache. "What do you know about this?"

"Check the beach," she tossed as she started running from me in the 
same mad tempo that gave her enough momentum to almost knock me down. 
"Or better, leave!"

I shrugged, watching her go. "Catch you later," I muttered. 

Down the street, I could see a patch of blue. Mulder and Jody seemed 
terrified of the ocean. Would they have really gone there?

And if they have, why was I suddenly so afraid of finding them?

* * *
 
Before my father left us, before my mother decided that aliens were 
the new God, we vacationed once in Florida. I was about five and I 
remembered a week in sunshine state as a series of rapid images, burnt 
into my conscience: building a castle in the sand with my mother, a 
salty kiss of my father after he came back from the swim, a bunch of 
kids laughing noisily nearby. 

Funny how I never went back to the ocean. Perhaps, I was afraid that 
I couldn't recreate the sheer happiness of those few moments when the 
childhood was forever and the warmth would follow me back to the 
dreary, wintry D.C.

Her black hair clashed with the fine white sand, and relief washed 
over me when I saw her stir. 

"Jody!" I shouted. "Thank God I found you."

She sat up unsteadily, and fell down almost immediately, like a broken 
doll. And not for the first time, I felt the stirrings of terror 
pushing at my subconscious. In several steps, I reached her side, 
unable to refrain from a slew of questions. 

"Are you hurt? What possessed you to come here? Did you see Mulder?" 

Her eyes were open wide and dry as they met mine, yet the pain 
reflected in them made me stop abruptly. "Jody," I sat down on the 
sand, cradling her in my lap. "What happened? Can you speak?"

For several heartbeats, I waited for her to reply, and she lay quietly 
- too quietly - staring up at the sun. Suddenly, I was convinced that 
we weren't seeing the same sky, or hearing the same beat of the ocean 
waves. And as I noted her steady chest in rising fear, I knew - I knew 
- I knew... "You aren't breathing," I whispered softly. "You aren't..."

Without the slightest realization of my actions, I pushed her off my 
lap. She turned away, her mouth opening obscenely. Wavering between 
disgust and concern, I watched helplessly as she retched over and over 
again, as if she were trying to purge something that wouldn't be 
expelled. 

"It's inside me," she fell down finally, losing her strength. "It 
hurts so much."

"Listen," I knelt beside her, hoping that some words would sink in her 
mind. I didn't know what transpired here, but if she was alive, she 
was supposed to be breathing. And if she wasn't breathing, that made 
her dead, and in that case the one seriously in need of medical 
attention was no one else but myself. "We need to get you to the 
hospital. And then I will come back here and look for Mulder, all 
right?" That was good. I wasn't sure if talking was helping her, but 
it was certainly helping me. "You with me?"

Jody extended a shaking hand in the direction of the water, obviously 
trying to attract my attention to something, and I glanced there, 
wondering what she was seeing. And my heart leapt in initial relief, 
shattering just as quickly with the comprehension that no one so 
still and silent could possibly be alive.

The waves lapped Mulder's body gently, and I walked to him slowly, 
abandoning the unbreathing woman for a moment. What would I say to 
Scully when she asked me how he died, I wondered nonsensically. I 
wished that I could say that he looked peaceful - at rest, at last, 
all of his questions answered, all of his passions drowned in the 
salty water. 

But his gray face was anything but peaceful, and his clenched fists 
reflected the struggle he must have gone through before death finally 
claimed him. 

I didn't remember why I started the CPR on him. Perhaps it was for the 
sake of my own conscience. Perhaps I couldn't imagine facing Dana 
Scully after watching her partner die and doing nothing about it. 
Perhaps it was only an automatic reflex - or something drilled into me 
during the FBI Academy. 

I worked until I felt an initial kick of the heart. I might have 
laughed then, exulted at this small victory. I would have laughed 
longer had I heard a movement of his lungs, but they remained 
stubbornly silent. "Breathe, Mulder," I chanted, pushing again. 
"Breathe, dammit!" 

One more time, I tilted his head and pinched his nose, taking a gulp 
of air. My mouth closed around his, and I exhaled, wishing that I 
wasn't encountering a strange resistance from his body. Perhaps his 
lungs were full of water. Still, I completed the recommended cycle, 
once again positioning my hands over his breastbone. 

"One..." 

I pushed.

"Two..."

I pushed again.

"Three..."

I glanced over at his face, encountering dark eyes, at once familiar 
and alien, watching me with curiosity. 

"Fo..."

I didn't have a chance to finish as he gripped my hands with 
surprising strength, pinning me down to the ground. 

"Don't," his voice was low and dangerous, in a way that I've never 
heard before.

"Ww-what?" I stumbled, terrified. This wasn't the man I used to know. 
And his chest wasn't moving, just as Jody's.

"Don't push that thing," he waved his hand in disgust vaguely, "inside 
my mouth."

"What thing?" I whispered. "Mulder, I was simply doing CPR," I shook 
my head. "I was sure you were dead."

"Air," he explained. "It makes me sick to my stomach."

Abruptly, he released me and stood up, towering over me. "You're 
coming with us," he said, as if making a decision. "There's still a 
chance for you."

I took a few steps away from him, only to bump against Jody who met my 
eyes emotionlessly. "Mulder," I chanced a small laugh. "Jody, come on. 
I'm very glad you're alive, but this isn't very funny."

He watched me as one might scrutinize a particularly interesting 
specimen of a bug. "There is a meeting in progress. And you're making 
us all late."

With that, he began walking towards the town. After a few steps, he 
turned around, smiling cruelly. "Did I mention that there were 
repercussions if you didn't follow?"

Jody extended me a hand, and I took it silently, allowing her to lead 
me. I didn't know whether it was wisdom or simple cowardice, but 
after Mulder's words, I had little doubt that there was no other 
choice left for me.

* * *

"The time of unrest is now," the man who pronounced the words appeared 
young, just a boy, but the gravity of his voice betrayed that 
impression. "It is the time of war, and of suffering. It is the time 
when oceans turn black, and tears flow freely. It is the time of our 
hardest test, and of our ultimate victory."

The crowd sighed as one, and I turned my head cautiously, surveying 
the room. Judging by the torn-out fixtures on the walls, it used to be 
an indoor basketball court. Now it was filled with hundreds of people 
whose attentions were focused solely on the speaker. 

"The gray warriors will not have a chance to conquer this planet as 
they have conquered so many. For now we have the means to resistance. 
We can withstand the poison that they will infect us with. We can find 
their agents masquerading as humans, and we can rid the Earth of their 
influence."

If I concentrated hard enough, I could make out a shadow, morphing a 
few feet behind the boy on the makeshift stage. I watched it in 
fascination, letting the words drift over me, still struggling to 
assimilate the events of this afternoon with my worldview and failing 
miserably.

"For we have been given the greatest gift," the speaker's voice 
resonated in a sincere wonder. "The one race who was able to resist 
the conquerors is now in alliance with us. Every day, we become more 
and more like them. Every day, the chosen ones spread all over this 
land, creating others like us. And every day, we are given the chance 
to survive."

And every day, I would regret my decision to come to Freedom, 
California.

"Today, our army has received two new soldiers. So step closer, 
newcomers, and let us welcome you to our ranks."

"No," I whispered as Mulder and Jody stood up, walking up to the 
stage. There were tears burning behind my eyelids, and I lashed out 
at myself internally. There was no reason for me to care whether 
these two people lived or died.

Or if they became less than human.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. "No," I repeated softly. 

Even after everything that transpired, I still watched with surprise 
as Mulder, then Jody, embraced the shadow. 

"They aren't seeing what you're seeing," I heard a soft whisper in my 
ear. "Imagine being reunited with someone you've lost, someone you 
don't think you will ever see again. That is what it's like for 
them."

Instead of answering, I watched her chest for a minute in silent 
wonder. For once, I wasn't admiring the size and firmness of breasts, 
but the way air moved in and out of it, the rise and fall of the 
healthy human lungs. "Tell me I'm not imagining this," I whispered to 
the blonde girl I remembered from this morning. "You aren't one of 
them."

"Do I look like one of them?" she countered. "Name is Leigh."

"Jeffrey," I offered her a hand and Leigh shook it surreptitiously.

"I'm surprised you're still functioning," she grinned humorlessly. 
"I thought I was the only one who could resist."

"Resist who?"

Leigh granted me a scornful look. "The aliens? Little green men? Only 
they don't look like little green men - they just look like anyone 
that you wish to see."

"But not to you," I concluded.

"Or you," she sounded somewhat sad. "It's the greatest reunion in 
history of mankind and we're not invited. Did I mention that I'm glad 
you're here?"

I closed my eyes, listening to the words still pouring from the stage. 
"I want them back," I whispered, surprising myself with my urgency.

"They're lost," Leigh's voice cut me deeply, and I wanted to close my 
ears, to not hear this. "You have to accept this."

"It's not possible," I shook my head stubbornly. "They were..."

"Your friends? Lovers? Colleagues?" her words were mocking me, and I 
moved away from her only to feel her small fingers pulling me back. 
"They are *not* what they were. They will never be what they used to 
be. Their lungs are sealed tight to prevent the flow of earthly air. 
Their eyes aren't seeing the same colors. Their only goal now is to 
prevent this colonization or war or whatever it is from happening. Of 
course, in saving us from 'the gray warriors,' they're conquering us 
in their own way. You *will* listen to me," her nails dug into my 
thigh, and I almost yelped. "This guy on the stage was my friend. We 
were just two teenagers about to start our senior year, on the road in 
California and having fun. Then we came to Freedom and the first thing 
he did was chase after a ghost of his girlfriend who died the year 
before. The second thing he did was stop breathing. The third thing he 
did was become a spokesperson for 'Saviors and Company.'"

"You got here by accident?"

"Yes," Leigh confirmed. "Now, are you going to leave with me or not?"

I stared at her, horrified. "No, of course not."

Her eyes tracked to Mulder and Jody, then back to me. "I know how it 
feels. But I'm trying to tell you what would be best."

"I can't leave without them." 

"Fine," she pulled back. "You've made your choice."

"We have one more potential soldier with us today," the voice from the 
stage announced. "Jeffrey Spender."

I jumped in surprise and fear.

"Come closer," the boy intoned. "You needn't be afraid."

Leigh's fingers squeezed mine encouragingly. "I don't think it will 
work," she whispered.

The crowd divided to allow me passage, and I had just enough time to 
wonder what this 'it' could possibly be. In a few steps, I found 
myself face to face with Jody and Mulder. I watched them for any sign 
that they could be coming back to their senses, to no avail. The boy 
pushed Jody closer to me, and she walked the remaining inches between 
us like a marionette wanting to disobey the strings. 

Her hands wrapped around my shoulders, her mouth was suddenly 
dangerously close to mine, and the agony in her eyes was undoing me 
at the seams. "Jody, you don't have to do this," I whispered, somehow 
knowing what was coming next.

"Not me," she replied hollowly. And then she kissed me.

She was a beautiful woman. A woman that, in different circumstances, 
I'd love to date or spend a night with. A woman whose lips were 
sucking the breath out of me, filling my lungs instead with pure, 
undiluted pain.

I twisted and writhed under this torture device, begging for release 
that seemed to come too late. In a minute, I was lying on the floor, 
choking and gasping. In the midst of this madness, one thought was 
circling through my mind over and over, like a broken record. "It 
didn't work," I laughed hoarsely. "It didn't work!"

The crowd seemed listless. The boy whirled on me, furious. "You're a 
traitor," he hissed. "Just like Leigh."

"You failed," I repeated senselessly, too relieved to feel the flow of 
oxygen restored to my body to realize what I was saying. "Leigh said 
it wouldn't work."

"You talked to her?" the boy threw a glance at the amorphous figure 
behind him. "Search the room and bring her to me. At once!" he 
screamed when no one seemed to move.

There were a few minutes of chaos during which I lay on the floor, 
feeling somehow safer here than in the standing upright position. 
Mulder's arm was supporting Jody who seemed as shaken by this 
experience as I was. The boy's eyes were scouring the room for a sign 
of Leigh.

"Ted," someone approached him respectfully, fearfully. "We searched 
everywhere. She is gone."

* * *

"She'll never make it," Mulder spoke calmly. "With as many soldiers as 
we have here, we can have the town circled and sealed in no time," he 
half-turned to the shadow as if searching for approval. My stomach 
twisted as his eyes grew warmer. Who was he seeing? Was it Samantha? 
Scully? No, Scully was probably the 'agent masquerading as human.'

Ted seemed to draw strength from Mulder's words, and faced the crowd 
once again as an assured leader. "If Leigh escapes, she will tell 
everyone of our existence. We cannot let that happen yet. We still need 
more warriors to face the world."

There were several shouts of approval from the crowd. 

"Our lives depend on your speed and diligence. She must be found."

The doors opened, and the boy threw up his hands. "Go!" With a final 
exclamation, he jumped off the stage and ran towards the exit. Mulder 
was already walking after him, but Jody seemed torn between following 
them and staying behind. Finally, she ran over to me and offered me a 
hand. After some hesitation, I accepted her gesture and let her pull 
me to my feet.

"Are you all right?" Jody asked softly, and I hoped that it was 
concern shining in her eyes. 

"I'm fine," I grabbed her shoulder when she turned away. "Jody, tell me 
you're still who you are. Please."

She faced me silently, morosely. After a while, I let my hand fall 
away just as the last fragment of hope shattered inside me. "Please," 
I begged her in a whisper.

"You will come with us," she declared. "It isn't safe to leave you 
here. You could escape just like that traitor Leigh."

"Jody," my voice fell. "What color are my eyes?"

If she was puzzled at this non sequitur, she didn't show it. "White, 
of course," she watched me carefully. "If you don't walk on your own, 
I will drag you."

I nodded, accepting this for now. I could always leave, I told myself 
- I still had a car at the Visitor's Information booth. Automatically, 
my hand went to check my pocket, searching for a key. When all I 
encountered was empty space, I gasped, feeling as if the earth itself 
split open under my feet. "Noooo," I moaned in denial. This was too 
much. 

What if Leigh took them? I felt lighter momentarily, for at least they 
weren't lost - they would serve to let this girl get out of this 
hellish town. Of course, she could have simply asked instead of 
stealing them from me - 

I felt someone's frosty eyes studying me and lifted my head up, 
already terrified of what was probably my second betrayal in this 
evening.

"She took his car," Mulder made a quick calculation. "I know how to 
find her."

Soon, a large number of 'soldiers' were running in the direction 
of the visitor's booth, and I was trying to keep up with them. They 
seemed faster than ordinary people should have any right to be, and 
though I thought of myself as fit, I could hardly match their pace.

Dammit, Mulder, why couldn't you let her go, I asked him internally. 
She had already lost her friend. She didn't have to lose herself.

Please let her get out safely, I begged God or aliens or whatever was 
the new power ruling over this universe. It is not a selfish wish, so 
just let her get out.

In the thickening darkness, I couldn't make out where we were going. 
Suddenly, we were on the asphalt road leading out of town, and I 
realized that instead of chasing after her, they wanted to meet her 
head-on. I was pushed aside when about a dozen of them clasped hands 
and spread across the road like a live chain meant to stop anything 
in its way, not by the strength of the design, but by the natural 
fear of killing a fellow human. Ted and Mulder stood in the middle. 

As if in a trance, I watched the approaching headlights, recognizing 
our old beat-up Ford from a distance. I still wasn't sure if I wanted 
Leigh to plow straight through them or to turn around. She sped up a 
few feet before the chain and for a few moments I was certain that 
she would not stop. 

I chuckled. She was a formidable young woman.

Suddenly, I heard the wheels spinning off the road and seconds later 
there was a deafening crash as she drove into a tree.

I should have known.

I was about to run up closer to her, to make sure that at least she 
was all right, even if the car was dead, but several pairs of hands 
were already restraining me from behind. Powerlessly, I watched as 
Ted approached the smoking vehicle and the fallen, bloodied form of a 
girl.

Leigh crawled out of the car awkwardly, holding on to the damaged 
doors, and I realized that she must have broken her leg, not to 
mention suffered a concussion. "Ted," she brushed the dirty blonde hair 
from her face. "Please let me go."

"I can't, Leigh," he seemed genuinely regretful. "You're a danger to 
us all. I kept you alive as long as I could, but I can't protect you 
anymore."

"I won't tell anyone about this place," she sounded resigned. "I just 
want to go home. I just want things the way they were before. You 
remember, Ted, don't you?"

I was suddenly struck by how normal he looked. A perfect American boy 
with light brown hair, gray eyes, shapely mouth, and muscular build. 
A boy who could have extended a hand to his old friend and offered to 
drive her to the nearest hospital. The same boy who just now struck 
her across the already-bruised face. "You betrayed us."

"No," she gasped, pained. "You can't do this to me. I love you."

"Then you won't mind if I give you a kiss, Leigh?" Ted leaned closer 
to her and she tried to crawl backward, unsuccessfully. "One kiss 
goodbye."

Horrified, I watched as she nodded, and I tried to shake off the 
hands that held me, because I couldn't let this transpire, not in 
front of my very eyes. 

His lips touched hers, first tenderly, then fiercely - and she seemed 
to respond, initially, kissing him back with all the passion of a 
denied lover, with eyes open wide to watch his face.

And I knew that I pitied her just as much as I admired her. For though 
she was a formidable woman, she was still just a woman.

It seemed to go on forever, and suddenly, Leigh went limp in his arms, 
lips still slightly parted. He lowered her beside the car with 
surprising gentleness. Mulder's hand fell on his shoulder. "You did 
the right thing," he offered as if in sympathy. I was trying to make 
out their faces, but they were hidden in the shadows; just like my 
very life seemed suddenly shrouded in a burial cloak.

The boy stood - then motioned for a few people to come closer. "Burn 
the car. And her," he added coldly, already losing interest in the 
corpses of both. He walked up to the amorphous shadow. "I had to kill 
her," he spoke. "She was a threat."

I didn't know what answer he received, but he nodded, straightening up 
his spine. As he passed by me, I thought I heard him whisper, "I 
remember, Leigh."

Or maybe, it was only my imagination.

End of Part 3/9


The Second Ones III: Masters of War
By Anna Otto & Rachel Ehrentreu
annaotto1@aol.com & firephile@aol.com

Part 4/9

Diana:

Jack Smith wasn't his real name, of course.  I once knew his real name,
he shared it with me during some wild night and, of course, I promptly 
forgot it. No need to know names in this line of work.  It was in Germany,
or France - I don't remember anymore.  We went through so many
countries that it all blurred together.

We were partners, spying on the Russian operation in East Germany. 
We took side trips to other places, romantic places, and in those brief
moments of freedom we could almost pretend we weren't dancing with
danger and that the names on our passports were our own.

But that was long ago, before I was transferred to Washington and
reassigned...and Jack remained behind.  That wasn't even his name
then, it was...Mark or was that Arnold? Either way, he never forgave
me for leaving him in Germany alone.

He was the absolute last person I wanted to spend any time with and so
far I'd managed to stay as quiet as possible.  I sat in the back this time
- could not be in the same section as he - and glared at the back of his
chair.

"How much further is it, Jack?" Dana looked ahead at the empty road
and tried to make sense of a map unfolded on her lap.

"I'm not the one with the chip." I wondered why his soft voice was
replaced by a Humphrey Bogart impression.

"This has nothing to do with that -- where is the morgue in this
godforsaken town?"  Dana was obviously losing her patience and she
leaned heavily against the car door.  "Look, Jack, this is the last
body..."

"If we don't find something here we won't find anything," I finished,
having heard this speech at least three times over the past three days. 
But each time more bodies showed up and Dana actually seemed
surprised when she was confronted with yet another one. 

"Wait -- here it is," she pointed towards a small building with a
clearly marked parking lot.  We parked and Dana turned towards me. 
"I just need to ask a few quick questions and get the autopsy results -
you two stay here."  Obviously payback for the Cooke incident.

She stepped out of the car, opened the front door and disappeared into
the building.

Jack turned around in his seat to face me, "So, how is life..."

"I don't want to talk to you - and you sure as hell don't want to talk to
me," I set about ignoring him, and turned towards the window.

"I should be the angry one - not you."

"I refuse to be drawn into this conversation."  But my resolve was
already weakening.

"I remember when you were more talkative."  He took a piece of gum
from his pocket and started to chew it silently.

"That was at least ten years ago."

"Diana..."

"Why are you here?" I had to know: he could be spying on me, easily.

"Our smoking friend summoned me - from my post in Russia - I might
add - to assist on this mission. Besides, I couldn't resist the
opportunity to meet Agent Scully. Surveillance cameras do not do her
justice."

I almost laughed, "Your motives are usually simple."

"I'm sorry - we're not all as cunning as you." 

I was about to retort when the door opened and Dana sat down, anger
clear on her face.

"What happened?" Jack asked.

"The suspect escaped already and the victim had this in her neck,"
she held out a small familiar chip.

"Do they know where the suspect went?" I asked, turning the chip over
in my hand.

"Last report said she was spotted on a highway I-80," Dana said.

"Twenty or thirty bodies were found on that same road..." I was
interrupted by a newsbreak.

"Scientists and detectives are baffled over a new psychosis that is
plaguing the nation.  It seems to cause violent outbursts and memory
loss.  Symptoms include lack of sleep, disturbing dreams or
unexplained pain.  If you show any of these signs please report to a
hospital immediately."

"How did that get leaked to the media?" I demanded, already knowing
whom to blame.

"They must have put the pieces together - our interviews, the FBI
involvement, the escapees."  Dana had a look of almost panic in her
eyes, undoubtedly worried about how this would effect our investiation.

"They only have a small piece to a giant puzzle - we're still in 
control," Jack pointed out calmly.

I sighed angrily - spending almost a week with Jack was starting to get
to me.  I had specific orders and part of me hoped they conflicted with
his.  He sounded enough like our boss to make me uneasy.

"This won't hurt us, oh security expert?" Dana asked, and I was sure I
heard a slight sarcasm in her tone.

"It can only help."

"What were you saying about I-80?" Dana reminded me.

"It heads directly to the California coastline."

"That's West," she stared towards the horizon.

***

Around eleven Dana suggested that we stop for the night.  But we got 
three motel rooms - I didn't want to spend another moment with Jack and
didn't trust him to be in the same room as Dana.  When he suggested
that I share a room with her, I reminded him that I needed my privacy.

Beds were a gift from God, I decided as I lay down.  Even ratty beds in
an old motel were like heaven to my abused back.  Car seats were
never meant for long trips - give me a plane any day of the week.  I
closed my eyes and imagined myself back at home in the Watergate.

Soon my stomach interrupted my thoughts of sleep, and I ran to the
diner attached to the motel only to find Dana sitting at the counter,
sipping coffee and moving an omlette around on her plate.

"Dana?"

"Hello, Diana."

"I thought you were tired."

"More exhausted than tired," she admitted.

"I was just...in desperate need of food," I smiled slightly and she
returned the gesture weakly, staring into the mirror behind the counter.  
"Are you okay?" I noticed that something seemed off about her.

"I'm..." she started and then sighed softly, pushing a lock of hair
behind her ear.  "The victim today with the chip -- she was only five
years old."  Dana stared into her coffee cup, watching the cream
swirl.

"Horrible."

"The worst part is the suspect that escaped - it was her mother."  When
she finally looked up, her eyes were glassy.  "Diana - how can we stop
this?"

I suddenly wanted to reassure her that everything would change and
the murders would stop - but I couldn't feed her what would be an 
outright lie.

I settled for sitting down next to her and gently placing a hesistant
hand on her left shoulder.  She glanced up in surprise and then
relaxed.  I lowered my hand back onto the counter.

"I don't think we can."

"I know," she said softly, "I just keep seeing Melissa Cooke cradling
her dead son."  She finally ate a piece of the omlette instead of just
playing with it.

"I'll have the same," I told the counter-person who ran off to fill my
order.  "You know, Dana, it's hard to forget an image like that, but
in your years with the X-Files you must have seen worse."

"I have seen worse - a lot worse.  But this is different," she
refused to elaborate, finished her coffee, paid for her meal, and left
the diner swiftly.  

I ate my eggs in silence.

Later that night I was awoken by strange noises on the other side of
the wall.  "Oooh baby! Yes right there..." A woman's voice screamed.

"God - you're incredible," a muffled man's voice.

"Yes! Harder - oh God oh God..." the same woman moaned.

It took me a moment to realize they were coming from Dana's room. 
Please tell me she wasn't stupid enough to sleep with Jack.  That
would be just perfect...I jumped out of bed and pulled on some clothes,
then walked to the next door.

It opened to reveal a clothed Dana Scully, her hair slightly
mussed from sleep. "Diana? Did something happen?"

"No, I heard some noise - wanted to make sure you were okay."

She actually blushed: it was true what they said about light skin and
red hair. "I'm fine."

"I thought...no, nevermind, it was stupid."  And then my tired mind
made the connection. Dana was watching a pornography movie.  "It's
none of my business - I don't care," I started walking away.

"Wait - Diana...it reminds me of him," she admitted softly and
reluctantly, probably trying to make the situation better.

"Really?" I turned back towards her, waiting for her to explain.

She nodded, "During our more stressful cases, when he just dragged
himself closer to the edge in trying to solve the crime, he would stop
and order a movie.  When I heard it in my room I knew he was trying
to relax - get his mind onto something less painful, partake in some
mindless entertainment.  It just let me know he was okay - it's hard to 
explain," her voice had an almost wistful tone.

"And it didn't offend you?"

She smiled slightly and shook her head, "No, even though I don't
understand the fascination I watched a few in college and...they were
mostly harmless, at least the ones available in hotel rooms.  He had
certain rituals and I accepted them."  She brushed back hair from her
face.

I didn't remember Fox watching those movies...then again he was
different when I knew him.  There was very little resembalance
between the Fox that I remembered and the man I met a few months ago.  I
held myself slightly responsible. but it was just a job, just like 
this was a job.

"Okay then - goodnight."

"Diana?" So Dana was in the mood to talk.

"Yes?"

"He's still alive - isn't he?"

I stared at her for a second. "You should know better than me."

She closed her eyes and in bare feet and silk pj's she suddenly looked
much younger.  "I...no longer sense him, I mean -- nevermind,
goodnight," she reentered her room and locked the door behind her.

I realized something had changed between us. She needed someone
to talk to. I was nominated for the position, and I couldn't help but
smile knowing that my greatest obstacle was weaker than I thought.

***

While driving down highway I-880 from Berkeley, it started.

The heat was almost unbearable, so I turned up the air conditoning and
sighed softly.  "Incense and Peppermints" played on the radio, and Jack
was tapping his fingers to the beat against the door.

Dana slept on the back seat, having been up almost all of the night
before and the night before that.  Against my will, part of me was
concerned for her, but I pushed the feeling away.

"Jack, could you stop that - it's giving me a headache."

A soft moan from the backseat almost made me let go of the wheel. 
"Dana?"

She moaned again and sat up slowly, clutching her head.  

Jack was immediately all business. "They're near here - aren't they,
Agent Scully?"

She nodded, grimacing. "They have to be...it's like...this...take the 
next turn off onto I-280," she spoke through clenched teeth.
  
Directions continued this way for a few hours while Dana was getting 
weaker and weaker.  By the time she told me to turn onto US Highway 1, she
could barely sit up.

And I couldn't help considering the irony of her pushing us towards the
destination which caused her the most pain.  Her forehead scrunched,
her eyes were bloodshot, and her voice grew fainter as the miles wore on.

"Dana, maybe we should turn around...this is dangerous to
your health," I suggested, my worry obvious now.

"No! We've come too far...we're too close...it's somewhere near here, it
has to be, a few miles at most..." her voice was barely audible. Her 
teeth were clenched and each word seemed to be a struggle.

"Agent Scully - I have to agree, I shudder to think what will happen
when we arrive at our destination..."

"That's...my...trouble," she lay back down on the seat, her eyes
closed and hands rubbing her temples frantically, as if it would
help.

"Stop the car," Jack demanded, his voice as concerned as I'd ever
heard it.  To my surprise, he stepped out of the passenger door and
opened the back seat.  He sat down, and used his lap as a pillow for
Dana's head.  She opened her eyes in shock and tried to sit up.  He
gently pushed her back down.

"Agent Scully, squeeze my hand when the pain is too bad," he
whispered. She seized his hand and basically squished it, for lack
of a better term.  I could tell it was probably hurting him but he 
didn't say a word.  "Drive, Diana."

"What are you doing, Jack?"

"The experiences I've had with people like Agent Scully have shown
that human contact is very important during these attacs --
otherwise, the chip or...those other things will win."

We soon saw a sign that said "Freedom - 5 miles." 

Dana's body jerked violently and then went still. I realized that she'd
finally lost consciousness, and felt relieved that I no longer had to watch
this torture.

"I suppose we can assume that's the place," Jack murmured, probably
wary of waking her.

On the outskirts of town we found an abandoned motel.  Its neon sign
blinked on and off randomly.  Luckily, it was still in pretty good
shape, and Jack carried Dana into an empty room and lay her down on
the bed, which was only slightly dusty.

"I'm going to check out the town, keep an eye on her, Diana." 

He left, and I felt vaguely angry and wished childishly that something 
bad would happen to him.  

The silence reigned for a long time and finally I could take it no more. 
"Dana?"

"Diana, it hurts...do you have any painkillers?" her voice was weak
and soft.

I dug the ever-present bottle of Tylenol out of my bag and shook out
three pills.  I handed them to her and she swallowed them dry, then
lay back down on the pillow.  Her face was slicked in sweat and her
eyes were unfocused. 

"Are you okay, Dana?" I prompted, feeling immediately stupid for asking.

"I've never felt this kind of pain before...being shot would be
preferable, this agony...it's..." she took a deep breath and was unable
to speak for a few moments, closing her eyes and massaging her
temples. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"What?"

"If -- if I...am in too much pain, there's a medical kit in the trunk,
remove the chip."

"Dana, I couldn't..."

"I know about the cancer and the risks...I'll put it back when this is
over but I can't live like this..." she sat up slightly and stared at me.
"You have to help me...I'm in no condition to do it myself."  

"But what if..."

"I can't live with this pain. Either remove the chip or shoot me," she
bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes.

"I'll do it," I said finally. Perhaps I could use it to my advantage.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Jack bounded in a few moments later, out of breath, his hair 
mussed.  "I...I saw them," he said with a look of horror. "Jesus, their
chests - they weren't - breathing.  I've never seen anything like that
before..."

"That's impossible - how could they be alive and not breathe?" Dana
heard and immediately jumped into the conversation.

"I don't know. We've obviously misjudged the situation."

"I need to see it for myself."

"Like hell I'm allowing you into that place."

"I'm fine," she repeated stubbornly.

"Agent Scully - you are not fine - direct exposure to so many of them 
would probably cause permanent damage."

"I need to see them," she whispered and then grabbed her head.
"They're near here! They're coming after us!" 

"Agent Scully?"

She passed out and the room went silent.

I looked out the window, feeling as if I were transported to a scene 
straight out of the Night of the Living Dead. Five or six figures were 
walking towards us in a line - their eyes unblinking and their chests...
dear God he was right. I was about to say something when Jack covered my 
mouth with his hand. 

"They register movement," he hissed.  "Luckily, with Agent Scully
passed out they won't sense the chip or we would all be in serious
trouble."

Evidentely, Jack was right because after standing in utter silence and
fear for a few moments, we saw them turn and walk away.  He dropped
his hand from my mouth. I looked down and noticed his semi-automatic
clutched in his other hand.  

"In case I was wrong," he explained humorlessly - then put the gun down 
on the table. We walked over to the bed.  

"Dana, they're gone," I whispered, and her eyes snapped open.

"Do it now...release me from this pain," she pleaded, her eyes wet with
unshed tears.  I ran out to the car quickly, cautiously, in case the 
zombies were still nearby.  A small medicine bag was in the trunk and I 
brought it into the room.

The bag contained a small arsenal of first medical aid. I found a scapel, 
a shot of painkillers, neosporin, rubbing alchohol, an Oxygen mask, 
anti-poisoning tablets, iodine, gauze, tape, finger splints, bandaids, 
and tweezers.  I looked up at her with a silent question.

"With a partner like him, I never knew what would be needed." Dana was 
barely able to turn herself onto her stomach.  "Do it," she whispered 
determinedly.

I shakily held the scapel over her neck, remembering too late that 
I hated the sight of blood.

"Diana, when was the last time you did any kind of a medical
procedure?" Jack asked, very annoyed, and swiped the scapel out of
my hand.  

He leaned over her body and covered a piece of gauze with alchohol,
rubbing it over her neck.  He made a small, accurate slice, just enough 
to get out the implant.  She hissed when the knife touched her skin, but I
knew it was nothing compared to the pain she felt from the implant.  

He took the tweezers and gently picked out the blood covered implant. 
He wiped it with the rubbing alchohol and handed it to me.  "Keep
that in a safe place."

Then he neatly bandaged the small cut and pulled away to admire his
handiwork.

"Is it done?" Dana asked.

"It's done.  You can turn over and sit up."  

I could tell she was a bit wary, for what if it wasn't the chip that was
causing this agony at all, but her easy movement made her smile slightly. 
"Thank you," she said gratefuly. "Now, lets go investigate this town." 

She opened the door, seemingly unafraid, but by now I knew better.  Dana 
must have been terrified of not finding what - or rather who - we came here
for.  

Silently, we followed her.

End of Part 4/9


The Second Ones III: Masters of War
By Anna Otto and Rachel Ehrentreu
Email: annaotto1@aol.com & firephile@aol.com

Part 5/9

Mulder:

When I closed my eyes, I saw a landscape where the intensity of colors
screamed, and Earth paled in comparison, losing the competition.

The darkness never consumed it fully, for two suns battled over the
chance to caress it with their light.  When one left, the other emerged,
to warm the violet waters that this planet was mostly comprised of.

I accepted this vision as a gift - something to be cherished and
remembered.  But with this gift, there came a familiar painting of
black liquid coloring the clear waters, and of the red rain falling from
the menacing skies.  I no longer felt confusion and terror at this sight,
nor did I lose my mind as a result of sinking into the polluted depths. 
Instead, I was righteously angered at the invasion of the gray warriors
who wanted to conquer this planet, this race who'd always been neutral
and peaceful.

Our race.

Some of us died in the battle, still raging on this distant and dear
planet.  Some survived and grew stronger, discovering the unsuspected
resources within and continuing on with the war.

And some of us knew that unless we conquered the gray warriors
permanently, we'd never be able to progress.  Our shared
consciousness would never expand at its natural pace.  Our evolution
would be stilted and thrown asunder.

We traveled to far away corners of the galaxy in hopes of preventing
other planets' destruction by  forces they couldn't withstand.  We
shared knowledge and gave parts of ourselves to the beings who
populated them.  We sacrificed ourselves time and time again,
knowing that this was the price we had to pay for a future.

We finally arrived at Earth, where some beings were foolish and
treacherous enough to conspire with our enemies, accelerating the
inevitable ruin.  And we resolved to hold onto this planet for as long as
possible, hoping that the invasion would be unsuccessful, even though
we felt their presence as a sickness permeating humans and soil,
animals and plants.

Here, we longed for our victory as never before.

Each day, we grew more powerful.  Each night, we gazed at the stars,
knowing that the future was ours, for we had survived so far and we
would live forevermore.

Nothing would stand in our way.

For we were and always would be the masters of war.

***

I sat on the shore watching the dusk give way to night.  It was here
that I felt suffused with power, waves of energy resonating in the air
and settling inside of me.

"It's a magical place," I heard Melora's melodic voice, and she was
suddenly sitting beside me.  "There isn't another one like this on
Earth.  That's why we came here."

"I can feel it too," I replied, entranced.  My human memories ran close
to the surface of consciousness tonight, and the image of this face,
shattered in death, troubled me.  "Why you?" I whispered.

"It's not for me to answer," she said.  Wind moved Melora's white
dress.  "You see what you wish to see in my form.  Her death touched
us," she held her hand to her chest in sorrow.  "She would have been a
great soldier.  Perhaps she left the same scar inside your soul."

It was a peculiar speech, a eulogy delivered by the deceased, but I was
soothed by its apparent truth.

"It is a great comfort to humans to feel close to those they've lost,"
Melora smiled, looking at me.  "Once the old wounds are sealed, you
will find it easier to accept the new mindset, to let go of earthly
emotions."

"I accept," I closed my eyes, realizing with quiet joy that I could still
see - could sense everything around me through her eyes.

"Rest," she whispered.  "When our enemies descend upon the planet,
you will be one of those who lead the troops into battle.  And now, I
sense your human friend close, I shall leave you to him."

She disappeared in a flash of white fabric, and Jeffrey Spender stood in
front of me, strange sadness etched in his features - a mask of grief I
hadn't seen on his face till now.

"I asked Jody whether she still missed Mark," he began.  Upon my
silence, he questioned, "Don't you want to know what she said?"

I felt it was of no consequence, but seeing his distress, I nodded.

"She said Mark was here.  That she was afraid of him.  I told her it
couldn't be - and she didn't believe me," his feet kicked up sand as he
paced.  "Who do you see, Mulder?  What is it that changed you -- to
this?"

"Melora," I whispered, watching the stars come out and searching for
the one that I longed for.  "I see Melora."

He took a deep breath, I wondered how he could stand the taste of
oxygen.  The physics of my changed body puzzled me vaguely, but I
was grateful for the closed-off air passages.

"You know that she is dead, don't you?" Spender watched me sharply.

"She never truly died," I answered, tracing the trajectory to the
glowing star that seemed so close and yet so out of my reach.  "I wish
you could feel this freedom, Spender.   All of the guilt, the pain, and
the regrets disappear in this shared consciousness."

"I wish I could leave," he choked, more in sorrow than in anger.

"You will be killed if you try," I replied indifferently.  "You will not be
harmed if you remain here."

Spender laughed bitterly.  "Oh, I remember what happened to Leigh. 
How you could participate in that murder truly evades me."

I felt bored listening to him.  His head obscured my view of the stars. 
"If you became one of us, you wouldn't trouble yourself with such
meaningless concerns," I pointed out. "But you resist, and you lose."

"I never thought I'd say this, Mulder," his eyes found mine, and in
their whiteness I could sense tears.  I felt no pity for him.  "But I 
miss you."

With that, he stalked away, and I remained, surrendering to the flow
of energy inside me.

Now, I thought, now I could rest.

***

Jody rocked back and forth, holding her head as if she were trying to
crush it.

"If you'd only come to the shore, you'd feel better," I told her.  The
feelings that I sensed in her were at once confusing and troubling -
and I'd classify one of them as loneliness if I didn't know better.  We
were now part of one whole - never to feel lonely again.

"It was a lie," she mumbled, barely audible. "All a lie."

"What are you talking about?"

"You must remember," she jumped up suddenly, and grabbed my
shoulders.  Her gaze collided with mine, and I could feel her search for
something and fail.  "The dream of the ocean shore, and of a promise."

Something pricked at the edge of my awareness, but it was not a
pleasant sensation.  Once, only once, did I see a dream that spoke not
of threats but of hopeful promises  Only once did I feel safe in the
night, when..."Better dreams," I whispered.  "There will be better
dreams."

"I knew you would remember," Jody seemed relieved.  "You're still
there, aren't you?"

I shook my head, her meaning escaping me.  She wavered slightly,
losing her balance, and I extended my hand, just barely catching her
before she hit the ground.

"I'm all right," she whispered, reassuring herself.  "I'm all right.  Don't
you see that they've betrayed us? Can't you see what they've turned us
in to? We're not ourselves anymore."

"They brought us here for a purpose," I told her sternly.  Such talk
could only mean that Jody would be a traitor - that unrest brewed in
her mind, that she'd break our faith.  I felt it was my duty to keep her
from stepping onto that dangerous path - a duty not only to her, but
also to the rest of the race.  "When our enemies poison these waters,
we'll be here to stop them.  We're helping humanity save this planet."

"I don't have better dreams," Jody moaned.  "I have nightmares, 
terrible, terrible nightmares.  Of my life slipping away.  Of my
memories disintegrating.  Of my body turning into fine white sand.  I
don't think I was meant to be one."  

I took several very deliberate steps away from her.  It was blasphemy. 
Moreover, her words made me feel unclean - touched by a sickness
that I didn't want to share with this infidel.

"Jeffrey was right," she cried after me.  "He told me Mark couldn't be
here, and I thought about it for a long, long time.  I see him, but he
isn't the boy I used to know.  He isn't really my son." Her fingers
reached after me and wrapped around my wrist before I had a chance
to retreat.  Their heat and dryness stung me, and I once again longed
for the safety and coolness of the violet ocean of the planet beyond he
stars.

"If it's Spender that's filling your head with such nonsense, perhaps it's
time to silence him permanently," I hissed.  I didn't trust him, he was
the only one in town whose mind was not linked to mine.

"No," Jody released me, as if burnt.  "It's me.  I think...maybe I'm not
well."

"If you say so," I replied, taking note of her shifting eyes, of the lies I
felt she was telling me.  Sometimes, this woman was just as hard to
read as any unchanged human.  "We must go to the meeting."

"Yes," she called behind me.  "I must try."

I kept walking, the incident already escaping my mind.

After all, when the weak link in a chain was discovered, it could
simply be destroyed.

***

Ted watched the soldiers fill the room, a faraway look in his eyes.  I
stood behind him, certain that he'd need my help today.  For perhaps
the first time, we were being confronted with a serious threat to our
plans, and I intended to make sure that it would be destroyed.

"When the waters of this ocean turn black, we will show no mercy to
our enemies," Ted spoke hollowly.  "We will do what we must to rid
the Earth of this poison."

He searched the crowd for something - or perhaps someone -
seemingly confused when he didn't find it.

"For what do our wants matter?"  his hand reached out, askance. 
"What do our lives matter in the greater scheme of things?"

Nothing, I replied silently.  It was never of consequence, but now I
knew that even if I perished, parts of me would still go on.

"Three people entered our town yesterday.  And we failed to detect
their movements," Ted's eyes turned hard and cold.  "We must assume
that they know of our existence, and that they came with malicious
intent.  We must prepare to fight."

I saw the determination and faith in thousands of eyes directed at the
stage, and I was certain that whatever the obstacle, it would be easily
destroyed.

"I'm asking you to forget about yourself and your banal, meaningless
lives.  Just like I've forgotten mine," he paused for a moment.  "I didn't
care about sacrificing myself or my old friends.  I didn't care that
Leigh would never again be beside me," he swept his hands around
him in a grand gesture.  "I'm only asking you to do the same."

When wary silence followed, Ted laughed mirthlessly.  "Is it too much
to ask?" he screamed.  "Is it?"

I moved closer to him, realizing belatedly that something was wrong. 
"Stay away!" he hissed menacingly.  "You should be down there, with
all of them.  And Leigh.  Leigh should be here."  

"Ted," I shook my head in denial.  "Leigh is gone."

He no longer listened to me, turning to the figure I perceived as
Melora.  "You told me I'd see whomever I wished to see," he
whispered urgently.  "So why can't I see her?  Why am I still seeing
you? It makes no sense," he fell to his knees.  "It is wrong."

I shielded him from view, taking his place in the center of the stage. 
"The intruders, the ones who've come to take our lives, are outside of
these doors." I pointed in the direction of the exit.  "And we will face
them together as one."

"Leigh," the boy behind me moaned softly, and I dreaded what I'd see
if I turned around.

"For we will never again be alone or lack what we've lost," I
concluded.

I felt the strength of the army standing in front of me.  I walked the
steps down to the floor, fully prepared to open the door and face what
would be our first test of courage.

Only when I turned the handle, did I take a final backward glance,
knowing that Ted was surely as lost as any human who ever resisted
the change.

He knelt beside the visitor, his hands wrapped around her thin
shoulders.  His entire frame shook from sobs, and in one strange
moment when my human nature collided with the new mindset, I felt
deep sorrow and envy.

***

I stood in front of the broad-shouldered blonde man, who was
apparently trying to hide his companions.  The sunrays obscured my
vision, but I didn't bother to make out their features. Inconsequential
humans, that's all they were - unless we could bring them into our
fold.  Surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, I knew we were invincible. 
These three held no threat.

"Mulder," the man smiled at me as if we were old acquaintances.  "We
hoped we'd find you here."

"And so you have," I replied, returning the gesture. I wondered if my
expression prompted fear, for he fought with an apparent impulse to
turn around and run.  "We always give a warm welcome to our
visitors."

"Gail," I motioned to one of the women standing close by.  "Why don't
you show our hospitality to this man?"

She walked the few inches between them, a smile gracing her
attractive face.  The intruder's gaze, however, settled on her chest
instead.  Thus, it was without a warning that her lips locked with his,
in what seemed to be a match made in heaven itself.

He moaned, as if in agony.   In a moment, the barrel of a
semi-automatic weapon was pointed at Gail's head - needlessly, it
seemed.  For she dropped her prey, repulsed, and stepped back.  My
eyes posed a silent question as she walked by me.

"He's damaged," was all she'd say, and I had but a few seconds to
ponder her words.

The hand that held the gun was lowered slowly, and I was suddenly
face to face with the woman that I used to know well and cared for once
upon a time.

"Scully," I nodded in acknowledgment. The gun clattered to the
ground, and I registered dully the way the sun danced on the polished
metal, simultaneously trying to remember what color her hair used to
be before.  Gray seemed wrong for her, really wrong.

"Mulder, it's you," she extended her hand, and I stepped back,
suddenly frightened.  The memories of pain and horror teemed inside
my mind, screaming to me of the danger that this woman signified.

"It's all right," Scully nodded encouragingly and took a step towards
me.  "You don't have to be afraid of me," her lips trembled.  "I'm not
afraid of you.  Not anymore.  I removed the chip, we can't hurt each
other."

I shook my head, still in the grip of fear. Her words, something about
faith and trust, registered only barely in my ears. 

"Mulder, you must remember me. I know you do, just look at me!"

I closed my eyes, unwilling to see her, already numb to the plea I
heard in her voice.  She was once an agent of the gray warriors,
masquerading as a human.  She couldn't be trusted.

Ted had asked us to forget our meaningless lives, to sacrifice our old
memories for a greater purpose.  I had to be worthy of the honor
bestowed upon me.

When I faced her again, she seemed a stranger.  It was meant to be
that way.  Every day, I took a new lesson in becoming someone else,
someone better - a perfect soldier for the winning army  And I knew
that I was strong enough now to resist the human emotions that
brewed a storm in the back of my mind.

"Are you willing to join us?" I asked her coldly and took a step 
forward, no longer afraid.

"Join you?" the gray-haired woman shook her head, as if not
understanding. She was now walking backwards, without even realizing 
it.

Still, I admired her acting skills.  Surely, she should have known by 
now what awaited her.  "Will you become one of the soldiers destined 
to rid the Earth of the gray warriors and of their agents?" I paused 
and lunged forward, only a few inches remaining between us.  "Or, do 
you wish to resist us?"

"Mulder," Her palms were turned up in supplication.  I wondered if we
really wanted this woman in our ranks - she seemed weak, and
unworthy.  But it was either that or kill her, and something inside of
me, something I didn't want to examine, abhorred the latter choice.

"Enough," I stopped my thoughts, disgusted, prepared to finish this
charade once and for all.  "Hold him," I commanded a few people to 
capture the blonde man who watched our strange dance from the 
sidelines. 

Her eyes were clouded with fear but she didn't protest when my mouth 
touched hers, and my fingers registered the electric shock flowing 
through her small body. She even gasped softly as my arms went around 
her. 

"Mulder!" I heard someone's exclamation. I had no desire to turn 
around and release her.

But before I could take her breath, I felt strong hands pulling her 
away from my grasp.  Angered, I raised my head to see the blonde man,
now free. 

"Mulder, you're ill," he spoke urgently, suddenly all business. "Trust
me, trust her, you don't know what she had to go through to find you. 
You *must* come with us."

"Who are you?" I asked him scornfully.  "And how dare you
interfere?"

"Jack Smith," he replied. The small woman seemed a limp rag doll in 
his arms. "It's not important.  God Dammit, how can I make you see 
that this is all wrong!"

"Mulder, would you just turn around!" I recognized Spender's voice and
cursed him for a hundredth time. It was he who distracted the soldiers
who held Jack. It was he who was responsible for our failure to 
convert them.

"What is it, Spender?" I replied, not bothering to turn around.

"Mulder, please," he begged.  "Jody has just collapsed.  We must get
her to a doctor."

I faced him finally, wearily wondering what else could go wrong
today.  Diana and he stood close together, like the partners they were
never meant to be.  They carried Jody in their hands, gently lowering
her to the ground.  "What's wrong with her?" I approached, touching
her burning face.

"We have a car," Diana offered, her tone almost casual.  "We could
drive her to the nearest hospital."

"No one is going anywhere," I spoke, steel in my words.  "Take their
keys away and burn the vehicle.  They will all be staying here," I
directed the nearest soldiers, then faced the humans again.  "Scully is
a doctor, isn't she?"

Spender's gaze traveled to where I had left Jack and Scully, and he
shook his head sadly.  "I don't think she's in any condition to be
attending patients today."

Confused, I glanced at the scene I just left. The small woman swayed
unsteadily, her hands wrapped around her chest as if to quell the pain. 
Jack hovered over her ineffectually, obviously lost and unsure of what
to do.  I pitied him somewhat.  I pitied  her.  Had she surrendered to
us, had she become one of the soldiers of our great army, she'd not be
feeling whatever distress she was suffering from right now.

Humans had entirely too many emotions to contend with.

End of Part 5/9