From: ANNAOTTO1@aol.com
Date: Thu, 15 Jul 1999 04:55:14 EDT
Subject: xfc NEW "The Second Ones 3" 6of9 by A.Otto & R.Ehrentreu
Source: xfc

From: ANNAOTTO1@aol.com

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

Part 6/9

Scully:

I could only stare in mute horror, could not comprehend what I had 
seen, what had happened. The entire situation was so surreal that 
I could almost pretend that it was nothing more than a bad dream.

"Take away their guns, lock them up downstairs. Scully will tend 
after Jody." He paused for a moment and then stared right at me, 
his cold eyes cutting through my heart.  "If Jody dies...they all 
die."  He picked up my gun from the floor and pocketed it.

The leader, for I could no longer think of him as anyone else, 
then motioned to four willing slaves and they unceremoniously led 
me, Diana, and Jack with Jody in his arms to the basement of the 
meeting place.  After placing medical supplies inside the door, 
they left us alone in the concrete bunker.

I knew what was expected of me and I knew that our lives were at 
stake, but all I wanted to do was slide down the wall and forget.  
I thought nothing could be worse than his hatred - but I was wrong. 
Indifference was more painful than I could have imagined.

Luckily, I could see that Jack was already looking at Jody's body 
- he must have had some medical experience. I brushed the back of 
my neck, encountering the white gauze.  My life was in danger in 
more ways than one.  And what did I gain by removing the chip? 
The chance to let my companions die? Or maybe just the ability to 
close a chapter in my life forever?  

The leader's voice was devoid of all emotion except anger, and 
even that was a pale shadow of his former self.  And I meant 
nothing to him -- just one more slave to be added to his minions. 
I wasn't even sure who the man standing in front of me was -- 
because he couldn't have been Mulder, he couldn't have.

When he lowered his lips to mine, I didn't see his chest move, I 
didn't hear his breath against my cheek. And then, he was somehow 
choking me to death. I'd thought of him kissing me before, our 
lips, teeth, and tongues clashing in one inevitable moment, but 
this was a sick parody of a kiss.  He was so cold and mechanical - 
and the spirit, the passion that I'd always admired in him...were 
non-existent.  Jack pulled me away just in time, when I felt 
myself starting to fade. 

"Agent Scully." 

I realized I had been leaning against the wall and staring into 
space.  My hands wouldn't stop shaking, and I needed to lie down 
or get as far away from this town as humanly possible.  I 
couldn't bring myself to care about what happened to any of the 
mindless slaves or my companions or Jody or the leader...I just 
wanted to go home.  

I gave in to the temptation and slid down to the stone floor, 
resting my elbows on bent knees.  One thought kept repeating like 
a chant, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone...and I 
couldn't keep my sorrow inside anymore.  Tears dripped onto my 
exposed arms, and I didn't try to stop them.  Even his death 
would be preferable to what I had just witnessed.  

In a cruel twist of fate, I could hear his voice through the 
concrete - or maybe it was just running through my head.  I tried 
to conjure up memories that were less traumatic: our first cases 
together, times when we had small victories, that time when he 
held me when I needed comfort during my cancer, and when I opened 
my eyes in an Arctic hospital and saw him in the bed next to 
mine...but I couldn't make the images real.  I kept feeling the 
phantom pressure of his dispassionate lips against mine, and it 
made me numb to the core. 

"Agent Scully, we need you," the voice was closer this time, and 
I wondered what they wanted.

"I always thought he needed me," I whispered, unable to stop 
myself.

Jack knelt down next to me and awkwardly held my hand.  "If you 
don't help, this woman will die." And so will we, an unspoken 
fact.

Snippets of the Hippocratic Oath made its way though the fog in 
my mind, and I was suddenly struck by the image of Mark standing 
at his mother's grave and blaming me for the rest of his life. 
There were enough things to regret already.

I looked up reluctantly as Jack handed me a tissue.  I took it and
forced myself to stand, having to grab onto his arm for support. 
I balled my hand into a fist to stop its quaking.

"Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" I didn't have the strength to lie, but I walked 
over towards Jody without any support.  

"Keep cold compresses on her," I told Diana. "Get down that 
fever."

"But Dana, we can't tell if she's even alive."

"If she has a fever, then she obviously isn't dead."  I had no 
patience anymore and was already planning how to save Jody's life 
and then run far away.  

I briefly wondered if maybe the town was like that movie, 
"Invasion of the Body Snatchers," and the originals were 
somewhere else or dead...and I held onto this thought until 
later that night when Diana shook me awake.  Even in my dreams, 
I kept reliving that same scene over and over, only Jack didn't 
save me in time and I joined them...became cruel and uncaring. Or 
worse, I died, collapsing onto the ground as the leader smiled.

"She's breathing!" Diana announced when she saw that I was awake.

"What do you mean?" I sat up, instantly alert.

"I mean -- I don't think she's under their spell anymore."

And sure enough, Jody was sitting up in bed and I could hear the
gentle sound of her breathing in and out. I'd never heard such a
lovely melody. 

She blinked, looked around and then stared at me for a few 
moments before asking, "Where am I?"  

Her voice was unmistakably worried, and I was relieved to hear 
the underlying emotions.  I walked over to where Jack was lying 
down on his coat and whispered, "Jack, you have to see this - 
she's breathing."

He leapt up and ran over to Jody. "Of course," he smiled. "The 
fever is the organism leaving the body," he muttered to himself.

"What's the last thing you remember?" I asked Jody who stared at 
us in  confusion. I started to check her reflexes, pupils, 
everything that was customary to check after a patient recovered 
from a coma.  

"I was on the beach...and...Mulder? Where's Mulder?  And where 
are we?"  

"We've been imprisoned by the people upstairs.  Mulder... is 
their leader," Jack explained, casting a worried look in my 
direction.  

"Where's Spender?" Jody asked immediately.

"We don't know," he admitted.

"Mark! Is my baby safe? Is he here? I saw him here...I did, he 
was here and I tried to find him and..."

"He's back in D.C. with your father," Diana answered.

"No - that's impossible, he was right here!  I followed him to 
the edge of the sand.  But that's when he changed into..." she 
bit her lip and looked down.

"Who?" Diana prodded gently. I forced myself to pay attention, 
even  though I didn't really care about the answer.

"I can't explain it.  One moment he was my son and the next 
thing I knew, my ex-husband was grabbing me."

I stared at her without comprehension. How was that possible? 
What the hell was going on here?

"What day is it?" she asked after a moment, still looking around
anxiously.

Diana told her and Jody gasped softly. "No... the last date I 
remember was days ago...what happened?"

"You won't remember anything from that time - you were 
technically dead," Jack answered, and I wondered what else he 
wasn't telling me.

"I was dead?" she whispered, her eyes dilating with shock.

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly.

"How...how...how is that...You! I remember you from before - who 
are you?" she pointed at me, slightly nervous.

"My name is Dana Scully," I answered after a few seconds, 
surprised by her question.  

"You were at the hospital...visiting Mulder," she recollected, 
pushing back a strand of dark hair.  "You were his friend?"

I still remembered the time when I met her, falling down on the 
hospital's linoleum floor, listening to the screams around me.  
But it felt like a lifetime ago, everything was so different 
now.  She stared at me expectantly and I couldn't speak.  My 
mouth felt dry, and I was forced to look away.

"We're all his friends," Jack told her after a moment, "We only 
want to help him.  Can you help us?"

"Help you how?"

"You somehow broke their control over you - we need to know how 
you did it."

Jody seemed lost momentarily. "I miss it," she whispered sadly.

"What?" Diana looked at her strangely.

"That soft voice in my head, the ability to read thoughts, shared
consciousness, the visions and dreams which I lived with for so 
long and now no longer see."

"But do you know how you escaped their power?" Jack asked softly.

She shook her head slightly, and I heard someone trying to open 
the door.  We all turned around nervously, except for Jody who 
looked down at her arms, running her fingers over the partly 
healed scars.

This was it - they were going to kill us, or make us all 
undergo the change.  At the very least, those who were resistant 
would be killed.  I could easily see us being led out to a firing 
squad, and the leader would probably be the one to give the order.  

I was not afraid to die or maybe I was so numb that I couldn't 
bring myself to be scared. It was somehow ironic that I survived 
abductions, cancer, numerous serial killers, attempts on my life 
by a shadow government, a virus, and the Arctic cold, only to die 
finally by his command.

I took a step back involuntarily. No, I wouldn't give up without 
a fight. Automatically, I went for my holster, surprised when I 
encountered nothing but an empty case.  Hand to hand combat it 
would be then. I stared at the door and waited for the fight to 
begin.

***

"She's awake?" the man stepped through the door, and I recognized 
him after a moment - no, this wasn't the one who would come to 
bring us to our doom.  

"Spender - what are you doing here?" I was secretly relieved but
refused to show it.

"I was sent to check on her condition," he said, moving awkwardly 
towards her.

"She's not one of them anymore - you can go back and tell your 
leader that," I spat, but he seemed to pay hardly any attention 
to me. 

Immediately, he turned to Jody. "You're okay?" he whispered 
happily, holding her hand and watching her chest rise and fall.  

She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "I'm no longer one of 
them, Jeffrey." 

He smiled widely, the first smile I'd actually seen on him.  
"That's the best news I've heard in weeks."

"She's fine, you can leave now.  Run back and report your 
findings to your leader."

He faced me, replying firmly, "Mulder's not my leader, I'm not 
here by choice.  I'm as much a prisoner as you are."

"Why should we believe you?" I asked.  Spender might not have 
been responsible for everything that happened, but I needed to 
place the blame on someone.

"Because he's telling the truth," Diana walked over and put her 
hand on my shoulder.  "Dana, he's not on their side.  When 
everyone was distracted, I tried to get away and he begged me to 
take him with us.  But then Jody collapsed, and I helped him 
carry her.  No one under their power would have cared about 
anyone enough to get her to safety."

Spender nodded, "They tried to convert me, I resisted them...
somehow I'm immune. I'd be dead now if not for Jody, who 
convinced Mulder that a human could be a helpful thing to have 
around."

That was impossible. A human?  That meant the people in the hall 
above were....not people, but aliens.  I could not accept that.

"I don't believe you.  You're lying, it's impossible."

"I know you don't believe in aliens, Scully. I didn't either
until I saw what happened to Jody and Mulder...there is no other
explanation.  We cannot exist without oxygen -- and yet everyone 
upstairs never takes a breath.  Their meetings are all about how 
this is a war with Earth in the middle.  And they have to rid our 
planet of the gray warriors and their agents," he threw me a 
nervous glance.  "They would only have to give up their own 
lives and memories."

"That would explain a lot," Jack walked towards him, having 
silently watched until now.  "What else do you know?"

Spender looked relieved that someone was finally listening to 
him.  "They don't see like we do...Jody said my eyes were white. 
They steal your breath.  Their kiss is deadly."

"Then they are already gone...there is no cure, no way back. 
They're emotionally and physically dead," I whispered, saying 
aloud what I had been thinking for hours.

"But Jody recovered!  And they're not emotionally dead...they're 
still there, somewhere.  Mulder's not completely lost," Spender 
replied with conviction.

"He's right, Dana -- she defeated them, it's possible that..."

"That wasn't Mulder.  The man that I worked with for six years 
would never have acted that way." I felt a twinge of pain at his 
name.

"But, it's possible to cure them -- Jody did recover," Jack 
reminded me once again.

"How? How did she recover? Waiting for these things to leave 
their human host is not science -- "

"I was too weak, or too strong," Jody interrupted and stood up 
shakily, taking a deep breath before continuing. "They promised 
peace and tranquility, freedom from the nightmares.  They only 
wanted us as soldiers."

"How did Fox become their leader?" Diana asked her.

"He wasn't - Ted was," Spender said quickly.

"Ted?"

Spender nodded. "He was just a teenager. His girlfriend, Leigh, 
came with him - but she was also immune.  She warned me and I 
didn't listen. All she wanted was to escape, but I wouldn't go 
with her. Ted killed her when she tried to run away, sucked the 
life out of her, choked her to death..." he closed his eyes, 
relieving the tragedy, and took a shuddering breath.  "Earlier 
today he was arguing with something I couldn't see - saying that 
he wanted to see her and then...he broke down."

"Are you saying that he's no longer under their control?" Jack 
asked.

"No...he is, but he snapped, he..." Spender looked over at Jody, 
"He keeps talking about lies and sobs that he wants to go home 
and that he misses Leigh.  They're deciding what to do with him. 
Either way, I don't think he'll live through the night."

"Why was Leigh killed?" Diana asked.

"She would have exposed them..."

"Fox didn't try to stop him?" For the first time during this 
hellish day, she appeared troubled. 

Spender laughed bitterly. "Mulder helped him."

"Jody," Jack addressed the thin woman on the bed, once again. 
"Can you think of anything, anything at all that would 
differentiate you from the rest of the people upstairs? Why did 
you recover and not anyone else?"

Jody shook her head helplessly.

Spender raised his voice. "This isn't the time to think about it. 
If you want to live, you have to escape - when they see that Jody 
isn't under their control anymore, your lives are worthless."

"Spender's right, we have to get out of here.  We're no use to 
anyone locked up in this bunker," Jack agreed reluctantly.

"Do you have a plan?" I asked, and everyone turned to look at
Spender expectantly.

"It's not much of a plan," he grinned slightly. "I distract their
attention. You run like hell."

For all his bravado, I could detect an edge of anxiety in his 
voice. What he was suggesting would get us to safety, but only 
at the price of him staying behind. I didn't want to even think 
of what would happen to him after our escape was discovered.

"I can't accept that." He met my gaze head-on, and I tried to 
stare him down. "We can't allow you to sacrifice yourself."

"Agent Scully," Jack's hand fell on my shoulder. "Agent Scully, 
I don't think we have a choice."

"He will be able to catch up to us," Diana's confident voice 
joined in the chorus. "We'll wait for you at the motel at the 
edge of town."

Spender nodded at her vaguely and gave me a shaky smile. "It will 
be fine."

They were right. There was no one else who could fulfill his 
role.

"How will you distract them?" I asked him, disquiet settling 
inside of me.

He looked away, his eyes settling on the pile of medical 
supplies for some reason. "That's not important."

I was out of arguments.

And out of time.

"Be careful, Spender," I shook his hand.


Spender:

I glanced at Jody - a woman who once gave me what could have 
become a kiss of death. Now, unaffected by the alien presence, 
she appeared as human and vulnerable as everyone else in this 
room.

There was another possible reason why she was back to normal.

I could view it simply as a virus, a virus that I was immune to. 
A virus that I was certain I'd killed just by kissing Jody.

What would happen if I kissed the morphing shadow that caused it 
all, the source of this virus?

They would be destroyed. I might be killed by the orders of 
Mulder once he realized what was wrong, but it would be worth 
it.

It would avenge the death of Leigh, and Scully's red-rimmed 
eyes.  It would stand for all the unsent letters of Jody to 
Mark, and for hundreds of human lives already lost in this war. 
This madness would be over, and all would be well again.

I shook Scully's hand, feeling a prickle behind my eyelids. 
Then, I turned to the pile of medical supplies on the floor. 
Sharp, clean blades - just what I needed. I grabbed some 
Extra-strength Tylenol - a decoy for their eyes. I made a show of 
opening the bottle with geltabs and swallowing a couple. "I've 
had a killer headache for days," I smiled self-deprecatingly. 

The pills tasted bitter as they went down. Not enough to 
alleviate the sudden terrible pain in my chest. Not nearly 
enough to restore my peace of mind. 

"The door is open," I put the keys in my pocket. "Remember what 
they've taught you at the Academy and...other places. Jack," I 
addressed the tall man whose gaze kept wandering in Scully's 
direction. "Take care of them."

Up the stairs, into the brightly lit room and the darkness that 
awaited me.  I carried with me the snapshot of their faces, 
ignorant of my decision, and sharp blades hidden between my 
fingers. Just before I opened the door, I placed a blade inside 
of my mouth. It tasted of rust and upcoming suffering.

I cut.

Immediately, blood flooded my mouth, and I swallowed back the 
scream.

My palm closed over the blade convulsively. I'd use it again, 
later.

I stepped towards the last hour of my life.

* * *

"Why have you been absent for such a long time?" Mulder asked 
sharply from the stage.

"Jody wanted to speak with me," I replied, walking towards him.

"She's awake then?" he displayed no sign of pleasure at the news. 
"What did she say?"

"Jody wanted to tell me how wonderful it was to be among you," I 
tried to appear earnest. If this questioning went on for too 
long, my discomfort while speaking would be noticed. "I'm tired 
of resisting," I pushed ahead with conviction. "I want to be with 
you, to experience the freedom you spoke of. To rid the Earth of 
the evil influence."

He nodded, considering. "But it didn't work the last time we 
tried to change you. It may not work now."

The notion that Mulder the human and Mulder the alien were 
equally paranoid would have been amusing at any other time. "It 
was but a newly changed human performing the task," I shrugged. 
"But if I communed with one who is pure, who is the essence of 
salvation itself, I'm certain that I'd become one of this great 
army."

Sometimes, I thought in a burst of morbid humor, it did help to 
listen  in on the meetings and do my homework. The nonsense words 
that I didn't want to understand until now were falling off my 
tongue as easily as the drops of blood were streaming down my 
throat this very minute.

I saw Mulder turn to the shadow and whisper something. Instead of 
receiving any meaningful answer, I sensed it approaching me, 
settling against my skin like a whisper of freezing wind. I 
opened my mouth, leaning into its lethal touch.

My fingers pressed the blade into my palm deeply, and the blood 
that gushed from my hand didn't fall on the floor but appeared 
to melt into the air as the alien presence absorbed it.

The sensation of cold was gone gradually, and I fought with blood 
that was now in my air passages, gagging me. Mulder watched me - 
then the bloodied shadow - with a distinct look of horror. "What 
has he done?" he cried out. "What has he done?"

Dimly, I turned to the audience, the great sea of the alien 
soldiers watching the spectacle with interest. Watch, I wanted 
to shout with bravado, and rejoice. For this is the blood that 
will avenge your souls.

The gun in someone's hand was no surprise. 

I staggered forward, trying not to fall head-down and become 
food for the swarm of wolves beneath me.

The order to seal off any passages out of the building was 
blissfully late in coming. 

The pain that hit me in the chest was too fresh, too agonizing 
to bear, and I gave in to the impulse to fall, to forget. 

I was glad it wasn't Mulder who squeezed the trigger. I couldn't 
take it. I couldn't.

The lights grew bright, then dimmed around me. 

I never wanted to be a hero. I never pictured myself as a martyr, 
some distant legend that lived on while my body disintegrated in 
the ground. I wanted to be a part of something more than this.

But I might have been the only one among humans who wouldn't be 
missed when I died.

With something approaching panic, I thought of my mother whom I'd 
never find. 

Why did my fingers hurt more than the gaping wound in my chest?

Death was still not coming, and I prepared to close my eyes and 
wait for her to take me. It wouldn't be long now, if there was 
still mercy in this world.

The last thing I saw was the alien, now clearly defined in a 
tinge of red, running from the stage. Mulder was following it. 
I opened my mouth to shout to him, to remind him of who he used 
to be, but all that came out was a gurgling sound as my lifeblood 
rushed out in a stream.

End of Part 6/9


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

Part 7/9

Diana:

We heard the screams above in the hall, and I quickly 
realized it was time to escape.  

"That's our cue," Jack said, still trying to pretend to 
be a movie hero.  

Dana nodded and exchanged a look with Jody, who smiled 
slightly in return.  

"Can you run?" Dana asked her.

Jody nodded, and looked determinedly towards the unlocked 
door. 

Jack took the lead, even though I scored higher than he 
did in hand to hand combat.  We all lined up against the 
wall. 

"There's no one out there," he whispered surprised.  "I 
wonder how Spender did it."

"Is he okay?"  Jody asked, concern clear in her voice.

"He'll be fine," I lied. "We have to get out of here."

"We can't just leave him."

"He asked us to," Jack reminded her. "We have no choice."

"He'll meet us at the motel," Dana said, remembering the 
rendezvous spot.

Jack slowly opened the door, and we walked down the corridor 
towards the stairs. After we passed an equipment storage room, 
I realized that we were in the basement of a school, and had 
been just locked in a fallout shelter.  

We walked up the concrete stairs, shocked at the absolute 
silence above us. A sign at the top of the stairs announced 
in shocking red letters, EXIT.  The door pushed open easily 
and we were in a hallway.

"Classrooms," Dana whispered and we walked on the linoleum 
tiled floor towards the main entrance.  I could tell she was 
thinking about the children and teenagers that used to run 
down these empty hallways.  

"I'm sure they escaped in time," Jack said, trying to reassure 
her, but it was an empty comfort.

We passed ripped bulletin boards as we ran and torn artwork 
adorned the walls.  "These kids could have been my son's 
friends..." Jody realized as we hit the doors and exited 
into the night air. 

"Daddy!" I heard before the gunfire erupted.

***

It was all going to hell.  I saw Jody collapse into Dana's 
arms and immediately sensed the gravity of the situation.  
Larson was running towards us and a strong sense of 
self-preservation suddenly came over me.  

I knew that Jack had called Larson before we entered the town, 
the same way I had called my boss to let him know what was 
transpiring.  Did this old fool Larson really believe that we 
could negotiate and live peacefully with these violent 
creatures?  Did he actually think they had anything but our 
destruction on their minds?  I guess some people never learned.
  
At least my boss understood the situation and I knew what had 
to be done.  Dana tried to stop the inevitable and argued with 
Larson, a stupid move after the man had just seen his precious 
daughter die. I probably should have let him shoot her - but 
held her back before she could be killed by one of the gun- 
toting soldiers.   After all, my mission did not include 
letting her die, and she could be an asset.

Larson turned around and I took the opportunity to run away.  
The people under alien control shot back at the soldiers and 
then suddenly, started falling, grasping their heads.  Jack was 
busy taking care of Dana, and Larson was not paying attention.  
I didn't stay long enough to see what was happening - I just 
ran.  I reached the motel and realized this was the perfect 
opportunity to grab the chip.  Dana's safety was not at all 
important to me anymore.  My boss would be quite pleased that 
I was able to regain control of the situation.  It really was 
the perfect solution -- it would give us power over her, over 
Fox, and it would become the price she would exact when this 
was all over. We wouldn't lose anything for our troubles. 

I could still hear the thunder of bullets, even though I was 
at least two miles away - but it didn't matter.  I opened the 
door and quickly searched through my jewelry box - Jack had 
said keep it in a safe place and even I wasn't foolish enough 
to bring it into that town.  My fingers soon brushed against 
a small metal circle and I grinned triumphantly as I pulled it 
out of the case.  Much ado about nothing, was all I could think 
as I slipped it into my pocket. 

"That's not yours," someone growled behind me and I turned 
around, even though I knew who it was.

"Jack, don't you know by now that I take what I want?"  I purred, 
backing up towards the bed, trying to feel for my spare gun.

"You'll kill her," he reminded me needlessly. 

"Why do you care what happens to her?"  How did this woman keep 
becoming the most important person in so many lives?

"Maybe because she is honest, loyal, determined and brilliant -- 
things I could never say about you," he sneered. 

I was taken aback and hurt by his comments but refused to show 
it. "Oh, so it's a personal thing." 

He shook his head slightly. "Diana, you're the reason I'm in 
this condition - do you know the hell I went through because 
you left me behind?" He stalked towards me, hatred clear on 
his face. 

"It's just business Jack, nothing personal, that's something 
you never understood."

"I wonder what it's like to be without a heart."

I laughed, "Oh God, you're one to talk.  I've seen the 
assassinations you've participated in - the butchery.  I know 
how many people you killed and silenced - don't lecture me 
about feelings."

"But I did feel remorse...and I try not to do that anymore."

"So you've decided to use Dana as your savior?  And I saw the 
way you were looking at her.  Do you really think you'd ever 
have a chance with her? Besides, you don't need to get your 
hands dirty now that you're playing with the big boys like 
Larson.  But," I altered my voice seductively, "I'm a woman, 
and we have to be more vicious to command respect and higher 
positions."

"That's a tired excuse, especially in these days.  Larson is 
dead and you were just going to run away now -- like always.  
I really think you just like tearing people's hearts out - like 
mine - like Mulder's.  You destroyed him and you barely even 
gave it a second thought." 

"You don't know anything..."

"I've watched the tapes.  And I know firsthand how you are.  
Dammit, you left me behind the fucking enemy lines Diana, just 
ran off, and I was captured looking for you.  Have you ever 
been exposed to poison gas?" he asked dangerously.  

I shook my head and searched more frantically for the gun. 

"I've never been in such throes of sickness and pain and when 
they released me finally -- when they couldn't get any more 
information out of me -- the first thing I did was try to find 
you. Imagine my surprise to find out you were in D.C., with 
him -- and were posing as an FBI agent this time." 

"You're living in the past, a very dangerous habit, as I'm sure 
you know.  And this from someone who doesn't even use their real
name."

"Like Diana is yours?  Just give me the chip, do one right 
thing..."

"You think she'll survive?  You might have even killed her 
yourself accidentally -- injecting chemicals into people that way.  
Jody is dead. Fox will probably die too and, if everyone is gone, 
then this chip is just a worthless piece of metal."

"She's safe, Diana, trust me on this.  Just...give me the chip 
and we can both walk out of here alive - go our separate ways."

I decided to change my tactics, stall for more time.  "I know 
you're poised to take over Larson's spot...I know you need help, 
I have information, resources. Remember Paris, Jack?"  

He glared at me, and my hand finally encountered cold metal. 
Unfortunately, Jack had his spare ready and we were soon in 
a standoff. 

All I could do was regret that I hadn't shot him earlier. This 
was a no win situation. 

"Diana, hand over the chip and no one gets hurt."

"Maybe I want you to get hurt.  Besides, if I give you the chip, 
then this mission has accomplished nothing. We only gained a few 
corpses."

"God dammit, why do you hate her so much, Diana? Do you really 
want to see her die of some hideous disease?  Is it because she 
represents something you could never be?"

"Really, what's that?"

"Admired." 

I shot him square in the chest and smiled slightly as he fell, 
but his finger pressed on the trigger...I didn't think he had 
enough time, it's cold, the world is fading, it's cold, I can't 
see...I can't...


Scully:

I opened my eyes slowy and listened to the absolute 
and deathly silence.  I looked around and realized I was 
back in the underground bunker.  Great, what happened now? 
I tried to sit up and failed miserably, so I let myself 
lie down for a few more moments. 

I was in no hurry to start my new life.  

How the hell did I get here? There was a tender bruise on 
my arm and I quickly pieced together what happened.  

We had escaped just as Larson's team had arrived.  Jody ran 
out towards her father, but I watched helplessly as she was 
caught in the crossfire, her body jerking and finally 
falling in a heap on the ground.  I jumped out and held her. 
She died in my arms and there was nothing I could do. My 
hands were covered in her blood, and there were more holes 
in her body than I could have ever repaired -- even in a 
hospital.

"Tell...Mark," she had coughed violently, "I love him...
and...I'm sorry," she had whispered and went limp in my 
arms.  

"Jody! No!" Larson shouted and ran over to check on her 
himself, barely even fazed by the gunfight blazing a few 
feet away.

"She's dead," I had admitted softly and he backed up in 
disbelief. A look of cold fire entered his eyes - the 
hatred I hadn't seen before reflected in them.

"Burn this place," he ordered the soldiers curtly. "Kill 
them all."

"But, sir, they could get better..."

"They're all liabilities and know too much - they must be 
silenced."

"No!" I screamed and tried to grab him, but Diana held me 
back.  "Jack, don't let him do this."

"It's out of my hands, Agent Scully," he said sadly and I 
knew he felt guilty that he was unable to help.

"Jody, my little angel...my little girl..." Larson was 
sobbing openly as the shooting went on.

"Sir! Please reconsider! You can't kill all these people...
they have families, they have lives."

"Consider yourself lucky that I'm letting you live," 
Larson replied and stared at Jack.

After a moment, Jack nodded and walked towards me.  He 
grabbed my arm tightly, "I'm sorry, but orders are orders," 
he said, lifting his other hand. I saw a brief flash of 
metal and felt a burning sensation through my body.  He 
picked me up as I started to fall and I knew he was 
carrying me somewhere.  But everything was so hazy, and 
the world kept going in and out of focus.  

"Jack," I'd managed to say, feeling betrayed somehow, but 
it was too large an effort and I finally gave up the fight 
of consciousness, surrendering to the cool, dark, unknown.

Well, that explained how I wound up here.  But I still 
couldn't make myself move.  All that lay out there was my 
new life, which would most likely find me working in a 
hospital somewhere.  Who was I kidding?  After all I'd 
seen, after realizing that the aliens existed, I couldn't 
deny that anymore -- there truly was no other explanation, 
I had to try to stop the colonization.  I could easily see 
myself working for the underground, away from authority, 
far away from the FBI.  No matter what happened, the FBI 
didn't figure in my future anymore  -- I couldn't continue 
working on the X-Files, not when every file would only remind 
me of what I had lost. I also couldn't bear the thought of 
another partner.

But, Dana, my sensible side reminded me, if you don't move 
you'll starve or die of dehydration.  I groaned softly and 
crawled on my arms over to the door.  Stand, I commanded my 
body, but it refused to obey.  Stand, and the minute we get 
back to civilization I'll give you Ben and Jerry's, I 
promised and that made it move.  I wobbled slightly and 
leaned against the wall for support. 

I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for 
stepping through the door.  I turned the handle and 
blinked at the bright light.

***

Absolute destruction greeted me as I climbed up to the 
ground.  Any recognizable structure was gone and if I was 
told that a bomb had been dropped and I was the only 
survivor -- I would have believed it.

The landscape was flat, desolate, and full of burnt husks 
of building as far as the eye could see.  The cement streets, 
at one time spotless, were now lined with ash and random 
belongings.

No signs of life, hell, not even grass remained.  The only 
clue to what happened lay in the splatters of red I found 
near the main road and my own blood-caked hands and clothing.  

I saw Larson's lifeless body lying close to Jody's, a gun 
in his hands. I knelt down and closed his eyes, paying my 
last respects to the man who probably didn't deserve them.

I felt sticky and filthy and had to at least wash my hands.  
I waded along the shoreline and then knelt down, the cold 
water shocking me slightly.  I knew what had happened, had 
heard it being planned -- everyone in the town was dead.  
I dipped my hands into the water and wrung them like Lady 
Macbeth. Now, more than one person's death was on my 
conscience.  This was the first water I'd touched in...at 
least a day, if you didn't count the bottle of Evian I'd 
downed on the way to the town.  The water looked so inviting, 
and my own reflection so horrifying that I dove in to try to 
clean up some more.  

I waded further in and then swam. The baptism aspects of 
my actions were not intentional, but the symbolism didn't 
escape me.  After a few minutes, I knew I had to leave the 
ocean before the current carried me further from shore.

I crawled out of the ocean and lay, breathing deeply, on 
the hot sand, which stuck to my hair and skin.  The sun was 
higher than before and I squinted and pushed myself further 
up the bank, but the beach was more comfortable than anywhere 
I'd been in days and I didn't want to move.  

Being near the ocean always made me nostalgic and my memories 
immediately transported me back to my childhood.

When I was younger, Melissa and I would swim in the ocean 
and then run up on the sand and collapse on our towels.  
We'd sit in the sun until mom came over with a large bottle 
of suntan lotion, which she'd insist we cover ourselves with.  
Mom didn't want me getting sunburn.  But one time while we 
went through the torture of sticking to everything with our 
slimy fingers, Melissa picked up a shell and told me an idea 
she'd heard once upon a time.

Shells are souls crying for their lost love, she'd said and 
I'd scoffed at her. Shells always just sounded like 
crashing waves to me. I'd still never heard one that 
sounded even the tiniest bit sad.  But, as I lay on that 
beach, letting the painful memories of the past few weeks 
sink into the sand, I spied a shell.

I pushed myself a little further and grabbed it and held 
it to my ear.  Its rough surface scraped my fingers, but 
its sound was so mournful that tears sprung to my eyes.  
Melissa was right.

I closed my eyes and let sleep cover me like a wave.

***

I felt strong hands cradling my head and I knew I had to 
open my eyes eventually.  I didn't want to leave the 
peaceful still slightly hazed with drugs world of sleep, 
but I had no choice.  The dream was so wonderful that I 
didn't want to wake up, because I knew who I would see 
and there was only one person I wanted to see - I would 
be disappointed.  He was most likely dead, or at least 
far enough away that it didn't matter anymore.

"Jack?" I whispered, expecting his already familiar 
greeting of "Agent Scully," when instead, a different voice 
answered.

"Who?"

My eyes snapped open and I stared into cold, dark, eyes...
it wasn't over yet.  I backed up quickly, my hands slipping 
on the unsteady surface, falling in my haste to get away.  
"Get away from me!" I yelled, no, they wouldn't take me - 
they wouldn't get me, I wouldn't lose myself.  "Leave me 
alone," I whispered and tried to stand, but my bare feet 
didn't give me enough leverage.

The figure looked at me strangely and I finally managed to 
stand. "I won't let you hurt me again," I started running 
towards town - cursing my bare feet as the gravel and 
cement cut into my sole. I winced with each step, but I 
couldn't slow down, couldn't stop -- If I did, I was dead.

It was no longer my decision, fate intervened in the form 
of a small obstacle which I tripped over and soon found 
myself on the ground, after a quick hiss of pain.  I 
mentally checked out my body, everything was in order, 
just a few cuts and scrapes to add to the collection.

But, he was getting closer and closer and his body soon 
blocked out the light. Still, I refused to give up.  I 
struck out - the aliens weren't that strong without their 
slaves behind them - and felt gratified when I saw my 
nails scratch his skin.   We rolled on the ground, each 
trying to get the upper hand, and I felt sure he was 
going to kill me.  Finally, he had me pinned and I made 
ready to swing at him again, but my hands were suddenly 
jerked up over my head, not unkindly.

He leaned towards me and I heard his shallow, panting 
breath loud in my ear.  Breathing, dear God...he was 
breathing.   "Scully, what's going on here?"

I blinked, and cold eyes were replaced by anxious and 
pained hazel.  He noticed my change of expression, let 
go, stood up and offered his hand to help me up. I stared 
for a few moments, still disbelieving what I was seeing 
and stood up on my own, not wishing to accept his help.

"Why did you run, Scully?"

I had no answer.  I still saw him as one of them, could 
not recognize his eyes or voice at first.

He looked down at the ground and then reluctantly at me, 
"When you said...that I won't ever hurt you again, did I 
hurt you?"  He looked at me with absolute concern and 
nervousness.  I knew he was looking at my torn, bloody, 
wet and sand-covered suit.

"Mulder...is that you?" I whispered.

He shrugged, perplexed. "Last time I checked." 

His eyes were still glued to the blood stains on my 
clothes, and I hastened to reassure him. "It's not my 
blood.  Mulder, it's Jody, I'm so sorry." Even though I 
didn't understand the bond the two of them had shared, I 
knew he cared for her and would be affected by her death.

But he only stared at me and asked calmly, "Is she dead?"

I nodded slightly and he bowed his head in understanding.  

"Did I -- hurt her?"

How could I explain it to him?  Tell him what happened, 
what he had become, what he had ordered.  "Not 
deliberately," I said finally. "Her death was an accident.  
She was caught in the crossfire."

"The crossfire? Scully, what happened here?"

"I can't explain what happened in this town, Mulder.  All 
I can say for certain is that you weren't yourself.  You 
were in some kind of trance or possibly under a form of 
alien control," I couldn't believe I had just said that, 
but it was about time I started admitting things to him.  

However, the minute he heard my words, his eyes opened 
wider and he started backing up.  "You can't be Scully..."

I had made a mistake. "Mulder..."

He reached out and gently touched my arm, then pulled away 
as if burnt.  "You're an illusion...this is all an illusion.  
I'm still under their influence.  You're only a dream, my 
mind has created you out of memories, and none of this is 
real."

"I am real!"  I couldn't believe this was happening, just 
when I thought the nightmare was over.

"No! I can touch you with no side effects, I'm able to 
think clearly for the first time in weeks, this isn't 
reality."

"Mulder, it's me.  I came here looking for you - traveled 
across the country looking for this place.  You haven't 
been yourself for days, but now you are.  They're gone, 
everyone is gone - you're the only survivor of whatever 
happened here."

"Scully would have never admitted to alien involvement -- 
that was your big mistake.  Any moment now the water will 
come rushing in, and the red rain will fall, and I'll be 
dragged under once again because this is only a dream. 
And when I wake up, I'll still be in the car or worse 
and far away from her," he said quickly and stared at 
me nervously, as if expecting me to change into something.
In his flushed face, I could see the signs of fever that 
was abating only now. Had he spent the entire night ill,
just like Jody, before he was finally free? Would it have
been all for nothing?

I was struck with the desire to either hug him or run 
away and both seemed viable options.  I couldn't take 
these mind games anymore, this feeling of unreality or 
reality masked as a dream.  Watching him like this was 
too painful.  There was nothing I could say or do to 
make him believe this was actually happening.  

"I am going to say this only once and then I am turning 
and going home because I can't take this anymore.  I am 
real, and this is reality.  I came here to find you, to 
save you if I could. The aliens are destroyed.  Everyone 
else is dead!  We're the only two people alive in this 
town.  Spender is gone, Jody is gone, the thousands of 
people that were here are all dead.  The ocean is clear, 
the sky is bright and sunny, and we've both survived by 
some twist of fate or God or a master plan, but we're 
alive!  If you refuse to believe that I'm here - that 
I exist, if you still think you're in a dream world, then 
maybe only I survived," I finally let the tears fall.

I closed my eyes because I couldn't face his reaction for 
the next thing I had to say.  "I didn't come all this way 
only to lose you to true madness.  If you insist on 
thinking that I'm not real, then I have no choice but to 
never see you again.  Because I can't take this anymore - 
you can't ask me to watch someone I care about fall apart 
again.  I risked my life to find you, I removed the chip 
in my neck so that I could convince you to come back with 
me - and it was all a waste," I whispered sadly and turned 
around.  I started walking away, tears streaking down my 
face, and each step was a struggle.

"Scully, wait," I heard after a minute.  I stopped.

I felt my hair being swept to one side and gentle fingers 
touching the white gauze over my neck. 

"You removed the chip," he said softly, horrified.

I turned around to face him.  "I had to.  This place would 
have destroyed me otherwise."

Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me close to him in a 
crushing embrace. I wrapped my arms around him and felt 
his chest rise and fall.  "You're real, you're real, you're 
real," he whispered to me over and over.  I nodded against 
him, the world was tilted back on its axis, the quicksand 
beneath my feet finally solidified, Mulder was himself again.  

We separated after a moment. His tear-filled eyes looked 
into mine. "Where is the chip now?"

"At the motel."

"Let's go find it."

We walked out of town together.

***

The door opened with the slightest push.  I turned on the 
overhead lights and gasped softly.  "Diana!"

Diana lay on the floor near the bed in a pool of blood, a 
neat bullet wound in her head.  Across from her, there was 
another vibrant red stain.  

Mulder looked at Diana's body sadly. "What happened?"

"I don't know," I replied in shock. "But somewhere in this 
room is the chip."

"Wait, her pocket was ripped open -- I don't think the 
chip is still here."

We searched for an hour or two anyway, after covering up 
Diana's body.   The only result of our search was a cell 
phone - Jack's cell phone, I recognized after a moment. 

"Call the police, Mulder.  Tell them that we have a dead 
body to report."

He nodded and dialed 911.  I sat staring at Diana's limp 
body, trying to think of a reasonable explanation.  I 
expected to hear police sirens, but instead, after a few 
minutes, I heard cars pull into the parking lot and a 
knock on the door.  

A man dressed in a white biohazard suit stood in front of 
me and looked at Mulder and I strangely.  "You'd better 
come with us," he said calmly.

Mulder reached out and grabbed my hand, the look in his 
eyes told me that everything was going to be okay.  I 
nodded and we walked towards the white quarantine vans.

End of Part 7/9


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

Part 8/9

Mulder

"Are you ready to go?" Scully's hand pressed against mine tentatively 
- as if she was still testing the waters, still unsure of the repercussions 
of this innocent gesture. 

A week, I thought sadly, smiling at her reassuringly. Give it another. 
"I've been ready after a day of this. 

The doors of the containment facility closed behind us, and I followed 
her to the rental car. She seemed frail, thinner than I'd last remembered 
seeing her. I caught up to her, avoiding the sight like a coward. 

The few weeks that we spent apart were a chasm between us - all the 
greater because I couldn't recall most of the events that transpired. 

"Scully," I faced her, the need to say the words almost unbearable. 
"Whatever happened... before...I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

She clutched the keys in her hand, squeezing them so hard that I was 
afraid of seeing blood. "I spoke to Skinner yesterday."

"Oh," I replied ineffectually, waiting for the verdict.

"He said that he would be very glad to see us back in Washington," 
Scully continued, still not looking at me. "So I guess we'd better 
hurry."

"Of course." I slid inside the car, somewhat relieved to see that the keys 
were now dangling from the ignition. 

After driving in silence for a few minutes, she pointed to her bag. 
"There is a brown envelope inside," she spoke quickly. "I doubted 
whether to show it to you, but... you will know eventually... and I..." 
she stopped abruptly, as if unable to continue.

Anxiously, I opened the envelope, pulling out a bunch of thin papers, 
stapled accurately in the corner. 

"Acuman, Allison," the first name leapt at me from the page. 
"Adelman, Robert. Adelman, Sonya."

"All the people who died in Freedom," Scully explained softly.

There were twelve pages. Eight hundred names. There were more who 
couldn't be identified. By the end of the list, I could no longer see, as if 
my prayer for temporary blindness had been granted - and the pages 
fluttered away from my hand, falling on the floor of the car. 

"I've killed them, Scully," I said bleakly. "I don't know how, but I've 
killed them."

She pulled over to the side of the highway, ignoring the angry beeps of 
cars flying by way above the speed limit. The silence that draped over 
us was gray, as if the rays of California sun couldn't penetrate it. 

"At the end of the war," Scully spoke distinctly, "it is customary to 
remember the victims - and to honor their memory. That's why I gave 
you that list."

At the end of every war, it was also customary to find the guilty parties 
and to judge their crimes. It was right for Scully to watch me in 
accusation, as she did when I found her on the beach - after waking up 
from what could have been a bad fever or another lifetime. Seeing a 
bright red spot of her hair in the white sand was the happiness I hadn't 
known in years. Seeing the hatred burst forth from her blue eyes when 
she didn't recognize me, was the terror that would haunt my dreams for 
a long time to come.

Somehow, I knew that drowning in the black ocean was mild compared 
to that.

More than ever, I wished that she were still armed when I discovered 
her. She could have inflicted a lot more damage with a gun. She could 
have carried out the perfect justice.

"I know that you blame yourself, Mulder. I know." Her hands lifted my 
head, as if begging me to face her. "But the influence of these beings is 
the real culprit - blame them, if you need to blame someone! Blame 
me, if you wish. If I hadn't led these soldiers there... if I hadn't been so 
selfish... perhaps these deaths could have been avoided."

"Don't say that, Scully," I shook my head. "Don't ever say that."

"And most of all," she continued, as if not hearing me, "I wish I'd 
believed you before. I wish..."

I draped my hands across her shoulders, knowing that I could never 
give her enough comfort. "I would have done the same in your place, 
Scully. All the same mistakes."

My fingers unconsciously found a spot on her lower neck where the 
chip used to be, and the gray air thickened around me. 

"Let's go home," she sighed and extricated herself from me. She 
grinned at me, establishing the mood for today: one of forced 
cheerfulness. 

I opened the window "Yes," I smiled obediently.

* * *

Two days later, I sat in my unchanged apartment, asking myself why 
did this keep happening. What forces beyond my control, what dark 
lines of my character, what fate always brought me back while others - 
enemies and friends alike - remained behind?

Jody and Spender both trusted me in their own ways, to make sure that 
wherever we went, we would survive and find something better. 
Instead, I was responsible for their deaths, just as I was responsible for 
the massacre of hundreds of innocents. 

Scully, the ever-present expression of concern on her face, sat in front 
of me. "Mulder, Skinner expected you to be at this morning's meeting."

"To have a chance for some face-to-face dressing down?" I asked.

"The X-Files are back in our control."

For what possible reason? All I knew was that I didn't belong in the 
FBI - or with the X-Files. If there was still justice in this world, I 
shouldn't have been given the chance to return. 

"Skinner wants our report on what happened in Freedom," Scully 
continued, nonplused by my silence.

I faced my partner, and the gentleness in her eyes only intensified my 
discomfort. "All I can tell you is that I came there with Jody and 
Spender. And then I woke up to find the town burnt to the ground, and 
my companions dead. Perhaps you'd better write this one."

"I will," she nodded easily. "And you have appointments to get re-
certified - so I guess our first day back will be shot."

I listened for a sign of strain in her voice and heard none. "Scully, don't 
you find it bizarre?"

"What?"

"I lose my sanity, threaten my supervisor with a gun, escape from a 
mental institution, participate in one of the most devastating mass 
killings... and then I simply go back to what I was before."

Her blue eyes watched me innocently, as if things like that happened 
every day and were perfectly normal. And a terrible suspicion settled 
inside of me - one that I couldn't voice - one that I couldn't escape. 

I'd never thought that I would come to this decision voluntarily. But 
apparently today was the day when I stepped over my love for my 
work, and my longing to be here - as Scully's partner, as an FBI agent. 
"I quit."

"Mulder, please, don't."

It was the softest whisper - and it would have been easier if she 
screamed at me in indignation. But the naked need and fear in her eyes 
left me powerless - and never more certain of the reason why I was 
given the second chance. "Scully, what have you done?" I kneeled 
beside her, making it impossible for her to escape. "Tell me - you can 
always tell me anything."

Her silence only confirmed what I was afraid of. "Scully," I repeated 
demandingly.

"You would have been prosecuted, Mulder. I - I would have to testify 
at your trial. You would have never been an FBI agent again."

"And it would have been right," I felt an urge to laugh at her words, if I 
could only get past the tears gathering in my eyes.

"No," she protested firmly. "The good that you will do while working 
for the FBI is immeasurable. I know that."

"What kind of a bargain was it? With whom?" I asked, knowing that I 
had to continue asking these questions in rapid fire, no matter how 
much it hurt to hear her answers, no matter how afraid I was of the next 
logical steps in this impromptu interrogation. 

"There was no bargain," Scully shrugged. "It was just a return of the 
favor."

I felt my shoulders starting to shake. I had no strength even to feel 
betrayed, for I'd lost the right to demand from others that which I no 
longer possessed: integrity. Only one terrible thought haunted me. 
"You asked for me to be reinstated in the X-Files when you could have 
asked for the chip?"

"I don't think they even had it."

I always won, haven't I? And the price that others were willing to pay 
for my victory was always more than I could handle. "Oh, Scully." 

She was silent for a long moment. "I need you to stay in the X-Files, 
Mulder," she spoke finally. "Please, stay with me."

After the eye of the hurricane, there always came the worst gust of 
wind, to blow away everything that one held dear.

My heart twisted, and I found myself nodding almost against my will. 
"Always."

* * *

Scully:

I left Mulder's apartment without a clear destination in mind. It seemed 
that my car had a mind of its own because by the time I noticed the 
street signs I saw my mom's white colonial house.

I tried to think back to the last time that I spoke to her and realized, 
with some annoyance, that I couldn't.  She was probably not very happy 
with me right now.  There was no good excuse for dropping off the face 
of the earth for a few weeks -- especially not to mom -- who felt shut 
out of my life enough and told me so periodically.

There was a reason why I was avoiding her - she was one of the few 
people who forced me to face myself.  I couldn't hide how I felt around 
her, and her soothing voice forced me to tell the truth, no matter how 
painful.  At least it'd been that way since the cancer.

I knocked on the door and stood a little straighter.

"Dana!" The door opened and Mom reached out to hug me tightly.  I 
felt the warmth behind her.

"Mom."

"Oh, I was getting so worried!" She backed up and smiled at me.  "I 
called and you never answered. I was afraid something had happened to 
you...but you look terrible, come in and sit down."

Mom always knew just what to say and before I could protest she 
ushered me into the living room and had me sit on the couch.

"You've lost weight. I could tell when I hugged you.  Are you feeling 
okay? Is it...?" she asked with some trepidation.

"No, I'm fine mom, really." I ignored the small voice that whispered to 
me about the missing chip.

"Oh, thank God...I have to ask you: where have you been these past 
few weeks?  Did it just slip your mind to call?  Did you forget about 
our Sunday luncheons?  I only ask that you call if you're going to be 
away on a case."

I was always amazed at how mom, like a chameleon, could change from 
loving concern to almost righteous anger in a matter of seconds.

"Mom, I can't explain, something came up suddenly, it was an 
emergency."

"You couldn't take five seconds to call me and inform me of your 
plans? Are you trying to shut me out of your life again?"

"No, it's nothing like that, honestly."

"Then what is it?"

"Mom...has someone you care about ever did something that is almost 
unforgivable?"

"Sweetheart, what happened? Did someone hurt you?" she held my 
hand lightly and looked me straight in the eye.

I was always a bad liar and couldn't even attempt to mislead her. My 
only chance was silence but before I could stop myself I'd already 
whispered, "He didn't mean to...I can't, I have to go..."

I knew she was looking at the healing scars on my hands and head.  
"Who hurt you?" It was hard to mistake the metallic edge of her voice.  
"Are you in an abusive relationship, Dana?"

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the question.  Mom had obviously 
been reading one of those family drama books again.  "No, it's nothing 
like that."

"Then what is it? Tell me."

"I can't."

"Dana, why did you come here?  You know you can tell me anything," 
she squeezed my hand as an encouragement.

She was obviously not going to leave this alone.  I couldn't decide what 
was worse, the truth or the made-for-TV fiction that mom had assumed.

I sighed softly and looked down at my fingers.  "Mom, did you see that 
report last week about the CDC going out to California for an 
outbreak?"

"Of course, all those bodies...it was on CNN for days.  Are you trying 
to change the subject?"

"No. I was there."

"How is that possible?  Everyone in that town was infected and died...it 
was horrible. Dateline just had a special with the families of the 
victims.  That poor little boy talking about losing his mom."

In my mind I heard Jody's scream and watched her fall.  Her blood ran 
out over my spread fingers and she pressed something into my hand.  
Then, her body went limp in my arms and her last words, her last 
words, her last words...I knew what I had to do.

"Dana?"

"I have to tell you something.  And you have to promise me you'll keep 
it a secret and never tell anyone."

"You can trust me, sweetheart.  You know that, I'll always love you no 
matter what happened."

It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps this was not a safe place. It 
could have easily been bugged. I stood abruptly.  "Let's go for a walk."

She nodded, a little confused and followed me outside.  "Now what's 
going on?"

I folded my arms and shivered lightly, the temperature was dropping.  
After looking around for a moment, I leaned towards her and 
whispered, "It wasn't a contagion."

Her eyes opened wide as she looked at me without understanding.  "But 
the news reports..."

"Were a lie.  I was there.  I saw what happened."

"Why were you there? Was it a case?"

"No.  Mom, something happened to Mulder a few weeks ago.  He 
wasn't himself for a while but he's fine now, we're all fine, everything's 
fine.  But he and I were there, and I can't tell you anything more. 
Just...that I'm very happy to see you again.  I love you, mom."  I 
reached out and hugged her, stopping her from asking any more 
questions.

"I love you too," Mom whispered in my hair and I bit my lip to keep 
myself from crying.

***

I drove to Jody's ex-husband's house as quickly as possible.  After both 
Mark's grandfather and mom died, the only family left was Mark's dad 
whose main contact with him had been through birthday cards and 
monthly visits. From what I read in the file, Jody's divorce had been 
pretty amicable and she only got custody because Mark's dad was the 
roadie for a band.  Now, there was no choice.  I knew that he left the 
tour early for his son.

There were several news vans parked on the other side of the street.  
The media was obviously not through with Mark yet.  But there was 
also a very familiar car parked out front and I resisted the urge to drive 
away. Our conversation at the apartment was the latest in a long line of 
steps to recreate our partnership.  But, trust would take longer to regain 
- if it was even possible.

I parked and sat outside for a few minutes.  I felt as if I had just 
returned from war and had to tell a fellow soldier's family their last 
words and give them a small token of remembrance.  Perhaps my speech 
in the car to Mulder wasn't so far from the truth.

The minute I stepped outside, a few news people accosted me.  
I wasn't sure what they thought I would say or what they hoped to 
accomplish. I brushed past them, barely registering their questions and 
hoping like hell that they didn't try to figure out my identity.

I pressed the doorbell and after a few moments the door opened 
slightly, locked with a chain.

"If I told you once...go away.  Leave him alone, damn vultures.  I told 
you we have nothing to say," the man said in a rough voice.

"Sir, I'm with the FBI," I held my badge up to the crack in the door.  
The door was opened reluctantly and I walked in quickly.

The heavyset bearded man wore a T-shirt and jeans.  His kind brown 
eyes were at odds with the skull and crossbones tattoo peeking out 
under a T-shirt sleeve.

"Sorry 'bout that.  They've been at it all week.  And I thought the media 
blitz surrounding the band was bad.  But hell, he's just a little kid.  
Thought maybe the Dateline interview would satisfy them.  Obviously 
not."

"I understand."

"There's one of you talking with him already.  I was assured that this 
was a strictly personal matter and there was no trouble.  I've heard 
about little kids being arrested for computer crimes.  And I'd have 
known if Jody was in trouble with the FBI."

"Right.  Jody was a friend of mine.  This has nothing to do with 
business."

He smiled sadly, "For a teacher, Jody sure had a lot of law enforcement 
friends."

"Can I talk to your son, Mr. Wald?"

"He's right upstairs, first door on the left.  But I know the law and if 
you're talking to him about anything other than..."

"I won't."

The stairs were carpeted and I was thankful that my heels were 
inaudible.  He wouldn't know I was coming.

I rapped on a door that had a sign which proclaimed in bright letters 
'Mark's Room - Stay Out,' and it was opened by Mulder, who didn't 
look surprised to see me.

"I heard you talking downstairs," he explained, closing the door and 
walking us down the hall a bit.  "I tried to call you, but your message 
service picked up."

"I left the phone in the car.  I haven't gotten a chance to check my 
messages.  Mulder, why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

I glanced up. "I have something to deliver, from Jody."

He nodded slightly and then covered his eyes with his right hand and 
let it drop back down to his side.  "I'm not sure why I'm here.  After you 
left, I just got into my car and started driving aimlessly.  I guess I was 
hoping for something unattainable."

"Which is?"

"Forgiveness."

"It's not your fault." I was starting to feel like a broken record.

"Saying it enough won't make it true."

"But it is true.  I know what happened - I know you're not to blame."

"No, I am.  I wish that you would let me feel this responsibility."

"But you're not.  I can't let you beat yourself up over something that 
you had no control over."

I stared at him, he stared back and then opened the door.  "We'll talk 
later."

Mark stood in the center of the room, his eyes puffy and his nose red.  

"Mark, it's Dana.  How are you?"

He gave me a 'how do you think I am look.'  "I miss my mom."

"I know you do."  I led him over to the bed and he sat down.  "Mark, 
I'm sorry about what happened."

"It wasn't fair. I loved her so much...how could God have taken her?  
And my grandfather...how?  I thought that when she didn't 
succeed...she would be back as my mom and now, she's gone."  He 
sobbed and I looked up to see that Mulder had exited the room.

"And now all these camera people keep coming around and I had to 
move schools and lost all of my old friends and it's hard to make new 
ones with people following me around."

"I'm sorry that you've had to go through this, Mark.  I came here to give 
you something."

"What?" he sniffled.

"Your mom wanted me to give this to you," I pulled something 
wrapped in paper out of my pocket and unwrapped it.  It looked like a 
charm, a gold and silver music note.

"Grandmother's music," he whispered reverently and held it in his 
palm.  His hands were almost as large as mine.

"Your mom loved you very much, never forget that," I whispered to 
him and awkwardly patted his head.

"Grandmother loved to play the piano.  This charm was a gift on her 
35th birthday from her daughter...mom always said that her mom 
considered it one of the best gifts she'd ever received," his eyes welled 
with tears.

"And now it's yours."

"Now it's mine," he said sadly.

A few minutes later I stepped out of the house to find Mulder leaning 
against his car looking at the cameramen.  

"Mulder?" I stood close to him.

"How can we let them get away with this, Scully? All those families -- 
their convenient lie about a disease.  I hate that the responsible parties 
are going unpunished.  How could you have helped them?" he asked 
softly.

"I explained why..."

"No, you didn't," he stepped into his car and, after a few moments, I 
went around and sat in the passenger seat.

"You should have let me die," he continued.  "Everyone's dead and I 
can't help but blame myself, regardless of what you believe happened.  
There's at least two days of my life that are erased from my memory.  I 
have no recollection of my actions during that time and yet I'm still 
alive while all the rest of them were killed.  How do you think I feel?  
And then I find out that you put your life in danger, made a deal...to 
save me," he trailed off. "I can't fight for the truth when I know that we 
are both liars.  I'm not leaving, I promised you to stay and I'm staying.  
But...I don't know how I can live with this feeling."

"Mulder, you survived for a reason.  We both did.  We owe it to the 
people that died to avenge their deaths.  The truth will out someday."

"How? Everyone's dead."

I scrambled for an answer, "Spender! His name wasn't on the list."

"You're sure?" a spark of the old Mulder returned. 

"Positive.  We can find out what happened to him."

He paused, watching the darkening sky. "They might have him."

I nodded quickly, "We're the only ones that know. The only ones that 
can do something about it."

"The chosen ones."

I flinched slightly at his words, and remembered when it all started, 
with Melora whispering to me that I wasn't chosen.  "We always are."  

"The price of life is guilt," he whispered and looked over at me.  

"Always," I nodded, understanding and knowing the pain of survivor's 
guilt only too well.

End of Part 8/9


The Second Ones III: Masters of War
By Anna Otto and Rachel Ehrentreu
Annaotto1@aol.com and firephile@aol.com

Part 9/9

Epilogue

Spender:

All I saw was red.

It was an ocean of ominous color, bloody water that obscured my field 
of vision and followed me wherever I went.

Sometimes, I found myself trying to swim through it, but my arms and 
legs refused to cooperate with my mind. Sometimes, I remembered the 
last few days of my life and I hoped that I wasn't one of 'them' now. 
What if I didn't die, I considered, frightened to the core. What if I 
became a soldier of the greatest and least humane army to ever exist on 
the Earth?

I finally decided that I was in limbo, that peculiar place between heaven 
and hell where souls somehow got lost. I wanted to find my way out. I 
would try.

The passage of time here seemed insignificant. I concentrated my 
strength and chose the direction that seemed right. It was a long way, 
but I walked it relentlessly, and one day, or maybe it was night, I heard 
distinct human voices.

Their rumble was distant and I couldn't make out the words, but I was 
pleased to realize my efforts weren't in vain.

And one day, when my eyes opened and my gaze fell upon a graceful 
head full of red hair, I decided that it was her whom I heard before - her 
whom I'd caught a glimpse of prior to coming here.

"Welcome back," she grinned at me, not surprised. "Your father will be 
pleased to hear you're awake."

I was confused. "I'm not... I'm not dead?" I questioned, somewhat 
disappointed. For a moment, I was ready to believe that I walked 
towards heaven, and she was an angel sent to greet me at the entrance.

"You would have been if not for me," she replied seriously. "I found 
you among the wreckage that was Freedom, California. I couldn't leave 
you there."

"You went looking for something and you found me," I shook my head 
in amusement, but the simple movement caused the pain to radiate 
from the center of my chest down to every nerve ending in my body. 
The light moment was quickly forgotten in the haze of agony.

"Easy, easy," she laid her hand upon mine, cooing softly. "You're still 
weak from this nasty wound, and other injuries you've suffered."

"Who are you?" I squeezed through my teeth in between gasps of 
agony.

"Dr. Rosen," she introduced herself. "I work with your father. I will call 
him now."

I watched her slender silhouette, black-clad under the starched white 
coat, disappear in the hallway outside, and took stock of the room's 
interior.

A hospital, I decided with a slight smile. Heaven probably didn't offer 
IV drips and white bandages as equipment. 

The door opened, and my father stepped inside, his hooded eyes 
settling on my heavily. "Jeffrey," he sat down uncomfortably. A long 
pause followed. "I didn't think you'd make it. I'm very glad you did."

I watched him silently. His face expressed no joy, but rather 
satisfaction upon seeing me alive.

"From what I've heard regarding the events in Freedom, I could put 
together a picture of your actions," he ran a hand over his face. "I'm 
most regretful for the way I behaved previously. Clearly, it was your 
intelligence, your courage that saved us all."

I was ashamed to feel a measure of pride at his words. I owed him 
nothing. I ought to have told him to leave. Instead, I only whispered, 
haltingly. "It's all right, Dad."

"This second alien race," my father paused between each word as if it 
caused him great pain, "you are immune to their influence."

"Yes," I replied. The fatigue was threatening to engulf me, but 
suddenly this conversation, these minutes spent with him, were what I 
wanted most - more than rest, more than my own life. "I'm afraid that 
they will come back. Or that they never left," I shuddered involuntarily. 
This horror was destined to follow me forever now.

"That's why I'm so happy that Dr. Rosen was able to locate your body," 
he nodded. "When you get somewhat stronger, we will speak more on 
the subject. You should rest now."

He exited before I had a chance to reply.

That - that was the reason why he was happy that she'd found me? The 
tears of helplessness welled in my eyes, obscuring my vision until once 
again it was tinged in red. 

"Here is a Morphine drip," Dr. Rosen pushed a plastic button in my 
fingers. "If you're in too much pain, use it."

"Have they survived?" I asked her as she adjusted some instruments on 
the nearby table. "Mulder, Scully..."

"They're alive and working on the X-Files. Diana Fowley is dead." 

"Jody Larson?" 

"She was shot in the crossfire," she informed me as she approached my 
bed with a needle. "I need to draw some blood. We can finally start 
working on the vaccine."

I contemplated in horror as my red, thick blood entered the syringe. She 
did as she promised - it was a small amount, barely significant. But I 
imagined her - their - needs would grow exponentially.

"This is hell," I said as I felt the room narrow around me, confining me 
within its prison walls. Hell that my father agreed to subject me to. Hell 
that this redheaded demon was in charge of.

"Look at it this way, Jeffrey," she packed the syringe carefully. "You're 
contributing to the future. And humanity will always be grateful."

I wanted to hate her. I wanted to scream, call for help, and demand to 
be released. It would be of no use, but it would be my choice.

I wanted to never again feel the horror of those few days that I spent in 
California. I wanted to prevent all the new deaths that would rain upon 
this planet - and it would happen if I walked out of here now. I wanted 
for Jody's death to mean something.

It would be worth it if I stayed.

I fell asleep, reminding myself to tell my father that he was not the one 
subjecting me to this existence.

It was my choice.

* * *

Several months later

Scully

The elevator reached my floor, and I walked towards my apartment 
slowly.  It had been a long day, for numerous reasons, and all I wanted 
to do was curl up into bed and sleep.  

I reached for the door, and the knob turned easily.  Someone was in my 
apartment.

My instincts took over.  I leaned against the wall, holding my gun at a 
ready position and mentally counted down from five.

As I pushed open the door with the barrel of the gun, the creak echoed 
in the silent hallway.  No shots broke through the door.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the dark apartment.  "Federal 
Agent, I'm armed.  Show yourself with your hands up." I flicked on the 
overhead lights.

An unfamiliar person with short jet-black hair and green eyes turned 
towards me.  "Agent Scully?" he stood.

"Jack?" I blinked and backed up.  "What are you doing here?" I didn't 
lower the gun.

"Waiting for you," he held up his hands, unarmed.

I held the gun on him warily, "Why?"

He smiled slightly, "I have something for you," he reached into his 
pocket and pulled out a small glass container.  He handed it to me and I 
held it up to the light.

"The chip," I whispered softly, "Where did you get it?"

"It's not important.  I had to give it back to you.  I was incapacitated 
until now."

The motel room flashed in my memory, bringing back the pool of 
blood, the missing chip.  "How did you survive? I was sure that you 
were dead."

"They picked me up on their way out of town."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Diana and I were helping different people, different loyalties.  We 
both knew that you'd die without the chip and she didn't care.  I had to 
stop her from leaving.  I have to make amends for what I did to you that 
night, and allowed to happen."

"What do you mean?" I questioned him again.

"All those people died because I was too weak to stand with you - 
instead I made sure that you'd be safe."

"Why is my safety important to you?"

"I like you.  You're better than the people I deal with usually: honesty 
and goodness are the concepts you still respect. Even when the odds 
were against you, you still struggled and tried to save those people.  
Not many people would argue with Larson.  You tried to save his 
daughter and even after everything he did...you still wanted to save 
your partner.  I admire that.  Without this you'll die and you're 
necessary."

"But that chip, it allows them to control me," I watched him in mistrust. 
"How do I know that you're not working for them?  Not helping them 
track me again."

"You don't," he replied. "But I made certain, shall we say, 
modifications to the device, just enough to affect its effectiveness.  
They can't get their signals through anymore, but they won't realize 
that."

"How?"

"That's a secret, one which I'm not allowed to divulge. But, you can 
cancel that appointment with your oncologist tomorrow - you'll be 
fine."  He smiled slightly, then lowered his head and kissed the top of 
my hand.  

I staggered back slightly, too shocked to respond quickly - or to snatch 
my hand away.

"If you ever need a change of scenery and quit the FBI, give me a call," 
he whispered and pressed a thin piece of paper into my hand.

"Eric Brandom, dealer of fine antiques," I read aloud and stared up 
questioningly.

"New identity, check the address."

I flipped over the card. "Paris, France," I read aloud.

"Permanent relocation," he smiled.  "Promise me that if you ever get 
sick of bureaucracy and your life you'll give me a call.  I hear Paris is 
lovely in the springtime."

"I promise." It was an easy one, since my chances of leaving the FBI at 
this point were slight.  I knew my place and how important I was to it.

"Goodbye for now, Agent Scully." To my amazement he leaned over 
and kissed me gently on the cheek, and then walked out.

I curled up on the couch, the vial in one hand, his card in the other, and 
weighed my options.  There were so many possible choices and yet all 
signs pointed to one.  I walked into my bedroom and placed the card in 
the bottom shelf of my jewelry box.  Then I lay down and held the vial 
up to the light.  So much for so little.

I stared at it for a long time, waiting for some divine revelation that 
never came.

I opened the drawer near my bed and pulled out a large folder.  Inside 
were hundreds of photos, the victims.  I spread them out, a collage of 
regret and wasted life, on my bed.  There was Jody on the beach with 
her son, laughing. I found a picture of Leigh and Ted, his face haunted 
even then.  I noticed a husband and wife, two sisters, a vacationing 
family and then, the other victims, the ones who never reached 
Freedom.  The woman who killed her husband, the mother who killed 
her son and all the other uncounted and unnamed bodies.

The phone rang and I reached for it.

"How did your appointment go?"

"It's tomorrow."

"Oh, good night then."

"Wait, Mulder," I pulled my knees up to my chest, biting my lip. I 
wanted to tell Mulder about Jack, but for some reason, it didn't seem 
right. It wasn't. Jack was part of something that I should never have 
been involved with, a dark couple of weeks that would never fade from 
my memory. I made a decision quickly. "I just received a package in 
the mail.  No return address."

"Do you want me to come and look at it?"

"No, no, I'll bring it into work tomorrow. It's not ticking."

"Fine. I'll see you then."

We never said goodbye to each other - still, I didn't want to finish this 
conversation abruptly. "Mulder," I said. "There will be better dreams."

A long pause followed, and when he replied, his voice was filled with 
infinite gentleness. "I promise, Scully."

The End


Author's Notes:

>From Anna: (who goes first because she has shorter notes, he-he)

Science fiction had always been one of my favorite genres to read, but I 
was quite reluctant to explore it in writing. Yet, at the completion of 
The Second Ones, I can only say, "Whoa! It actually worked out!" 
Writing this story, especially from Mulder's point of view, was 
increasingly difficult - from nightmares, to madness, to transformation 
into an alien of all things, to guilt. Spender parts were like ice cream in 
comparison. Perhaps, my only regret is the fact that Jack didn't end up 
with Scully (yes, Rachel and every shipper in the room, feel free to aim 
and fire). Though he wasn't my character, I liked him and wanted at 
least one of his wishes fulfilled.

In completing this particular round of conspiracy sci-fi shebang, I must 
say that there are some people without whom this would have never 
worked out.

First of all, my dear co-writer: unrepentant noromo that I am, you made 
me fall in love with your Scully. Thank you for putting up with my 
idiosyncrasies during writing this story. No one will ever know just 
what you had to go through. Though originally we were about to write 
a summary such as "What happens when a noromo and a shipper start 
co-writing," I can honestly say now that this partnership was - great. If 
anything, this proves that two camps *can* co-exist in peace.

Second, I will bow to the wisdom and help of Danielle Leigh, who was 
our compass, therapist, and beta-reader all in one. In my eyes, you have 
a writing credit to this one. Ashlea, thank you for listening to all of my 
complaints and for being my co-writer on other stories - it kept me 
sane. You are a beta-reader from heaven, and the cover you made for 
our webpage is still the best out there. Amanda, thank you for 
providing an ear when I needed one, and for being a source of 
inspiration.

Third, to our editors. Teresa and Barbara, thank you for mapping the 
way through these monstrous chapters. Your contribution is invaluable. 
Thank you to everyone who contributed quotes and poems - it was 
perhaps the best feedback we've ever received - to know that we've 
inspired our readers to look for similar situations in real-world 
literature.

And thanks to everyone, absolutely everyone else that followed this 
WIP and encouraged us on our way to better dreams. This road would 
never have been as much fun without you.

>From Rachel:

This story sure gave a different meaning to "take my breath away" 
didn't it?

Sorry about not having warnings about character deaths, but that would 
have taken away from the surprise :)  Also, "Incense and Peppermint" 
from part 2 is by Strawberry Alarm Clock, and is not mine.  The quotes 
mentioned in the story don't belong to us either.

About 9 months ago, I started a story of what I believed would be a 
series of letters between separated partners which instead 
metamorphosed into a conspiracy laden science fiction story.  I am also 
a huge fan of realistic science fiction and this story helped me to 
rediscover my love of reading them.  

Writing Scully in this story was an experience.  She went from total 
normality to dealing with insanity, murder, Mulder's disappearance, 
and helping CSM/Larson, going through unimaginable pain, finding 
bodies, meeting Mulder again and extreme guilt in a matter of days and 
it was physically hard to write some of the scenes about her reactions.  I 
actually had to force myself to write the "I don't want to see you again" 
scene in part 2.  Another hard scene was right after the breakdown in 
the hospital.  I was relieved when I got to write the Diana scenes, 
because she was colder and she was less affected by what happened to 
Mulder.  It's also fun to write not nice characters.

I am pleased by how everything fell into place: The partnership, the 
second race, the conspiracy elements, and the original characters.

And now, it is finished.  I can't believe it. After living with the story for 
so long, I never thought I would actually see the words: The End.  Yet, 
now it's over and it's time for the author's notes.

Many thanks are in order:

First, to my co-writer. Anna is truly a blessing - her twisted ideas 
pushed me to the edge of imagination and beyond.  Her 
characterization was perfect and the dreams haunted me long after I 
read them.  She put up with my attention to the tiniest details and 
rewrite after rewrite.   We learned to compromise about certain 
"relationship" elements, because, well, I'm a shipper and she's a die-
hard noromo.  But, I adored her Mulder.  I know the road wasn't always 
clear and the characters (especially Mulder) became hard to write, but 
her dedication never wavered.  I'm incredibly glad we wrote this 
together.

Secondly, to the Scully to my Mulder - or perhaps the Mulder to my 
Mulder, I'm not sure.  Ash knows how I feel.  She was always there to 
read a small scene, or whip my butt into shape, or provide a quick ego 
check.  She's also an uncredited co-author, since we share a brain and 
all.  After talking to her, my muse always got a jump-start and I was 
able to write.  Without her this story would have never been completed. 
Oh, and Scully doesn't run away with Jack, sorry :)

Next, I have to thank the analytical Danielle who jumped in around part 
8 and provided constant support and analysis, also some ego boosting.  
Her beta abilities are amazing and she saw things that I never even 
suspected.  I'm so glad that we were able to become friends.

Thanks to Amanda, my Mulder guru - even though she was mired in 
the most painful series known to man, she still managed to help me and 
find time to listen to me whine and also be a great friend.  Without her 
suggestions, I would have never been able to write chapter 19. 

And I must thank Jen, 'Nat, Cat, Sadie and everyone else who listened
to me whine about the story and just provided constant support.

Also, thanks to our editors: Barbara and Teresa.  Girls, you did an 
incredible job and thank you so much for taking the time to edit, 
critique and whip our sentence structure into shape.  Special thanks to 
Barbara, who I just adore and was always available to talk to and help 
me plot parts of the story and provide emotional support.

Finally, a huge thanks to everyone who supported us with feedback 
during this WIP.  Special thanks to the people who provided poetry and 
quotes.  Your dedication was a constant source of inspiration.  Each 
and every piece was treasured like water on a hot day.  I'm so happy 
that we were able to inspire so much creativity.

Any references in this story to any other stories or songs or whatever is 
completely coincidental or a homage, you decide.  Oh and this was also 
written way before Biogenesis, we thought of it first, Chris.

A huge thanks to everyone who climbed aboard and took this ride with 
us.


Feedback makes our world turn... 

annaotto1@aol.com and firephile@aol.com

Take Me To Your Leader!

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