Title:              Silent Lucidity (8 of ?)
Author:             Paige Caldwell
Email:              paigecaldwell@hotmail.com

Part 8 of ?


Inside the autopsy bay, one of the cops asked, "Is this some
kind of a joke?"
 
Mulder glanced inside the empty casket. "No joke," he said
solemnly.  He lifted his gaze to Scully,  who stood on the
other side of the casket. Above her face mask, her blue eyes
looked fixed and dilated. Her hopes had just died a painful
death. "No joke," he repeated, willing her to view the truth
from his perspective, where hope came in various incarnations.
"Just a well-orchestrated hoax."

Scully blinked, her stare changing from horror to disgust. "I
need some air," she said, stripping off her face mask and latex
gloves.  She threw them in the trash can on her way out the door.
 
Mulder followed her outside. "Are you okay?"

She hunched over to clasp her knees. "Do I look okay?" she
choked out.

"You look like you're going to be sick," Mulder assessed.
He wasn't sure if she was going to throw up or start
hyperventilating. He was prepared for either reaction, his
hand already rubbing her back.
 
"I am sick," she said, jerking back up. The sudden movement
must have forced cold air down her throat because the results
were a rush of words and a release of pent-up fury. "I'm sick
and tired of being one step behind in this marathon of deceit.
I'm emotionally exhausted, physically spent and in a few hours,
professionally ruined."

"Not if I have any say about it," Mulder tried to reassure her.

"That's just it," Scully exclaimed. "You don't. After this
fiasco, no one will be able to stop the Bureau from taking
disciplinary action. I'll be lucky if they suspend me, instead
of firing me."

Mulder gripped her by her shoulders and turned her around to
face him. "Listen to me, Scully. You've uncovered a conspiracy.
There are two missing bodies.  That has to count for something
with Kersch."

"The numbers are stacked up against me, Mulder. A New York City
detective was shot during an unofficial investigation by an agent
who was supposed to be sitting behind a desk."

"If you go down, I go down with you," he promised. "You'd do it
for me."

"Oh Mulder," she sighed, closing her eyes. "I would now, but
I didn't before."

"What do you mean?"

"In my dream... the other universe... you were the one who was
fired, not me," she told him. "I stayed with the Bureau, but for
all the wrong reasons.  I was irritated at you, Mulder.  You had
taken unnecessary chances with your job.  You had refused to
acknowledge our child as your own.  I thought that I was being
responsible, but in truth I was angry at you for being so
irresponsible.  And now I know how it feels."

"Shit," Mulder mumbled to himself. It was impossible for him
to defend an imaginary behavior that came so close to mirroring
a real one.  He wondered if her dreams held more than retrieval
clues.  Buried deep within her self-conscious were feelings
trying to surface.  Doubts.  Insecurities.  Resentment.  

By holding her dreams to light, would he see more than he
bargained for? Would he see himself viewed through her eyes?

Mulder wrapped his arms around her. He would not allow his own
worst nightmare to undermine her reality.  She was trembling,
her small body caving to the enormous pressure she was under.
"I'm not upset with you, Scully," he asserted.  
   
"That's good," she sniffed, pressing her face against his chest.
"Because right now, I'm pretty upset with myself."

Mulder could feel her tears dampening the front of his shirt.
He held her, trying to absorb her pain.  His own doubts faded to
sharper protective instincts.  More than her career was in
jeopardy.  Her self-confidence was at risk.  It was time for him
to take lead and steer her back to the same assuredness that had
guided them both.

Suddenly, there was a cough behind them.  Mulder pulled away,
keeping a supportive hand on Scully's arm.  The two police
officers were standing in the doorway wondering what to do
next.
  
"Pick up your shovels," he replied. "The coffin goes back into
the ground exactly as planned."

It didn't bother him that they looked to Scully for confirmation.
Doggett had left her in charge.  He trusted her.  Just as Mulder
trusted her to make the right decision.  She nodded her
affirmation before reaching for her cell phone. "I need to call
Doggett and tell him," she said.

"Call him in the morning," Mulder suggested. "You're tired, Scully.
Whatever you say right now won't sound very reassuring."

She sighed and turned off her cell phone. "So what do we do?"

"We check into a hotel by the airport so you can rest."

By the time they arrived at the hotel, there was only a few hours
before their scheduled flight.  She was too wound up to sleep so
he used each moment to pamper her.  He undressed her... showered
with her... and once she was wrapped in a bath towel, picked her
up and carried her to bed.
  
"Thank you," she whispered.
    
Mulder stretched out beside her. "What for?"

"For letting me feel little and scared."

"Anytime," he murmured, caressing her face. "But remember
Scully, those involved in this conspiracy want you to feel
vulnerable.  By undermining your resolve, they hope to stop
you from finding William."

"They'll never stop me," she stated between clenched teeth. "I
don't care what it takes, Mulder. I'll never stop looking."

Mulder waited for her words to register in her own mind. When
the tears in her eyes took on a hard sheen, he knew that they
had. 

"I may not have my job," Scully continued. "But I still have
myself...and I still have you."

He smiled to himself. "Seems like I've heard those words
before."

"That's because you taught me the true meaning of strength,"
Scully said. "I love you, Mulder."
  
He leaned over to kiss her. "I love you, too."

As her lips opened beneath his, he realized that reassurance
wasn't limited to words. She was as confident about him as he
was about her. For every kiss and touch, she returned the same
amount of adoration and passion. With his tongue he heightened
her desire, using it liberally and intimately to arouse her
body. In turn, her gasps of pleasure aroused him.  When she
was ready, he entered her, matching each intake of her breath
with long, deliberate strokes. Her hands grasped his backside, 
urging deeper... harder and finally, faster.
 
"Open your eyes, Scully," he panted.  His hair was still wet
from the shower and dripping on her face.  He jerked his head
to the side to shake off the excess moisture. "Be with me."

Her gaze took him to a different level, an altered state of
consciousness where thoughts climaxed as well as their bodies.
They were one, in body and in mind. He could see, feel and
experience her orgasm as if it was his own.  And it was.

Their simultaneous release led to a shared inner stillness.
He dared not move or speak. In her eyes, he saw a mutual clarity,
one that he wanted to preserve. But the effects were temporary.
There was too much external chaos, the sound of pre-dawn traffic
and the roar of nearby jet engines. When Scully glanced at the
clock, the spell was broken.

"We have a plane to catch," she said sadly.

As they dressed, he consoled himself with the knowledge that the
quest for William would never tear them apart.  It was drawing
them closer together in a way he never thought possible.


**********


The following afternoon, Scully sat in front of Kersch's desk.
It was a short meeting.  He wasn't interested in her self-defense
or conspiracy theories.  He refused to hear Mulder's testimony on
her behalf or consider Skinner's recommendation for a reduced
sentence.
  
She was fired.
  
Scully held his cold stare during his pronouncement, resisting
the urge to smooth the wrinkles from her skirt.  The days of
crisp, linen suits were over.  Her clothes were disheveled and
her career was permanently stained.  But she felt no regret.
Distinction had become like a fashion accessory, one that she
could no longer afford.

She left his office with a restyled dignity. Unfortunately,
Mulder was outside in the hallway, pacing in his Armani suit
with a flair towards revenge.  Not even Skinner could curb his
rage.  He tried to launch himself past his supervisor to
gain access to Kersch's office. Alarmed, she grabbed onto
his jacket sleeve and tugged it like a leash.
  
"Mulder, stop" she demanded. "You can't do this."

"Listen to her," Skinner hissed. "If you quit now, they win."

Scully wasn't sure whose words had more impact. Either way,
Mulder finally backed off and headed for the elevator. Skinner
gave her a brief, apologetic look before motioning her to
follow him.

Once they were inside, she turned to face him. "You knew this
might happen."

The inner workings of his jaw suggested that Mulder wasn't
ready to swallow the truth or acknowledge his promise. They
had agreed earlier that he would stay on with the FBI if only
to take advantage of its resources.  Until now, she didn't
realize that it was such a hard pact for him to make.
 
"Please don't do this, Mulder."

"Do what?" He turned on her suddenly, his gaze rabid and his
teeth flashing a dangerous white. "Be upset by a decision
that was already made?"

She shook her head, confused by his accusation. "I know it
goes against protocol, but the Deputy Director has the
authority to terminate an agent without a disciplinary
hearing."
  
"Don't you understand?" he growled. "By doing this, Kersch
confirms what I already suspected. He's the one who assigned
Reyes to the X-files in the first place. Scully, he's a part
of this fucking conspiracy."

It was her turn to swallow an uncomfortable truth. "Do you
think Skinner knows?"

"I'm not sure," he replied. "Judging by his words, he may
be trying to clue us in."

"Then we take the hint," Scully insisted. "You have to play
along, Mulder. If we're ever going to get to the bottom of
this, you need to stay within the Bureau."

Before he could answer her, the elevators door opened. Still
angry, he strode ahead leaving her to trail behind him. 
"Mulder...."

He reached for an empty box in the cluttered corridor. "Here,"
he said, handing it to her. "Let's pack you up and get the
hell out of here."

She accepted the box but not his suggestion. "Mulder, I have
to walk out by myself. At this point, pretense is everything."

Mulder stared at the floor. "What will you do with the rest
of your afternoon?"

Scully shrugged, trying to make light of the situation. "I
don't know. Maybe I'll make dinner for a change. Think I
can convince you to join me?"

"I'll be home by six," Mulder replied curtly.  His tone
didn't offend her.  She knew that he would adjust.  They
both would.
  
When Scully got home, she found a thick envelope shoved under
the door. She shifted the box under one arm and leaned over to
pick it up. The envelope was unmarked. Curious, she went over
to her desk where she traded the box for a letter opener. Inside
the envelope was a tape and a hand scribbled note.

"Play it...," it said.

The note came right to the point, just like the man who wrote it.
John Doggett. How he managed to secure the tape so quickly
wasn't surprising.  The detective had connections. But what
did surprise her was the voice on the tape.  Stunned, she
reached for her phone.

Mulder answered her call on the first ring.

"I think you had better come home early," she said. 

He didn't ask her to elaborate.  They both knew that others
might be monitering their calls.  She hung up the phone 
and stared at her tape player.

The voice on the 911 tape belonged to Monica Reyes.



To be continued...

Part 9 of ?



Mulder arrived at their apartment within the hour. He found
Scully at her computer, sitting cross-legged in her chair
with a carton of Lo Mein balanced on her knee. So much for
a home cooked meal, he thought. As Scully waved him over with
a pair of chop sticks, he suspected that she had more on the
menu than Chinese take-out. "What's going on?" he asked,
tossing his jacket on the back of the couch.

"I want you to listen to something," she relayed. Mulder
leaned against the desk with his arms folded, trying to
ignore the rumbling of his stomach.  He was tired and
hungry. It was going to take more than a tape player and
a couple of egg rolls to revive his interest.
 
He listened to the 911 tape, instantly recognizing the
voice of the caller.  

Monica Reyes.

"Is this some kind of joke?" he asked.

Scully passed him a pair of chop sticks.  "No, just a
well orchestrated hoax," she reminded him.

"What do you mean?"  Mulder pulled up a chair and sat down
beside her.  She had his full attention now.

"Take a look at this," Scully said, pointing to her computer
screen.  He scrolled down what appeared to be a 911 phone
log. "Notice anything unusual?"

"It was recorded as an anonymous call?" he offered.

"It was recorded ten minutes before the shooting occurred."
  
"Are you sure, Scully?"

"As sure as the watch on my wrist," she said. "Which I
just happened to glance at before Doggett was shot."
 
"Let me hear the tape again," he requested. She handed him
the carton of Lo Mein and reached for the tape player.
Mulder listened to it several times in between slurps of
seasoned noodles.  His mind was racing as quickly as his
stomach was digesting.
  
"Notice how Reyes didn't identify herself or give the exact
location of the shooting," he commented. "Have the authorities
been able to trace her call?"

Scully took the carton back. "A pay phone two blocks away from
the deli," she advised, using her chop stick to hook a wilted
vegetable. "Think she's the one who shot Doggett?"

"Maybe," he considered. "But then again, maybe not. She could
have been trying to prevent it."

Scully gave him an incredulous look followed by a slight choking
sound.  For a minute, he wasn't sure if she was regurgitating
sarcasm or had a noodle stuck in her throat. "Want me to slap
you on the back?" he offered.

"Go ahead," she encouraged. "Then I won't feel guilty for
slapping you upside the head.  Mulder, what will it take to
convince you that Reyes is the one responsible for this?"

"A motive."   

"That's easy," retorted Scully. "She didn't want Doggett to
exhume his son's body."

"Too easy...," he paused, glancing towards the kitchen. "I
don't suppose you ordered General Tso's Favorite Chicken,
did you?"

"It's on the counter," she replied. "Although I can't believe
that's the extent of your interest right now, Mulder."

"Oh, it's not," Mulder clarified as he got up from his chair.
"But as you so aptly put it, we're in a marathon of deceit. 
This runner needs to fuel up occasionally."

"Grab me an egg roll while you're at it," Scully called after
him.

As Mulder sorted through plastic cartons of food, he organized
his thoughts.  He had no doubt that Reyes was involved in
Doggett's shooting.  The question was to what extent?  Over
the years he had learned that there were many levels to a
conspiracy. The roles that were easily apparent were also
generally wrong.
  
What troubled him more was Scully's eagerness to use false
credentials to secure information. She had been fired from
the FBI less than three hours ago and was already placing
herself in jeopardy.  The ends didn't always justify the means,
especially from a jail cell.

"Scully, I know you know this, but what you've been doing is
in violation of the law."

Scully glanced over her shoulder. "Really? I thought when I
was abducted, they changed the rules."

Mulder blinked, startled by her smart-ass response.  It sounded
like something he would say.  Deja-vu all over again, except
this time he wasn't sure if was the result of mesmerism or the
MSG in the soy sauce.  Whatever the cause,  it made his head
ache.

Scully motioned him back to his chair. "Sit down before you fall
down, Mulder," she said. "It's not as bad as you think. I didn't
use my credentials to secure this information. John Doggett sent
it to me."

He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse.
 
"You're going back to New York, aren't you?"
  
Scully nodded. "I have to, Mulder. Doggett is having NYPD run
ballistics on the bullet taken from his shoulder. I want to be
there to see if it matches up with Reyes' gun."

"We both know that bullet's not going to match," Mulder said.
"What's the real reason, Scully?"

She paused, scraping the bottom of the carton for a water
chestnut and a good excuse. "I just have a funny feeling about
this."

"Now you're starting to sound like Reyes," he commented.

"Maybe it's because she's not the one channeling other people's
thoughts," she remarked. "I think I am...."


**********


Later that night, Scully had another dream.  She was tied to a
filthy bed as a group of religious fanatics stood around her.
They were faceless. Their features were blurred by the light
of candles which dripped wax on the floor with a resounding hiss.
The thing they put into her back was as cold and inhuman as they
were. She could feel it creeping up her spine, its tentacles
stretching upwards to take control her brain.
 
She screamed, but the sound that tore from her throat was not
her own.  The creature wasn't a slug, but a expanding piece
of metal.
  
It was alive.

"Scully, wake up." She heard his voice, but the dream did not
end until he rolled her over from her stomach. Opening her
eyes, she screamed again, this time from panic instead of pain.

Mulder gripped her by the shoulders.  "What is it, Scully?"

She tore at the buttons on her nightshirt. "Help me, Mulder,"
she cried. "Look at my back and tell me if there are any scars
or protrusions."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just do it!"

She yanked off the shirt and sat up.  Mulder turned on a light
and ran his fingers down the length of her spine. "There's
nothing there," he relayed. "Your skin is as smooth and soft
as it's always been."

Scully dropped her chin to her chest, exhaling in relief. 
"It wasn't me," she murmured. "It never happened to me...."


************


The next morning, Mulder stood in the kitchen drinking the
first of several predicted cups of coffee.  He was exhausted,
his one chance at a decent night's sleep ruined by Scully's
dream.  While she had almost immediately fallen back to sleep,
he spent the rest of the night contemplating her nightmare.
By dawn he gave up.  There were more questions than answers
and the quiet of his mind was jarred by the memory of her
screams. Somehow the pitch of her terror seemed off-key,
as if it belonged to another.

He carried his cup of coffee into their bedroom. "I don't
think you should go to New York today," he said.

"Why not?" Scully asked, zipping up her overnight bag. "I
thought we agreed that it was a good idea."

"No, that was your reflection in the mirror," he corrected.
"Agreeing with you while I was leaning over the sink and
brushing my teeth."

"I guess it was a good thing that your mouth was full of
toothpaste," she remarked.  "Because I'm going."

Mulder set the cup down on the dresser. "Sit down, Scully.
I want to talk to you."

He joined her on the edge of the bed, his hands resting
against his thighs in a neutral position.  Scully was in full
battle mode.  The last thing he wanted to do was antagonize
an already tense situation.  Keeping his voice calm and
deliberate, he said,

"I'm worried about you, Scully. I want you to reconsider
your decision about going to New York."
  
Her eyes dropped to the floor.  Mulder watched as she aligned
her feet next to his. Her boots were dwarfed by his size
twelve shoes.  He wondered if she felt belittled by his concern.
"You measure up, Scully," he tried to reassure her. "You always
have."

"Then why do I feel small and useless?" she whispered.

"Because you've just been run over by the big wheels of the 
FBI," he commiserated. "Look, I know you feel the need to prove
yourself but it's not necessary.  More importantly, it could be
dangerous."

"How so?"

"What if that bullet wasn't meant for Doggett?" Mulder asked the
one question that was haunting him. "What if it was meant for
you?"

Scully drew circles in the carpet with the toe of her boot.
"Then we're dealing with someone with a poor aim?"

"This time," he said. "What if there's a next time?"

"I can take care of myself, Mulder."

"I know you can," he asserted. "But you're no longer authorized
to carry a gun. I don't like the idea of you going unarmed into
what could easily be a trap."

Her heel fell heavily onto the floor. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I go with you."

"What if Kersch finds out?" 

"I'll tell him that I was responding to an urgent call made by
Agent Reyes," he said.  Her look of appreciation prompted him
to add jokingly, "Can't blame an agent for checking up on his
partner."

Scully's gaze dropped back to the floor. Partner. He had used
an unfortunate play on words, an off-hand remark that wounded
instead of amused her.

In any marathon, the runner occasionally stumbled. 
 

**********


As they stepped off the elevator in the hospital, Scully saw
a tall brunette leaving John Doggett's room. She pointed at
the woman who was exiting by way of the back stairs. "Is that
who I think it is?"

"It looks like our 911 caller is reaching out to touch
someone," Mulder said. "Check on Doggett, Scully. I'm going 
to follow her." 

While Mulder took chase, Scully hurried to the detective's
hospital room.  Without knocking, she pushed open the door.
His bed was empty.  Whirling around, she caught one of the
floor nurses. "Where's the patient in room 502?"

The nurse glanced over Scully's shoulder. "He was in there
the last time I checked."

"Agent Scully?" The voice behind her made her jump. It was
Doggett, dressed in street clothes, his injured shoulder
supported by an arm sling. "I was in the bathroom. Were you
looking for me?"

"Yes, but I wasn't the only one," she replied. "We just saw
Agent Reyes leaving your room."

"Monica?" The detective's blue eyes swept the corridor. "She
was here?"

"In the flesh," she advised. Her choice of words led her to a
frightening realization. "Oh my God...."

"You okay, Agent Scully?"

"I don't have time to explain," she said. "Stay here. I'll be
back as soon as I can."

"I've just been discharged," he protested.  "Hey... wait!"

Scully was already by the elevator, pushing the down button. If
her suspicions were right then Mulder was in danger. How could
she be so blind....so stupid?  For weeks her subconscious had
been painting a picture.  John Doggett had just managed to put
it in a frame.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked as the detective
joined her by the elevator.

"I'm going with you," Doggett said. "You're where the action
is."

"The hell you are," Scully objected, giving him a sidelong
glance. "Wait a minute, are you packing a gun?"

"I'm a cop." He shrugged. "This is New York City. What do
you expect?"

"Not much with your arm in a sling," she commented.
  
The elevator doors opened. She grabbed the gun from his waist
band and jumped on the platform.  "I'll take good care of
it," she promised.

"Fuck," he cursed, taking a step forward. Her reflexes were
quicker than his.  She slammed her fist against the control
panel and the doors snapped shut.  

By the time she reached the parking garage, Scully saw that
she was too late.  Monica Reyes was gone and Mulder was
crumpled against the door of the stair well.  "No," she cried,
rushing to his side.  He was dazed but conscious.  She kneeled
down to brush the unruly hair from his eyes, her fingers
quickly assessing his head for bumps or contusions.

"What happened, Mulder?"

He groaned and sat up. "I'm not sure," he mumbled. "One
minute, I'm running... the next minute, I'm bouncing off 
the wall like a basketball."

"Let's have the emergency room check you out," Scully suggested.
She slid both arms underneath his shoulders and helped him to
his feet.

"I'm fine," Mulder asserted. "I just had the wind knocked out
of me. Scully, that couldn't have been Reyes.  No human being
possesses that kind of strength.  It had to be a shape-shifter."

"Like the Bounty Hunter?" she asked before slowly shaking her
head. "No, Mulder. I think we're dealing with something else,
a being so powerful that no one can stop it."

"What are you saying, Scully?"

"Monica Reyes is a human replacement."

"An alien replicant?"

"Yes," she replied. "Do you remember my dream last night?"

"How could I forget it?" Mulder rubbed the back of his neck.
"I've never heard you scream like that, Scully. In fact, it
didn't even sound like you."

"It wasn't me," Scully remarked. "It was Reyes. During my
abduction, I must have witnessed her actual transformation.
It was horrible, Mulder.  They inserted this thing into her
spine, a piece of living metal.  Somehow my mind must have
distorted it, where I reversed roles and tried to attach
meaning to it."

Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the
sudden ring of his cell phone. He lifted it from his jacket
pocket and motioned Scully to listen in.  She leaned forward,
her fingertips grazing his as they both cupped the receiver.
  
"Where are you Agent Mulder?" It was Skinner. His voice
sounded worried enough for Mulder to answer honestly.

"I'm in New York City," he said. "Responding to a call made
by Agent Reyes. In fact, a few minutes ago, I somewhat ran
into her."

"That's impossible," the Assistant Director said.
  
"Why?"

"Because she's standing right in front of me," advised Skinner.
"Demanding to know why her partner didn't show up for work."


To be continued....


Part 10 of ?




"Agent Scully, may I have my gun back?" 

Scully turned around to find Doggett standing by the elevator
of the parking garage.  His expression was grim, suggesting a
controlled anger. Ditching him one was one thing. Taking his
gun off of him was another. Although Doggett was a gentleman,
he was still a cop.  One didn't mess with a cop's ego.

"Sorry about that." Her apology was brief. Doggett wasn't the
type to appreciate flowery language or a drawn-out excuse.
She had a better chance at regaining his trust by being succinct.
After what had just happened, she needed his cooperation more
than ever.

"Don't let it happen again," the detective said, reaching out
to take his gun. "Agent Mulder, are you okay?"

Mulder clicked off his cell phone and joined them. "I might not
have been without Agent Scully and your gun."

"Point taken," Doggett acknowledged. "Look Agent Scully, I'm
not trying to talk down to you."

With one step, Mulder advanced on the detective. "Then don't
let it happen again."

The two men stood a foot apart, testosterone loaded and ready
to fire. Scully wedged herself in between them. "Can we just
call a truce?" she suggested.  "We have enough problems without
adding to them."

Mulder backed off first, much to her relief. "How's your
shoulder, Detective?" he asked in a moderated voice.

"I've taken worse hits," Doggett said, shrugging. "But thanks
for asking."

"Are you officially discharged?" Scully asked.

Doggett glanced around the parking garage as if he was sizing
up the situation. "Yeah," he answered. "I think I've just
discharged myself."

"Are you sure that's wise?" 
 
"It's a heck of a lot smarter than sitting around waiting for
Agent Reyes to return," Doggett noted. "I say we blow this
stitch factory and get some coffee."

The mention of caffeine perked Mulder's interest. "Not another
deli, I hope?"

"Nope," Doggett replied. "Just the best brew in town, courtesy
of my Mr. Coffee Maker."

"Works for me," Mulder concluded. "I'll drive."

"Mulder, wait," she called after him. "I'll go with you."

His ability to drive wasn't her only concern. As they walked
to the rental car, she said, "Skinner's call must cast my
theory in a very point light."

"Is that a question or an observation?"

"I don't know." Scully stopped, burdened by the ambiguity of
his response. "I mean, if Monica Reyes is a replicant, how can
she be in two places at the same time?"

"Defies all standards of credibility, doesn't it?"
 
She exhaled in frustration. In the past, she had practiced
a system of checks and balances with Mulder, providing a
rational counterpoint to each one of his outlandish ideas.
Now that their situations were reversed, she wasn't sure if
she wanted logic or validation.

"Mulder, I never realized how difficult it must have been
for you all these years.  To defy credibility... to believe
in something despite evidence to the contrary...."

"I had you," Mulder stated. He leaned over so his eyes were
level with hers.  "You set the standard of credibility, Scully.
You still do."

Scully gazed down at her boots. "I don't know, Mulder," she
murmured. "The shoe's on the other foot. It's hard to measure
up when I feel like kicking myself."

"Then try driving instead," he suggested, holding out the car
keys.  "Something tells me that those little feet will reach
the pedal now."

It was an old joke, but the symbolism gave her the reassurance
she needed. "Thank you," she whispered, taking the keys.

"For what?"

"For setting a new standard."



**********



John Doggett owned a modest townhouse in Staten Island. Comfort
without style, Scully thought as she entered the living room.
Rugs were scattered across the wood floors to insulate against
the winter chill. There were mismatched pillows on the leather
couch and an ugly cotton afghan draped over a reclining chair.
His desk in the corner was meticulously organized. Everything
was neat and orderly, but aesthetically dull.

At least, the detective also had good taste in coffee. Inside
his spacious kitchen, she watched him pull a bag of Starbucks
from an airtight canister.  He measured the ground beans
into a coffee maker, using bottled water instead of tap.
His efforts met with appreciation from a caffeine-deprived
Mulder. "That smells good," he said.

"Tastes good, too," Doggett remarked. "Pull up a chair,
Agents.  We have a lot to talk about."

While Mulder sank tiredly into a chair, Scully offered to
help the detective. "Where are your coffee cups?"

"In the cabinet over the sink," he told her.
  
Scully opened it, noting more tidiness.  Above the coffee
mugs was a shelf of assorted vitamins, each bottle arranged
alphabetically.  Besides being a neat freak, Doggett was a
health freak.  It was an odd combination, one she tested
further.  "Do you have any Sweet-n-Low, Detective?"

"Artificial sweeteners?" He grimaced.
    
"Forget I asked." She smiled as she closed the cabinet.

"My ex-wife always said it was bad for your health," he
advised. 

"What did she have to say about law enforcement?"

The detective's scowl melted into a grin.  "You don't sugar
coat things, do you Agent Scully?"

"No," she said, passing him the mugs. "Nor do I take sugar
in my coffee."

"Then talk straight to me about my son," Doggett requested.
"You think he's still alive?"

"I don't know," she answered him honestly.  "But the
possibility exists that your son was abducted, not
kidnapped."

"By little men in green suits?" he jeered. 

"Or little men in white labcoats," Mulder replied.
"What we need to figure out is why your son was taken.
Can you tell us about him, Detective?"

"There's not much to tell." Doggett filled a mug and passed
it to Scully. "Luke was the perfect kid, active... healthy...
He wasn't sick a day in his life."

Scully glanced down at her coffee, blowing to cool it.  Terms
such as 'perfect' and 'never sick' held important meanings
in her vocabulary.  Unfortunately, the same words held dire
implications, none of which Doggett was prepared to accept.
"What about Agent Reyes?" she asked, changing the subject.
"How did she become involved in the search for your son?"

"The Bureau sent her to assist in the investigation," Doggett
explained. "At first, I thought she was kinda wacko.  I mean,
you know the type."

Scully took a tentative sip. "What type is that?"

"Spooky..." 

Scully almost choked on the hot liquid.  Lifting her fingers
to her lips, she glanced over at Mulder.  He was completely
unruffled, if not somewhat amused.  "In what way?" he asked.

Doggett looped his fingers through the handles of the two
remaining mugs and carried them over to the table.  After
taking out a pint of light cream from the refrigerator, he
sat down. Pouring some in his coffee, he said, "She kept
telling me to get in touch with my feelings, that the
answers would come once I was willing to embrace my fears."

Scully cleared her throat. "Do you know what she meant?"

"Nope," he said. "But it sure as hell pissed off my ex-wife.
She demanded that Agent Reyes be taken off the investigation.
Of course, I didn't do it.  While Monica's approach was
strange, there was something about her investigative style
that seemed to balance out my own."

Scully understood exactly what he was saying. "Checks and
balances," she murmured to herself.
  
"Yeah?" Doggett looked up. "Well, maybe I should have listened
to her. From what you've told me, Agent Reyes tried to balance
the equation by checking me out."

"Do you have the ballistics on the bullet yet?" she asked.

"Forensics called this morning," Doggett said. "No match
found in the database."

"I'm not surprised," Mulder said as he reached across the table
for a bowl of sugar. While he stirred in several spoonfuls,
Scully wondered if he intended to sweeten up her theory or
dissolve it.  

"In terms of an equation, I think we're dealing with a sum
divided," he remarked. "Two opposite versions of the same
person."

"A dual personality?" the detective asked.

"No."  Mulder put down his spoon. "Two distinct replicas, 
one of which seems to have inherited Monica Reyes better
traits... an inclination to protect instead of destroy."

"You may be on to something," Scully said. "That certainly
would explain the 911 call and today's hospital visit. 
Mulder, if the replicant wanted to seriously harm you, she
would have."

"Wait a minute," Doggett interrupted. "We've gone from kinda
wacko to an alien girl scout?"

"It's just a theory, Detective," said Mulder.

"And a bizarre one at that," he retorted.  "I mean we're
talking clones here."

"The technology for cloning already exists," Scully said.
"You can read about it in any newspaper."

"I don't have to," he argued. "My ex-wife used to work in
genetics. According to her, science is still trying to clone
human embryos, not fully grown federal agents."

The mug slipped from Scully's hand. It broke on the linoleum
floor, splattering hot coffee on her boots and slacks. While
her skin wasn't burned, her brain felt like it was on fire.
She gasped and fumbled for the counter.  Both men jumped up
from the table to help her. As Doggett grabbed paper towels,
Mulder knelt down to examine her legs.  

"I'm fine." Scully took a step back from his probing fingers.
When he glanced up, she held out her hand in an effort to
steady her shaken nerves.  "No really, Mulder. I'm fine.
I just need a moment to clean myself up. Detective, may I
use your bathroom?"

"Down the hall and to the right," Doggett said. "You sure,
Agent Scully?  That coffee was pretty hot."

She forced a sheepish grin. "No burns, just stains. Serves me
right for being so clumsy."

Avoiding Mulder's stare, she left the kitchen and hurried down
the hall to the bathroom.  Once behind closed doors, she turned
on the sink to disguise the noise of search.  She opened the
vanity, discovering more vitamins.  "Retrieval clues," she 
whispered to herself.

She scavenged the cabinet for prescription bottles... anything
with his ex-wife's name on it.  A label on an expired bottle
of Xanac gave her what she was looking for.
 
Elizabeth Doggett...

Stuffing the bottle in her pocket, Scully opened an adjacent
door to the master bedroom.  On the dresser was a family
portrait that must have been taken a few years before Luke's
disappearance. She stared at the woman in the picture, not
seeing a loving mother but the nurse who had once threatened
her chance at motherhood.

"Oh my God," she repeated over and over.  The sound of her 
shocked voice couldn't compete with the silent scream of her
mind.

It was Lizzie Gill. 


*********



"Here, let me do that," Mulder said as Doggett leaned over to
pick up pieces of glass. The detective gave him a sharp look,
causing him to lift his hands in surrender. "Fine, you want
to be territorial over a coffee mug?  Go for it."

Doggett used a wad of paper towels to clean up the mess. "I may
be injured, but I'm not incapacitated."

"Tell it to your gun arm," Mulder replied. "Detective, you're
in no shape to protect yourself."

"Ever serve in the military, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder leaned back against the counter and folded his arms.
"Let me guess.  While wounded, you managed to single handedly
rescue your entire unit and then serve coffee in the mess tent."

"You forgot the part about seducing the nurse," Doggett added
sarcastically.

"Did your wife?"

"The nurse became my wife," Doggett stated. "You're a real
smart ass, aren't you, Agent Mulder?"

"Depends on which word you're putting the emphasis on,
Detective."

Doggett stood up and dumped the paper towels in the trash. 
"I'll go with smart because I don't have a choice. I need
answers about my boy. From what I understand, you're the best
man for the job."

"So you've been checking up on me," Mulder commented.

"Your nickname really caught my interest," advised Doggett.

Mulder nodded to himself. The 'spooky' insult had just hit
its intended target.
  
"Look, Agent Mulder. I'm not trying to bust your balls, but
my ex-wife is off limits."

"So is my partner."

"Partner? From what I understand, Agent Scully is no longer
employed by the FBI."

He'd been checking up on Scully, too. Mulder gave the man a
disparaging look. "Let's put it this way, Detective.  The Bureau
doesn't give a damn if we ever find your son.  Agent Scully does."

"Which is why our dealings will remain confidential," said
Doggett.  "If the two of you are willing to go out on a limb,
so am I."

"Mulder..."  The sound of Scully's voice diverted his attention.
She was standing outside of the kitchen, gripping the corner of
the wall. The color had completely drained from her face, her
pale skin eclipsed by the stark blue of her eyes.  She looked
like she was going to faint.
 
He caught her before she did.


To be continued....
 
Author's Notes:  This chapter was completed prior to the tragedy
in Washington D.C. and New York City.  Please note that there
are references to conspiracy and arson.  Any similiarity of content
is unintentional and not meant to be offensive. 


Part 11 of ?



Scully woke to the feel of cold washcloths, one across her eyes
and two wrapped around her legs.  It was an uncomfortable way
to be revived, both chilly and embarrassing.  She was lying on
the detective's couch with her slacks rolled up to her knees
and her head supported by one of his tacky throw pillows.
Her elbows gouged cheap leather as she tried to sit up.

"Take it easy." The voice belonged to Doggett, but the hands
that tried to restrain her were Mulder's. The washcloth slipped
down to her neck and she found the two men hovering over her.
Both of them looked genuinely concerned. Only one of them
was to be trusted.

"Mulder," she said in a hoarse voice.  "What happened?"

"You fainted." He slid a supportive arm around her back. "Why
didn't you tell us that your legs were burned?"

"Are they?" Scully asked.  She leaned forward to examine them.
Beneath the washcloths, several blisters had formed on her
reddened skin.  The hot coffee...  In her panic, she hadn't
even noticed the pain.  She certainly wasn't going to focus
on it now. "It's not that bad."

"Bad enough for you to keel over," assessed Doggett. When he
reached down to replace the washcloths, she drew her legs up
to her chest.

"I'm fine, really," she insisted, not wanting him to touch her.
"Mulder, can you take me back to the hotel?"

Mulder studied her expression.  Whatever he saw prompted him
to scoop her up in his arms. "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No hospital," she whispered to him.  "Just get me out of
here."

She held on to Mulder's neck as he carried her outside. Over
his shoulder, she saw Doggett follow with the ugly afghan. 
Once inside the car, he leaned over to tuck it around her legs.
Cringing, she turned her head away.  It was bad enough she
had to endure the feel of his hand.  She would not suffer
the insult of his eyes.
 
"Keep me posted," Doggett said, closing the door.

Scully reached around to lock it. "Yeah, so you can keep
your wife posted?" she sneered. While the glass of the window
blocked the sound of her scorn, Mulder picked up on it
instantly.

"What did you say?" he asked, turning on the ignition.

"Nothing," she muttered. "Drive, Mulder... just drive."

Mulder must have sensed the urgency in her voice because he
floored the accelerator.  Unfortunately, it didn't prevent
him from stopping the car once it turned the corner. "Okay,
Scully," he said, shifting the gear into park. "What the
hell happened back there?"

Scully didn't answer him. She struggled against her seatbelt
which prevented her hand from digging into her pocket.
 
"Looking for these?"
   
Scully glanced over to find him shaking a prescription bottle.
"Mulder, it's not what you think."

"You stole a bottle of sedatives," he accused.

"An expired prescription of Xanac," she defended. "Take a look
at the name on the label."

He did so, shrugging. "Elizabeth Doggett. I assume that they
belonged to his ex-wife."

"Lizzie Gill," Scully corrected. "In my dreams, she was the
nurse my mother hired to take care of me.  Except she wasn't
a nurse.  She was a research scientist who tried to drug me."
  
"Drug you?" Mulder asked. "With what?"

"Pre-natal vitamins," she murmured, dropping her gaze. His
distrust stung her more than the burns on her legs.
 
"Vitamins," he repeated. "Scully, do you realize how crazy
this sounds?"

"The vitamins were a retrieval clue," Scully said. "Mulder,
I saw a picture of her inside Doggett's bedroom. Lizzie Gill
is... or was... Elizabeth Doggett. If you check out her maiden
name, I bet this won't sound so crazy."

"Fine," he agreed. "But first, we get you checked out at the
emergency room."

Two hours later, Scully stared at the hospital ceiling while
a nurse wrapped her legs in loose gauze.  She had sustained
second degree burns above each ankle, but the diameter of
each blister was less than an inch. It was hardly worth a trip
to the hospital.  In fact, according to the nurse, she could
have treated the burns herself.

"Tell it to him," she responded, pointing to the man in the
doorway.
  
Mulder walked over to the exam table and reached down to
stroke her hair. "So I'm a little over-protective."

"Just a little?" She grimaced as she sat up. "Okay, Mulder.
I checked out.  Now what about Elizabeth Doggett?"

Mulder waited for the nurse to leave the room. He pushed aside
the dressing tray and sat down beside her. "You were right,
Scully.  Nurse Ratchet is the former Elizabeth Gill. She works
for Zeus Genetics in Maryland."

"Zeus Genetics," she murmured. "In my dream, Zeus Genetics
was trying to clone humans with alien DNA.  They were
funded by the government in an effort to create some type
of super soldier."

"Looks like they did," Mulder said.
 
"Agent Reyes?"

He nodded. "Scully, do you remember what you said about
replicants?"

"Yes, but the replicants were alien replacements for human
beings.  They were created to aid in the colonization
process."

"Our government may have genetically engineered clones to
combat their threat," Mulder said.  "The question is which one
inherited Monica Reyes' altruistic nature, replicant or clone?"

"Something tells me that Elizabeth Doggett knows. For that reason,
we can't trust her ex-husband. Mulder, he could be in on this."

"Doggett could just be a pawn in a very dangerous game," Mulder
countered. "Which is why one of the Reyes twins is trying to
protect him."

Scully sighed and buried her face in her hands. "God, I just
don't know what to believe anymore."

"You're exhausted," he said. "It's time for you to step back,
Scully.  The closer you get to the truth the more dangerous
it is for you."

"What do you mean?" she asked, glancing up at him.
  
"These fainting spells of yours..." Mulder paused to skim
the bangs away from her eyes. "I think your brain is starting
to short circuit.  With every connection you make, there is
something trying to counteract it.  For all we know, you
could have been programmed never to learn the truth and
your body is responding to that warning."

His theory frightened her.  She rubbed the back of her neck,
not because it ached but due to the chip embedded beneath
her skin. "Now which one of us sounds crazy?" She gave
him a shaky laugh. "It's only vertigo, Mulder."

"Maybe," he considered. "But I'm not willing to take that
chance. We're flying back to D.C. tonight.  You're going to
spend the next few days in bed, even if I have to handcuff
you to it."

"Were not back to that again, are we?"

"Only if you fight me on this," he stated. "But I don't think
you will.  Deep down, you know that I'm right."

Deep down, Scully also knew that it was easier to play along.
The last thing she needed was an around-the-clock babysitter.
Although his intentions were good, her objectives were clear.
The minute he left for work tomorrow, she would pick up the
trail where she left off.  She would track down Elizabeth
Doggett.
  


**********  



The next morning, Mulder called Scully from his car. "Are
you behaving yourself?" he teased.

"Always," she answered in an innocent voice. "Where are you?"

"I'm on my way to investigate a fire," he said. "Turn on the
television, Scully.  There's something you may want to watch."

"Hang on..."

While he waited, Mulder pulled out his badge. Up ahead, a
police officer was directing traffic away from the smoldering
building.  He inched his car up to the road block and rolled
down his window. "FBI," he announced, nodding as the officer
flagged him on.

"It's on channel ten," she relayed. "They're showing exclusive
footage of a medical research clinic. It's... Mulder, it's Zeus
Genetics."

"Burned down last night in what firefighters describe as
an accelerated blaze," he said, parking his car behind a row
of fire trucks. "Typical of arson."

"Typical of this conspiracy."  There was a note of cynicism
in her voice. "I don't suppose there's anything left of the
building."

Mulder opened his car door and got out. He scanned the area.
All that remained was charred steel and rubble. "Doesn't look
that way."

"What about victims?"

"That's what I intend to find out," he advised.

"From what I understand, the facility is staffed 24/7."

"And how would you know that?" Mulder asked her. He turned
around to face the car, trying to filter out the noise of
the fire trucks. ""What are you doing, Scully? You're supposed
to be off your feet, not sneaking around behind my back."

"Since when does someone have to stand to make a few phone
calls?"
  
"Damn it," Mulder swore. "You promised."

"Promised what?" she retorted. "To sit here twiddling my thumbs
until you give the thumbs up?  I agreed to take a step back,
not come to a dead stop.  I told you once before, Mulder.  When
it comes to our son,  I don't care what it takes or who I piss
off."

"Does that includes me, Scully?"

Without pausing, she hung up.

"Shit," he cursed. Once again, he had underestimated her.  He
should have known that she would be unwilling to accept a lesser
role in the search for their son. After all, it was her strength
and intuitiveness that had led them this far. Without her, there
would be no clues to follow or fires to investigate.
  
He would have to learn how to balance concern with respect. She
was his equal.  Instead of saying it, he would have to prove it.
He couldn't hand her the car keys and then snatch them back at
the first road hazard.

After speaking with the Fire Marshall, Mulder drove back to
their apartment.  He opened the front door to find Scully
stretched out on the couch with cold compresses on her legs.
She was dressed in a short nightgown, the apricot silk
accentuating the highlights of her hair.
  
"Hey," Mulder said in a chagrined voice.

"Hey," she said back, her tone matching his.

He closed the door and locked it behind him. "How are you
feeling?"

"A little sore."
 
"As in aggravated?"

"Only with myself." She held out her hand, gesturing
for him to join her. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I shouldn't have hung
up on you like that."

"It's okay," he replied, walking around the couch.  "It gave
me the chance to take my foot out of my mouth."

Scully lifted her legs so he could sit down.  Once he did,
she draped them across his lap. "It's not your fault, Mulder.
I'm trying too hard to be like you."

"Why?" he asked, rubbing the soles of her feet.

"Because I admire your tenacity... your relentlessness," she
said.  "Nothing stops you, Mulder, not even death."

Mulder didn't answer her. Scully's eyes were reflective and
her voice had dropped off to a whisper.  He waited for her to
complete her thought, which she did in a dreamlike musing.
"Maybe your resurrection was meant to be symbolic.  Not in
religious terms, but in a figurative sense... that there is a
certain omnipotence to mankind's will."

"What about your own?"

"That's the problem," she murmured. "There is no strength in
a will divided.  One half of me wants to accept this world.  
The other half doesn't.  By trying to be like you, I was able
to avoid the paradox of my own existence."

Mulder considered his response carefully.  How could he argue
an illusion that was once her reality?  Did he even want to?
He had come to rely on the alternate woman as much as the
real one. He didn't want to lose the other Scully with her
mysterious gaze and keen insight.  It would be like losing
a window into his soul. 

He tried to respond on an intellectual level, but words of
reason were muted by an outburst of emotion.  "Scully, while
you were gone, part of me was dead," he told her. "I kept
searching for you, willing for you to return and breathe life
back into me."

Her lips were inches from his. "Like this?" she whispered.
  
Mulder couldn't stop himself. He pried open her lips, desperate
to inhale her, to permeate his consciousness with the essence of
her being.  He moaned as she drew his tongue deep inside her
mouth.  It was more than a kiss.  She was reviving him, 
replenishing him, encouraging him to take what he needed. He did
so with a certain amount of greed and definite lack
of restraint. Pushing down the straps of her nightgown, he arched
her over the back of his arm.  Like a hungry infant, he latched
on to the nipple of her breast. Fortunately, her whimpers
of delight reminded him that he was man. A man who needed to give
as much in this universe as he needed to receive.

Mulder knelt on the floor beside the couch.  He carefully slid
her panties down her legs before turning her to face him.
Draping her knees over his shoulders, he bent over and kissed
the inner flesh of her thighs. She was quivering with expectation.
So was he.  He parted her damp curls with his fingers, gliding
one inside of her as he sucked on her clit. For each pull of
his mouth, she bore down on his hand. Tantalized, he replaced
his finger with the brunt of his tongue. He darted it in and out,
stopping only to guzzle her warm, musky juices.
 
"Mulder, please..."

She was close. He rose up on his knees and jerked down the zipper
of his slacks.  She gasped, not with surprise but approval. Her
legs were too short to rest comfortably on his shoulders, so she
wrapped them around his waist. He cupped her backside in the palms
of his hands and lifted her to meet his first thrust. 

Her eyes were closed, but it didn't matter. He was mesmerized by
the intensity of her words.  She begged him to fuck her .. to split
her in two like an atom... two molecular parts... two distinct
beings....

He was doing as she asked, thrusting so hard that his thoughts
couldn't keep up with the hammering of his body. He wanted to
stop, but he couldn't. She was slipping away from him, her
arousal dripping down his fingers and saturating his mind. He
tightened his grip, trying to hold her... preserve her...
impale her... keep her....
  
She cried out in pain then screamed with pleasure.  

He cried out in pleasure then screamed with pain. 

He had torn apart the imaginary from the real.  He had lost
her, the alternate woman with her mesmeric gaze and vision
into his psyche.  

Before his knees collapsed, Scully pulled him against her. She
held him to her breast as he shuddered through the death throes
of his orgasm. "It's okay," she panted. "I'm still here, Mulder.
The better part of me is still here."

Mulder lifted his face, tears blinding his eyes. "Which part
is that?"

He felt her lips against his lashes. "The other half of your
soul," she whispered.


To be continued....
 

And a new world will begin 
Living twice at once you learn
You're safe from pain in the dream domain 
A soul set free to fly 
A round trip journey in your head 
Master of illusion, can you realize 
Your dream's alive
You can be the guide...




Part 12 of ?



"Good morning," Mulder said from the doorway.

Inside the Bureau's Analysis Center, Reyes pulled a charred
piece of equipment from a plastic bag. "Is it?" she asked. 
"This is not how I planned to spend my Saturday morning,
Agent Mulder."
 
"Sorry about that," Mulder replied.  He didn't bother to hide
the insincerity in his voice. "I didn't say you had to come and
do it by yourself."

Reyes glanced at her nails. She flicked off a piece of ash and
rose to her feet. "Your former partner put you onto to this,
didn't she?"

Before Mulder could respond, his cell phone rang.  It was Scully.
"Mulder, the local PD has contacted everyone at Zeus Genetics
with one exception," she advised. "Dr. Lev, the head of clinical
research, is still missing."

"Interesting," he murmured into the phone.
  
"There's more."  Scully's voice took on a note of hesitation.
"His co-founder is Dr. Parenti, the same specialist I consulted
about in-vitro fertilization.  Mulder, I'm going to his office.
It's located at 625 Oakhurst Avenue in College Park.  Can you
meet me?"

"I'll be right there," Mulder told her. Clicking off the phone,
he confronted the woman standing in front of him. "You were
saying?"

"Dana Scully is no longer employed by the Bureau," Reyes said in
a curt voice.  "You don't have to answer to her, Agent Mulder."

"And who do you answer to, Agent Reyes?"

"Excuse me?"

"When it comes to the X-files, who do you answer to?"

The pupils of her eyes narrowed to two pinpoints of black. "I
thought we were partners."

"You thought wrong," he said, turning to leave. "Enjoy your
Saturday, Agent Reyes."

Within the hour, Mulder arrived at the Parenti Medical Group.
He expected to find Scully's car, but wasn't alarmed that the
parking lot was empty.  She was running late.  Despite her
attempts to keep up in this investigation, she was slowing
down.  The burns to her legs had to be painful.  Before he
left that morning, he spied her limping.  She joked that her
awkward gait was his fault. But he knew better. It had
nothing to do with their marathon of sex.  Her fatigue was
the result of a prolonged search that seemed as futile as it 
was draining.

He resisted the temptation to call.  To do so would signal
distrust and compromise her ability to regain equal footing
with him. In this universe, strength was resilience.  The
runner might stumble, but she also got back up. If he forced
her to the sidelines, an observer rather than participant, she
would be forever crippled by his uncertainty.

The best way for him to outdistance anxiety was for him to
stay one step ahead of it.  He decided not to wait, but snoop
around.  Inside the building, he picked the lock to Dr. Parenti's
office.  The tiny click of the door made him grin.  The voice
behind him made him jump.
  
"Got a search warrant, Agent Mulder?"

He turned around to find John Doggett.

"What brings you all the way from New York, Detective?" he asked,
motioning towards the man's sling. "Let me guess, a doctor's
appointment."

Doggett ignored his snide remark and glanced around the hallway.
"More like a phone call from my ex-wife.  Elizabeth asked me to
fly down here.  She believes her life may be in danger."

"And like any good cop, you're here to serve and protect,"
Mulder taunted. "The question is who?"

"What are you sayin', Agent Mulder?"

"That there are no coincidences in this universe," he replied.
"Not with your ex-wife in it."

"You think Elizabeth is somehow involved in all of this?"

Mulder opened the office door to a vacant reception area. "Don't
ask me, Detective," he cautioned. "Ask yourself."

"Right," Doggett snickered as he followed him inside. "We get
caught in here and we won't be the ones askin' questions."

"We're just having a look around," Mulder said.  He glanced
past the reception area.  "See your ex-wife?"

"Nope," the detective remarked as they moved down a dimly lit
hallway. Mulder heard him rattle one knob after the next. "Just
one too many locked doors for a doctor's office."

Mulder held up his lock pick.

Doggett pulled out a pocket knife. 

Before he could blink, the detective had the door open. "Boys
in Blue teach you that?" Mulder asked.

"The boys in the Bronx...."

Unfortunately, street smarts didn't measure up to the horrors
of science.  As Mulder turned on the lights, the detective
pointed to the shelves.  "What the hell are inside those jars?"
 
"Examples of your ex-wife's research," he advised. "Human/alien
fetuses... our government's baby steps at creating a super
soldier."

"Christ," Doggett murmured, shaking his head.  "Elizabeth told
me she worked for a pharmaceutical company."

Mulder gave him a sympathetic glance. "She lied, Detective. The
question is... what else did she lie about?  Your son?"  

Stunned, Doggett retreated to the hallway.  Before his back hit
the wall, the wall hit him.  An explosion of plaster sent the
detective flying.  He landed at Mulder's feet, crumpled into a
ball.

"Shit," Mulder cursed, drawing his gun.
   
Behind the cloud of dust was Monica Reyes.  Her dark eyes flashed
a warning as she picked debris from beneath her nails.

"Stop right there, Agent Reyes."

Reyes ignored the threat of his gun, advancing on him.

"Stop there or I'll shoot."

The first bullet winged her shoulder.  The second shot hit
her mid-chest.  Undaunted, she knelt down beside the unconscious
detective.  With a bloodied hand, she stroked his hair.  Shocked,
Mulder pointed the gun at her head, staring at the bumps on the
back of her neck.  They were pulsating with energy.  It was as
if her spine had a life of it's own.
 
"What are you?" 

She didn't answer, but the emotion in her eyes told him all he
needed to know. Tears. They were as profound as the blood already
dried on her shirt. Alien technology made her invincible, but human
emotion made her vulnerable.  In this universe, Scully wasn't the
paradox.  She was....

"You care for him," he accused, lowering his gun.

"You must leave this building," Reyes whispered.  Behind her
tears was a glint of desperation. "She's coming..."

"Who?"

"Your partner...."

"An hour ago, you insisted we were partners," Mulder said.

"An hour from now, you'll understand," she predicted. "One
seeks to protect.  The other seeks to destroy."

Over her shoulder, the dust cloud was settling. Through the
hole in the wall, Mulder saw a man's severed head. "Dr. Parenti,
I presume?"

When she didn't respond, Mulder lifted his gun and tightened
his finger on the trigger. "Okay, one seeks to protect...the
other destroys.  Which one are you?"

"The one who destroys in order to protect."


*************



Scully limped back to her bathroom.  Despite her efforts to catch
up with Mulder, pain had become a hurdle. She could barely walk,
much less jump.  A blister on her leg had burst, trickling
infection down her ankle.  Her jeans were stained a noticeable
black. By trying to keep up, she had crippled herself.

She wondered if her pain was a symptom of a worse disease, an
inflammation of her psyche.  She couldn't see past her own need
to prove herself, not just in bed but in the field. Closing
the door to the other universe had been her last attempt at
distinction.  She had lost her job and credentials. Mulder had
come to desire the 'other woman', the one with a mesmeric gaze
and sharp intuition.  

Her alter ego had become her opponent.

Scully reached into the vanity and pulled out a bottle of
antibiotic creme. Propping her foot on the side of the bathtub,
she pulled up the cuff of her jeans.  Her fingers moved quickly
to spread the cream over the oozing blister. She forced the
overlying skin into temporary dressing.  

Later, she would seek medical attention.  For now, she needed
to heal her sense of self-worth.

She closed the vanity only to find herself staring into the
mirror. Her reflection was fading. Gripping the edge of the sink,
she felt an overwhelming sense of panic.  The sting in her leg
was spreading up her body, paralyzing her with an anesthetic
numbness.   

Scully fumbled for the tube of antibiotic cream before falling to
the floor. She realized that she was the one who had mislabeled
the truth. Her alter ego was never her opponent. The woman who
stood above her was...

Lizzy Gill.


************


Mulder opened the door to Scully's apartment, helping Doggett
inside. He had regained consciousness despite the gash to his
temple. "If you ask me, Reyes was wacked out on something," the
detective grumbled. "Whatever it was, she's feelin' no pain."

"Ask me, and Reyes isn't who you think she is."
 
"Oh, don't tell me she's an alien," Doggett groaned.

"She is a type of alien," posed Mulder. "A replacement who not
only looks human, but possesses human weakness."

"Weakness?" the detective asked. "Did you her break through
that wall?"

"I'm not talking about physical strength," he said. "I'm talking
about emotional vulnerability.  She has feelings for you,
Detective.  I believe we've discovered her Achilles Heel."

"Well, next time try aiming for her foot."

Mulder grinned and called out to the bedroom, "Is there a doctor
in the house?"

When there was no answer, Doggett murmured. "Sounds like I'm
gonna have to settle for a bag of ice from your freezer."

"No," Mulder replied, easing the detective onto the couch. "Her
car is still parked outside."

He quickly searched their apartment. With each empty room, he
felt a strange feeling of dread.  Like a retrieval clue, Reyes
words replayed inside of his mind. "An hour from now, you'll
understand..."

"God, no...." he prayed to himself. "Don't let them have taken
her from me."

In the bathroom, he discovered a smear of antibiotic cream on
the tiled floor.  He knelt down, gazing in horror at the message
traced through it.
  
"Dream of me...." 

He felt his soul splitting in two.  His scream was no longer 
silent.  It was the sound of her name.



**********


Scully woke to the comfort of her bed.  She stretched out on
the quilted bedspread, rubbing her cheek against a soft, plush
pillow. The scent of talcum powder drifted like perfume. Breathing
deeply, she smiled.  It was Saturday morning and the golden light
that streamed through the curtains promised a sunny day. Compared
to the darkness of her dream, this was a blissful reality.

From her bathroom, she could hear the shower.  Mulder was already
getting ready for work.  Last night, the Fire Marshall had sent
debris from Zeus Genetics to the Bureau's Analysis Center.  Today,
they would scavenge through it for clues of conspiratorial foul
play.
  
The prospect of working with him again energized her.  Legs,
feeble from recent burns and hours of lovemaking, felt as good
as new.  She swung them to the side of the bed, startled to find
them covered in silk.  She was wearing maternity pajamas, the
buttons of her shirt open to reveal her swollen breasts.

A tiny whimper on the other side of the room suddenly stained
the silk over her nipples.  Glancing over her shoulder, she
saw the pine crib and the dangling mobile. "Oh my God," she
whispered.

Mulder walked into the bedroom with a towel around his waist
and dripping water onto the floor.  "What is it, Scully?"

"This can't be happening...."
 
"What can't be happening?" he asked, running a hand through
his wet hair.

Scully hurried to the side of the crib and gripped the railing.
Snuggled in a cotton blanket was their son. She could see him...
hear him.... touch him... 

"William!" She cried out his name in a mixture of joy and pain.

The dream wasn't over.  It had just begun.

 

 

To be continued....

Part 13 of ?

"She's gone."

Skinner didn't say a word, but the clenching of his jaw
told Mulder all he needed to know.  The news of Scully's
disappearance wasn't a surprise to the Assistant Director.
Judging by his glistening forehead, he was sweating more
than the exertion of a night at the gym.

"I can't help you, Agent Mulder."

"Can't... or won't?" The question didn't come from him, but
the detective standing in the corner.  Despite his injuries,
Doggett had insisted on attending this unofficial meeting.
 
"I suggest you drop it."  Skinner's look was directed at
Doggett, but his message was intended for Mulder.  "I wish
I could help you, but Agent Scully is no longer employed
with the Bureau."

"Agent Mulder still is," Doggett persisted. "And he reported
several crimes that fall within the FBI's jurisdiction. What
about the death of Dr. Parenti?"

"What about a body?" Skinner countered. "The task force sent
down to Dr. Parenti's office found no evidence of criminal
activity.  No victim... no proof of illegal cloning
experiments...  All they found was a trashed doctor's office
covered with both of your fingerprints."

"This is bullshit," scoffed the detective. "We've been set
up by one of the intergalactic double-mint twins."

"Excuse me?" 

"Agent Reyes," Mulder clarified. "Sir, we're dealing with two
versions of the same person, an alien replicant and genetically
engineered clone."

"Well, the only Agent Reyes that I'm aware of was sifting
through arson debris while the two of you were playing
'breaking and entering'," Skinner advised. "Mulder, there
are eyewitnesses who place her at the FBI's evidence lab
this morning."

"What about this afternoon?"

"Agent Reyes was in a meeting with Deputy Director Kersch,
during which I was present when she reported her initial
findings."

"Let me guess," Doggett interjected. "No evidence or arson
at Zeus Genetics."

Skinner dropped his gaze to his desk. "You catch on quickly,
Detective."

"So do I," Mulder commented as he gave his supervisor a cynical
look. "They got to you, didn't they?"

The Assistant Director removed the towel draped around his
shoulders and mopped his forehead.  For a man who had just
spent hours toning muscles, his posture was noticeably slumped.
He didn't appear exhausted.  He looked defeated. 

"Later than you think," Skinner admitted sadly. "But sooner
than I anticipated."


**********


"Do you think she dreams?" 

"I'm sure she dreams." 

"About what, I wonder?"

There was a pause before the man's answer, long enough for
Scully to recognize his voice and the sound of his contemplation.
It wasn't just an intake of breath.  It was a heady draw of
nicotine.

"The dreams all women who are owned by the world have... a
simpler life... full of small pleasures. Extraordinary women
are always most tempted by the most ordinary things...."

Scully opened her eyes to discover a horrifying truth. Her
alternate universe was really an underground lab. Rather than
lying safely in her bed, she was strapped to a gurney.  Turning
her head to the side, she watched Elizabeth Doggett administer
an injection.  The sting of the needle didn't compare to the
pain of her reality.

She couldn't speak, but the scream inside of her reverberated
her entire being.  

"Dreams are all she has now," he concluded, leaning over to
stroke her hair.

The stench of his fingers made her jerk away.

Cigarette Smoking Man...

As the drug started to take effect, Scully searched for a
way to remember the moment before it was it was taken away from
her. A retrieval clue... She needed something to distinguish fact
from fantasy.  Struggling against the restraints, she could think
of nothing.  She was imprisoned, not only by cold, leather straps
but by the warm, dizzying effects of a hallucinogen. The contrast
made her bite the fragile tissue inside her lip. 

The taste of her own blood...  

As the salt flavored her tongue, an idea took shape in her mind.   

 
*********


"What do we do now?" Doggett asked him outside of the Hoover
Building.
  
Mulder glanced up at the night sky.  He had once tracked the
stars hoping that one of them would lead him to her.  How stupid
he had been to trust a mythology of his own making. His mind had
tricked him to feel the pain of an alien abduction.  But it was
far easier to blame an unseen enemy rather than himself.
  
He had known for a long time that his genetic make-up was
integral to the evolution of mankind. What the Syndicate
couldn't steal, they sought to create... not in the sterile
confines of a lab, but the womb of a woman desperate to bear
a child.  He should have warned Scully of this possibility.
Instead, he allowed his own desire to defeat them both. He
loved Scully.  He would do anything for her.  But when in
vitro failed and he spoke of miracles, he wasn't referring to
conception.  He was praying that one type of his DNA would
prevail over the other.

"Agent Mulder?"

He turned to the detective and sighed.  "It's time to sleep." 

"You're kiddin' me, right?" Doggett rubbed the bandage over
his temple.  When Mulder didn't respond, he continued, "Where
I come from, cops don't sleep.  We don't stop lookin' until the
missing person is found."

"Who said I intend to stop looking?" Mulder asked.

"Think you'll find her with your head on a fluffy pillow?"

"I'll find her where all of this began."

"Where might that be?"

"In my dreams..." he whispered.


**********


Scully stirred to a familiar hand, gentle and scented with
talcum powder.  She could hear the sound of tranquility... her
baby's even breathing... her partner's soothing whisper.  How
easy it was to drift to this simple resonance of life.  For
years, she had ignored many small pleasures in lieu of the grand
scheme.  She had sacrificed her needs as a woman to prove herself
worthy of competing in a man's world.  A distinguishing career...
the admiration of her peers... such cold comfort in the night as
ambition slept and yearning awakened.
   
"True discernment doesn't always come too late," she heard him 
murmur.  "You have the opportunity to change your life, to
visualize it as you want it to be."

Scully kept her eyes closed.  "Like you did, Mulder?" she asked.

"We're all tempted by hundreds of little joys," he relayed.  She
felt his lips graze hers.  His kiss no longer tasted sweet but
of blood recklessly spent in pursuit of his own obsession. No
wonder they were soul mates.  They shared the same fervent desires
and the inability to see past them. In this universe they were
perfectly and tragically matched.  

"This is not what I want," she suddenly announced. "This isn't
the life I was meant to live."

"What are you saying, Scully?"

"I need to fight the fight. I cannot lie safely in my bed with
the devil outside."

"You don't understand," he protested. "He's taking care of you."

Scully tasted the blood on her lips. It wasn't his. It was hers.
"No, Mulder.  Like you, he lulled me to sleep.  But it was my own
doubts and insecurities that keep me there.  I need to wake up.
Mulder, I need you to help me wake up."
 
"Then open your eyes," he said.  "I think you're ready to see..."

She woke to a dimly lit room and the sound of hesitant footsteps.
The straps on the gurney prevented her from moving, but her eyes
were free to engage the startling blue ones of the adolescent boy
who stood before her.

"I've seen you before," she whispered.

The boy nodded before glancing over his shoulder. "They talk
about you a lot.  You confuse them.  That's why they brought
you back."

"Why do I confuse them?"

"You can see things... do things while you sleep.  My mom thinks
it's some type of remote viewing.  She says you can transcend time
and space."

"Your mom..." Scully paused to lick her lips. The blood had
congealed into a clot inside her mouth.  Taking a deep breath,
she asked.  "Is your name Luke?"

"I need you to get a message to my dad," the boy pleaded. "He
thinks I'm dead, but I'm not. I've never been more alive."

She had used the same words when describing Mulder mysterious
brain activity.  Lifting up her head, she met the boy's
desperate gaze.  "I can help you, Luke, but you need to help me
first.  I want you to unfasten these straps."

"I can't," Luke murmured. "They'll stop you, just like they
always stop me."

Exhaling in frustration, she let her head fall back against
the pillow.  She studied the limestone walls of the room. 
"What is this place?  Some type of underground facility?"

The boy pointed to the ceiling. "We were born above, but we
now live below."

Scully considered the riddle of his words. "Who's 'we'?" she
asked.

"I was the first, but for a long time they only suspected
that I was somehow different," he relayed. "They weren't
totally sure until your baby was born."

"William?" she gasped.  "He's here?"

"My mom says that they keep us here to protect us." Luke's
voice dropped to a confidential whisper.  "But I know better.
The ones who seek to protect are really the ones who plan
to destroy."

Fighting her own sense of panic, Scully said, "Luke, listen
to me. You have to undo these straps. If I'm not free, I can't
help you."

"Close your eyes," the boy instructed as he backed his way to
the door. "Close your eyes and you'll free us all."


*********


The next morning, Mulder woke in a cold sweat. Reaching for the
phone on Scully's nightstand, he called the hotel where John
Doggett was staying.

"It's five o'clock in the morning," the detective grumbled. 
"This had better be good, Agent Mulder."

"Tell me about Luke," he said urgently.

"What?"

"We don't have much time,"  Mulder insisted.  "Tell me where
he was born."




To be continued....


Part 14 of ?




"The ones who seek to protect are really the ones who plan
to destroy..."

The boy's words troubled Scully more than the implications
of his true identity.  Luke Doggett.  Once thought dead,
he was alive.  "More than alive", a term used not only by
Luke but by herself when describing Mulder's heightened
brain activity. It was not a coincidence.  She had learned
that there were no twists of fate in this reality.  Parallels
were meant to be drawn between this universe and the one she
had once thought her own.

Although she was strapped to a gurney, Scully realized that
her prison was of her own making. As a scientist, she had been
trained to view the world through logic, not intuition. Yet she
wondered if the so-called "heightened brain activity" wasn't
actually the ability to channel one's "higher self".  She had
already experienced brief glimpses of lucidity, primarily through
passion. With Mulder, she had felt a type of resonation in which
a mesmeric gaze transcended her from a physical to spiritual
plane. 

In his eyes she had discovered the window to her own
soul. She prayed, especially now, that he had seen her
soul, too.

Scully knew that she was in danger, not only of mind-altering
drugs but by those who administered them.  Luke was right.
Those who sought to protect were really planning to destroy.
Cigarette Smoking Man had staged her disappearance as an alien
abduction so Mulder would search above and not below. For deep
beneath the earth she was gestating more than Mulder's baby.
She had conceived a threat to the super soldiers that were
being genetically engineered. Should the truth about William
ever become known, that human beings were capable of defeating
colonization through genetic evolution, Cigarette Smoking
Man's creation would be obsolete.

Realization sharpened Scully's senses. She detected the faint
smell of smoke before her nemesis entered the underground lab
in which she was held.  Closing her eyes, she feigned sleep
to protect herself and the boy who had just warned her. She
hoped that his perception was as stale as his breath. It
fanned her face as he leaned over her and whispered,

"I once told you that in the end... a man finally looks at
the sum of his life to see what he'll leave behind."

His words replayed a distant memory.  She remembered the
foolish trip she had taken with him to Milford, Pennsylvania
in search of a cure for cancer.  He had tricked her with
the promise of distinction within the scientific community
and more importantly, in Mulder's eyes. She had failed
miserably from both perspectives.  She had no intentions
of failing again.
  
Scully's lack of response didn't seem to bother him.  He
took her hand into his cold, clammy grip.  "No sacrifice
is purely altruistic," he whispered.  "We give expecting
to receive.  Because of you, I gave up a cure to my disease.
Yes, my dear, I am still dying.  But in death, I couldn't
be more alive."

Scully fought the urge to recoil from both his touch and
ironic use of words.  She focused on the steady rise and
fall of her chest.  Her rhythmic breathing only provided
a metronome by which he timed his next words.

"By restoring your fertility I was able to control mankind's
fate," he relayed. "The aliens will now seek what they
believe is the answer to our prayers.  Yet those we created
to protect will indeed be the ones who ultimately destroy.
And that is a truth worth dying for, isn't it?"

Scully felt her lungs collapse as the horror of his plan
materialized in her mind.  He had no intentions of ever
letting them go... Luke or William.  Like a maestro, he
had orchestrated one child's death and another one's life
to further his self-serving opus.
   
"What of you, Agent Scully?" he asked her.  "What
sacrifices are you willing to make to ensure the survival
of humanity.  Are you capable of being altruistic or must
you also receive in order to give?"

She was too frightened to even think of an answer.  As
before, he conceived one for her.  "I've already given you
the power to control your own reality, Dana.  It's now up
to you to use it Would you not choose to be Mulder's obsession
rather than compete with it?  And think of your son.  Isn't
it far better to receive rather than give away?"

Cigarette Smoking Man was tempting her with what she most
wanted.  The universe she had left behind.  Like the others,
he was offering her a reality in which she would never suffer
again, a reality where there was no death or abandonment.   

Like the others, she could be more than alive.


***************

"End of the road", Doggett announced as the sedan stopped
in front of a dilapidated building.

Mulder turned off the ignition and glanced out the dust covered
windshield.  "And the beginning of our search, Detective."

"Listen Agent Mulder, if we find anybody here it really will be
a miracle," the man said.  "Democrat Hot Springs is permanently
off the map for a reason.  People used to come for the waters but
the springs dried up and they quit coming."
 
"Sounds like the perfect place to hide something." commented
Mulder as he got out of the car.  "Or someone..."

"Like Agent Scully?"

Mulder waited for the Detective to join him in front of the
building. He pointed to faded paint on the window.  "Can you
read that?"

Doggett squinted at the lettering. "Water from the rock,"
he recited.  "Exodus 7:16."

"I wonder...," the agent murmured, folding his arms in contemplation.  

The Detective scratched the side of his head.  "Wonder what?  You're
gonna have to clue me in, Agent Mulder, cause I've got better things
to do than quote scripture for you."

"You said that Luke was born here."

"Yeah," Doggett said, shrugging.  "Elizabeth and I were visiting
relatives a few miles south.  She wanted to stop and see where I
was born. Luke wasn't due for another month, but the minute we got
here her water broke and...."

Mulder gave him a sidelong glance.  "Water from a rock?"

Doggett didn't appreciate his biblical interpretation.  "I delivered
him, myself." he said.  "Cops can do that, you know."

"So can a federal agent," Mulder countered.  "Or a clone posing as one."

"Are you talkin’ about me?" Doggett scoffed,thumbing his chest. 
"Cause if you are, I want a raise or a second opinion."  

Mulder's laugh was ill timed, but unavoidable.  He couldn't help but
appreciate the detective's sarcasm.  It reminded him of his own. 
"Depending on whose reality we’re talking about, you are a federal
agent.  And from what I understand, a damn good one."

His words prompted a full fledged snort from the detective.  "Who’s
reality is that?"

"Agent Scully’s."

"Yeah, right...."  Doggett’s tone was dismissive.  "In her dreams..." 

"Exactly."  Mulder opened the door to the abandoned building. "Which
began right here... where both of our sons were born."

Doggett didn't respond, but followed Mulder inside.  He suddenly
seemed distracted, as if he was reliving a memory he had chosen to
forget.  His silence allowed Mulder to still his thoughts.  In the
quiet there was lucidity, a state of mind in which he was finally
able to experience what Scully thought was only a dream.

He saw her on the day bed, straining against the contractions that
shook her body and bathed her forehead in perspiration.  She cried out,
not in pain but in fear as the shadows surrounded her.  He couldn't
make out their features which were dark and indistinguishable. Except
the one.  There was no mistaking Monica Reyes or the pulsing vertebrae
in her neck.

"Harder! Push, Dana!"
 
Scully tried to clamp her knees together, resisting Reyes' encouragement.
When she realized that it was futile, that there was no way she could
keep her baby safely in her womb, she began to plead.  

"Please don't let them take it!"

"Push, Dana, push!"

Within a minute, the sound of a newborn baby's cry filled the room.
Mulder watched as Agent Reyes and the shadows retreated to the door.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a new threat to mother and
child. It had nothing to do with Super Soldiers or aliens, but the
man who had created one to defeat the other.

He rose from the earth trailing smoke like a ceremonial robe. In his
hand was a black, opaque rock which he wielded like a crucifix.  The
symbolism was not lost upon Mulder.  Despite the fact that the shadows
were fleeing out of fear, he knew that his son's safety had been born
of an unholy alliance. So did Scully.  Her silent scream shattered the
vision, leaving Mulder standing in a cloud of metallic dust.  

"What is it, Agent Mulder?"  The detective asked as Mulder leaned
over to inspect the tiny granules on the floor.

"Magnetite," he whispered.




To be continued....
 


Author's notes:  This WIP would have not continued without  
David Stoddard-Hunt who very patiently waited until I was
ready to be nudged out of fic retirement to complete it. Many
thanks to David and to the divine Kimberly, who beta's my 
mood as well as my stories.  Also to the members of IWTB for 
their daily inspiration and support. 


Part 15 of 16


"They have too much power to be afraid."

The voice was now familiar to Scully, but it still surprised
her to see Luke Doggett standing in the doorway to the
underground lab.  She did not answer him.  He must not perceive
her as a threat, she reminded herself.  Although firmly
strapped to the gurney and immobilized, she knew that her
presence somehow compromised this boy's sense of security.

Luke inched towards her, his light blue eyes taking on his
father's squint.  He was skeptical, but not enough to keep him
from seeking out the truth.  How much he reminded Scully of his
father, at least, of the agent she was partnered with in the other
universe.  She wondered if her memories, however false, had
somehow prepared her for this moment.  Maybe learning how to
deal with Doggett had somehow prepared her for dealing with
his son.

The boy toyed with the end of the leather strap as if he
considered releasing her.  "My mom says that they're coming,"
he informed her.  "The ones created to protect but who now
seek to destroy."

"Luke, who are they?"

"Don't you know?" He looked astonished. "I thought that
you're the only one who could tell them apart."

"Are you talking about the two Agent Reyes?"

The boy nodded.   

Scully's breath released in a pant-like burst. "What makes
you think I can tell them apart?" she asked.

"You did before," he said. "The night you gave birth to
William."

The night came rushing back with the intensity of a black
tide.  Images began to swirl around her, engulfing her,
drowning her in memories she wanted to forget.  But that
had been the problem all along.  She didn't want to remember.
She didn't want to relive the pain.  

Her son had been taken from her.  She was alone, abandoned,
with only post-partum contractions to remind her that she had
just given birth.  Even her scream was silent.  She
was weak.  She was dying. The hemorrhage beneath her was
transforming the sheets into her burial shroud.   

"You're not dying," a voice reminded her.  "You've never
been more alive."

Scully glanced up to see Agent Reyes hovering over her.  It
was then that she was able to distinguish the replicant from
the clone.  For there were tears in this woman's eyes, a shared
empathy, the one thing that alien technology could not eradicate
in favor of racial superiority...

Monica Reyes' soul. 

Scully closed her eyes as an incandescent light surrounded her,
warming her chilled body, lifting her past the shock and death
grip of a mother's still-born hope.

"My baby..."

"In time you will understand why he is safer here, at least for
now."  

"Where are you taking me?" 

"Back where it all began... back where he will find you."

"Mulder..." 

Her mind replayed the details as if she had written them herself.
Mulder would find her unconscious beneath an oak tree, her crimson
hair faded to blend in with the brown leaves that covered her.
Summer had given way to Winter, the cool fall transition lost 
to his frantic search. He spared no time or effort to find
her. By day, he roamed the desert highways, pursuing the invisible
ship's latest coordinates. By night, he tracked the stars, hoping
that one would fall to earth and return her to him. When he could
no longer distinguish dawn from twilight, he closed his eyes and
awakened to the silent lucidity of his mind. 

"Scully..."

She could hear his voice in the distance. The sound of it carried
her back to the present.  Opening her eyes, she knew that she had
come full circle in her mind.  The final minutes of her so-called
"abduction" had completed the timeline to her past.  Her alternate
universe had been nothing other than a dream domain.  Yet she knew
that it had been a necessary escape.  It prevented her from
recognizing the truth of her captivity.  It taught her how to
develop lucidity in its most perfect form, to recognize and embrace
the fact that she and Mulder were two halves of the same soul.    

Scully realized then that she was no longer secured to the gurney.
She glanced at the boy in the doorway, rewarding him with a smile
of relief and gratitude.  "You set me free," she acknowledged.

"No," Luke shook his head and pointed to the tall, hazel-eyed man
beside her.  "He did."



******************




"Mulder," Scully whispered his name.  

He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest as
he would a small, fragile child.  But the minute her arms tightened
around his neck, he realized that she was not the same woman he had
found curled up in a fetal position beneath the leaves.  This Scully
was strong and resolute.  By living twice at once she had opened
her mind to extreme possibilities.  She no longer feared that which
she didn't understand.  The skeptic had become a believer.
 
Mulder set her down, knowing that she was more than capable of
standing on her own two feet.
  
"Are you alone?" Scully asked.
  
"Doggett is above ground, standing guard," he told her.  "We think
we were followed."

"My dad?" Luke cried.  "He's here?"

Before the boy could sprint up the dark corridor towards his father
an even darker obstacle blocked his way... his mother. Lizzy Doggett,
nee Gill. Smoke seemed to permeate her as if she was burning in
her own hell.  But then she was only the pharmaceutical Angel of
Death. True Death in all his tar-stained glory stood right behind
her.

"You black lunged bastard," Mulder yelled, advancing on him. "Where's
my son?"

Cigarette Smoking Man held up a placating hand, an unfiltered
cigarette burning brightly between his fingers.  "Your son is here,
Fox.  And as long as he remains here, he's safe."

"Liar," hissed Scully.  "The only ones you're interested in keeping
safe are your super soldiers."

"You have it all wrong, my dear," the man said.  "We created the 
super soldiers to protect mankind.  But our experiment failed.
Now they seek to destroy this boy and your son, because they
know that these children are our only hope."

Mulder was used to irony.  His life had been defined by incongruity
and twists of fate.  This moment was to be no exception.  He would 
have to make sense out of senselessness.  "The magnetite keeps them
out," he theorized.      

"Yes, Fox.  The magnetite contains a metallic ore that obliterates
the steel rod that we used to create the super soldiers. They know
it and remain above." He lifted his cigarette to his mouth, his lips
curling upward into a smug grin.  "You cannot clone a soul, but
you can clone a sense of self-preservation."

A sudden blast over his head shook the butt from his fingers.  The
limestone walls began to crumble, filling the corridor with dust and
black tinted ore.

The exit was blocked.  

"Think you can clone another way out?" Mulder sneered, grabbing
Scully's arm and moving her towards the doorway.  "Because your
super soldiers have found a solution to the magnetite.  Strip
mining."

Another blast collapsed the ceiling of the lab, taking Cigarette
Smoking Man's altruism with it.  He pushed Elizabeth Doggett
aside and hurried up an unobstructed corridor.  "It's all going
to hell," he called over his shoulder.  

"Let's hope it takes you with it this time," Mulder yelled
after him.

"Mulder, we have to find William," pleaded Scully, tugging on
his arm.  

"We have to help my dad," insisted Luke.  "He's up there alone."

"Luke, no!" Elizabeth Doggett tried to restrain her son, but
his look of contempt weakened her grip.  He broke free and
raced up the corridor.   His slight frame allowed him to squeeze
through a crack in the vertical facing. "Doesn't he realize
what danger he's in?" 

"Do you?" Scully asked.  Without warning, she jerked Mulder's
gun from the back of his waistband and pointed it at the woman's
throat.  "Where is he, Lizzy?  Where is our son?"

Elizabeth Doggett swallowed hard before answering, "Follow
me, I'll take you to him."

She never had a chance to make good on her promise.  The stone
wall behind her exploded, taking her with it.  Mulder instinctively
fell to the ground, taking Scully with him.  He shielded her body
from the spray of debris, jagged pieces of rock that tore at the
leather of his jacket.  When the dust settled, he glanced to side
and cringed.  Lizzy's severed head rolled by him, coming to rest
just inches away.

He knew what that meant...

"Well, things seem to have come to a head," he coughed, trying 
to insert humor into horror.  For directly across from them was 
the creature he feared the most.  "Agent Reyes, I presume.  The 
question is, of course, which one?"

Scully wasn't afraid.  She stared into the woman's eyes for a 
moment before responding.  "The one who destroys in order
to protect.  The one who will save us all." 


Chapter 16


They maneuvered the labyrinth of corridors in the underground
facility, stopping to grasp the walls with each explosion above
them. The detonations seemed strategically timed.  Each one
blocked off clearly marked exits and drove them deeper into the
cavern.  As dirt rained down upon Scully, she found herself
choking on a grainy uncertainty. Her hope of finding William
was disintegrating into a dust cloud.

"Where is he?" she coughed out the words.

The replicant's dark eyes only mirrored her question.
 
Scully fumbled for Mulder's hand.  He was directly behind her,
but she needed the reassurance of his touch.  His fingers
weaved through hers, securing them together and reminding
her of their partnered strength.

"Agent Reyes is not the guide, Scully.  You are."

"What?"  She flashed Mulder a look of disbelief before focusing
an accusing stare at the replicant.  "What?"

Reyes offered a sympathetic smile.  "If you are going to keep
and protect this child, you must complete the journey without
my help."

"I don't understand."  Her voice wavered in her confusion.

"You don't need open eyes to see."  The replicant's words were
ambiguous, but her gesture couldn't be more clear.  She pointed
directly ahead and stood aside for the two of them to pass.

The implication of finding William without the replicant's help
was intimidating.  Scully hesitated until another explosion
propelled both of them forward.  When the dust settled, she
looked behind her. The muscles in her throat contracted tightly.
Beads of dirty sweat dripped down the side of her neck. 

They were on their own.

"Now you see her, now you don't," quipped Mulder.  His sense of
humor was as flimsy as the walls around them. "Think that's what
she meant?"

"I'm not sure what she meant."  

Scully concentrated on the replicant's last words, trying to
find meaning in them.  Were the words to be taken literally
or symbolically?  Or both?  If the replicant meant that she
would find her son through channeling her "higher self", then
William was as good as lost.  She neither had silence nor
clarity of mind.  They were in a crisis situation and Scully's
emergency response system was to view a solution through logic,
not intuition.

She swiped a forearm across her brow out of frustration.

"Mulder, I don't think I can do this."

"There's your problem," he prompted.  "Don't think - just do."

Mulder's belief in her was more astounding than his suggestion.
Yet his confidence seemed to fuel her own.  She closed her eyes
and focused on the memory of William, what he looked like... 
the soft texture of his skin ... the sound of his cries....

"Mulder, did you hear that?" 

"Hear what?"  Mulder pressed closer to listen.

"A cry," she whispered.  "A baby's cry..." 


*****************

A few moments later, they found William in a lab room -
turned - makeshift nursery.  The mobile above his crib was
spinning to the tempo of his cries.  He had been abandoned 
to the dust.  His tiny fists curled with upset when his
wailing was interrupted by a sneeze.  

Scully had found their son.  It was up to Mulder to find a
way out of the underground facility.

He tucked William in the crook of his arm, using his
jacket to shield the infant against the dust in the 
corridor.  Scully followed closely behind, prompting 
him with a gentle but insistent hand pressed against 
his back.  As they moved deeper into the facility, Mulder
noticed a change in the texture of the walls.  The surface
felt cold and clammy, suggesting to him that there was 
an underground water source.  He remembered the biblical
verse painted on the window of the building above them.  

"Water from the rock," he mused.  "Scully, I think I have
an idea."

"Don't think," she repeated his own suggestion.  "Just
do..."

Mulder followed the dampness until the sound of water
drowned out the noise of the explosions behind them. 
The corridor opened to the ledge of a massive cavern
with an even more impressive drop to a river below.  
Across from them was a battering fall of white water.  
Behind them was a ladder that scaled the wall to the 
surface.  

He ran his hand along the black, opaque surface. "Water
from the rock," he said excitedly. "It's the magnetite,
Scully. We've discovered the source... the salvation of
mankind."

"We've discovered a ladder, Mulder."

He nodded, realizing that theory and theology would
have to wait until later.  Grasping the rim of the
ladder, he encouraged Scully to climb. She shook her
head and motioned him on.  

"I'll follow you," she said.

"You hate following me," he teased, realizing the motive
behind her gesture.  "You first."

"It's not that... it's..."  The pause in her voice couldn't
compare to the hesitation on her face. 
 
Mulder finished the sentence for her.  "You're afraid I'm
going to drop the baby."

"I am not."

"Then what is it?"

Scully bit her lip and glanced at the river far below.
"Fine.  I'm afraid you're going to drop the baby."

"I'm not going to drop him, Scully," Mulder gave her mock
assurance. "Unless, of course, I climb first to the surface
and find out that we're surrounded by dynamite wielding
clones. Then, yes Scully, it's possible I might drop him...
although I'm sure the clones would prefer that I just hand
him over."

His sarcasm had the desired effect.  Scully grabbed the
rim of the ladder and held out her hand.  "Give me your
gun, Mulder."

Mulder reached into his pocket and produced a more effective
weapon.  "This will stop them a lot sooner."

A few moments later, Scully gave him the "all clear" sign.
He finished climbing the ladder and joined her behind a
group of rocks that lined the ravine.  What he saw in the
distance caused him to take a sudden intake of breath.  Less
than a mile away, Democrat Hot Springs lay in ruin.  Most
of the buildings were either burning or flattened.  Smoke
and dust rose to the sky, forming a billowing cloud of
destruction.  It was impossible to tell if the detective
and his son had survived.  

"Think they made it?" Scully asked him.

"I don't know," Mulder said as he passed William to her. 
"But I owe it to Doggett to find out."

"You don't owe me nothin', Agent Mulder."

Behind them, John Doggett emerged from a large formation
of rocks. He was covered in soot and his cropped hair looked
singed.  Yet he was alive and apparently unharmed. "I figure
that it's me who owes the two of you," he said, thumbing over
his shoulder.  Behind him, Mulder saw the detective's son, 
Luke, sitting in the passenger seat of their sedan.  "You
gave me my boy back."

"Just as you helped us find our son," said Scully.  "We'll
always be grateful to you, John."

Doggett cleared his throat and started motioning them towards
the car as if he were directing mid-town traffic.  "Meters
tickin'.  Let's move our grateful asses along, Agents."

Doggett didn't ask about his ex-wife's fate.  Mulder wasn't
sure if he already knew or felt betrayed enough not to care.  

Once they were speeding away from the ruins of Democrat Hot
Springs, Mulder leaned up from the back seat and spoke to
Doggett.  "What happened back there?"

"I thought we were done for," the cop said grimly.  He
reached over to ruffle his son's hair.  "We were surrounded
by 'em, Agent Mulder.  Dozens of clones, led by our evil
twin.  But that was when she arrived...."

"The replicant?"

Doggett gripped the steering wheel. "I've never seen anything
like it. They scattered at the sight of her.  At first, I
thought she might be holding one of those funny rocks of
yours.  But nope, it was just her. She terrified them."

Scully rocked their baby in her arms and glanced out the
back seat window.  "You can't clone a soul," she repeated
softly.  "Just a sense of self-preservation."

"Are you saying that our alien gal has a soul?"

"Not just any soul," said Mulder.  "Monica Reyes' ... the
same woman who tried to help you find your son all those
years ago, Detective... the same woman who loved you enough
to make the ultimate sacrifice...  I believe that Agent
Reyes allowed her own abduction so that one day she would
be in a position to help us all."

Doggett was silent for several minutes.  At first, Mulder
thought the man was focused on his driving, but he could see
the detective's eyes in the rear-view mirror.  They were
bloodshot, strained from holding back the type of emotion
that cops just didn't show.  Giving him a break,  Mulder
tapped him on the shoulder.  

"You may want to step on it, Detective,"  he suggested.
"Those clones may have scattered, but they're still out
there."

Doggett reached up and adjusted the mirror so he could
stare back into Mulder's eyes.  In a gruff voice he answered,
"And so is Monica..."

*************


Epilogue


It was another road side hotel in a succession of temporary
lodgings.  Scully didn't mind their transient lifestyle.  She
had suggested it.  Both she and Mulder knew that they could
never return to the FBI.  They had a new assignment, one more
dangerous and exciting than those in the past.  Protecting
William was first and foremost in their minds, not only for
themselves but for all of mankind.

Being on the run wasn't easy but they had many resources, 
including a new contact within the FBI.  Detective John Doggett
had applied and was readily accepted into the training program
at Quantico.  Rumor had it that if anyone would replace "Spooky
Mulder" in the X-files, Doggett would.  Scully couldn't think
of a better successor.  He might have a cop's "by the book" 
mentality, but Scully knew that he was on the fast track to
becoming a true believer. 

As Scully lifted William from his carrier, she saw her future
with a clarity that her past could no longer obscure.  Never
again would she try to escape her fate by altering her reality.
She had learned to "fight the fight" in the most simplistic
terms.  It was confidence, the type of confidence Mulder had
in her... the type she had rediscovered in herself.  

Scully smiled, gazing down at the baby who was whimpering in
her arms.  It was time.  Just as she'd done in her dream, she
passed William to his father's embrace.  As he cradled his son,
she looked on, experiencing a joy that defied the perils ahead.

The words came so naturally now.

"I think what we feared were the possibilities.  The truth we 
both know."

Mulder glanced up with a quizzical look.  "Which is what?"

Scully placed a gentle hand on their son as she leaned
up to kiss Mulder.  She hoped that the feel of her lips
would convey all that she would explain later... the 
defeat of her insecurities and the passion of renewed hope.
It was a kiss that sealed together two universes through
the recognition of a shared soul.
 
She never felt more alive.


-end-


Authors Notes:  I would have never finished this story had
I not been encouraged by a true believer.  So I dedicate
"Silent Lucidity" to my soulmate... David Stoddard-Hunt.