Title: Manifest Destiny

Authors: Kelida Flynn and Slippin' Mickeys

Category: S, A, R

Keywords: Alternate Universe; Mulder/Scully Romance

Summary: In a post-colonization world wracked by upheaval, Mulder and 
Scully must battle to find themselves, each other, and the vaccine, with the 
help of those they meet along the way. Out of a world encrusted with ash, 
they must rise. 

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and the Lone Gunmen belong to Chris Carter and 
1013 Productions, no money is being made. The other, original characters 
are owned by Slippin' Mickeys and Kelida Flynn. As if anyone really wants 
to use them anyway. But really, we're dead broke. You want to sue? We'll 
have to file for bankruptcy. Don't make us wade through lakes of red tape, 
we'd only, as Ferris Bueller put it, subject ourselves to further school 
absences. 

Archive: Please ask us for permission, and then only link to our website.  
Thanks!

Dedications: At the end. 

Feedback: Oh God, YES. Please. <Insert shameless begging here.> Kelida: 
kelida_flynn@hotmail.com Slippin': red_phile@yahoo.com


"Manifest Destiny" (1/20)
by Kelida Flynn and Slippin' Mickeys


PROLOGUE

All things past and future color the night.  This was a lesson learned hard and 
at a high cost, as are all things of any significance.  The world had ceased 
being a paint-by-numbers place ages ago, but no one had ever bothered to 
notice until now, when it demanded to be seen as well as heard.

They had not seen it coming.  It had always been a possibility lingering at 
the fringe, but the reality?   They could not, and had not, fathomed it.  Even 
if they had somehow foreseen it,  they could not have  prevented it-this 
melting of midnight onto the landscape.  What remained now could not be 
erased.  The only option left was to redraw it, beginning and ending at the 
points of regret, joined together by a line asymmetrically absurd and 
beautiful as the journey it traced, and the people it connected.


END PROLOGUE


Chapter One



Manifest Destiny.

An American ideal. The aspirations of these United States to expand. To 
colonize.

Ironic that when colonization began, it started in America.

Not in the chaotic uproar portrayed in Hollywood, but in a strange way, it 
was rather organized. And while not outwardly frenzied, there was an 
underlying hysteria felt by the unsuspecting populace. The expression, "they 
came out of the blue" carried a whole new meaning.

Most were horrified or stupefied, some maniacal and hysterical, but overall, 
the feeling in America was a wrenching kind of sadness from a democracy  
gone bad. When it began there was a collective lamentation from the 
American people as they were stabbed in the back by their own government. 
They should have known. People had been screaming about it for years. 

Mulder had.  

At least that's what they told him.

He thought that it must have been truly a sight to see members of the 
colonizing alien race working side by side with their own military. Herding 
the wayward people along, ferrying them to whatever destination would 
serve the new leaders' purpose.

At least, that's what Mulder had been told.

He woke up in an arcane government institution 300 ft below Lake 
Michigan, with no identity, no memory and no hope.

The only tendril of memory he tried to grasp, was that there was something, 
*someone* out there that he was looking for.

How was he to know that *she* was looking for *him*?

XxXxXxXxXxX

It is inbred in the human condition that survival is of the first and foremost 
importance.  So when mankind is stripped of its civilization and stability the 
first reaction is to fight back--to the death of necessary.  But nature is 
vicious, and it is unforgiving and not all men are fated for survival.  So in 
classic  Darwinian fashion, only the strongest had survived and the meek did 
not live long enough to inherit the earth.  Instead, they were inherited by it in 
ashes and in sorrow.

The survivors, if they could be called that, were the ones spared by the blind 
violence of  colonization.  They were the ones who had been too strong or 
too scared. They were the men and women who made the decision to run 
the risk of losing their lives to the brutality of their aggressors rather than to 
take their own lives and risk losing so much more in the process.  They 
stayed to re-create history and to build the new future from the ruins.

Scully had decided that one of the tragedies of mankind was its tendency to 
repeat history in an endless cycle of mistakes and misunderstandings. Yet 
regardless of it all she still saw the possibility for hope, because as those in 
power continued to corrupt and consume, the oppressed would rise and 
rebel.  She still believed in the human spirit, even if the one person who had 
encompassed its passion so completely was gone.

"Dana?"  Scully looked up to see her mother coming down the hill.  She 
stood up and wiped the sweat from her brow with the wrist of her left hand.  
"It's almost time for the morning sweep-through.  You should probably get 
inside soon."  Margaret Scully smiled faintly and turned to return to the blue-
gray house on the Rhode Island shore that had acted as a make-shift home 
to them for the last few months.

"Right," she called out to no one, wiping her soil-stained hands on her over-
sized pair of overalls.  The familiar pattern of dirt against denim was lately 
making the garment all her own, and these days having something all her 
own was not so strangely comforting.  She had found them hanging in the 
closet of the house that she and her mother now shared with six other 
inhabitants.  Scully left the small garden she had been tending to and 
trudged up the small hill.

"Why are they still doing this?" The voice was shrill, a mixture of nerves and 
irritation.  

It was more of an open-aired question than a rhetorical one, but Scully 
answered it nonetheless, though not until she was within arms-length of 
Cynthia Adler who occupied the room next to hers.  Cynthia pressed her 
nose in between forefinger and thumb, sniffing slightly, and waited for a 
response.  Scully studied the woman's angular face and then looking down 
to Cynthia's hands as though she were addressing them and replied, "Maybe 
they're looking for something.  Maybe someone."

"And maybe it's just because they want us to fear them," a gravely baritone 
said.  Scully looked to her left and saw Richter McLachlan.  He was a new 
addition to the house, only a few weeks, but in his short time there he had 
made a definite impression.  "Because that's the ultimate power, isn't it?  To 
have complete domination  over us?"  

Cynthia snorted.  "So dramatic!"

Richter smiled, his lips twisted thin and cynical, but he said no more. 
Instead he turned to look at Scully expectantly, as if she owed him some 
sort of response.

But she didn't respond to him.  Instead, she continued on into the house and 
up the large wooden staircase to her room.  In the hallway, on her way to her 
bedroom, Scully saw Cynthia's daughter, Jodie, rocking herself quietly on the 
padded bench by the window.  She smiled up as Scully passed, her face 
older and wearier than anyone should have to be at sixteen.  She wasn't sure 
if Jodie had been like this before colonization had begun, but it was already 
a painfully obvious reality that the chance to recover any semblance of 
innocence was long past.

Leaving Jodie alone in the hallway, Scully passed into her bedroom, painted 
an uncomfortable, lemon yellow that was supposed to invoke the feeling of 
sunshine and summer, but reminded her more of cats' eyes, curious and 
dangerous at the same time.  She rested herself on the bed and tiredly began 
to undress.  The knee-high boots came off first, caked with fresh mud and 
grass.   She placed them on the ground, a heavy clunk as each shoe hit the 
hardwood floor.  She rubbed her temples mechanically.  She had been 
getting headaches lately.  They would start out small and blossom into a 
full-blown monster.  Now, the floor below her began to spiral, tumbling 
downward into nothing.  She couldn't see it clearly any more.  It was 
something fragmented, a filmy brown grain, static pattern.
 
"Honey?"  Her mother peered into her room.  "Are you okay, Dana?"  
Concerned, Margaret entered and sat down next to her daughter.  
Instinctively she wrapped an arm loosely around Scully's shoulder, careful to 
not be too confining, but close enough to be comforting.  She had noticed 
her daughter's growing withdrawal in the last few months, which she had 
passed off as part of the adaptation phase into the now world and their roles 
in it, but it seemed to her to be a deeper melancholy.  Days would pass where 
she would hardly speak more than three word sentences or only give a nod 
of the head yes, a shake of the head, no.  But Margaret gave her daughter 
the space she seemed to need, although now she was beginning to think that 
Dana had merely grown over her wounds, and that whatever pain she was 
harboring still resided beneath the surface.

Scully shifted and placed her head on her mother's shoulder.  "It's so . . . 
fleeting," Scully breathed out onto her mother's neck.  Her shoulders 
slumped and she almost collapsed into her mother's arms.

"Fleeting?" she answered quietly.  "How is that?"

"Everything feels like it's slipping away," she murmured, eyes averted. "So 
fast."  Scully looked up, her eyes wide and wounded. "Is this how the end of 
the world should feel, Mom?"  She stifled a sardonic laugh.  "Did the Bible 
ever say anything about the four horseman riding in on UFOs?

"Oh, Dana," she sighed, but she had to stifle a sob herself thinking all the 
children  she had lost.  It wasn't right that a mother should out-live so many 
of her children.  But she couldn't dwell on it because grief would eat her up 
much like it was doing to her daughter, and she had to be strong for both of 
them if not just for herself.  "I know we've lost so much, honey, but we can't 
let this get us down.  We can't.  Life's still worth fighting for."

Scully stared, her expression blank.  "And what about Charlie . . . ?" She 
choked on his name and could not continue further.

Scully had not seen her brother in over a year when word leaked through 
that she would never be given that opportunity again.  Charlie had died 
during the first wave of colonization.  It was still a raw memory in her mind.  
She hadn't even known the exact details of his death when she first had 
heard.  Not until three days later, and three days before Mulder had 
disappeared, did she find out that Charlie had been selected as a host for the 
full-blown colonists by none other than Bill Scully Jr. himself.  She couldn't 
decide with hurt more--Charlie's loss or Bill's betrayal.

Then Scully suddenly saw a manifestation of her rage and  grief grow in her 
mind.  And she saw him.  There was Mulder, his lips pursed fiercely together 
as he supported her when she could not hold herself upright without fear of 
falling, or running madly into the streets with her brother's blood dripping 
from her hands.  And for a brief moment, that was all that should could feel, 
all that she could think of to build up her strength again.

"They're waiting for you downstairs,"  Jodie said dully, but her eyes darting 
around nervously.  Scully watched her shadow of a  frame pass from her 
doorway and disappeared down the stairs, her footsteps light; ghostly.

Together, mother and daughter moved to walk down to where heavily-
armed inspectors waited.  They looked cold and inhuman.  Their skin was 
gray, their eyes almost milky white.  They looked dead.  They changed day 
by day, but they still all looked the same.  Now, when she thought about it 
more carefully, she couldn't recall ever seeing the same men twice.  

Today though, there was no sweep. Instead, they had brought along a 
woman who  was struggling against their grasps, but apparently not 
struggling to escape.  When she relaxed her face was cold as theirs, but there 
was a wildness to her eyes,  and something almost like...mirth.

"She lives here now, too," one of the guards said.  "Go on."  The left guard 
shoved her forward, and the woman stumbled slightly before she 
straightened herself.  She glared darkly at the guards.  Only then did Scully 
note the electric shackles around the woman's ankles. 

A quick click and buzz followed soon after and the shackles disengaged.  
The woman jerked forward slightly, stepped out of her binds and kicked 
them back at the guards. Scully her heard gasp softly and saw her face 
soften as she turned  it away from her former captors.   

Then the  guards left without another word, leaving the residents of the 
house on the Rhode Island shore to stare at this fierce-looking creature of a 
woman who had without warning invaded their crowded house.  She 
appraised them one at a time, but said nothing.  Her dark eyes betrayed 
nothing as she looked and left them for the kitchen in search of glass of 
water to wet her dry throat, scorching her mark through the corridors of the 
house in the wake of her arrival.

Chapter  2

Mulder rolled over slowly and groaned. The light was bright and his head 
spun wildly to the left. The pain behind his eyes was reminiscent of a 
hangover, but that didn't go on to explain what was happening to the rest of 
his brain. He closed his eyes and thought of how he'd gotten wherever he 
was because he couldn't remember. Anything. Not his name, his occupation, 
his family. His mind was a total blank, and he was seized immediately by 
panic.

He sat up quickly and regretted it instantly. His head lolled involuntarily 
toward his chest and he grabbed it with both of his hands. 

"Fuck me!" he gasped. 

The pain was ferocious, beating in his ears and roared in his veins and 
spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. And then it faded. As 
quickly as it had come, it was gone, and aside from the throbbing in his skull, 
left no trace of its previous existence. 

"It speaks!" a loud voice laughed, and Mulder jumped and spun his head to 
his left, seeking its source. "Not  the richest language I've heard, but it speaks 
nonetheless." A man stood up from his bunk, across the room  from 
Mulder's bed and slowly walked towards him. Mulder followed him silently 
with his eyes. "Fox Mulder," the man stated simply. "I didn't know if they 
were ever going to bring you back here."

"Who?" Mulder croaked, swinging his legs over the bed and digging his palms 
into his eyes. "What the hell is going on?" He mumbled to himself, head still 
bowed.

The man backed up and flopped back down on his own bed, his white 
scrub-like pants and shirt bunching  up beneath him.

"Of all the people who could beat them, I would have thought it'd be you."  
He heaved a sad sigh and continued. "I guess I *am* the only survivor."

"Survivor of *what*?" Mulder asked, slowly meeting the mans eyes with an 
irritated glare. 

"This whole bloody travesty, Mr. Mulder. This colonization. This whole 
wonderful expansion. This perfect instance of Manifest Destiny coming 
back to bite us right on the ass." He paused and his expression lightened 
somewhat. "More specifically though, the memory wipe, which you are so 
obviously suffering from." The man ran his fingers back through his dusty 
blond hair, "You're smart. Not smart enough to avoid being captured, but I'd 
have at least thought that you'd beat the memory wipe." He sighed again.  
"Everything *is* going straight to hell."

"Who are you?" Mulder asked.  "Come to think of it, who am I? How do 
you know me? What is this place?" 

The man grinned a little and looked at him. "Glad to know they didn't suck 
your personality out too. Still as ever curious as can be."

"Whatever  you say," Mulder muttered, rubbing his eyes again. "I take it 
*you* managed to beat this 'memory wipe,'" 

"Of course," the older man said, "I'm a survivor."

"Well Mr. Survivor, do you have a name?"

"I have many names. But you can call me… Invictus." He grinned up at 
Mulder. "Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Spellbinding," Mulder droned in his best sarcastic monotone cadence.  He 
leaned back, glowering at his roommate. 

"So, Invictus," he said, putting a nice austere edge on the name, "since you 
managed to beat this whole memory-wipe thing, and since you so obviously 
have an astounding grasp on my current situation, would you mind filling 
me in? Because as you have so astutely pointed out, I'm having a hard time 
doing it myself." 

"Easy, Mulder," Invictus said in a hurried whisper.  "If you get worked up, 
they're going to hear you. As it is, they don't know the wipe didn't work on 
me. As far as they're concerned, we're no longer two men who know far too 
much about their plans. Plans that are far more sinister and deadly than I 
think even *you* had ever imagined. We're a couple of drones that they've 
disappeared and, are as we speak, probably debating on whether or not to 
kill us. I'll tell you everything I know. I'll do my best to help you regain your 
memory, but  you need to realize that unless you act as confused and 
ignorant as you are right now, we stand to lose any and all hope of ever 
getting out of here. And to tell you the truth, I think that there is more 
hinging on our escape than anything you could possibly *hope* to fathom."

He leaned back, surprising his roommate with his sudden concurrence. He 
shrugged at the man's sudden look of surprise. "Do tell."

XxXxXxXxXxX

It will end where it all began. In a kaleidoscope of perfect moments.  Perfect 
love, perfect hate, in perfect destruction, and perfect creation.  And you will 
die as you have lived.

 Memory would remain. For you could kill a body but never its soul, and 
what is a soul if not a memory.  There was hope, but little, in the older man's 
words, his narrative leaving space for conjecture, but precious little for a soul 
to find its mate. And in his tale, the only hope for salvation was in the 
mating of two souls that had been separated time and time again.

During his serene introspection, Fox Mulder could not as yet remember. But 
for some reason, the unlikely, bizarre tale Invictus weaved before him made 
an odd kind of sense. He believed him, though he had no justification as to 
the honesty of the man's story. For all he knew, he could be in an insane 
asylum, his roommate a man living in a world he himself had created.

And while the story held the promise of the most caliginous of dark times 
ahead, it also held hope. Hope for the future, and most importantly, hope 
for himself. And hope was the only thing Mulder had to hold on to. 

So Fox Mulder believed.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder sat on his bed, staring at the ground before him, digesting the man's 
story piece by piece. And then he snorted. The snort turned into a chuckle, 
and the chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. 

"You know," Mulder murmured between chuckles, "you're one crazy son of 
a bitch, you know that? But for some reason, I believe you." He looked the 
other man in the eye, "God help me, I believe you."

"Credero quod consolarit," the older man muttered.

Mulder took a deep, calming breath and narrowed his eyes, looking at 
Invictus questioningly.

"Credero quod consolarit, Mr. Mulder. 'I believe because it comforts.'"

 "Touché," Mulder said, nodding as he sat back down. 

"So what do we do?" He leaned forward again and began speaking again in 
a hushed tone. "If what you say is true, what do we do next? How wide 
spread is this colonization? And what can I, *me* of all people, do about 
it?"

"Listen Mulder," Invictus chuckled at his new friend's reaction, as though 
hearing his name for the first time, "the first thing we have to do is get out of 
here."

Mulder interrupted before he could get another sentence out. "Where is here 
again? I was a little caught up on the 'alien invasion' part of your story when 
you got to the part about where we were being held."
 
"Michigan." Invictus answered, chewing on the inside of his lip and looking 
fleetingly about the room.   "Sort of."

"Sort of?" Mulder stated, looking at Invictus oddly.  "How are we 'sort of' in 
Michigan?"

"Well, we're technically well within the borders of the state. Only…."

"Only…?"

"Only we're 300 feet below the surface of Lake Michigan." He looked to 
Mulder, trying his best to ease into the severity of their situation. "In the 
Straits of Mackinac to be precise." 

"Oh!" Mulder said suddenly, as if he'd had an earth-shattering epiphany.   
"So we just hop into the old Bubble Mobile and have Dr. Crenshaw speed us 
on up to the surface, then."

 "Of course. Only we'll have to get Melvin, the freshwater wonder dolphin to 
take him a message, because  yesterday, while I was running a scan on the 
supercomputer, my transmitter broke." Invictus looked at him with disdain.  
"Look Mulder, I know all of this is a lot to swallow, but could you just *try* 
to work with me here? Please?"

Mulder sighed and reluctantly nodded.

"Now, I have a plan for getting out of here, but we'll get to that later.  To 
answer your other questions, the colonization *is* widespread, but it's most 
condensed on the east coast. The further west you move, the less control 
"They" have. Their grip is tightening here in the Midwest, starting with the 
larger cities, as far north as we are, in this relatively rural country, we should 
be okay. But we *do* have to be careful."

"Kind of gives new meaning to the phrase 'go west, young man,'" Mulder 
said quietly.

"Indeed,"  Invictus agreed. "Look Mulder, we have to make our move soon.  
Once we're out, we have to head south, down to Lansing. I have it on faith 
that the government is secretly working on a vaccine that can stop the 
colonization dead cold. *We* have to get it."

"I don't follow," Mulder said.  "Why do *we* have to get it? I mean, how 
can we stop this? If our government has a… a vaccine? To stop 
colonization, why would we have to do anything? The government will use it 
to take out the aliens, or whatever this vaccine does."

"The vaccine actually makes humans immune to effects of a 
certain..."weapon"… that the aliens are using to make the population of 
Earth a slave race. But Mr. Mulder, our government can no longer help. 
While they've developed and continue to develop this vaccine, they've been 
working with the aliens for well over fifty years. And now that the aliens 
have come, our government is useless to stop them. They're trying to  buy 
some time by working in cahoots with the aliens, but the aliens are too 
powerful. They have too much  control. We're the only ones who can stop 
this now, Mulder.  We're the only ones that can do anything.  But we need all 
of the help we can get…." He paused.  "We need your partner."

Mulder was about to question Invictus once more, when the sound of the 
lock sliding back on the door  silenced them both. As the handle was turning, 
Invictus harshly whispered, "Remember Mulder, total ignorance! You don't 
know what's going on!"

The door opened, admitting two armed men in military fatigues. They 
brusquely walked in, grabbed Mulder by the arms and ushered him quickly 
into the hallway. Mulder shot Invictus a worried glance as the door shut 
swiftly behind him and locked with resounding metallic clank.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 "Richter began pacing around the corridor, his face spitting mad.  "As 
though we didn't have enough people here.  We don't even know who that 
woman is!"

"Will you calm down for once?" Cynthia snarled.

"Will you shut up for once?" he snarled right back, walking straight up to her 
face, close enough to step on her toes.

Margaret then stepped in between them and tried to break up their 
impending fight.  Scully, though, was distracted.  As the shouts and angry 
curses faded into the background, she found herself following the woman 
into the kitchen.  Blue ocean light filtered in through the large window by the 
sink, only broken up by the shape of the woman leaning over the sink 
drinking water out of her cupped hands.

"I'm sorry about this," she began just as Scully had opened her mouth to 
speak.  "I don't want to intrude, but I can't help it.  They," she said this word 
with such venom and hatred, Scully could almost feel it vibrate into her 
bones, "they are watching me.  Us."

"It's not your fault," Scully replied.  She moved closer until she was leaning 
next to the dark-haired woman on the counter.  "Ignore Richter. He can be a 
real high-strung ass, even when he doesn't apply himself."

She gave a small smile.  Scully smiled back.  "I'm Scu. . . Dana.  Dana 
Scully"

"Scully?"

She smiled softly to herself, as though she were tasting a memory.  "My . . . 
friend use to call me that, but he's not around anymore." She licked her lips.  
"Just call me Dana."

"The name sounded familiar."  She shifted her feet and turned so she would  
face Scully straight on.  "I'm sorry about your friend." There was a slight, 
pregnant pause.  "I'm Elspeth Parr."  She reached out her hand, her long, 
strong fingers grasping Scully's tiny one.

"Nice to meet you Elspeth, under the circumstances."  Scully made a gesture 
in the air with her hand.  They both grew quiet, shifting uncomfortably in the 
newness of their acquaintance.  Suddenly, there was a  crash of feet running 
down the stairs and a loud, boisterous voice ringing in through the hallway.

"The prodigal son has returned!  Jodie!"  There was a scoop in the cadence 
of the voice.

Together, Scully and Elspeth migrated towards the front entrance.  There 
Jodie Adler stood, a brighter shade of girl, facing a lanky Asian man. His 
face was comically alive, grinning like a man completely unaware of the 
reality around him.  There was something certainly enviable in that, Scully 
thought as she moved in more to greet Nathaniel Liu, in all his jester-like 
fashion.

"Well hello, who do we have here?"  Nathaniel's smile suddenly faded as his 
eyes focused in on Elspeth.  They flickered for a moment of recognition, but 
he turned away somewhat confused and greeted the rest of the household.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Six of them sat on the porch and watched with seeming apprehension the 
setting of the sun.  As its flaming orange dipped into the cool recess of the 
blue and green horizon, there seemed to be a chill coming in from the tide 
behind them, black and thin, sweeping through like a sonic boom.  Jodie  sat 
perched on the railing that circled the house.  Her hair was made up in messy 
braids, and she was resting her head tiredly against a column.  The only 
movement she made was the occasional glance over at Nathaniel who was 
busily engaged in conversation with Elspeth.  Scully watched them all from 
her seat  on the front steps.

Across from her sat Richter sat in a wicker chair.  He was leaning back, but 
even then he looked agitated and aggressive.  He looked like he could 
explode any second now.  Scully brushed away her hair with the palm of her 
hand and took a moment to scrutinize him. She had to admit,  he was 
handsome.  There was something dangerous--almost animalistic about him, 
and the magnetism rolled off of him in  waves.  She could also see that 
beneath that angry veneer in his ice blue eyes she was almost sure he was 
hiding something--pain, she guessed.  They call carried scars miles deep these 
days, she thought  soberly.  Some, though, wore theirs like a badge; a right to 
be angry, while some carried their wounds around as ghosts and shadows 
infused in and out through every cell living and dead in their bodies.

Ghosts, Scully thought sadly.  I have too many ghosts and too little of  life 
around me.  

Margaret Scully came by her daughter then, touching Scully's shoulder 
reassuringly.  She gazed up at her mother and reached out for her hand.  She 
squeezed it, finding comfort in the pressure. Seeing her daughter okay,  
Margaret excused herself and re-entered the house.

" Fate!" Nathaniel trailed off as Scully picked up the tail end of  their 
conversation.  His hands flew in a nervous flourish.

Elspeth took a long sip of water and smiled with only the corners of her lips 
turning up.  "You are so full of shit, Nat!"  Elspeth had seemed to mellow in 
the short time she had been with them. " You tell me that  you believe in 
fate, but then you also go on about some resistance and how we have to 
fight.  If it's all premeditated by fate, then what is the point?"

"You don't believe in fate?" Richter barked, surprised, his eyes burning into 
Elspeth the whole time.  He had been watching her throughout the entire 
conversation, but what ever his thoughts were, they were a mystery to all but 
himself.

Elspeth turned her dark eyes toward him and leveled him with her stare. "I 
believe in free will, yes,"  she said slowly, and her voice seemed to grow 
deeper and stronger.  There was a gleam in her eye. "I think we all manifest 
our own destinies, even if the universe is full of chaos.  Our choices are the 
things that brings a little order to it. "

"But our choices are made to simply carry us along the path that fate has 
already set down, Elspeth!" Nathaniel said emphatically.  He slammed a fist 
into the palm of his other hand.  "It's fated that the colonists would come.  It 
was fated that *you* showed up today at this house and not another  one.  
It is fated that there is a resistance and that it will fight for its freedom."

"Sounds like you're just trying to find a loophole to get yourself out of 
having responsibility for your own actions, Nat," Richter said.

"Exactly," Elspeth agreed, a strange look crossing her face as she raised an 
eyebrow at Richter.  Turning back to Nathaniel, Elspeth continued.  "But 
now tell me more of your branch of the resistance."

"There's a meeting tonight."  His voice fell to a hush.  "Very covert and 
secretive.  Hush, hush, wink, wink, you know."  He winked at Jodie.  He 
reclined in his seat and asked off-handedly. "Are you all interested in 
coming?"  

Elspeth nodded faintly, as did Richter, albeit reluctantly. Jodie was all 
excitement. 

Nathaniel turned his attention now to Scully. "Dana?  Are you in?"

Scully turned her head up.  She paused a moment, almost for the dramatic 
effect, considering the offer.  She pursed her lips together and responded 
definitively with the strong voice she had been missing for the last few 
months.

"Yes.  Definitely."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The contrast between the cool night and the throbbing heat of the hidden 
warehouse room was almost enough to knock  Scully off her feet, but she 
liked the feeling of a hundred different scenes being attacked all at once. 
She was sandwiched between Elspeth and Richter, with Jodie trailing behind.  
Bodies hit bodies, and they pushed their way until they found the stage 
where Nat was setting up for his speech.

There were more people packed into that small room than Scully had seen in 
ages.  They were a cornucopia of races, genders, and from what she 
suspected, there were not only humans, but also hybrids, much like 
Cassandra Spender all those years ago.  She had to keep this to herself, 
however.  From  what she knew of Richter from their brief acquaintance, it 
was obvious that he had a long-standing problem with everything and 
anything not human.  She wasn't ready to antagonize him or have him go 
berserk during the meeting.

Nathaniel waved to them from the stage, his arms busy with some wires.  
Scully leaned forward, resting her torso against the stage.  Her cheeks were 
flushed, but her hands were cold.  She pressed one palm to her face and 
circled around to survey the surroundings.  It was dark and wild inside. There 
were people dressed in rags and those dressed in suits.  The excited murmur 
was punctuated by enthusiastic yells and screams.

Nathaniel stood up and moved to the podium and called for silence.  It took 
him a while, but he kept a happy face on until the crowd finally settled itself 
down.

He paced first, then stopped, a sly smile curving from his mouth.  "You are 
all here because you believe in the same cause.  You believe in preservation, 
in life.  You believe in the human race!

"We can be all talk, though, but what we need is action if we want to save 
ourselves from this cruel fate we have been dealt!"  No one else noticed, but 
Scully saw Nat's eyes flicker to Elspeth.  He then cleared his throat and 
shouted, "Resist their slavery, their death.  Together, we have the genius of a 
crowd, the strength and combined forces to win this battle!"  

"Am I supposed to be excited or something?" someone heckled from the 
crowd.  Laughter erupted and Nat was visibly discomposed.  He shifted his 
feet and a red blush spread to the tips of his ears.  The blush soon turned into 
the red of indignation, and his temper flared out as he glowered back at his 
audience, shouting obscenities and for them to quiet down so he could 
finish.

"Hybrid?"

Scully spun around to see Richter, his jaw set in controlled anger. Elspeth 
turned and  stared at him.  When he turned his gaze on her, she didn't turn 
away.  Instead, she trained her stare even harder until he looked away.

"Don't let your hate overwhelm you, Richter," she said calmly. "There's a 
good man in  there somewhere.  Let him out."  He did not look back.

"Your attention, please!" Nathaniel shouted from the above the roar of the  
crowd.  "Come on!"  

Elspeth stared up.  "What are you doing, Nat?" she asked calmly.  He 
reached down and grabbed her hand.  "We need you, Elspeth.  You. Speech. 
Now."

Nathaniel dragged her up, and she resisted very little.  He nudged her gently 
towards the podium and took a step back, relieved to escape the spotlight 
for now at least.

Elspeth blinked out at the audience before her.  They were quiet now and 
had all their attention directed trained on the woman on stage.  She threw a 
look back at Nat, but he shrugged.  It only took a moment though for 
Elspeth to sink into comfort.  She suddenly seemed very much in her 
element.

"Some would say," she began slowly, her eyes downcast, thoughtful, " that 
this is a time for heroes to be made.  But who are our heroes?  Where have 
they all gone? Have they died?  Have they left us?  Run away?  Who are we 
to turn to now?"  She lifted her head and stared out, her jaw set 
determinedly.   "But maybe we are asking the wrong question and looking at 
all the wrong places to be saved."  Scully saw Elspeth's eyes twinkle.  "We 
can be passive and wait, and hope that our knight in shining armor will come 
galloping by, but is he really going to come?  If we keep on waiting all we're 
doing is wasting, and time isn't something we have much of.  We need to 
become our own heroes.  Nothing's too big, nothing's too small, but we 
cannot sit around and wait." She spread her arms out wide.  "Look at what 
waiting and inaction has done to us," she pleaded,  "and consider your 
options.  It's do or die, and I believe every one of you can grasp the enormity 
of it."

The enraptured silence continued, and Elspeth continued, her blue shirt 
glowing in the dimness of the room.

"I was brought here a few days ago from a compound in Michigan.  And let 
me tell you, it's not just us.  Everyone, everywhere is just as bent if not 
broken.  I've seen men and women there who were once leaders, but what 
they've done to them . . . they're not the same anymore.  They've become 
shells of their former selves.  Whimpering babies crying for their mothers.  
We cannot wait for them anymore because even if we did, what could they 
do?

"This is not to say that this is the situation for everyone, though.  There was 
a man I saw there—I think some of you would recognize his name, a Fox 
Mulder, who though tortured was still himself in many ways."  Scully gaped, 
her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish out of water.  "He lasted 
because he still had his strength of conviction that we could defeat the 
colonists, and he is still out there fighting for us because he still thinks it's a 
cause worth fighting for. However the question now is, will you fight as he 
fought?  Will you risk everything to have your world—your lives—back?  Or 
is this the world you want you and your children to live and die in?"

The world suddenly heaved and Scully felt herself jerking as though she 
were  caught in a storm. Chills coursed through her body and she felt too 
much blood rushing to her head all at once.  She barely noticed Elspeth 
descending from the  stage among the growing hum of people around her.  
Their voices were getting louder and stronger and filled with what could only 
be conviction of their own abilities to do good.  

Elspeth sidled towards them, her face sweaty but calm with a look of 
immense  relief.  "That seemed to help," she said thoughtfully, and then 
looked at Scully  whose face was white and stricken.

Suddenly she mouthed, "Scully?  You?  Mulder?  You and him?"

"He's alive?" Scully finally managed to croak out.  "You know where he is?"

"Well I'll be damned," Elspeth said biting her thumb, an amused smile 
playing on her face. "Damn,"  she laughed again. 

 Scully was still paralyzed with the shock when she felt Elspeth grab her 
around  the arms in a tight hug leaning in and whispered in her ear, 
"Apparently we have  a lot to talk about."  

Elspeth released her and turned to Richter with a bemused expression on her 
face. She reached out her hand and tentatively, he took it not so reluctantly.

"Time to go," Nat called, his smile warm and broad, and they left, new men 
and  women suddenly transformed by the re-emergence of the human spirit, 
because despite  everything.  Despite the past.  Despite the future. Despite 
herself, Dana Scully was feeling again the glow of caring, the slow rumble in 
her stomach and shine returning to her eyes.

They walked through the beautiful Rhode Island night like worshippers 
returning from a holy crusade.  Scully was alive.

If Mulder could rise from the ashes, so could she.


Chapter 3

Mulder was led into a navy blue hallway that curved  both to his left and 
right. The only illumination in the dark corridor was provided by small 
yellow lights that peppered the rounded walls like sconces in a castle. 

"This way," muttered one of the guards tersely.  They kept a firm hold on his 
shoulders and led him to the left. 

The hallway kept curving in to the left, leaving Mulder to deduce that the 
building he was being kept in was a circular one. 

They came to a tunnel-like hallway that branched off from the annular 
complex, and ended in an exact duplicate. Turning quickly down yet 
another rounded hallway, the guards paused in front of a metallic door that 
resembled an industrial refrigerator.  They opened the door, pushed Mulder
inside. 

"Sit down," the guard said, indicating a chair at the end of a long table. 

"You won't be joining me?" Mulder pushed out quickly before the door 
quickly slammed shut. "Pity," he muttered to the empty room.

He sat down in the chair and looked about the plain room in mild disinterest. 

It was the same shade of midnight blue as the hallways, though the lighting 
in this room was a little more bright and cheerful. He was seated in the lone 
chair of the room, which was firmly bolted into the floor at the head of a 
long, white table facing the door. Mulder glanced at his opaque, grainy 
reflection in the metal and drummed his fingers on the table, wondering 
what would happen next.

His silent musings were interrupted then by the door opening. Three men 
entered, one in higher ranking military dress, the other two in suits, one of 
them sans jacket. 

The one in military dress, Army by the looks of it, perched himself to 
Mulder's left, on the other end of the table. The man without the jacket 
leaned back against the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and 
then glared at Mulder. The other man, the one with the coat, crossed the 
room to Mulder with a pleasant smile on his face and extended to him his 
hand. 

Mulder reached out tentatively and took it as the man began speaking. 

"Mr. Mulder, my name is Dr. Joel, this is Mr. Fandango," he motioned to the 
man leaning against the door, who merely blinked at him, "and this is 
General Darwin."

Darwin, the man in the uniform, a young man, particularly for a General, 
with close cropped black hair, a strong jaw and a pleasant face, nodded at 
Mulder and offered a courteous "Sir."

Dr. Joel continued.

"Mr. Mulder, I'm not going to beat around the bush, here. I have some 
questions for you. Some very serious questions, and I need very truthful 
answers." He looked to General Darwin and then back at Mulder. "I will not 
tolerate otherwise."

Mulder swallowed hard, examined his fingernails closely, and wondered just 
what the hell was going on.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"I still don't see why we're keeping them alive," Fandango started after 
Mulder had been led from the room.  "All of these people. Why we spend 
time, money and resources to wipe their memory and then keep them down 
here in the depths of nowhere." He noticed Joel about to interrupt, so he 
hastily continued. "Wait Jerry, let me finish. I understand who these people 
are. I know they were clued in on what would happen with the colonization 
before even *we* were, and that we stole them away and wiped their 
memories so they couldn't stop it.  What I don't see is why we have them 
down *here*. Hidden away from everything, even our own people and the 
colonists. If they were such a threat, why not eliminate them? 

"Jesus, David," Dr. Joel said, looking at Fandango in contempt, "have you 
*been* to the surface lately? Have you *seen* what's going on up there? 
There's been too much death already." He shook his head sadly, and 
lowered his voiced on a sigh. "I can't even believe you'd bring it up."

"And besides," said General Darwin, shoving himself up and off the table 
top, "if everything goes as planned, we'll need them-- All of these people." He 
paused and grinned at Fandango's confused expression.  "Haven't you been 
informed, David? These people are essential. And with the right
stimulation, an absent memory is easily rediscovered."

At Fandango's look of dismay, Darwin elaborated.  "He knows things we 
don't, David. He's got the answers to a lot of questions we don't even know 
we should be asking. And we're going to *need* those answers. But we don't 
want him, or any of the others to know the power they have, and we need 
them to be completely accessible when the time *does* come. Contrary to 
popular belief, the shit has NOT hit the fan. It's not even in the same zip 
code."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder was shoved into his cell with more force than necessary. When he 
finally regained his balance, the door had been sealed and locked.

"They work with such finesse."

Mulder looked over at Invictus' bunk, where the voice had come from. The 
older man stood up and faced Mulder, standing akimbo.

"So…what happened?"

"To tell you the truth," Mulder began, "I'm not so sure. They asked me a 
bunch of questions, most of which having to do with whether or not the 
content of the question had any significance to me, and then they showed 
me a few pictures, were apparently content with my reactions and answers, 
and brought me back." Mulder looked Invictus in the eye.  "It was all very 
confusing. And considering my current state of mind, I didn't think that was 
possible."

Mulder sighed and flopped down on his bed.
 
"So what kind of things did they ask you? Can you remember anything 
specific?"

"Not really, they started off asking me if I remember who I am, if I know 
where I am, things like that. They mentioned a few names and dates and 
asked me if they held any significance, seemed satisfied with my answers 
and proceeded to show me a few pictures." He paused, thinking. "I can seem 
to remember general stuff, movies, music, the Presidents-just nothing 
important." 

"Do you remember any of the names they asked? Dates?"

Mulder thought hard. The questions they asked him were asked in rapid 
succession, a new one being fired off as soon as he finished answering. It 
must have been to throw him off, but considering he answered every 
question they asked negatively, there wasn't a lot to throw.

"Names… names… nope, none that I can recall off the top of my head." He 
paused, thinking hard.   "They did ask if the date August 8th  held any 
significance for me though."

At Invictus' sharp exhalation of breath, Mulder sat up in the bed and 
narrowed his eyes at him.  "What? What happened on August 8th?"

Invictus snorted in disdain.  "What happened? He wants to know what 
happened." He looked Mulder square in the eye and answered him. "On 
August 8th, Mr. Mulder, Colonization happened."  He sat back down on his 
own bunk and leaned back to stare at the ceiling.  "And you and I are two of 
the few people that knew ahead of time and actually had the power to stop 
it."

Mulder sat for a moment in silence and then looked up to Invictus.  "So why 
didn't we stop it? What happened?"

Invictus shook his head.  "This happened," he gestured around their cell, 
"this *place* happened. It's all gone to bloody hell." He paused a moment 
before sitting up and lowered his voice, bringing Mulder in close to hear him. 
"And while it's too late to stop what already happened, we can still do 
something."

Mulder's tone matched his own.  "What can we do?"

Invictus suddenly appeared to lose interest, and rolled over in his bunk, 
turning his back to Mulder.  "It's a long story, Mulder. I'll explain on the way 
out."

Mulder was confused.  "On the way out *where*?"

Invictus yawned and pulled his sheet up around his body, ignoring Mulder's 
question.  "Get some sleep Mulder, I assure you, you're going to need it."

XxXxXxXxXxX


Scully fanned her face with a tattered sheet of paper she had been scribbling 
on for the past three hours.  Her eyes were sore; her skin dry like sandpaper.  
She rubbed her throbbing temples with her thumb and forefinger, then 
dropped her arms to the side of the chair and stared across the room at 
Richter who sat hunched over his own work.

Since Nathaniel had brought them full-circle into the resistance, Scully had 
found herself busy again with what she had been good at investigating.  This 
time, though, her X-File consisted of a missing person's case.  Mulder.

She sighed once more, shifting in the wooded chair.  Today she had 
interviewed three different people who had claimed to have seen Mulder 
since he had disappeared, but none of the stories had matched up with one 
another.

Elspeth then walked into the room, her hips swaying as though she were 
without a care in the world.  She approached Richter behind and suddenly 
caught him in her smile. Scully leaned back in her chair and thought, they 
have no idea what they're in for.  

She closed her eyes momentarily and found that she could only see blue.  
Like the sky.  Like the ocean.  Like sadness.  She briefly opened her eyes; 
closed them once more.  No, not sadness, she thought.  It was worse than 
simple sadness.  It felt tired.  Then it came to her in a whisper like the wind.  
Regret.  She licked her dry lips with a flick of her tongue.   It tasted like sin.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Scully."

The last time he had spoken to her.

"I think . . . I . . . this is it."

Winsome, like dipping your toes in a pond under Jupiter's gaze.  He had 
looked tired.  As tired as she felt now, reliving the memory. The sunlight hit 
her face at an angle, and Scully felt herself slipping back in time to the day 
before Mulder had disappeared.  The day before they had come. Before 
colonization.

She had walked into the office to see him hunched over his desk wearing his 
leather jacket, a backpack laying on top of papers. He had lifted his head as 
soon as she had entered, though, the five o'clock shadow hanging warily on 
his face.  She had stopped at the door and they had stared each other down 
for what seemed like an eternity.  Something then had passed between them, 
something intangible but very real.  She had remembered something 
catching in her throat, and she had lifted her hand to the base of her neck, 
lifting nervously her gold cross that had been lying lazily in the hollow of her 
throat.

"What's wrong," she had asked, drifting closer to him, caught in his 
undertow.

Oh how she wanted to drown in the memory now.

He had attempted a smile; lifted his hands up like Christ in the crucifixion.  
As he lowered them, they cascaded onto her hands, warm against the 
contrast of the cool grain of the desk.  A thumb on her skin.  A gentle, 
stroking motion back and forth like cool water.

"Nothing yet," he had said, his eyes averted then back, focused in on her 
face, "but maybe soon.  I came across this yesterday."  He had gotten up 
then, his hands occupied elsewhere.  She missed his touch as soon as it was 
gone.  "Rumors have been going around that the Date is near, but I never 
realized how soon it really was until I got this."

Mulder lifted a vial out of a box. Within the vial was another broken glass 
tube filled with a dark purple fluid.  "The vaccine," he had said, his eyes 
alight in wonderment.

"I don't understand," she had told him, "I thought . . ."

"The one that was administered to you--that was mostly theoretical.  It 
worked, thank God, but this, this," he blustered, eyes bright, "is the real deal.  
Created by scientists working in a resistance group." 

"Resistance to what?"

"Colonization.  The destruction of everything we know and love."

"Of the truth," she had said flatly, almost angry. Why . . .

The gaze he had given her then was still vivid in her mind.  She had been 
branded by his eyes.  He had almost slunk forward, a slight sway giving 
away intentions that he had eventually suppressed, but his eyes, they were 
like Nero sitting mad with his violin as he watched Rome burn like an 
inferno.

"Of everything, Scully."  A dip in his voice, like a scoop of vanilla moon 
dropped in chocolate.  It made her  back off; made her think twice before 
speaking.

"I have to go and follow this up."

"Without me?"

He had hesitated.

"Are *you* leaving now?" she had remarked coldly.

He had lied to her.  Maybe to be selfish, maybe to be protective.  Perhaps 
both, but he had lied to her, his body painted like a martyr. She wanted him 
back now, with or without that lie that lay like a gulf between them.  She 
sighed, a forlorn wind on her lips.

Mulder . . . .

"I'll be back."

"Will you?"

She had not stopped him, even though she knew in her gut he was going 
without her.  She wondered about it still.  Why had she let him walk away?  
Why had she traveled so far with him only to watch him as he crossed 
another river, turning her back to him as he left without her this one last 
time?

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Time to go."

Scully jumped in her chair as Richter leaned over and tapped her gently on 
the shoulder.  She wiped the drowsiness from her eyes and mumbled to 
acknowledge him.

"Sorry, I was just remembering something."

"Yeah?" Richter let his tone drop off like the conversation.

"Where's . . ."

"Elspeth left quite a while ago, Dana.  What were you thinking about?"

"Um, just some of the interviews I went over today," she partially lied.  "I 
found a few things out, but it was mostly ranting and raving.  This whole 
thing," she waved with her  hand, "God, Richter, how did this happen?"

He shook his head, "I don't know.  Apathy?  Ignorance?  Hopelessness?"

She suddenly grasped his arm.  "Don't say that. Please." Scully loosened her 
grip.  "Sorry," she apologized lamely, recomposing herself.  "It's just, well, 
lately, it seems hope is all we have anymore.  Don't say, don't even think 
that hope is dying."

"You really miss him, don't you?"  Scully ignored the comment and 
continued gathering up her things.

Richter laughed a soft, deep sort of laugh.  "Come on, let's get home before it 
gets too dark."

XxXxXxXxXxX

October in the woods, trekking home to a house on the seashore.  It should 
have been something dreamy and romantic about it.  A honeymoon 
between two lovers so invested in each other that the tranquillity of the 
scene could not compare, yet it was not, and rightfully so, because this was 
no travel catalogue.  This was Colonization.

Richter was walking slightly ahead, a flashlight dangling on his wrist.  It was 
just starting to get dark.  Scully observed him as he walked.  She smiled to 
herself as a thought popped into her mind.  He even walked differently now, 
and she knew why.  She wondered if she had changed when . . . a blush 
instantly rose in her cheeks.  What had she been thinking?  She tried to pass 
it off as her body's reaction to the cold weather, but she had some time 
trying to convince herself.   She hugged her jacket tighter around her small 
frame and continued walking, trying to distract herself.

Suddenly, Scully froze in her tracks.  Something--someone, was with them.

"Richter!" she hissed.  Ahead of her, he froze, head cocking from side to side.  
Slowly he reached into his coat for a dagger he kept for protection.   Scully 
rotated in her spot, looking up and down for the source of the noise.

Then out of a dark patch of brush there came a charging figure, menacing in 
the shadows.  Richter raised his dagger, poised for attack.

Then like a phantom, Elspeth flew into the light, and realizing that Richter 
was ready to strike, she moved her lithe body quick and intense, and 
disarmed him as easily as one would a child.

"No time for that," she related to them between pants.  

From the ground, Richter stared up, all astonishment.  Elspeth leaned down 
and helped a dumbfounded Richter up.  She grasped him atop one shoulder 
and on the arm, making eye contact with Scully over his shoulder.

"They came to the house tonight," Elspeth hissed.

"What?" both Scully and Richter cried out at once.

"They took Cynthia.  I heard some noise downstairs.  The guard came 
tonight and dragged her away.  I," she paused, eyes trained on Richter's face, 
"I ran."  Elspeth's face drained and turned pale with shame.

"The others . . . ." Scully left the question hanging in the air.

"They got away.  Nat took Jodie and your mother with him.  They should be 
okay.  Nat is good, really good.  He has connections deeper and more 
tangled than cyberspace.  We shouldn't be too worried."

Elspeth let go of Richter.  "I  don't think this was random.  I haven't heard 
about them just  grabbing people randomly and doing . . . . whatever, with 
them.  I  think they've been watching us, and this is a threat."

"But how?" Richter asked adamantly.

"Why didn't they take us?" Scully said, reeling in the shock.

"I don't think they knew that we were going to be gone from the house.  I 
don't think they know where we've been operating from, but it's possible that 
someone we've spoken to might have been reached and revealed us.  
Exactly what did you find out about Mulder today, Dana?"

Scully was numb.  "They last saw him in Michigan, like you said before, and 
one man rambled on about a vaccine, but we knew they had one.  I was . . ."

"Vaccine?"  Elspeth's breath froze in the air.  "So you've heard about it?"

"What is so exciting about this?"

"I've heard rumors about a new strain.  That's what Mulder was looking for 
when he disappeared!”

"I didn't know that," Scully said dully.

"I . . ."  Elspeth paused again.  "I'm going after Mulder and the vaccine."

"What?  Elspeth!"

"This is too important.  This might be the key to saving us from annihilation.  
Are you two with me?"

"Who do you think you are?" Scully cried out suddenly, her control lost.  
Missy was dead.  Charlie was dead.  Bill was as good as dead.  Mulder gone, 
and now her mother.  "Where do you get off just running off and chasing 
these  things?  What about Jodie and Nat--my mother? Don't you care?"

"Who do I . . . Is this not what Mulder would do?  Take a chance for the 
greater good?  Is this why he left without you?  Won't you take a chance?  
Are you so scared, Dana?  Do you like being weak, because you have to 
realize that we have no options!"

Scully felt the blood drain from her face.  She felt as though she had just 
been slapped.  She was appalled, speechless--she was ashamed.

Elspeth sighed, her eyes apologetic.  "Dana, I . . . that was uncalled for.  I'm 
sorry."

Scully made no response.

Elspeth turned desperately to Richter.  "Are you with me?  I can't do this 
alone  . . ."

Richter threw a glance over his shoulder at Scully, but he was caught.  "I'll 
come with you, Elspeth."

"Dana, I'm . . ."

"No.  You're . . . right, Elspeth."  Scully shook her head.  "My mother, she, 
you think she'll be okay?"

"Yes," Elspeth intoned quietly.

"Right then.  I'll come with you to end this.  To find the vaccine."  She ran a 
hand through her hair. "And to find Mulder."


Chapter 4

 "Mulder?  Mulder!" Invictus' intense whisper cut through the haze of 
Mulder's deep sleep.

"What?" Mulder replied in a voice that almost echoed in the walls of the cell. 

"Shhh! Be quiet!" Invictus said, close to his ear, "put these on. And hurry!"

He shoved a bundle of clothing in Mulder's lap and sat down on his bunk to 
quickly lace up a pair of high-ankle leather hiking boots.

Mulder wiped the sleep out of his eyes and unwrapped his bundle, spreading 
the contents out over his bed. 

A pair of boots identical to Invictus', a pair of long johns, a pair of blue 
jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, a milk chocolate brown, wool sweater, a brown 
leather belt, a pair of boxer shorts with red stars on them,  and a black, down 
vest. He gave the clothes the once-over and glanced at Invictus, impressed.

"Friend that works at the Gap?" Mulder asked, in a hushed voice.

Invictus smiled, glancing up at Mulder from the backpack he was 
rummaging around in. "Close friend who *looted* the Gap. Now. Get. 
Dressed."

"Yes sir." 

Mulder proceeded to take off his scrubs and put on what Invictus had given 
him. He was surprised to find how well everything fit him. He finished 
dressing and proceeded to lace up his boots, throwing a glance up at 
Invictus.

"So, do you have a plan? And if so, are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Yeah," said Invictus, his attention still focused on the items in the pack, "I'll 
brief you in a minute. Ah!" he said, pulling out a smaller pouch, "here we 
go!"

Mulder watched as the older man unwrapped the leather surrounding the 
items inside. Mulder's eyes widened when he saw what was within.

"Here," Invictus threw him a large handgun in a shoulder harness, a clip of 
ammunition, a long, sheathed hunting knife, an expensive looking black 
Casio G-Shock watch, and a small, compact compass.

Mulder picked up the gun out of its holster and weighed it in his hand. It held 
a vague familiarity, almost a sense of de ja vu. It felt customary, somehow, 
to hold a gun. He processed this thought for a moment, and put the gun 
back in its holster, attaching the harness to his back.

"Am I supposed to know how to use this thing?" he asked. 

Invictus pushed a clip of ammo into his own gun, looking Mulder in the eye, 
the whole time. "It's like a cheap camera, Mulder," he said, pointing the gun 
to the floor and squinting one eye to look down the sight. "Point," he then 
cocked the gun, and shoved it into his own holster, "and click." 

Mulder snorted quietly, as he attached the knife to his belt and the watch to 
his wrist. 

"You sound like a bad action movie."

Invictus snorted back. 

"This whole scenario is like a bad action movie." He strapped the pack 
snugly to his back and checked his own watch, "now, lets get to it, and hope 
we fare as well as most action heroes. Though I could do without the 
seemingly uninhibiting gunshot wounds."

Mulder nodded and moved over to sit next to Invictus on his bunk.   
"Alright, shoot." 

Invictus started.

"In exactly five minutes, at 5:37AM, a guard is going to come to our door. 
He's a good guy. His name is Dice Powers, and he's the son of a close friend 
of mine. If all goes well, he's going to take us to the sub-pod that will take us 
to the surface, come back here, 'find' that we've disappeared, and sound off 
the alarm. We've got a 35 minute window to get that sub-pod to the surface, 
where there should be a boat waiting for us. 

"The way the pods work is that, when one goes up, another goes down. 
They're looped. When we get to the surface, we have to haul ass, because I 
guarantee you that they'll be on the pod at the bottom, hot on our tails. Dice 
assured me that he's got the system worked so that they can't call the pod 
back, or stop it, but they're sure as hell going to follow.

"When we get to the surface, we'll either head to Mackinac City, or St. 
Ignace, whichever looks more promising, and get our asses to Lansing as 
fast as possible."

"What's in Lansing?" Mulder interjected.

"The vaccine is," Invictus continued.  "The government had an elaborate set 
up at Michigan State University. The University has acres of land right on 
campus that were being used for agricultural research. Considering the 
school's reputation, no one questioned their presence. They've been right 
there for years, purifying and working on the vaccine until they got it right, 
and no one was any the wiser. They even tested it on some of the animals 
down there. The veterinary school was the perfect set-up. We've got to get 
down there and find the finished product. From there, we've got to get it to 
people that can and *will* reproduce it and spread it out to the masses.   So 
I hope you're prepared for some action, Mulder, because this isn't going to be 
easy." 

Mulder blew out a long breath and gathered himself.  "I guess I don't have 
much of a choice."

Invictus winked at him. "That's the spirit!"

He then grabbed Mulder's left arm and held it next to his own. "Let's 
synchronize our Swatches."

"Casios," Mulder corrected him.

"Details," said the man, dismissing his comment with a flick of his hand. 

That done, Invictus looked at his watch, bending it down to catch the half-
light the room was illuminated with at nighttime. 

He took a deep breath and threw his head to his left and right, cracking his 
neck.   "Show time."

Just as the words were out of his mouth, the door latch pulled back, and a 
large, young black man in military fatigues stepped into the room. 

"McCloud," the man said.  "If you're really going to do this, we've got 25 
minutes. Let's go."

Invictus got up off of his bunk and walked quickly to the door, giving the 
man a brief hug. Mulder followed suit, sans hug, and they headed out of the 
cell, Dice taking the lead, Mulder in the middle and Invictus taking up the 
rear.

"What ever happened to 35 minutes, Dice?" Invictus asked so quietly, 
Mulder worried the young man wouldn't hear him.

"Think of it this way," Dice said, putting his hand on Mulder's chest to stop 
their movement, and glancing up to his left, and then to his watch, "you had 
35 minutes 10 minutes ago." 

He then started up again, giving a quick tug on Mulder's vest to get him 
moving.

He nodded his head up to the security camera, its operating light curiously 
not on as they passed it. 

"The best I could do was a 10 minute window."

They continued on that way, Dice stopping and pulling Mulder along every 
20 or so feet until they reached the door to a large chamber. 

Dice swiped a card threw the lock next to it, and led them quickly inside to 
the pool where the sub-pod was waiting.

"You've got 25 minutes to get to the surface McCloud," Dice said, "and five 
to get the pod en route, before I pull the alarm. Now go!"  

Invictus gave a curt nod and walked up to the young man, taking him by 
the arm. 

"Thank you Dice. Thank you for everything."

Dice nodded and gave Mulder a sideways glance before looking back at 
Invictus.  "I believe in my father, and I believe in the cause. I did what I had 
to do. Now cut it with the sentimental shit and GO!"

Invictus jumped down onto the top of the pod and cranked the hatch open. 
He threw the pack down into the belly of the sub.   "Come on Mulder, get 
in!"

Just as Mulder jumped down onto the top of the sub-pod, a loud siren began 
to sound, and the red light above the entrance to the room began to flash.

"Shit!" Invictus shouted, "what the hell is that?"

"It's the alarm!" Dice shouted above the siren.  "Someone must have found 
the glitch in the surveillance systems! If they find me here with you gone, 
they'll kill me!"

Invictus took in the panicked expression on the young man's face and then 
reached out his hand to him.

"Then come with us!" he shouted.

"I can't!" The man shook his head.  "I'm the only inside source left! You 
*need* me here!" Dice bit his lip and drew his own weapon, pointing at 
Mulder and Invictus.  "Shoot me!"

Invictus, momentarily startled, realized what the man had in mind and 
shook his head violently. "No! No way!"
 
"It's the only way! If they find me here shot with my gun drawn, then at 
least I can say that I found you trying to escape and took the necessary 
actions," Dice shouted.  "Now do it! And hurry the fuck up about it! Just 
don't hit anything important!"

Invictus grabbed Mulder by the arm and shoved his gun into his hand.  "You 
do it. There's no way I could do it in clear conscience."

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but Invictus wouldn't let him.

"There's no time! Now DO IT!"

"Do it!" Dice shouted at him, reinforcing Invictus' instruction.

Mulder raised the gun, hesitated a little, hoping to God he really *did* know 
how to fire a gun with some accuracy, clenched his teeth, and fired. 

He saw the man slump to the floor with a fresh wound in his left shoulder. 
Invictus shoved him toward the opening to the sub before he had a chance 
to see if the man would be all right.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Walking in the dark, she wondered how fate had the ability to throw together  
a group of strangers and force them into what would almost be called  
destiny.

Fate.  The word tasted strange on her lips as she mouthed it.  Nat and  
Elspeth had spoken of fate once back before their sudden new twist of  
situation.  She could not decide whether or not she believed it in now, as 
circumstances were so different from the way they had been before.   Scully 
swore to herself.  Had she ever really believed in it?  Had she ever given 
herself the option of even considering something so fantastical--something 
so . . . unscientific?

Suddenly she felt herself tumbling forward, her feet rolling on stones.

Elspeth came up behind her and helped her up.  "We should all rest, it's been 
a long day."  There was a weariness in her dark brown eyes, a finger tracing 
down the worry lines on her face.

Richter walked slowly toward a clearing, whistling  them to come over 
toward the sound.  Guided by Elspeth, Scully walked out of the woods and 
found herself letting out a small, although happy, gasp.  Richter had found a 
shelter.  There was an overhanging carved out of stone and overhanging
vegetation where they settled themselves down.  There was a nearby pond, 
thin and still.

"I would kill for a sleeping bag right about now," Richter grumbled as he  
pried small stones out of the dirt to make himself a spot to sleep.

Involuntarily, Scully chuckled and thought instantly of Mulder.

"Good memory?" Elspeth eyed her, a smirk curling at the edges of her 
mouth.

"Very good," she laughed.  "Although it could have been so much better if 
only . . ."   She stopped, blushing.

"I won't ask.  But may you have sweet dreams about it, Dana."

XxXxXxXxXxX

They woke up not to the sound of birds calling in the early morning, but 
rather to the biting of bugs taking their last fill of blood before death and 
winter.

"We're never going to make it to Michigan at this rate," Richter commented 
as they washed off as much grime as possible in the pond.  "We need to 
move faster."

"We'll steal a car then," Elspeth said matter-of-factly.  She twisted the 
remainder of the water out of her hair, her tresses clumping wetly on her 
back.

"Steal a car?"  Richter shot back, questioningly.

"Since when are you up for obeying the rules, boy?"  Elspeth snorted and 
walked over to him, her hand curling on his arm like ivy.  "It's not a big deal.  
Who do you think is going to mind?"  Her voiced dipped.  "Who's really left 
to care?"

"Well let's go," Scully said.  "Mulder's not the type to just sit around waiting 
for me."

"Right.  He wouldn't wait for you."  Surprised, she stared back at Elspeth 
who spoke as though she had the wisdom of the world at her disposal.  "He'd 
head right back in this direction like a rage, looking for you until he found 
you again."

Although she made no response, she turned and found herself smiling.  Yes, 
he would do something like that, she thought.  Yes, he would.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"So," Richter said, his arms spread out like a gliding  bird.  "What's your 
pleasure?"

The three of them stood in used car sales lot, a virtual cornucopia of 
selection at their disposal. Always pragmatic, Scully asked, "Would anyone 
happen to know where we can find some keys?"

"Don't worry about that.  We can just hot-wire it or something."

"You're the regular criminal, aren't you Elspeth?"  Scully smirked.

"Why yes I am!" she responded, sauntering off over to a newer looking 
Saturn.  "What do you think?  Red?  Too sporty, you think?"

Scully walked over to the passenger side. "Locked over here.  Do you 
happen to have a coat hanger handy?"

Then, like explosive surrounded sound, sirens began blasting from what 
seemed like every direction.

"Where's Richter?" Elspeth shouted over to Scully, her eyes now large and 
panicked.  "Where the hell did he go?  We have to get out of here.  They 
know we're here!"

"Who?  Who knows that we're here, Elspeth?"

"Richter!"  Spinning, Elspeth broke into a run, hands still slammed shut 
around her ears. "Richter!" Then, like a ghost out of a corridor, Richter flew 
in from behind Elspeth and grabbed her by the waist, his face pressing 
against her neck.  He whispered something to her and a slow smile spread on 
her face. In his hands, Scully saw a pair of keys shining in the afternoon sun.  
She saw Richter motioning for her to join them, and Scully ran over to 
Richter and Elspeth.  They flew over to the car, and taking the key, Richter 
jammed it into a navy blue Honda Accord.  

"We gotta go, now!" Elspeth yelled in a panic.  "Now!"

Just as she was about the close the door, Scully saw a leather wallet on the 
ground.  She grabbed it out of habit and slammed the door shut as quickly 
as possible, and just as Richter floored the car out of the lot.

"Find cover as soon as possible.  They can't know where we're going.  They 
can't find us or we're dead!"  Elspeth slumped into the back seat of the car.

"You dropped this, Richter," Scully said, a little abashed that she had 
actually  stopped to pick it up among the panic.  She was about to close the 
wallet when she noticed something odd on his license.  "They would have 
known who you were."  She paused, her mouth agape.  She shut it and her 
lips formed a thin, angry line.  She peered at it again, her eyebrows raised in 
half-moon  arcs over her inquisitive eyes.  "They would have known that 
you had been here ,Marin."

Richter turned and looked at her opened-mouthed, but he turned back and 
drove on, the sirens still blasting away from behind them.

XxXxXxXxXxX


Mulder dove into the opening of the sub and was quickly followed by 
Invictus who swung the hatch shut and latched it quickly. They shuffled to 
the front of the small craft and took up the two seats behind the controls.  
Invictus who sat on the left, gave the control panel a quick once-over, and 
then looked over to Mulder.

"So," he said, a nervous smile on his face, "do you know how to drive one of 
these things?"

"No," Mulder said, confused at first and then suddenly overly-anxious.  
"You mean you don't?!"

"Well," said the older man, "we kind of skipped over that part."

"Oh, Jesus," Mulder groaned, throwing his head back against the seat rest.  "I 
don't *believe* this!"

"Hey Mulder," called Invictus from the other seat, his hand poised on one of 
the switches. Mulder cracked open one eye and rolled his head to look in 
Invictus' direction. "Only kidding!"

With that, he flicked the switch and the pod hummed to life. 

Mulder looked around at all the blinking lights and  strapped himself in. 

"That," he said, grabbing onto the sides of his seat as the sub-pod lurched 
down into the water a few feet, "was NOT funny." 

Invictus just smiled and flipped on the exterior lights that highlighted the 
cable the pod was attached to. He worked it up, going slower than Mulder 
was comfortable with. 

"McCloud, huh?" Mulder asked, throwing out a question to break the silence 
that had enveloped the craft. "And all this time you were telling me your 
name was Invictus."

"What," the older man said, shaking his mane of silver out of his face, "you 
don't like the name Invictus McCloud? I think it's got a nice ring to it."

Invictus looked over to Mulder for confirmation, but Mulder just stared at 
him.

"Okay look, my real name is Curtis McCloud. But I *prefer* Invictus… 
Don't you know what it means in Latin?"

Mulder shook his head.

"It means 'unconquered.' Do you know the poem?"

Without waiting for an answer, Invictus broke into poetic verse.

"Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever Gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeoning of chance,
My head is bloody but unbowed.

In this place of wrath and tears, 
Looms but the horror of the shade
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,"

At that point, Mulder interrupted him and finished the rest of the poem.

"I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul."

"Well," Invictus said, looking over at Mulder, impressed, "I guess you were 
right. *Some* memory stayed intact."

Mulder pursed his lips and nodded, slightly troubled.

He didn't know how or where he'd read and remembered that poem, but it 
was there somehow. Maybe his other memories, the ones that were 
completely absent, would come about in much the same way. At least he 
*hoped* they would. 

He rubbed his chin with left hand, feeling the long stubble and realizing for 
the first time that he'd actually grown a beard. He scratched it with both 
hands and looked through the small windshield of the pod at their slow 
progress. The water was utterly black, he could barely make out the floor of 
the lake in the weak light of the pod.

"Can't this thing go any faster," he asked with anxiously.

"No," Invictus replied.  "We've got to let this thing pressurize, or it'll be… oh, 
just a *little* uncomfortable. For now, let's not worry about how fast we're 
going, let's just keep our fingers crossed that there won't be anyone on the 
surface waiting for us. We'll have three minutes to get everything in the boat 
that should be up there and off before this thing goes back down. Why don't  
you go grab the pack and strap it on. We're going to need to bust a move 
when we get to the surface."

Mulder unhooked himself and started to make his way into the back of the 
pod when Invictus' voice caught his attention. 

"Oh!" He called, "and look around  and see if you can find anything handy 
that we can take with us."

Mulder nodded and made his way around the small vessel opening some of 
the smaller hatches and through the covered equipment that was stored in 
the back. They must have just brought a shipment down to the station and 
not unloaded it yet. He pried open one of the crates with a crowbar that was 
hung loosely from the top of the shipment.  

He went through the contents quickly, grabbing some food, water, a VHF, 
and a small portable radio. He went through each of the crates in the same 
fashion and also managed to find other small items that might be useful in 
the future. 

Then, down at the bottom of the last crate, he found a small package, 
addressed to General Darwin. Ripping it open, he found a small, cylindrical 
metal tool. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but when he pushed the 
button on the side, a long, needle-like protrusion shot up and nearly took his 
eye out. He tucked it safely in the inside pocket on his vest, packed up the 
other things in Invictus' backpack, strapped it on, and made his way back 
up to the front to see how they were progressing. 

"How close are we," he asked, sitting down precariously on the edge of the 
seat, the backpack making it difficult to get comfortable.

"Close enough to the surface to start going up fast," replied Invictus, 
punching a few buttons that caused the pod to lurch upward. 

Less than two minutes later, they were at the surface. Mulder headed for the 
hatch and just as he was reaching for it, Invictus grabbed his arm. 

"Let me go first," he said, pulling Mulder back behind him. "That way if 
they're up there waiting for us, you'll at least have a chance to fight back."

Mulder nodded, and Invictus threw open the hatch. He took one step up and 
paused in the opening, letting the dusty orange-gray of early dawn shine in 
thin rays around him to the floor of the sub pod. He stood there, stopped, 
and just as Mulder was about to open his mouth to ask what was wrong, 
Invictus spoke.

"Oh, sweet Jesus…"


Chapter 5

"What," Mulder asked, tugging on Invictus' pant leg, "what is it?" 

Invictus hauled himself the rest of the way up slowly, and turned, facing to 
the left of the pod, looking out over the water. He blew out a deep breath 
and stood akimbo.

"Just get up here," he said distantly.

Mulder climbed up the ladder, and stood on the deck of the sub, before 
looking up. 

"Oh my God," he said, upon raising his eyes.

He had seen destruction of this magnitude before, but never in person. What 
lay before him now, brought out a sick feeling of fear, and dread.

What had once been the longest suspension bridge in the world, if Mulder's 
questionable memory served him, now lay before him in ruins. 

The middle section of it, in between the two towers had been blown almost 
entirely away. What remained of the middle was held together by only a 
crumbling slab of concrete, and a few taunt cables. The southern tower had 
collapsed into the straits, only a small portion of it remained above water; 
like a huge white steel gravestone, reaching toward the heavens and calling 
out it's mourning in the sickening groans of steel, twisting in the harsh 
autumn wind.

The northern tower had fared better, and was still intact. What had been the 
roadway had fallen to the waterline, hundreds of feet below. The cables that 
had once held it up, were broken and ripped in all directions, like the head of 
Medusa. 

"What the hell happened, here?" Mulder asked in a low tone, quietly, as if to 
not reawaken chaos in its deadly aftermath.

"I don't know," Invictus said. "I can't think of any explanation for this. Why 
would they… I don't understand."

At that moment, the porthole on the sub hissed shut, grabbing both men's 
attention. Bubbles began to come up from the sides of the pod, and it 
hummed to life beneath them. 

"Oh shit!" cried Invictus, suddenly alert and turning in all directions looking 
around the top of the sub. "It's going back down!"

Mulder turned a couple of times, unsure of what to do, and then he stopped 
and looked at Invictus.  "Where's the boat?" He said, more calmly than he 
felt.

"I don't know," Invictus snapped back, looking about him and seeing no 
craft.

"WHERE'S THE BOAT!?" Mulder shouted.

"I DON'T KNOW!" Invictus yelled, becoming slightly panic-stricken himself. 

As the craft lurched to life beneath them, and started to descend, Mulder 
began to hear the sound of a motor growing louder in his ears. 

He grabbed Invictus' shoulder and pointed southward, toward the lower 
peninsula, "Shit," he said.  "Look."

There was a hard-bottomed inflatable speeding at them from shore. It was 
still almost a mile away, but it was making its way towards them at an 
alarming speed. Invictus looked to the north and swore under his breath. 

"There's two of them," he said.  "Get in the water. Swim for the bridge."

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but as he was about to do so, the pod 
completely submerged, and he was in the water anyway. He stepped off of 
the surface of the pod, and the temperature of the water hit him like a ton of 
bricks. 

"It's fucking cold," he managed to get out, the chill of the straits knocking 
the breath out of his chest, as Invictus dove in next to him. 

"And it's going to get colder. Come on," Invictus answered.  "We don't have 
far to go. Those HBI's are going to be here in a minute. Swim like the Army's 
on your ass."

"They are," Mulder replied, trying to adjust his strokes to accommodate the 
pack strapped to his back, and the clothing he was wearing.

"All the more reason to go faster," Invictus replied, gliding past him like a 
merman. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

They reached the partially submerged wreckage of the bridge, near the 
middle. The part that had once been I-75, now lay in the water, a line of 
asphalt running up to the remaining bridge like a highway to heaven, 
supported by a few taunt cables and the concrete itself.

The two men heaved their weary bodies partially onto the decayed 
roadway, thoroughly winded. 

"I didn't think," panted Mulder, "that we'd make it." 

"Then next time," replied Invictus, letting his forehead fall wearily to his 
forearms, "don't think."

They rested for a few minutes, catching their breaths, and watching the men 
in the HBI's cast back and forth in the water for them, searching for the 
escaped prisoner's in the early morning light. The sun was coming up behind 
Mulder and Invictus in the east, over Lake Huron. Mulder hoped the glare 
from the sun helped shield them somewhat. Until they made it up to the 
surface of the bridge, they'd be sitting ducks. 

"Come on," said Mulder, slowly pulling his way up onto the highway.  
"We've gotta get up there. We're going to have to climb up to the top."

"You mean you don't want to swim?" Invictus smiled wearily at him as he 
worked his way onto the surface. The structure creaked a little, but held their 
weight.

Invictus laid himself flat against the roadway, the water lapping at his sides. 
He looked up toward the top, gauging the distance and the terrain.

"That's gotta be 200 feet," he said, "at an almost 90 degree angle. Prepare to 
wear your fingertips bloody. This," he looked pointedly at Mulder, "is going 
to be a bitch."

He started to pull himself up the incline, finding the cracks and chunks that 
were missing in the asphalt in plenty, and scaling the wall like a pro.

Mulder followed suit, glancing up at Invictus with a slightly annoyed glare. 

"Are you," he grunted out, "good at *everything* you do?"

"Well," said Invictus, pausing to consider the question, "yes. But if it makes 
you feel any better, I can't fish worth shit and dogs hate me." 

XxXxXxXxXxX 

Twenty-five minutes and  150 feet later, Invictus paused above a much-
fatigued Mulder, and swore softly.

"What is it?" Mulder asked quietly.

"I think," Invictus panted, "I think they see us."

"Shit."

"They're coming this way. Fuck. Okay, flatten yourself out, and see if you 
can shimmy over to the side here, get around to the edge, near me, maybe 
they won't see us."

Mulder nodded, saving his energy, and started to slowly make his way to the 
edge of the roadway, flattening himself to the asphalt, praying to remain 
undetected.

"Alright," Invictus whispered above him. "They're right underneath us. Don't. 
Move."

 Mulder waited about two minutes, until he finally hazarded a look for 
himself. The HBI was slowly motoring itself away from them, south, toward 
the other tower of the bridge that sticking up out of the water. Invictus 
finally spoke up.

"They must have thought that we thought this was too risky, and went to the 
other tower. They didn't spend much effort looking. If they would have, they 
would have seen us."

Mulder again nodded, and heaved a sigh of relief. Just as he did, the crack in 
the asphalt he was standing on widened, sending chunks of concrete down 
to splash in the water far below them. 

"Fuck!" Mulder cursed harshly as he lost his footing and flailed blindly with 
his right hand, barely holding on with his left. His hand hit a cable that was 
hanging down, and he clamped onto it like a vice, swinging onto it just as his 
grip with his left hand slipped. The cable bit into his flesh, ripping chunks of 
skin from his palm as he slid down the cable. His slide began to gain 
momentum until his feet found the metal cord, slowing him to a stop. He 
gripped it painfully with his left hand, bringing in his injured right to his chest. 

"Mulder!" Invictus nearly shouted, he strained to keep his voice down a 
second time and said, "Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Mulder! Mulder are you okay?!"

Mulder remained quiet.

"Mulder?" Invictus whispered, panic beginning to taint the edge of his voice, 
"are you okay, man?"

He waited several heartbeats before Mulder quietly croaked, "No. I'm not. 
I'm… I'm not going to make it." 

"Bullshit," Invictus said more confidently. "You're not quitting now. Not if I 
can help it you're not. You're going to make it. We both are."

Just as he finished talking, the gentle breeze that had started when the sun 
had risen just above the waterline picked up a little, gusting slightly through 
the straits. The cable Mulder was hanging from started to swing a little, and 
the bridge itself groaned.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully felt the chill run like lightening up her spine as the scene unfolded 
before her.

"Marin?" Elspeth's voice threatened, almost animal-like.  Poised like a 
mercenary, her eyes dark with betrayal as she held out the slender stiletto 
against the curve on Richter's neck.  "Do you have any other names? Any 
other secrets you're keeping from me?  From us?"

Scully reached for a gun that was not there, and realizing that, frantically 
tried to recall every bit of hostage training she had ever had.

"Elspeth . . . . Elspeth, please."  Her voice wavered slightly, the weapon 
shatteringly familiar.  

The car continued to roll on the asphalt, the roar of the wind the only sound 
slicing the tension.  Richter continued to drive without showing an iota of 
emotion at the situation.

"It's just a name.  It means nothing, Elspeth, at least nothing anymore."

"I've heard of you, you know," she said coldly.  "You did seem familiar--did 
you somehow  recognize me then?"  Her voice grew bitter.  "You seemed to 
hate me pretty readily back when we first met.  Hasn't changed has it, 
Marin? Marin Laine, right?  The man who helped slaughter hundreds of 
innocents at Antioch?  The butcher--"

"The baker, the candlestick maker.  What," an edge gaining to his baritone, 
"do you hope to gain from killing me?  Drive us into a ditch?  Kill us all?  I'm 
controlling the car now."  Scully noticed his knuckles turning white.  Tense.  
"Don't do something stupid."

"No, we seem to have enough of stupidity in this car to get us through 
purgatory and then  straight on through to the gates of Hell."  Elspeth was 
seething.  The rage had transformed her into a monster.

Overload.  It was neural overload.  What was happening now--in past 
situations Scully had handled them with the cool, steely demeanor of a 
professional, but she realized now how her life had been on a continuous 
spiral out of control since the colonists had arrived. Suddenly, she became 
livid at her audacity--her utter failure in the face of adversity, and then it 
came like a sonic boom, hot and full of madness--the red-faced feeling of 
shame.

"Innocent men, women and children!" Elspeth cried. "Did you know any of 
them? Did you eve care what you were doing?"

"They were not innocents!" he barked.  "They were unnatural.  Hybrids.  Part 
of the race that came here to destroy us!  Am I suppose to have some sort of 
mercy for butchers?  Would you?"

"In your case, no."

"We need to stop now, and talk this out.  Put that thing away, Elspeth!"

At the intrusion of her voice, Elspeth and Richter both turned to look at 
Scully in surprise.

"And the tank is empty."  At that, the red light flashed on, the sound of 
gravel hitting the car's paint job clicking through the dense fog of the tension 
as the car rolled gently to the side of the road.  "Put it down, Elspeth."   
Control.  She felt its sweetness surge back into her body.  "You are a rational, 
intelligent woman.  Put the weapon down.  This can be talked out."  Scully 
said a silent prayer of thanks to God, hoping there was still a god out there to 
hear her.

Elspeth remained where she was, though, the cool, needle-like tip of the 
stiletto pressed tightly against Richter's goose-prickled flesh.

"Please."  There was gentleness in her voice, a soothing quality Mulder had 
loved, but never revealed to her.  "Please, Elspeth."  The humanity and 
fullness of her former-self was returning, a tidal wave crashing against her, 
and Scully embraced each explosion as it broke against her.

The blade of the weapon slid back in, a metallic scrape signifying a new 
connection made, but there were still many bridges to cross.  Or to burn.

The car came to a halt, sputtering dead.

"I'll let you talk, Richter--or Marin.  I don't care what your name is anymore.  
Give me a reason not to kill you, or make your peace with this world before I 
do."  Scully noticed as Elspeth shot her a glance, a definite weariness in her 
eyes, as well as hesitation and fear.  But her voice seemed to betray nothing.  
"Make it good.  I have a bad memory when it comes to mercy."

XxXxXxXxXxX

How did it come to this?

"Where do you come off thinking that you have the right to play God?"

How did once allies become enemies?  Twisted fate turned into twisted 
cruelty?

"God is dead."

In this darkest of places was it possible to ever be found?  Could they ever 
find their way out?  Was there another world out there—or was it just an 
illusion?  Just a place meant to exist in imagination?

"Did you always have a complete lack of regard for life?  Do you think 
yourself a higher being?  A life greater than the rest?  Do you believe that 
somehow because you think that you are just and good, that you will be 
saved?"  Elspeth crouched down and looked Richter in the eyes.

Here, beneath the sky; beneath the soulless stars, were they destined for 
failure?  Loneliness?  Had their goals been too great--too full of hope to be 
allowed to interfere with the chaos of the universe? 

"Do you think yourself a hero?  Admired for your atrocities?  Do you live 
under the pretense that somehow, you are kind?  That you are loved?

Now, staring into the face of Elspeth Parr, Scully could now clearly see layers 
upon layers of this woman, that she had never seen before.  Streaked mad 
like doomsday with rage and pain, Elspeth was about to collapse mentally.  
There was more than anger to her, though.  Something in her eye- a line 
curved like a scythe. Something had broken inside.  Her eyes were wounded.

"Know this:  They too were loved.  Those hundreds of people.  Loved. Do 
you understand that word?"  She walked in short steps in an arc like the 
swing of a pendulum.  Her voice dropped, gravely and quiet.  "Loved.  That 
the anguish of their death . . . can still be felt.

Elspeth sunk to her knees, slow and swaying.  Her head bobbed slightly, hair 
dipping into the mud.

"It's your chance now.  Tell us your side."  She stood up slowly, little snaps 
exploding as the vertebrae in her back cracked. "Justify your existence."  All 
traces of vulnerability vanished.  "I are you."

Darkness was falling.  From where she stood, Scully could still see Elspeth's 
and Richter's faces, both strangely contorted like painted marionettes.  Both 
rouged with anger.  Richter had his head turned away, his left leg nervously 
carving patterns into the dirt.  He remained silent still.

Scully could not help but find herself confused.  She was agitated, nervous, 
and jumpy.  In her acquaintance with both of them, she had never known 
this side to exist--the complete coldness and indifference to any sort of 
relationship they had once had before.  Although she was not sure, she had 
sensed that Elspeth and Richter had, in the months and weeks before their 
flight from Rhode Island, gotten closer to each other.  They had let each 
other into places that Scully was certain, no one had reached before--or had 
not for a long time.  It was a place that she and Mulder had not even yet 
reached, in their many years together.  She bit her lip, unconscious of the 
action. Would she ever be given the option to work things out with Mulder? 
The thought came and went quickly.

"Do you think I'm evil?"

"I don't need to tell you.  You should be full well aware of what I think about 
you."

"I'm not so sure anymore, Elspeth. There was one point where I . . ."

"Don't fuck with me.  That has nothing to do with this.  Pull that 
manipulative shit on me again and I won't even hesitate to kill you."

"Have you ," his voice began gaining a dreamlike quality, "ever done 
something--something that you knew others would find strange or harsh--
even cruel, but you knew in your heart that it was for the greater good?  That 
whatever the immediate consequences of it, that the end would justify the 
means?"

"So this is your excuse?  Your rationalization?  Tell me, Richter, did you 
even feel an ounce of remorse as you watched all those people die?  What 
kind of monster are you?"

"I am not a monster!  Stop twisting things around!"

"Do you have any inkling of what you did?  You don't--"  Elspeth lunged 
forward, hurtling her full body weight towards Richter.  On the defensive, he 
planted himself and drew out a knife he had had hidden away, and poised 
it, ready to strike back.

But they were both to be surprised.  As quickly as she was capable of, Scully 
reacted.  She kicked out her left leg and sent Richter falling to the ground 
and out of the path of Elspeth's murderous rage.  The momentum propelling 
her forward, Elspeth found herself stabbing at empty air and then sprawled 
out on the mossy ground.  As they both recovered and prepared for a 
counter attack, they looked up to come face to face with a determined 
looking Dana Scully and the barrel of a gun aimed  at their heads.
 
They fell silent.  Feeling the adrenaline rushing through her, Scully took 
control.

She had noticed during their escape that the car that they had taken had not  
been one that had been for sale on the lot.  As they had exited the car  after 
the tank had run dry, she had bided her time, leaving the passenger's side as 
slowly as possible in order to search for something--anything that  could give 
her an advantage.  She had been more thankful than surprised when  she 
had found the gun sitting inside the glove compartment.  Hiding it in the 
waistband of her pants she almost laughed as she thanked her good fortune 
for living in a country so deep-rooted in fear and paranoia that her chances 
as finding a weapon were in her favor.

"Now you two listen to me.  I've been standing here watching you two argue.  
But this," she gestured, jabbing the gun forward, "is drawing the line.  
Whatever past atrocities, they are the past.  However horrible they were, 
there are more important things at hand.  If either of you can remember 
what we  came out here to do."  She glanced at Richter.  "But I do 
understand the difficulties.  Trust is a hard thing to gain in the first place. 
Regaining it may be more than impossible."  Scully drew in a deep breath. "I 
could have left you two back in the woods in Rhode Island to kill each other 
or whatever other madness you are capable of, but I came along.  I left my 
mother--the last of my family and the last link to my old life, to come and 
find this cure for this dying world.  To find this vaccine, that god dammit, I 
don't even know really even exists, but I'm here, and I want to believe that it 
does exist, and that it works.  God, how much I want to believe it."

Her eyes fell to the ground as she tried to regain her composure.  "I want the 
both of you to get up now.  Back away from each other—I still don't trust 
you two to be near one another, and I'm sure
neither trusts the other either."  Scully lowered her gun.  "Now there is 
something I want from you.  I want you to put your trust back into the 
objective.  Our mission.  If you don't think we can do this, then we might as 
well just kill  each other right now.  What will it be?  How do you foresee this 
ending?"

Scully placed the gun on the ground now and kicked it away out of all of 
their reaches.

Elspeth spoke first, her voice growing stronger with each word.  "I would give 
my life for this.  Anything to make things right again."

They both then turned to look at Richter.  He nodded faintly.  "I'm in."  He 
was quiet for another moment, but then he spoke again.  This time, though, 
his eyes were only on Elspeth.  "But only if you can give me a chance to 
explain myself and to somehow regain all of which has been lost.   If you 
can open your heart and your mind and let yourself understand who I am 
and what I've done, then I will."

A long silence followed and Scully feared that everything that they had 
arrived at was suddenly about to be lost.  But Elspeth erased all doubt as she 
struggled to shake the reluctance from her voice.  She agreed and allowed 
them to enter into the next round of what would be the longest and hardest 
battle of their lives.


Chapter 6

Mulder stole a glance down at the water, hundreds of feet below. He cradled 
his right hand to his chest, and barely hung onto the cable with his left.
The force of the wind had started the cable he was hanging from to gently 
sway in the wind. The backpack was beginning to feel more like an anvil 
hanging from his shoulders than the lightweight pouch that it really was, and 
his arm began to cramp. He began to calculate altitude, velocity, the 
probability of hitting part of the devastated roadway before hitting the 
water, and just what impact would do to a human body, when he felt a 
tugging at his waist. 

He looked up to see Invictus attaching a carabiner to his belt. 

"Hi there," the man said. He had managed to climb back down to Mulder's 
level, all the while rigging a rope that Mulder had never seen to somewhere 
on the intact surface of the bridge, and now seemed to be attaching it to 
Mulder's newly issued leather belt. 

"Hold tight for *two* more seconds," he continued, smiling a little in spite of 
the situation, "let me just get a good knot on here, and you can let go."

Mulder grunted his understanding.

"Okay," Invictus said, patting Mulder's shoulder and beginning to climb up 
to the surface of the bridge. "You can let go now." 

Mulder did, fell a few feet, and was wrenched up quickly by his trousers.

"Hoo!" He heard Invictus yelp from up above him. "Gravity works!!"

Mulder started catching his breath back as he was being slowly inched up 
the side of the wrecked highway. Before he knew it, he was being helped 
over the edge on to the remaining highway. 

He rolled onto his side, and glanced over at Invictus who was huffing and 
puffing, kneeling over the edge, contemplating just how they'd made it. He 
stole a glimpse at Mulder, and gestured over Mulder's head to the other side 
of the bridge. 

"Watch the side there. Hell of a drop."

Mulder rolled his head to look, and discovered they were on only a few 
meters of asphalt. There was a large gap, held together by only cables before 
the highway started up again, and the bridge continued south. He looked the 
other way at the line of asphalt that ran north dotted by only a few cars, 
trucks, a state police cruiser, an occasional semi, and on school bus. 

"I'll give 'em one thing."

Mulder looked up, questioningly.

"When they went to burn their bridges…they weren't kiddin'."

Mulder gave him a small, exhausted smile.

Invictus began to wrap up the rope and said without looking up. "Looks like 
we're headed north."

Mulder shoved himself up on his elbows and began to examine his right 
hand.


"Yeah," he said absently, looking more closely at his shredded palm. "Fuck." 

Invictus crawled up and stripped the pack off of his back and grabbed the 
first aid kit out of it. He made quick work of bandaging Mulder's hand. 
Mulder thanked him, and unattached the carabiner from his belt. He tossed 
it at the older man.

"Thanks, MacGuyver."

Invictus smiled. "Anytime."

XxXxXxXxXxX

They had walked about a mile north on the bridge, and had another to go 
before they reached the end, when Mulder grabbed Invictus' arm, and 
paused.  They had passed the remains of some of the cars, and the school 
bus, some of them charred, some of them spared. He glanced back at the 
school bus, and took a breath.

"Shouldn't we start to be careful? I mean, they're sure to be patrolling the 
end of the bridge aren't they? We'll be sitting ducks just moseying up on 
land, like we're just out for a stroll."

Invictus seemed to consider it for a moment.

"Nope," he finally said.  "They won't be patrolling. They probably won't even 
be looking. For one thing, they probably think we're still somewhere in the 
water. For another, why *would* they be guarding this bridge? I mean, its 
not as if someone is actually going to *cross* it."

Mulder licked his lips and started walking again. 

"Good point."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Invictus popped his head inside another shattered car window. 

"Nobody in this one either."

He turned back to Mulder as they continued walking north on the massive 
structure.

"I wonder where they all are… burned probably."

"Burned?" Mulder piped in, confused.

Invictus opened his mouth to say something, then sighed, closing it.  "It's 
probably not information that's relevant anymore. I'll spare you the details."

"But-" Mulder began.

"No," Invictus interrupted him.  "Let's just… let's not."

Mulder nodded, not pressing the issue. They approached the police cruiser, 
and Mulder took his turn looking inside. Again, they saw nothing. Neither a 
survivor, nor the remains of one. 

Instead of continuing on though, Invictus stood back and turned to Mulder.  
"Pop the trunk."

Mulder did so and they rounded the car, looking in the trunk. 

"Jackpot," Invictus said, looking over the veritable cornucopia of hidden 
reserves they found there.

There were several shotguns, two handguns, blankets, two sets of protective 
armor, and a teddy bear.  Mulder immediately went for the shotguns, but 
Invictus grabbed his arm, telling him to wait.

"Mulder," he said, "the only things we're going to be able to carry safely are 
the two sidearms, and maybe a blanket."

Mulder thought for a moment.  "You're right," he said, "the shotguns don't 
exactly impress 'incognito,' do they?"

"No," Invictus replied, "they don't. But you can take the teddy bear if you 
want it."

Mulder gave him a ill-humored grin and shoved the other gun into the pack, 
starting once again northward. His other gun was miraculously still tucked 
into its holster, as was the sheathed hunting knife and his compass. 

The bridge met land, but only a small jutting peninsula, and the bridge and 
roadway continued on along the water.

"So," Mulder said, strolling along the Huron side of the bridge on the other 
side of the guard rail, "what now?"

"Well," began Invictus, but he wasn't allowed to finish what he was going to 
say, as he opened his mouth to speak, a barrage of gunfire erupted, and 
peppered the railing four feet in front of them. Both of them hit the ground, 
sliding as far down along the rocky bank as they could get. 

Another wave of bullets went flying above their heads and around them, 
scattering rock and dirt in all directions.

Mulder threw a disgusted look at Invictus and shook his head a little. "They 
won't be *patrolling* it, he said," he sneered at Invictus, "they probably 
think we're still in the *water*, he said.  Why *would* they be guarding the 
bridge, he said. Fucking *perfect*." Another round of gunfire hit the railing 
above them, effectively cutting off any further cursing on his part.

Invictus looked at Mulder under the arms he had thrown above his head.  
"I'm detecting a little sarcasm." 

"I should fucking hope so," Mulder grumbled.  "As I was saying before, 
*now* what??"

Invictus, keeping his head low, looked out over the water. His forehead 
knitted together in thought. He pressed his lips together and continued 
looking east.

"Now," he said, "we go to the Island."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"I didn't kill all those people," he told her quietly when he saw Elspeth 
disappear into the brush. Richter did not attempt to gain her sympathy with 
sad, large eyes or with a slight tremble to his voice.   Scully took a moment to 
look at him.  He looked tired. Dark circles were carved under his
eyes like charcoal crescents and too little sleep.  Eyes which seemed to have 
grown more gray and lifeless with each passing day.  He seemed sincere, as 
did his confession to her which may haveseemed to come too easily, 
perhaps even too convenient, but it both of them felt it was a necessary 
thing.

Scully tilted her head to look at him, her lips pressed together, although not 
so tightly as to make a line, and waited for him to continue.

He shook his head, his eyes downcast.  "But I didn't do anything to stop it."  
Richter cleared his throat, trying to find more confidence in his voice.  "I 
actually encouraged it.  Helped out."  He laughed, a strange, sarcastic-toned 
laugh.  "They gave me the credit for orchestrating it all,  too.  'The Butcher of 
Antioch.'"  He tasted the name for a moment and laughed curtly.  "I was 
proud. Still am in a way."  He stopped short, looked away from her.

She kept her voice soft.  "Then why are you telling me all of this then?  Why 
don't you tell . . ." she hesitated, then spoke again.  "Why is it bothering you 
so much?"

"They killed my family, you know," he said as though she had not spoken.  
"Mother, wife, little boy.   Mother blew her brains out when she found out 
about the colonists.  Splattered all over the stained-glass windows.  My wife, 
Dorothy--she was eight months pregnant with our son.  We were gonna 
name him Daniel after my father."  He pulled at his jaw, stopping a 
moment.
 
"Dot lasted a week more. They wanted our baby for their hybridization 
project."  Suddenly he seemed very far away.  Scully placed a hand on his 
shoulder, trying to pull him back away from his memories.  "Middle of the 
night they came after her.  She tried to run . . . cracked her head when she 
fell.  Died . . ."  He grew silent and knelt to the ground.  Grabbing a fistful of 
soil, he crumbled the clump to its smaller, finer grains.  He flung it, some of 
the soil flying back into his face.  "Gone like that. You know what it's like 
losing a child you never got to know?"

She grew somber and responded slowly.  Sadly.  "Yes, I do, actually."

Richter didn't seem to be too surprised, or at least didn't show it.  "Horrible 
feeling, isn't it?"  He gave another, short, harsh laugh.

"That's an understatement," she answered dryly.  "C'mon, Richter," she said 
after a brief silence. "We should start setting up camp for the night.  It's 
getting dark and we really don't know this area."

"You're right," he agreed almost reluctantly.  He stood up and began to walk 
over to gather some firewood.  "I can build the fire if you want to start on a 
shelter."  She nodded in compliance and began back to the car to search for 
possible supplies to use for bedding or cover.  "Dana?" he called suddenly.

She turned around. "Yes?"

"I really thought what I did was for the best.  From the information I've 
gathered, it seems like the hybrids are the important factor here.  They are 
somehow the key aspect to the success of colonization.  It was the right 
thing to do.  I firmly believe that."

She nodded.  "If that's what you believe . . ."  She walked off, a slight jab of 
pain radiating from her chest.  I wish I knew what to tell him, she thought as 
she left him standing, a look of helplessness on his face.  Then again, she 
thought, I wish a lot of things.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Elspeth had returned with better than a few "supplies" that she had gone in

search of.  She came back in a teal-green mini-van loaded with food, 
blankets, and other little necessities.

"Not exactly the glamorous escape vehicle I was hoping for," she said wryly, 
hands on hips with a discerning look on her face as Scully looked through 
the stash, "but it works."

It was a short and very silent meal that they sat through, a few carefully 
selected words here and there about the plans come morning but not much 
more than that.  Scully spoke the most, the unacknowledged leader by fact 
of her skills and ability, but more so by default as the other two could not be 
asked to implicitly put their trust in the other.  When she was not speaking  
though, Scully was observing.  Richter, emotionally drained hung his head as 
he ate, a can of corned-beef hash, the sole object of his focus.  Elspeth, 
sitting to Scully's right, seemed to be making a  conscious, although a failing 
effort, to ignore Richter's existence.  She would give quick glances  in his 
direction when she thought no one was looking, a mixture of distrust, 
curiosity, and tentative sadness etched on her face.

They slept in the van that night, leaving the last few embers of their dinner 
fire to die out on their own.  The other two didn't take too long to fall asleep, 
or at least put up the front that they were.  Scully made no attempt--she was 
wide awake.

Propped up on the passenger side seat she concentrated on watching the 
remnants of the fire still alive with tiny firefly bursts of warm orange color.

Shifting to make herself more comfortable, she turned to face the window 
and saw in it her reflection.  She was surprised at what she saw.  She looked 
terrible.

"What are we doing?" she muttered shaking her head slightly.  Exactly what 
were they trying to accomplish, she thought.  If there was a vaccine, why 
were they the ones to find it?  Would there not be people who knew about it 
already?  What would their purpose be?  As important as the objective 
seemed, it was beginning to feel like an empty purpose being pursued in 
vain.  They
would likely die in this venture, she imagined grimly.  But, she thought again, 
there was Mulder.  Scully signed and closed her eyes once more, trying to 
fight the demons and find a little peace in the darkened world of sleep.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They left at Dawn, Elspeth at the wheel of the mini-van.  Richter handed 
Scully a map of the Midwest and the Appalachian country that was mixed 
amongst the rest of their supplies.

Their tank full, they drove on in silence watching as the scenery whipped by 
in a blur of autumn colors and a few stretches of nature still clinging onto 
summer.  It seemed to Scully that many parts of the country still seemed 
untouched by the effects of colonization.  There was a gracefulness and 
peace to many of the roads they drove on, though occasionally they would  
slow as they passed an area littered with burnt vehicles.  Somehow  
everything seemed a starker shade of gray.

"Awfully mournful, isn't it?" Elspeth said as she maneuvered around the 
corpses of the cars.

"Like a cemetery," Richter muttered from the back of the car.

Scully turned immediately to look at Elspeth's response, and to her surprise, 
saw her bite her lip and suppress a retort.  She wondered what was going on.

Their tank started running low somewhere around mid-Pennsylvania.  After 
driving for a good 8 hours, they were all in need of stretching out their legs 
some.  Elspeth pulled off into a ramp into a small town.  Harmony, 
Pennsylvania, population 356.  Somewhere in their minds, they all doubted  
that was true anymore.

They pulled into the middle of the town which was never much to begin with 
anyway.  Elspeth parked the van in the Bobby's Gas and Food and began 
pumping.  Scully headed inside to check for people, gun securely in hand.  
They weren't about to take any unnecessary risks.  It was dark inside, so any 
doubts that the station was open for business was immediately pushed 
aside.  Inside was dusty, the register forced open and the cash long gone. 

"Like cash is any good now," Scully muttered as she continued her scan of 
the building.  She found it clear though, and went outside to tell the others.

"The rest of the town looks deserted, too," Elspeth said as she screwed the

knob back on the tank.  "The town where I got the van looked like this too.
 
Dead."  She paused and walked out toward the sidewalk.  "What really 
bothers me though, is that never did I once see any bodies.  Not even a trace.  
I mean, if there had been suicides or if the colonists had maybe massacred 
the people, you would think that there would have been some sort of 
physical evidence. But nothing." She shook her head, clumps of her hair 
shaking in her face.  "It's more than a little disconcerting, Dana."

"Maybe they were burned to death . . ."

"There would be bodies still...charred, but bodies."  Richter appeared out 
from inside the story, a bag of food gathered in his arms.  He ducked into 
the car.

Elspeth made a very visible gulp.  "We should get going.  Staying in one area 
too long isn't safe, regardless."

Scully didn't hesitate.  "Let's go."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The drive was uneventful and quiet, and peaceful to say the least. Scully 
was now at the helm.  It was getting late, but they were taking turns resting 
so they would not have to make any unnecessary stops.  Elspeth rested in 
the back and Richter was riding shotgun.

"We don't know too much about her," he brought up when it was around 
1AM.

"We're all basically strangers still," she replied.  "But we can't really afford to 
be that distrustful of one another right now."

"I . . . don't mean it that way.  Not anymore."  He rolled down his window 
slightly and took in some night air.  It smelled of burnt leaves, though Scully 
couldn't fathom that anyone would be left to even care that the autumn 
leaves were piling up.  "Shit, I don't know what . . . Oh my god."   His words 
dropped like an anvil falling on her heart.

"What is it?"  But she saw it before he could answer her.  Helicopters.  
Coming their way.  No, she corrected herself.  Swooping in their way, guns 
blazing.

"Fuck!"  Scully swerved the car around, tires squealing.  Elspeth, sleeping in 
the back seat, was rudely awaken, her body slammed into the side of the 
door.  There was a roar of expletives.

"What are you doing, Dana?" Richter screamed over the roar of the 
helicopter blades.

"No time to stop!  They've seen us already.  We have to get out of here!"  
She pressed hard against the accelerator and the van stuttered for a 
moment, then exploded with speed.

Again, without her seatbelt on, Elspeth slammed into the back of Richter's 
chair.

"Jesus Christ, what is this?  The fucking Indianapolis 500?"

"Close.  We are in Indiana."  Scully gritted her teeth.  "So when in Rome . .. ."  
She pressed the accelerator down again, the mini-van jerking back before it 
exploded forward again.  The roar  of the chase was inundating her ears.

So much for peace and quiet.

Chapter 7


"Right," Mulder said, "we go to the Island."

Invictus nodded.

"Great," Mulder went on.  "HOW?"

"I haven't figured that out yet, now shut up."

The gunfire ceased for the moment, and Invictus shimmied his way up to 
the shoulder to have a look.  He watched for several minutes, then motioned 
for Mulder to come up and join him.  

"Mulder," he said, "get up here."

Mulder shook his head and refused. 

"Forget it," he said.

Another wave of bullets roared through the air above them, and still Invictus 
waved for him to come up.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Mulder harshly whispered at him.

"Yes," Invictus whispered back. "Now get your ass up here."

Mulder threw him a dirty look, and low-crawled his way up to the shoulder.

"Look," Invictus said, pointing to a red pick-up truck parked at an angle to 
them, about 35 yards away, "it isn't them after all. It's some civilian."

Mulder squinted and could just make out the head of a figure with a large 
automatic weapon balanced on the bed.  "So why the hell is he shooting at 
us?" Mulder asked.

Invictus turned to him.  "How the hell should I know?" He turned back to 
watch the figure and muttered, "We've got to get him to stop though."

"And how," Mulder said, "do you propose we do that?"

"Why don't we try asking him?" the older man countered. 

With that, he put his hand slowly up in the air, followed by his other one, and 
finally, he stood up facing the shooter.

"Mulder," Invictus muttered quietly without moving his lips, "stand up.  
Slowly."

Mulder rolled his eyes and hesitantly mimicked Invictus' earlier movements.

The figure behind the truck seemed to pause, and raised their head. Then, 
they removed the gun from the bed of the truck and, continuing to train it on 
Mulder and Invictus, walked slowly around the back of the truck, heading in 
their direction.

As the figure got closer, Invictus sucked in a breath.

"What?" Mulder asked in a quiet whisper.

"It's a woman." Invictus answered back.

Mulder squinted to get a good look, and then turned slightly back to him. 
"Yeah," he said, "has it been that long?"

"As a matter of fact…"

The woman stopped about 10 yards in front of them. 

"Who are you?" she snapped.

"No one of consequence." Invictus answered.

She seemed to let her guard down a little.

"But the consequences are no longer what they seem to be," she countered.

"Neither are we," Invictus answered. 

The woman dropped her weapon to her side and strode forward, breathing a 
sigh of relief, holding her hand out to Invictus as she approached.

"Human or hybrid?" She asked, shaking Invictus' hand.

"What do you think?" Invictus answered. 

The woman sighed. "I suppose I should have known. I heard about Antioch.  
All of us here did."

Invictus nodded. "It's nice to know the resistance has reached so far out.  
Even way up here."

The woman's face fell, and she looked out to the bridge. "It doesn't take 
much to persuade people to resist," she said, "just an Armageddon." 

She looked out over the bridge a moment more, then brightened back up, 
turning back to Invictus and Mulder.

"So," she said, "who are you? And what the *hell* where you doing out on
the bridge?"

"The name is Invictus. My friend here and I, if you would believe it, climbed 
our way up the bridge to escape some, how should I say this…enamored 
captors? We'd be glad to join your band of resistance, large or small though 
it may be. I'm sure you'll find us," he paused once again, then smiled at the 
young woman, "helpful."

She returned his smile tenfold, saying, "we'd be glad for your help. We need 
all the help we can get!"

She then turned to Mulder, and back to Invictus.

"Who's your silent friend?" She asked.

Invictus turned to Mulder and said, "Fox Mulder, I'd like to introduce you 
to…"

"Cassidy Vincent," she said quickly, as if disregarding her own name, taking 
an additional step toward Mulder with wide eyes, then, "Fox Mulder?  
*You're* Fox Mulder?! THE Fox Mulder?!?"

Seeing that she would get no response from Mulder, she turned to Invictus 
for the answer.  

"One in the same," he said.

"Holy shit," she said softly, then, she nearly threw the gun up in the air, and 
twirled around excitedly, "Holy SHIT!" she shouted.

Then, she abruptly stopped, and turned back to Invictus.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked. 

"They wiped his memory," Invictus said somberly.  "In fact, we just escaped, 
which makes me think we should probably get out of sight…"

"Of course," Cassidy said, "I'm sorry."

She started down the bank they had just climbed, and started walking along 
the rocks lining the water. 

"Come on," she said. 

As they walked north, always low and close to the water, Cassidy asked 
them where they had come from and what exactly was up with Mulder, as 
she kept stealing glances back their way.

"Well Cassidy," Invictus said, after answering her first question, which was 
riddled with questions of his own,  "I'm not exactly sure how we're going to 
jog his memory, but I have faith that everything will come back to him 
eventually."

"Call me Cass," she said, "and lets hope so. Either way, we've got to get you 
guys to Madison."

"Wisconsin?" Invictus asked. "Sorry Cass, but we're on our way to Lansing."

"Not anymore you're not," she said, stopping.  "Wait here."

She disappeared underneath some overhanging tree limbs, and emerged a 
moment later pulling a canoe along the water.

"Get in," she said.

"Where are we going?" Mulder asked, finally finding his voice.

"First?"  she said, "we're going to the Island, I live there and we're going to 
need to meet with my group there. And then, we're going to Madison."

Invictus opened his mouth to protest, but she interrupted him.

"Yes, I did say we, and things have changed since you've been gone, Vicky.  
But get in, I'll tell you all about it later."

"Fine," Invictus said, getting into the stern seat.  "But if you don't find it 
possible to call me Invictus, then call me McCloud. Do NOT call me Vicky."

"Have it your way," she said, hopping into the front seat and grabbing the 
oar there.

Mulder gingerly got into the canoe, and sat on the floor in the middle. As 
they shoved off and started rowing for Mackinac Island, he leaned against 
his pack. 

This is just a bad dream, he thought to himself, a vivid, clear, unbelievably 
realistic, bad dream.

XxXxXxXxXxX

As they paddled the seemingly endless length of water from the mainland of 
the Upper Peninsula to the Island, Mulder spoke.

"Aren't you afraid the military will come out and investigate all that gunfire? 
I mean, with all that you shot at us, I'm surprised they weren't out in full 
force."

Cassidy shook her blond ponytail. "No.  There's gunfire all of the time, and 
since August, the military hasn't done a damn thing about. No one has. It's 
like the frontier all over again. In more ways than one."

As if to illustrate her point, a couple of distant shots rang out, a set of dull 
pops followed by a tearing sound, like God ripping clouds.

"And anyway," she continued, "I've barely seen the military. A couple of 
times maybe in the Straits, but more often they're over at Fort 
MichiliMackinac. It seems that after 200 years, the fort is once again a 
military post."

"You know, it's funny," she said, momentarily stopping her paddling to turn 
and look at Invictus and Mulder, "now, instead of the French, British and 
the Indians, it's humans, aliens and hybrids. I guess history does repeat 
itself."

"True," Invictus said, "but if you'll think back to the history of that very 
same fort, you'll find that we're in luck."

Mulder turned to him, and he better illustrated.   "The underdogs won," he 
said, dipping his oar back in the lake and stoking hard, "as the Indians so 
ably pointed out, a little ingenuity goes a long way."

"You're right about that," Cass answered from the bow.  "But it was a damn 
bloody battle."

XxXxXxXxXxX

They reached the Island and dragged the craft up onto the beach where it 
couldn't be touched by water. 

"This way," Cass said, heading up a path that led to a small log cabin, with a 
stable and small barn a little further in. Four horses came out and whinnied 
at them when they neared. 

 She walked up to the porch that lined the small house and opened the door 
slowly. As soon as she had it open a crack, two black noses appeared 
instantly. Cass said something to them in English, but it was too high pitched 
for either Mulder, or Invictus to make out. 

The dogs swarmed around Cass, leaving the lower half of her body a blur of 
ebony, bronze and ivory.

"Gentlemen," she said, turning what little the dogs allowed her, toward the 
two men, "I'd like to in introduce you to Thunder and Lightning. Boys," she 
said, turning back to the dogs, "Invictus and Mulder."

At that point, the dogs seemed to just notice these strangers standing there 
on their porch. At once they launched themselves at Mulder while Invictus 
took a few steps back down the staircase and back into the lawn, slowly. 

Mulder bent down, scratching behind the dog's ears while they instantly fell 
in love with him.

Then, they pried themselves from Mulder and scrambled to the edge of the 
porch, stopping. The dogs simply stood there looking at Invictus, while he 
did the same back. One of them barked once.

"What seems to be the problem?" Mulder said to Invictus, smiling. "Come 
and make nice."

"I told you," Invictus said, still not moving, "dogs HATE me, Mulder." 

"Now *why* would anyone hate *you*?" Mulder asked him back, 
thoroughly enjoying himself.

Cass stepped back out onto the porch and shouted.

"Boys! Go to the barn!"

The dogs obediently scrambled off the front porch and ran in the direction 
of the stable. 

She stood in the door and held it open, allowing Invictus and Mulder to pass 
through.  Invictus climbed back up on the porch and brushed by Mulder, 
irritated.

"Smartass," he mumbled.

Mulder simply smiled to himself and followed him.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she said, shutting the door behind him and 
bolting it. "Bathroom's around the corner."

"Thank God," Invictus said, making a beeline around the corner, leaving 
Mulder and Cassidy alone in the foyer.

"So uh, Mulder," Cass started, opening  a nearby closet and depositing her 
large weapon there. "Any ideas on how we're going to get your memory 
back?"

"I just work here," Mulder said, shrugging. 

Although Invictus seemed quite taken with her, but Mulder wasn't quite sure 
he trusted the woman yet. They stood there a moment in awkward silence.

"What's the next order of business?" 

The two turned to Invictus who'd emerged from around the corner.

Cass looked at her watch and moved towards the door.

"Now, I'm going to feed the horses," she said. "You two stay put. In an hour, 
we'll leave for the meeting. We'll figure things out from there."

She closed the door behind her, and Mulder and Invictus plopped down on 
the couch.

"Oh yeah," Invictus said in ecstasy, squirming his way deeper into the 
cushions. "You know how long it's been since I've sat in an actual couch?"

Mulder simply narrowed his eyes at him and swiveled his body to talk with 
him.  "What are we doing here, Invictus?" He asked. "I thought we were 
supposed to be halfway on our way to Lansing by now." 

"Well," Invictus said, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "She seems to be with the 
resistance. And she also seems to know a little more about what's going on 
out here than I do. I don't know if I'd told you this, Mulder, but I've been out 
of touch."

Invictus' tone irritated Mulder.  He narrowed his eyes and gnashed his teeth, 
trying to control himself.

"I've trusted you so far, Invictus, because I was offered no other options. 
While what you've said hasn't made the least bit of sense, I've followed you 
and haven't questioned your decisions. But I don't know left from right, here. 
I'm out here swinging in the wind.  You could at least tell me why you think 
she'd know more about what's going on than you."

"Fair enough," Invictus answered. "Mulder, before I was captured by the 
military for reasons I still don't really know, I was one of the few people on 
the planet who was in a position to know about, and possibly stop this whole 
colonization. I'm still not sure why they didn't kill us," he said, pausing and 
pondering the question for a moment.

"Anyway," Mulder said impatiently.

"Anyway," Invictus continued, "I wasn't in with the government or anything 
like that, like you might be thinking, but I did have… well, what I guess you 
could call 'inside sources'. What I'm trying to say here, is that I was the leader 
of the resistance before there *was* a resistance. And before I was captured, 
I'd managed to network most parts of the country with other groups of 
people that didn't think what I was preaching to them was all horse hockey. 
We installed a system that I have to say, I'm pretty damn proud of, to keep 
us connected and up to date no matter what was happening around the 
world. If Cassidy and these people she's with are connected with that 
network, they'll have all of the latest information that I was sadly lacking 
down in the depths of the Straits." 

"But how did…" Mulder began.

"I know you?" Invictus finished for him.

Mulder nodded. 

"Well," Invictus went on, "my association with the resistance is actually how 
I met you. I'm afraid it's how we were both captured as well."

Mulder sucked in a breath and turned sharply to Invictus.

"The colonists had attacked most of the big cities on the Eastern seaboard in 
one day," Invictus explained. "Ever see Independence Day?"

At Mulder's blank stare, he went on.

"Anyway, I'd managed to get a hold of you through some mutual friends of 
ours. They'd actually been the ones to help me set up the whole resistance 
network. In any event, you'd set up a meeting with me the next day. Your 
partner was actually supposed to be there too, but for some reason or 
another- you never got the chance to say- she didn't make it. You were at 
the meeting place before I got there, and as soon as I arrived, they 
surrounded us, threw us into the back of the proverbial unmarked van and 
carted us away. I wasn't being careful. They must have followed me."

He stopped a moment and looked at Mulder with a small, sad smile on his 
face.  "Even if you're not paranoid, Mulder, it doesn't mean they aren't out 
to get you."

"What happened then?" Mulder asked.

"I think you know the rest," Invictus said. "They gathered us with the rest of 
the poor shmucks that knew too much, wiped our memories- well, *most* of 
our memories- and sank us down into the big lake never to be heard from 
again."

"How the hell did you," Mulder began, but was interrupted by the slamming 
of the front door. 

Cass stood in the doorway, brushing some bits of hay off of her jeans.  
"Hungry gentlemen?" 

Neither man had to answer. "Starving" might as well have been written 
across each of their foreheads. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

They devoured their meal of meat, potatoes, and other vegetables wrapped 
up in a crusty bread. Cass called them pasties. 

"You gotta watch how you pronounce that," she said, smiling. 

When the dishes had been done, and the scraps had been given to the dogs, 
Cass grabbed a light jacket from the doorway closet and stood by the door.  
"Time to go, guys. We've got to meet the group. Boy are THEY going to be 
surprised!" 

Mulder reached to grab his backpack, but Cass stopped him.

"You can leave that here. Don't worry, we'll be back." 

Mulder paused, but picked up the bag anyway.  "I think I'll just take it 
anyway." 

They all exited the cabin into the fresh autumn air. The two men followed 
Cass as she approached the stable. She reached the fence and turned to 
them.

"English or Western?" She asked them.

"Pardon?" Invictus said. They had no idea what she was talking about.

"Do you want to ride in an English saddle, or a Western one?" She said 
slowly, treating them both as very dense.

"You mean we're riding *horses* to this meeting? Where the hell is it?" 
Mulder interjected.

"Yes," she answered, with a hint of contempt in her voice. "The meeting is 
downtown. How the hell else would we get there?"

"Um," Mulder said, "did they stop making *cars* while we were gone?"

"There aren't cars on this Island, Mulder," she said back. "There never have 
been, and there never will be. They're outlawed here. The only way to get 
around is by horse or bike. You should see the space they save on parking 
lots at the Grand Hotel." 

Mulder turned to Invictus.

"She's kidding, right?"

"Apparently not," he answered. "I kind of forgot about that part."

He then turned back to Cass.

"Western. For both of us."

She threw them both a brush and headed into the barn.

"Mulder," she said as she was walking. "You get Chauncy. He's the Bay on 
the end there. Mack, you take Brice, she's the Appaloosa."

The dogs appeared then, and sniffed around Mulder's ankles.  Mulder held 
the brush up to Invictus.  "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.

"Use it," Invictus answered dumbly, approaching his horse. "Haven't you 
ever ridden a horse before, Mulder?"

"When I was a kid," he answered.

"Great. No, go with the hair. That's it." He corrected Mulder, then continued, 
"it's like riding a bike."

"So it'll all come back to me?" Mulder asked.

"No," said Invictus with a grin. "But your ass'll hurt like hell when you get 
off."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Why couldn't it be aliens," Scully thought acidly as the beam from the 
searchlight temporarily blinded her.  She pressed down on the accelerator  
hard once more, but the mini-van was not in a cooperative mood.  And  
although the speedometer continued to climb higher and faster, it still wasn't 
fast enough.

Elspeth leaned over the middle of the drivers and passengers seat.  "Why are 
they still chasing us?" she yelled.  "I thought we were clear a long time ago!"

Scully jerked the wheel again, sending Elspeth careening into the back of the 
passenger side seat.

"Good God!" Elspeth screamed.  "At least give me the chance to buckle up 
before you do that again!"

"Why are they still after us?"  Scully questioned, a frantic tic in her voice.  A 
silence amongst the chaos of noise outside of their inner circle hung between 
them for a moment.  Scully wavered somewhere between irritation and 
panic.  "Elspeth?  Richter?"

"I don't know!" Elspeth said, eyes focusing in on Richter.  "Is it possible

that they're after you?"  She gestured toward him.  "They want revenge for 
what you did at the Antioch Hybrid Camp?"  There was no bitterness in her  
voice now. "Is there anything else you haven't told us?"

"I don't see why they would go after me.  They've had scores of chances 
before to kill me or interrogate me."  He shook his head fiercely.  "And why  
would they waste all this effort simply for revenge?"

"Is it possible that they're after you, Elspeth?" Scully yelled as she jerked the 
car sharply to the left.  "What were you doing before they took  you to the 
house back in Rhode Island?"

She shook her head hard, hair flying east and west.  "I don't see why they 
would be after me.  I just was a minor player in the resistance groups.  I 
planned some things, made speeches, but really, I didn't do anything that 
would be even close to being worth all this trouble."

"Well they obviously don't want us dead," Richter said, stretching his hands 
forward to brace himself against the dashboard as Scully made another 
hard evasive maneuver.  "I'd like to find out what they want with us."

"But we don't want them to catch us so we can find out what's behind door 
number two," Elspeth retorted.

Scully was about to respond when suddenly, the lights were gone, sending  
them drifting away into an uneasy silence.  Scully's breathing became short 
and shallow--flickering in and out like a candle flame without oxygen.  She 
began to slow the car and turned off the lights.  Elspeth and Richter 
remained silent as though a word could shatter their fragile luck.

As stealthily as possible Scully turned the car westward and began to scan 
the dark before them for a possible hiding spot.  She was operating on a thin 
form of calm panic that she had mustered up in their predicament.  Heart 
racing wildly, eyes white and large with fear and apprehension, she finally 
spied a clearing to hide the van.  She picked up some speed cautiously, their 
hopes lying  in each rotation of the tires.  They could  escape on foot after 
they were out of the view of danger, Scully reasoned. 

Although it would be obvious to their pursuers where they had gone, the long 
stretch of forest would buy them time, especially if they had to go on foot 
through the forest in order to find them . . . unless they had already thought 
of that and had set ambushes for them . . .

But none of this was to be.  Destiny had flipped over a new card in the 
game, and one not to their favor.  The helicopter had reappeared, roaring 
out from over the trees, its menacing glare was bearing down on them 
directly.

Later Scully would say that in those moments they had screamed, prayed 
quickly and silently for there lives, but none of this horror was actually a 
spot in her memory.  She would conclude from the facts later that she had 
pulled sharply to the right, startled, and dropped the mini-van into a ditch 
where it slid for a few feet before it rolled over.  She rationalized all of this 
because when she woke however many hours or days later, she could not 
remember anything that had happened in those few seconds before fate 
decided to zig instead of zag.

XxXxXxXxXxX

White walls and anesthetic fluorescent lights.  It seemed to Scully as she 
blinked her eyes opened that she had been transported into a literary cliché 
misused by far too many teenagers who were probably all dead now.  

As she tried to lift her arms to wipe the sleep from her eyes, she came into 
contact with resistance.  

Arm restraints.  

That woke her up.  

She groaned as she struggled in her bounds.  Out of the corner of her eye, she 
spotted the gleam of silver--the door, a slice of blue-green glass hinting there 
was an out.  Then movement startled her and she became momentarily 
frightened that after everything, this was her end, but relief came over her 
when she saw it was another person strapped down onto a similar bed.  As 
she focused in, she saw that it was Richter, who was also trying to fight off 
his bondage.  Thinking it only logical, she twisted to the other side to see 
Elspeth--but

Elspeth was not there.

"Richter?" she moaned.

"Dana?" was his weak reply.  Then he called out again. "Elspeth?"

"She's not here," Scully said, blowing a strand of hair that had covered her 
face.  "I don't know--"

"Agent Scully, I see that you've finally come to."  The voice was cool. Crisp.  
And sickeningly familiar.

It wasn't just the voice so much as it was the vicious tone that accompanied 
it that chilled Scully's blood and twisted her gut upside down.  She turned 
toward the voice, eyes narrowed and intense toward the object of her 
repressed rage.  

"Diana," she addressed tartly as the brunette smirked and folded her arms, 
waiting for Scully to continue.  "Why am I not surprised?"


Chapter 8

They rode down Main Street with Cass in the lead, Mulder in the middle, 
Invictus bringing up the rear and Thunder and Lightning everywhere in 
between.

The sound of nothing but the surf, an occasional sea gull, and the hoof beats 
of the horses on the paved street gave Mulder the creeps. He tried not to 
look out over the water where the twisted, gnarled remains of the bridge 
filled the landscape. 

He patted his horse's neck and adjusted the backpack that they'd strapped 
on the back of the saddle. This wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. The 
horse was not averse to having Mulder as his rider, if not a little indifferent to 
the whole thing. It occurred to Mulder that he'd forgotten the horses name.

"Cass?" he asked, "Who am I on, again?"

Cass turned a little in her saddle and grinned at him. "That's Chauncy's Bad 
Idea. He can be a little feisty sometimes, but he's a real smooth ride, no 
matter what you're doing. I didn't want to have you thrown and all banged 
up. One case of amnesia is bad enough."

Mulder smiled, and Invictus piped up from the rear.

"So who is everybody else?" he asked.

"You're on Fried Brown Rice, and this," she said, tugging a little on her horses 
mane, "is Bob." 

"Huh," said Invictus distantly. It was a little eerie riding through these streets, 
he thought. The souvenir and fudge shops were all dark and forbidding. 
Some still had their doors propped open, and 'Yes! We're Open!' signs 
displayed.

He wondered out loud where all of the people had gone.

"Dead," Cass said, answering his question, "or north. Jakob Bordwell was the 
local nut at the time. Always screaming about this kind of thing happening. 
You should have seen it. He changed in the course of about an hour from 
the village laughing stock to practically mayor. Seems he'd been networked 
with the resistance for some time. He told all of the islanders to head north 
and to tell as many people as they could on the way. It seemed to work. 
Those of us that refused to leave our home have either joined up with the 
resistance here, or left anyway."

"Is Bordwell still here?" Invictus asked. "I wouldn't mind shaking his hand."

Cass was silent for a moment.

Then, she said sadly, "No. Jakob died. He and a couple of other guys headed 
down to Lansing to go after that vaccine he was always talking about. We 
got a call from him telling us that we had to get to Madison. That the 
vaccine was no longer at MSU. Alan Shirilla was the only one who made it 
back."

"Are you planning a trip to Madison?" Invictus asked. "Are you still 
networked with the resistance?"

"No," Cass said, a hint of contempt in her voice.  "We're drowning in political 
bullshit."

She paused a moment and elaborated.  "Of all of the people that should 
have made it back from down state, Alan was the last one I'd expect, OR 
hope for. He's since taken over our little wing, and instead of fighting the 
forces that be, he insists on fighting everyone else in the group. He's got a 
few supporters from who we have left, but, there's about to be a coup 
d'état." 

"I see," Invictus said, downhearted. "We almost there?"

"Yep," she said. "It's right up the hill. We meet at the old fort here on the 
Island," she said, smiling. "We thought it kind of fitting."

They proceeded up the steep bluff, and into the enclosure of the old fort. 
Cass' two Coon hounds raced ahead.  They tied up their horses outside of 
the small, antique chapel, and Cass approached the door, knocking twice.  It 
opened, and Cass walked through. "I come bearing gifts," she said.

Mulder and Invictus followed her, but as soon as they entered, all activity in 
the small chapel stopped, and all eyes fell on them.

It was silent for a moment, when a man of about 27, shorter, well-built and 
blond stepped forward with a scowl on his face that looked permanent.

"Who are *they*?" he asked without a hint of politeness.

"You won't believe it when I tell you," Cass said, ushering them further 
inside.

She pointed to small group of men and women in the room and introduced 
them to Mulder and Invictus.  The seven other people in the chapel, five 
men, two women, nodded to them, except for the man that had spoken up 
when they walked in.  "And this," she went on, "is Alan Shirilla."

"We all know who we are, Cassidy," Alan said impatiently.  "But who are 
*they*?"

"Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Curtis McCloud," she paused as she 
waited for the gasps and mumblings to quiet, then continued. "And Fox 
Mulder."

The man she'd introduced as John Baxter loudly gasped, "No fucking way!" 

To which the woman standing next to him, about 30 years his senior, 
slapped him upside his head and said, "Watch it John, we're STILL in a 
church here."

"Hi," Invictus nodded.

"Not funny, Cass," said Alan stepping forward.  "Who are they, really?"

"It wasn't a joke, Alan," Cass replied.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline.  "And just HOW did you happen to 
come across Fox Mulder and Curtis McCloud? They come in on the ferry?" 
he asked sarcastically.

Cass shot him an evil look and proceeded to parlay the entire story to the 
rest of the group. 

Most of them came up to Mulder and Invictus and asked them questions, 
shook their hands, and generally got really excited. Even the dogs warmed 
up to Invictus somewhat and got in on the action.

Invictus was just taking a seat at one of the pews when Alan, who had been 
standing by processing the whole story put up his hands and shouted.

"Wait just a God damn minute!"

Everyone stopped their chattering and turned to him.

"Two men you meet on the *Mackinac Bridge* appear and tell you they are 
*Fox Mulder* and *Curtis McCloud* and you just took them at their 
word?!" Alan nearly shouted.

"Yes," Cass replied confidently. "I did. Alan, if they were trying to get in here 
and infiltrate our little band of resistance, you'd think they might go for 
something a *little* more low profile than Mulder and McCloud. Anyway," 
she went on, "they knew the password. And I saw a picture of Mulder once. 
That's him."

"Well," Alan said, striding over to Mulder and sneering at him, "we'll just see 
about that. Come on, we're going to have us a little chat."  He grabbed 
Mulder by the arm and led him to the corner of the room.

Cass took a few steps to follow, but Alan put up his hand, stopping her.

"No," he said, "stay there. You've done enough."

Miffed, Cass crossed her arms and plopped down next to Invictus.

Invictus leaned over to her and whispered, "What is he going to do?"

Cass shook her head.  "I don't know, Alan usually isn't *this* paranoid."

They both silently turned their heads to watch what was unfolding before 
them. 

Alan pushed Mulder into a chair, and leaned in really close, not saying 
anything. One of the other men took place on his other side and kept himself 
busy shooting alternately Mulder, then Cass and Invictus, menacing looks.

Mulder just kept his face stoic and leaned back in his chair.  "Is this the 
part," he said, "where I say, 'What's all this about?' and then you say, 'Shut 
up Mulder, *I* ask the questions.'?"

Cass snorted her laughter, trying to keep it in, but failing miserably.  

Alan threw her a dirty look and then turned it on Mulder.

"Am I threatening your alpha male status, Shirilla?" Mulder asked, as he 
attempted to stand. 

Alan pushed him back down and moved to stand directly in front of him.

"You know, *Mulder*," Alan stressed, "amnesia is a pretty convenient thing 
to have happen. Especially if you're not up-to-date on your Fox Mulder 
trivia…"

"Considering the position I'm currently in, Alan," Mulder said, "I find it 
decidedly *inconvenient* that I can't remember certain aspects of my past."

"Oh," Alan burst in, "so now it's *selective* amnesia. Cassidy neglected to 
mention that particular aspect of it."

At that point he turned to look at Cass. She glared at him and stood.

"I was *summarizing* Alan. You're not exactly the portrait of patience." 

She took back her seat next to Invictus and sighed.

"Watch where  you walk, Alan," she warned him, "before you step in 
something."

"Alright," Alan went on, "let's assume that you ARE Fox Mulder, and that 
you and McCloud did escape from some submarine military fortress." He 
paused a moment while his cohort, Dylan Kopenkowski snickered a little 
from Mulder's other side. "If you were THAT valuable- I don't know why 
you would BE valuable, but let's just say that you were- if you were really 
that valuable to the military, then why did they let you go?"

"They didn't exactly let us go," Mulder said, "they either think we're dead, or 
they think we made it out. I don't know how we did it, but we did."

"I think you ARE the military, Fox," Alan said, standing in front of him. "I 
think you're with them, trying to get information from, or disband our little 
assembly here."

Invictus stood.  "Shirilla, that's ridiculous. This is stupid. Why don't you just 
let us help you?" He said.

"Okay," Alan said slowly.  "Let's say that I accept your help. Let's say I 
accept who you are. What I don't get, is why aren't they after you? Why 
aren't they looking for you? Why aren't they here?"

Just then, a man burst through the door. He was panting hard and doubled 
over for a moment trying to catch his breath.  He put his hands on his knees 
and looked up.  

"They're coming," he said, gasping for breath. "I saw them down on the 
dock, they've got four wheeler's and they're armed. We've gotta get out of 
here… They're coming."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Chaos ensued.

The members of the group disbanded immediately and made for every 
entrance in the small building.

Cass leapt up from the pew, grabbed Mulder by the arm, knocking Alan out 
of the way in the process, and shoved him toward the exit that Invictus was 
already waiting at. 

Cass nearly jumped up onto her horse, and spurred it into a canter almost 
immediately.

Mulder was barely in the saddle before his horse took off after Cass'. 

He righted himself as best he could, and held onto the saddle horn in one 
hand, barely managing to keep a hold of the reins in the other. 

There seemed to be horsemen everywhere, some ahead of him, and some 
behind.  They all seemed to be heading the same direction, toward the back 
of the fort, and then up an enclave and into the surrounding forest. 

Cass pulled up suddenly, causing him, Invictus, and two other horses behind 
him to skid to a halt.  Cass watched as four of the group that were in front of 
her kept full tilt forward, and looked to her left, trying to make up her mind.

John Baxter, who had been behind Invictus trotted up to her.  "What the hell 
are you doing, Cass?" 

"We should separate!" she said.

"Damn right we should!" Alan nearly shouted, as he came up on her other 
side. "I want to be as far from these two as possible!" 

With that, he took off through a path off to the group's left, where Cass had 
been considering going.

"Screw him!" she said, getting flustered. "We'll follow the rest of the group, I 
hope he gets caught!"  She was about to take off up a small hill to follow the 
others, when the sound of approaching motors began to hum steadily closer 
from their right. 

"We can't go that way anymore!" John shouted, steering his horse to the left. 
"Come on! Let's go!"

A gunshot ripped through the air above them, and into a nearby birch. 

Cass' horse reared, but she kept her seat, and spurred him forward. 

They were all soon flying through the woods, branches and leaves assaulting 
Mulder from every direction, snapping in his face and tearing at his legs. He 
sat up in the saddle, and, giving up on the reins, grabbed the saddle horn in 
both hands. He ducked his head down by his horse's neck, and narrowly 
missed being decapitated by large beech branch.

Suddenly, the tree line opened up to a large field, over grown with weeds.  
From his vantage point, Mulder could barely make out the one strip of 
pavement that had been the Island's airport. They tore across the field to the 
other side, and Mulder finally started to feel comfortable in his seat. Cass 
had been right, Chauncy's Bad Idea had a very smooth gait.  He turned a 
little to find Invictus, but could only see one other horse, bearing two riders 
behind him. 

His stomach flip-flopped in his abdomen, and he twisted even more in the 
saddle, searching him out. He lost his newly-found balance almost instantly, 
and quickly tried to right himself. He couldn't. His right foot had come out of 
the stirrup, and he was leaning in that direction as his right leg bounced 
against the horses flank. He flailed out with his left hand and grabbed 
Chauncy's mane, hanging on for dear life as the horse continued to run hard.

All of the sudden, the spotted head of an Appaloosa came charging right up 
beside him, and he felt strong hands shove him back up into the saddle. 

He worked his foot back into the stirrup and turned his head to smile weakly 
at Invictus, who had appeared, once again out of nowhere to save him. 
Invictus merely nodded once and then looked forward, giving Mulder a 
head's up that they were about to head back into the woods. 

Cass slowed down somewhat as they entered the tree line, and she trotted 
along a more clear path, and then down a fairly steep slope that opened up 
on a sandy beach. She pulled up as she got to the waterline. The horses were 
heavily winded, and she dismounted, the rest of them following suit. 

Mulder looked at the other riders. Other than he, Cass and Invictus, John 
Baxter, Jessica Morris, who had earlier disciplined him, a small, quiet, almost 
elderly man named Plinket, and a teenaged girl named Katie Swarth, had 
been the other members of the group that had been forced to follow Cass. 

As Plinket helped Katie down off of his horse, they all turned to Cass.

"Am I in charge, here?" she asked, her voice hesitant but curt, as though she 
found the task unsavory, but necessary nonetheless. 

"Might as well be," Jessica spoke up.  "You seem to be a little more informed 
than the rest of us." 

"Well then," Cass said, "I say we make this a democracy. What do you all 
think we should do?"

"I say we get the hell out of here," Katie piped up from Plinket's side.

"It's an island, Katie," Baxter said.  "We can't run forever."

"But we can sure as hell run for a while," said Cass, turning to Plinket. "Tom, 
you know this island better than the island knows itself, where do you think 
we should go?"

Plinket stood for a moment, and simply regarded the water. 

"What I think we should do," he spoke, "is decide whether or not we think 
we're ready or not to go out and do what we're all in this to do. We can't 
justly call ourselves a resistance if we don't resist."

"I agree," Jessica said.

"I do too," said John Baxter.  "And I think we're ready. We have most of the 
necessary information. The only thing we've been waiting for these past few 
months is for Alan Shirilla to get his head out of his ass. It works just fine for 
me if he isn't in on it at all."

Cass looked to all of the other members. None seemed to have a problem 
with the idea.  "If we're going to do this," she said, "then we are presented 
with more than one problem. First of all, we've been split up from the others. 
We really shouldn't do this without them. And for another, how are we going 
to get there? We can't very well swim all of the way."

She stopped and looked to the group as they all pondered what she'd said.  It 
was then that Invictus, who'd been standing quietly by, spoke.

"Well," he said, "if you want to know what I think, I think that you should go 
in two groups. That way, if one of you doesn't make it, the other will, and 
should something go wrong, you'd have another group behind you to back 
you up, and supply reinforcements should they be needed."

"You've got a good point," Cass said, "but how do we organize this? We need 
time, and time isn't something that we have a lot of right now."

Tom Plinket spoke then.

"We don't need time," he said, "time is something we've been swimming in 
these past few months. We know what we have to do, and we're relatively 
sure we know how. What we *need* is the balls to just step forward and do 
it."

Everyone was silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Cassidy," he said, "I've lived on this Island all of my life. I don't plan on 
dying elsewhere, and I refuse to be bullied off of my home. I think, 
considering the situation, it would be best if you led the group down to Arch 
Rock, while I head back into town. I'll supply up your boat, and sail it to 
Arch Cove. You, John, and these two," he said, pointing at Mulder and 
Invictus, "can all go to Madison from there. I'll take Jessica and Katie back, 
we'll round up the others, and follow you on land."

Cass stood and considered it for a moment. She nodded once, but turned to 
him.  "I trust you, Tom, but what about the troops back there? How are you 
going to do it?"

"Don't you worry about that," he said.  "This is my island. I'll manage.  I'll be 
there by sundown tomorrow."  With that, he swung up into his saddle, and 
took off down the beach. 

Cass grabbed her mount by the reins and pulled it in the other direction.  
"Come on, guys," she said. "We're going to the Arch."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Aren't they going to see that?" Katie asked from around the circle of the 
fire. 

She pointed to the fire and wrapped her arms around her legs, scooting closer 
to it. The horses were nickering softly behind her, content to rip leaves off of 
low hanging branches.

The night had fallen without incident for them, and as the many stars 
winked on above them, they had built a fire to keep warm. No one had 
thought to grab blankets or anything useful when they fled from the chapel.


They only had what Mulder and Invictus had in the pack. In their current 
situation, it didn't amount to much. 

"No," Invictus said, from across the fire from her.  "Don't you worry about 
that. We'll be fine for the night."

He really wasn't confident in what he was telling the girl, but he didn't want 
to scare her. He hadn't thought that building a fire was the best thing to do 
for their safety, but it was extremely cold at night on the island, and it was 
the best thing for their health. 

"I wonder if Thunder and Lightning are okay," Cass said, from the outskirts 
of the fire. "I wonder where they are." 

"They'll be fine," Jessica said, walking up to Cass and patting her on the arm. 
"Don't you worry about them."

Cassidy nodded and stoked the fire before sitting down.

"We should all get some sleep," she said.  "Why don't you all try to get some 
shut eye. I'll take the first watch. John, you take the second."

Baxter nodded. 

Mulder and Invictus both opened their mouths to protest, but Cass stopped 
them both short.  "With the day you've both had?" She said, "I'm surprised 
you're both conscious. You two sleep, John and I will go back and forth. 
Now lay down, shut up, and go to sleep."

They were both snoring loudly within five minutes.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder wasn't sure what woke him. It was either the cold, a noise, a 
suspicion, or a combination of the three. 

He didn't move-his  body having been pushed to the limits of endurance all 
day coupled with the cold of the night didn't allow him too. 

He opened his eyes and glanced over at John Baxter who was keeping 
watch.

The man sat still, his body extremely tense. He looked like a gun ready to go 
off. His gaze was fixed in one direction, and Mulder glanced that way 
reflexively, but didn't see any thing. 

He took a moment to watch the man, then, quietly he spoke.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Baxter didn't even move. "Listen," he whispered back.

Mulder did. 

At first, he didn't hear anything. Then, a few moments later, he heard a 
branch cracking off in the direction that Baxter was looking in. 

"What is it?" he whispered again.

"I don't know," the man answered.  "But it's closer than the last one."

"Deer?" Mulder offered.

Baxter shook his head.  "Maybe, but… I don't think so."

Then, off to the other side of the fire, he heard another branch break, this 
one more distantly.   John Baxter swung his head in the direction of the 
second sound and then stole a glance at Mulder.  

"That was the first one from over there," he whispered.

Then, back in the direction of the first sound, another branch broke, this one 
much closer than before.

Mulder, aching in every muscle in his body, finally found the strength to 
move. He drew his own gun turned to move.

"Wake the others," he said, his voice a little louder. "I'll untie the horses."

John nodded and quietly went around shaking the group.

Mulder rose slowly and silently approached the dozing horses.  He was 
almost to them when a figure stepped out of the darkness and directly in his 
path. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

He was almost too shocked and frightened to recognize the man standing 
before him.  But realization dawned on him, and he breathed out a sigh of 
both relief and irritation as he lowered his gun. 

"Dice Powers," he said, "if you ever do that to me again, I'll kill you."

"You got close enough the first time," the man said, then he motioned 
toward a still sleeping Invictus. "Wake McCloud, I have bad news. It's about 
your partner and a hybrid."

"My what?" Mulder asked confused, but with the stern look from Dice, he 
turned and bent down near Invictus to shake him awake. 

"Get up," he said, shaking him roughly. "We have company."

Invictus roused quickly and leapt up to greet his friend.

Mulder and Invictus both approached the man who had saved them, but 
stopped when they were a few feet in front of him. They both just noticed 
the state he was in, and stood, horrified.

His arm was in a tight sling, and his BDU's were soaked. He looked haggard, 
and ready to drop.

"How did you…?" Invictus began to ask him.  

Dice didn't wait for him to finish.

"They brought me to the surface for treatment," he said.  "They were still 
transporting me when they finally reviewed the tapes of what happened. 
They came in to put me in restraints when I escaped. I stole a military boat 
and came here, figuring I could find you. Looks like I was right."

The three men stood there looking at each other in the firelight, none of 
them saying a thing. Then, Dice took a step forward.  "There's a new 
development," he said, "something I just found out and didn't get a chance 
to tell you."

Cass, now awake, walked up to the men, but kept her distance, suddenly 
wary of them.  "What's going on here, guys?" She asked suspiciously. She 
wondered if she really had been duped by these two men. She hoped she 
was wrong. 

The other members of the group simply sat by the fire, watching and 
waiting. Katie had scootched herself closer to Jessica, and the older woman 
put her arm around her. Neither one looked anything other than scared.

"I'll tell you what's going on!" A voice suddenly shouted out.  Alan Shirilla 
stepped out of the woods and into the circle of light, his gun drawn and 
trained on Dice.  "Looks like I was right the whole time, Cassidy," he said, 
cocking his weapon. "Looks like they really are one of *them*."

"It's not what you think," Mulder said, stepping toward him.

"That's where you're wrong, *Mulder*," Alan said, stepping closer to Dice. 
"It's exactly what I think."

To Mulder, the next second slowed to a honey-dripping pace. It was as if the 
bottom of the hour glass had suddenly become much deeper, and the grain 
of sand, in it's descent, fell and fell and fell, without ever hitting bottom.

To Cass, it all happened too quickly.

Mulder and Invictus simultaneously screamed "NO!" Alan's finger pulled 
back on the trigger twice. And Dice Powers' body slumped to the earth at 
their feet with a sickening thud.


Chapter 9

Diana, still smirking in a tailored suit, said nothing.  Her face, a few lines 
more grooved than last Scully saw her, looked amused as she watched  her 
two captives squirm before her.  The click of high heels--amazingly  
insensible attire for the situation they all were in--echoed ghostly and  tense 
in the small, rectangular room.

"How is Fox?"

Forgetting herself for a brief moment, but a moment that she had been 
waiting for since she laid eyes on Diana, Scully lost her composure and spat 
quickly and directly into Diana's over-manicured, plastic face.

Diana, obviously startled, stumbled back, tripping on one of her heels. She 
braced herself against the wall, a knee smashing against the white wall and 
tinting her knee a soon-to-be purple and yellow splotch.  She lifted her  head, 
strands wiped out by the non-supporting hand and stared in disgust at

Scully.

"You react well for a dead woman."

"You . . ." Diana stopped, pushing herself to an erect position, adjusting her 
beige skirt.  Her face was twisted red in anger, eyes flashing and ready to 
strike.

Scully's face was set in repose once again though, even through the faint 
strains of Richter's laughter from behind her tickled her senses.

"Once, I believed you did something noble to save Mulder's life.  That you 
hadn't rotted to the core yet.  Was I wrong even then?  Was it all some 
ploy?"

Diana did not respond, her face set icy cold.

Disappointed by Diana's lack of response, but not devastated, Scully spoke 
again, hiding her frustration.

"What did you do with Elspeth?" she demanded.

Diana, sensing she now had the advantage, walked over and peered down at 
Scully again, although this time at a safer distance.

"Don't you know?" she said with mock shock. She was given a stare in 
return.  "You don't," she said softly with a surprised laugh.  "Amazing--she 
didn't tell you?  Not even you?" she conjectured, looking at Richter.

Scully's heart was beating faster and faster.  Elspeth, a traitor . . . No, it 
couldn't be possible.  She swallowed hard, clenching her fists.  She would not 
let this be their end . . .

"We trust her to tell us what she wants us to know when we need to know
it," Richter said defensively.

"How do you know that you can trust her, though?" was Diana's haughty 
reply. "Can you really trust anyone anymore?"

"Where is she?" Richter pressed, though his body and his voice was laced  
with tension.  "What did you do with her?  What did you do with Elspeth?"

"How sweet--a lover's demand."  Richter reddened, perhaps from anger or 
embarrassment--or even both.  He grew silent.

"I knew you were treacherous and a backstabber, Diana," Scully said, "but I 
never thought that you would turn your back against humanity.  That you 
would forsake your world for power."

"We do what we need to survive," she said with a bored voice.  Then her eyes 
came to focus in on Scully's.  "You think that you can live on idealism 
alone?  You're a fool then, Dana.  Like Mulder was a fool."

"Is."

Diana tilted her head.  "Optimistic still?  Ah well.  This world may not be 
much, but at least I will be able to live the rest of my life with some 
assurance of safety and control.  You," she shook her head disdainfully, 
"you will be like the others--fighting for some grand cause.  It doesn't exist!  
It's futile--can you not come to terms with the colonists?  They're not just 
going to go away.  They got this far for some reason.  What are we to them?  
Nothing, that's what.  We are bodies--farms and food for them. At least you 
are.  I have something at least--something to cling to."

"And you think we don't?" Scully challenged.  "Your comfort is temporary, 
Diana.  You are nothing to them, too.  And you are nothing to me, or anyone 
else who still even dares to hope a little bit."

"That world is dead, Dana."

"You are as good as dead, Diana.  You don't need me to explain to you why, 
either, do you?"

Silence.  Diana paced.  She twisted her hands uncomfortably.

"I admire you, Dana.  I always have.  But I have to disagree with you still."  
She spoke these words, but she did so hesitantly.  "Dreams are nice, but they 
have no basis in this world.  Until you're able to see the whole picture, you 
can't judge me or anyone else who is doing what it takes to stay alive."

"And exactly what is it that is giving you the motivation to live, Diana?  
Without any glimmer of hope, what do you have to live for?  Power?  That's 
an empty feeling, and you know it.  If this world is so damned, what gets 
you through the day?  Is it something you're afraid of?"

"I see it's impossible for me to try to even get you to begin to understand

what sort of situation we are in.  Go ahead.  Live in your world and say what 
you will about how I am leading my life, but you can't change me."

Diana turned her back and headed for the door.  She turned for a moment 
before she left.  "I'm sorry to think that you'll only understand when you die.  
What a pity."

The door opened, closed, and again Scully and Richter were left in the 
blinding white room.

"What do you want with us?" Scully said through clenched teeth after Diana 
had left.  She closed her eyes and tried to focus.

"Dana?"

Scully jumped--if she could jump from where she lay bound.  Her eyes 
fluttered opened to see Richter, standing before her, a look of concern in his 
face.

"How did you . . ." she began as he undid the leather straps that held her 
down.  She sat up, rubbed her wrists as he undid the fastens on the restraints 
on her legs.

"These are old--and I loosened them up while you were talking to that 
woman.  Old acquaintances, I assume."

"You could say that," Scully said dryly as she swung her now-free legs over 
to the side and hopped down to stretch them out.

"We need to get out of here," Richter said, appraising the room.  "And find 
Elspeth.  I want to know what they're doing with her, and why they took her 
away when we were left together."

"It does seem very strange.  Diana seemed to be eluding to something, but 
I'm not going to jump to any . . ."

"You think she might be a spy?" he asked softly.

Scully hesitated.  "Not . . .a spy, but something important to them.  But I 
don't know.  I don't want to be suspicious even though that's what my gut 
tells me to do.  We've had enough of that so far, don't you think."

Richter seemed abashed for a moment.  "Yes we have," he finally responded 
with resolve.  "Too much.  Now let's get out of this place.  How do you 
suppose we get out of here?"

"A gun would prove very handy right now," Scully mused.  "Just shoot the 
locks off the door, but that would cause a lot of noise.  Still..."

"If we break off part of these stretchers, maybe we could pick the lock."

Scully was pensive for a moment.  Richter was about to speak, ask her what 
was wrong, but she held a hand up, walking to the door.  She gripped the 
stainless steel handle and twisted it down.  The door clicked open.  She 
turned to look at Richter, a curious brow raised in amusement.

"That would also work, I guess," he said wryly as they quietly exited.

"I figured if the straps were old, maybe these facilities aren't the highest 
quality."

"Simplicity is wonderful," he replied as they slid down the

They were halfway to the next door when alarms started sounding and they 
were bathed in a red light that flooded the corridor.

"Oh Christ," Richter swore.  "How did they know we got out?"

"No, no," she comforted, "I don't think that's what's going on.  Her eyes flew 
around and she saw the source of the light--a fire alarm. "Shit," she swore 
under her breath.  "Fire, Richter.  We have to get out of here."

They scrambled down the hallway and as they peered through the door they 
saw the shadows of people running out of rooms, throwing things as they 
ran.  They waited a moment and then went into the hallway.

"We have to find Elspeth," Richter said as they progressed down the hall.  
Immediately, he ran to the first door and flung it open.  Empty.  They split 
the hallway, running and throwing doors open as they went, yelling for 
Elspeth.  Scully turned to Richter to speak but he had disappeared behind a 
door.  She went across the hall and went in to see Elspeth's pale body, 
dressed in a hospital gown, flung carelessly on the ground, a broken rag doll.

His face was stricken, and Scully could not help but feel the tug at her heart 
that she had felt so many times when she had found Mulder in similarly bad 
situations.  He lifted her gently to his chest, one arm slung protectively 
around her back and one underneath the bend in her knees for  support.  Her 
head bobbed slightly and finally came to rest on his shoulder. 
  
The comfort of her shallow breaths against his neck, he could never even 
start to explain to anyone.

Scully lead the way out, holding the door for Richter and Elspeth.  The 
moved as fast as they could possibly go up and down the corridors.  They 
noted that they could hear a siren that was not within the building going off, 
and followed its sound.

They did not have to struggle for freedom long.  A smile laced with relief 
flooded Scully's face as she spied the comfort of a glowing red "exit" sign. 
She pushed against the door and it came open without too much effort, but 
not all was good on planet Earth tonight.

They were welcomed again by the outside world with a gust of black ash 
against a blazing orange skyline.  Blue-eyes wide Scully scanned her 
surroundings.  Buildings rose above the clouds of smoke like obelisks. Like a 
shockwave, Scully suddenly realized where she was, with only an inkling of  
what was happening, a sickening feeling twisting in her stomach at the 
perversity of how history could repeat itself.

Chicago was burning.



Chapter 10

The sun came up just as it always had. It shined off of the Huron in the east 
and lit the sky in the rosy hues and gradual splendor of eons past.  The Earth 
warmed slowly as its fiery fingers spread throughout the land. But in a lonely 
camp on the shores of the great lake, the long faces and grim spirit of the 
camp could not be warmed by the rays of the sun.

 Invictus looked up to the rest of the party as he put the last rock over Dice's 
grave. They were crowded round the small pile of rocks they had managed 
to collect with a cross they had put together at the head. The only person not 
immediately present was Alan Shirilla, whom they had tackled into 
submission, who was now tied to a tree back at the camp. 

Invictus had spoken over his friend, and stood at the grave in silence a 
moment as the rest of the party turned and slowly made their way back to 
camp. Mulder stood by and waited. 

When finally Invictus turned away from his friend, he didn't turn around 
again.

"I'm sorry," Mulder said, as they wound their way through the trees following 
the others. "I don't know what else to say."

Invictus, his face still downtrodden simply said, "I don't think there's 
anything *to* say. Enough people have died already, this one more only 
adds another log to the fire. We have to get that vaccine now, Mulder, if not 
for the millions who are dead already, for Dice. I owe him that much. *We* 
owe him that much."

Mulder nodded and they made their way back into the camp where 
everyone else was silently putting out the fire, and feeding and taking care of 
the horses.  Even Shirilla was quiet, moping where sat by the tree, seeming to 
finally come to terms with the fact that his own paranoia and power 
complex had driven him to kill a man. The horses were also silent, sensing 
the mood of the camp, they snickered quietly to each other and gently 
nosed anyone who walked by.

"So," said Cass as she took one of the bridles off of the branch they were 
hanging off of, "what now?"

Mulder sighed.  "I don't know. Do you think Plinket will have the boat ready 
yet?"

"I don't think so," she said.  "He said he'd have it there by sundown."

"We may not have that long."  Everyone looked over to Shirilla who hadn't 
spoken in hours.

Baxter, still irritated with the man, took a step closer to him.  "What are you 
talking about, Alan?"

"I'm saying that they're probably going to find us soon. The Island is small, 
and they can cover a lot of ground. I'm saying if Tom doesn't get here soon, 
he may not like what he finds when he *does* get here." 

"I'm afraid he's right," Jessica spoke up, "as much as I hate to admit it."

Everyone was silent for a moment. Then Invictus spoke.  

"I think so too, but we don't have a choice. I say we saddle up the horses just 
in case we need to make a break for it, and send a person to the shore every 
hour until he gets here."

Everyone agreed to this, and they went about getting the horses ready and 
their stuff together.

Mulder sat down at the edge of the camp when he was finished and 
ruminated to himself.

He cursed his memory, or lack thereof, and concentrated on trying to 
remember until his eyes hurt. Pretty much the last 10 years or so of his life 
were inaccessible. It was almost as if there was a wall up in his mind that he 
could not penetrate that was blocking the memories from his view.  His 
photographic memories were there, but someone had put the lens cover on.

He leaned his head back against the tree and looked to the sky through the 
canopy of orange, yellow and red. Clear and blue, as it had always been, but 
no longer familiar. It was no longer the sphere that protected the world, but a 
shield that was easily torn, and behind it, untold beings and civilizations that 
had no agenda other than to destroy and conquer. It was a terrifying 
thought-that aside from a weak vaccine that could possibly protect them 
from the effects of only one of their weapons, they were absolutely helpless 
to stop their own annihilation. 

Invictus interrupted his macabre musings by plunking down next to him.

"You know," Mulder said to him without looking up, "I don't think so much 
of your ideas."

"Well, Mulder, the farther we get into this… I don't think so much of my 
ideas either. In fact, I didn't think it was physically possible, but this both 
sucks *and* blows."

"Really?" Mulder asked sarcastically. "Which part?"

"I'm trying to decide between  the part about having the survival of the 
human race depending solely on us, and the part about riding horses. I don't 
about you, but my ass HURTS."

Mulder chuckled quietly to himself.

"Been sitting here plotting my demise?"

"As good as that sounds, I'm actually just sitting here trying to remember," 
Mulder answered.

"That's funny," Invictus said, "I'm trying to forget."

Mulder simply nodded and closed his eyes again.

"How *did* you get by the memory wipe, if you don't mind sharing your 
professional secrets with the likes of me," Mulder asked. 

"If I tell you, I have to kill you," he answered.  "But then, we'll probably die 
anyway, so I might as well let the cat out of the bag." 

"I appreciate your honesty and optimism," Mulder said sardonically.

"My pleasure," Invictus smiled at him.  "It wasn't really all that complex.  A 
shot in the dark, actually. I used a thumb tack."

Mulder's confused look spurred him to explain.

"See, I saw on TV one time how this guy beat a polygraph test by putting a 
thumb tack in his shoe and stepping on it the whole time. It throws off your 
nerves and distracts your mind no matter how hard you concentrate on the 
questions. So, I employed the same principle to the memory wipe, and it 
worked. Don't ask me how, but it did." 

"Unfortunately," he looked to Mulder, "I think you have to do it at the time 
of the wipe. I don't think it'll work for you. Of course, I could ram a needle 
into your big toe and see if your memories all come flooding back, but I 
don't know if you're willing to risk it." 

"I think I'll pass," Mulder said, and crossed his arms at his chest.

"Pity," Invictus answered, then surveyed their outlying camp.

"What do you think we should do with Shirilla," he asked after a few 
moments.  "We can't very well leave him tied to that tree."

"Pity," Mulder said in return.

At Invictus' chuckle, he went on. "I suppose we'll have to take him with us. 
We can't leave him with Plinket and the others, I wouldn't wish that on 
anyone."

"True, and I'd just as soon be able to watch him with my own eyes as know 
that he could sabotage the other group and fuck us *all* over."

"You don't suppose he might fall overboard while we're at sea, do you?"

"Well, anything can happen, Mulder," Invictus said, standing up, "and 
usually does."

With that, he winked and walked down the bluff toward the arch to check 
the coast for Plinket.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The boat finally rounded the coast and cruised silently into Arch Cove just 
before sunset. It first appeared through the massive rock arch that the cove 
was named for with the setting sun behind it as a backdrop. Steven Spielberg 
couldn't have devised a more perfect composition. 

But beauty aside, the camp was almost in a panic by the time the boat 
came.

Most of the party worried that Plinket had been caught and would never 
make it, the horses were getting antsy and spooked, and twice Mulder 
thought he heard the roar of an engine. 

By the time they had Mulder, Invictus, Cassidy, John and Alan Shirilla on 
board, and Tom Plinket was getting into the dinghy to depart, the sun had 
been down for some time. 

Cassidy sat down in the small capsule and rowed him to shore. The dinghy 
on her boat had a small motor, but they weren't willing to risk getting caught 
by the noise it made. 

As he got out of the boat, he assured her that he'd take care of her horses 
and the rest of the group and that they'd meet up in Madison. They weren't 
sure where or when, or even how, but the resistance had always had a strong 
network, and if worse came to worse, they'd use it. 

The remaining members of the resistance waited on shore and watched in 
the dim moonlight as Cassidy rowed back to her boat and slowly, silently, 
sailed west.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The boat was a large one that she'd inherited from her father. A 52 foot 
double-masted Beneteau, that he'd named the Prometheus Unbound. He'd 
died just before colonization had begun and this was the first sail on the 
vessel that Cass would make without him. 

Once out of Arch Cove, they had all gathered down below around the 
navigation table, and Cassidy had proceeded to pull out her cache of 
nautical maps. They had set the sails just tight enough to get away from the 
Island by daybreak, but not tight enough to set any specific course. They 
had to pick one first.

"The way I see it," Cassidy said, as she spread out the maps before her, the 
rest of the group crowding around her, "we have two choices."

"We head north and sail along the coast of the U.P. until we hit Wisconsin, 
from there, we travel by land down to Madison. Or, we head southwest right 
now, hit Beaver Island for supplies, then North and South Fox Island, then 
the Manitou Islands, and cross Lake Michigan in one shot. The first option is 
a lot safer, but it will take a lot longer. The second should get us there much 
faster, but is highly dangerous. Especially with an inexperienced crew this 
time of year."

She looked up at the rest of the men and looked at each one in turn.  "What 
do you guys want to do?"

"I say we go for the U.P.," Alan mumbled quietly. He knew no one really 
wanted to hear his opinion, but he voiced it anyway. His consideration no 
longer carried any weight.

Much to his surprise, they looked at him and nodded.

Invictus spoke next. 

"I can see the points of both. And I know how rough these waters can get, 
especially this time of year. It's going to be a tough trip either way, but the 
clock is running…"

"I agree," Baxter piped in, "about time, I mean. If we don't get there soon 
and *do* something, we, and a lot of other people are going to be dead no 
matter what. I say we go for the fastest way and just pray we get there in 
time. Cass, you and I know boats. They'll catch on quickly… I say we head 
for the Islands and head for them now."

At that point, everyone looked to Mulder.

"You're looking to a man who has no memory and who at this moment is 
feeling slightly sea sick to make your decision for you?"

They continued to look at him.

"Yes," Cass finally said. "The memories may be absent, Mulder, but the 
instinct's still there. What do you think we should do?"
 
"I agree with John," he finally submitted.   "I say we take the most direct 
route. The sooner I'm off this boat, the better."

"Then it's settled. I'll plot the course, then John and I can get us going.  Why 
don't you guys try to get some sleep."
 
She pointed in the direction of the aft bunks and sat down to work.  "The 
head is on your left," she said as afterthought.

"The what?" Mulder asked as he made his way astern.

"The john," she said, looking up from her map.  "It's right there." 

The three men nodded and settled in for the night. The gentle rocking of the 
boat had them asleep almost before they could lay down.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Days past, and they sailed on without too much trouble. 

It was near sunset on their third day when they sailed past the second island 
they would visit. The wind had remained strong and steady and propelled 
them at a speed that gave them a small amount of comfort. Every island 
they had yet visited had been abandoned, and when they saw no sign of 
pursuit, they began to relax. 

Cass joined Mulder on the fore deck and watched out over the water with 
him silently. Dark blue and gray clouds had started to form on the horizon, 
and she eyed them warily. 

"Looks like a storm might be moving in," she said. "I think we'd better head 
right for South Fox Island and see if we can harbor there tonight. Sailing on 
the Great Lakes in November isn't the safest thing anyone's ever done."

They had considered skipping over the small island and on toward the 
Manitou Islands, as they had just left North Fox Island the day before. She 
said this more to herself than to Mulder who basically did what they told 
him to. Which generally encompassed ducking when they came about, and 
occasionally cranking the winch. Mostly, he just tried to stay out of 
everyone else's way. Only Alan Shirilla seemed to be as much of a layman 
as he, which surprised Mulder for a man who had grown up on a small 
island. But then, Mulder mused, he himself had grown up on an island and 
knew even less about all things nautical.

She headed back for the stern and left Mulder watching out over the water. 
He'd spent the past days in a constant state of concentration, and he'd 
finally given up on the prospect of ever remembering what he'd lost. 

He accepted it and moved on. He had no other choice.

A gust of strong wind hit him from behind without warning and he fell 
forward, catching himself on the sail cables in front of him. A large swell 
followed the wind and slammed into the side of the boat, pitching the vessel 
off to the port side and causing Mulder to lurch forward again. He grabbed 
the safety wires along the starboard side of the boat and made his way 
down to the cabin. 

The clouds rushed in over the boat in force and the wind blew harder. The 
surf picked up in intensity as well and surged around them. Cass was on her 
way up onto the deck when Mulder reached the cabin door. 

"Get down below," she shouted above the building howling of the wind, "and 
wake up John if he isn't already and tell him to get the hell up here! Secure 
the cabinets below and get out the life jackets!"

Mulder nodded and allowed her to pass before he nearly slid down the few 
stairs and into the cabin. John Baxter was stumbling out of the bunks in the 
bow when Mulder looked up.

"Squall?" he asked.   Mulder nodded and John swore in a low tone as he 
brushed by Mulder and up onto deck. 

Invictus and Alan were battening down the stern ports and cabinets so 
Mulder went for the life preservers. He grabbed one and slipped it on then 
went astern and threw two at the other two men as he braced himself against 
the walls around him for balance. The boat pitched suddenly to the 
starboard and Mulder fell hard on his knee. 

He cussed to himself as he made his way for the stairs. He threw the two 
remaining preservers over his arm and stumbled up onto deck. Cass was at 
the helm, struggling with the wheel as the rain began to pour down on the 
Prometheus Unbound unabashedly. Mulder stumbled to her and handed her 
a life vest. She threw it on, and as he made to grab the wheel to help her, she 
shook her head violently and pointed toward the bow.

He followed her gaze and saw John struggling with a loose line that had 
whipped free. He was struggling to pull down the jib, but the line had gotten 
caught high up in the sail and he had to free it before the sail would come 
down. The wind gusts caught on the still raised sail and pitched the vessel 
violently. Mulder saw it and immediately started to make his way up to help 
John. 

He was halfway there when lightning ripped through the sky above them, 
immediately followed by a loud clap of thunder. The blinding flash of light 
dazed Mulder momentarily and he fell to the deck. Seconds later, shaking 
his head to clear it, he got up and started for John again. 

He stumbled and slipped on the wet deck and he grabbed at the mainsail's 
boom to keep his balance. He had regained his balance for not a second 
when images started flashing in front of his eyes. Fleeting and fast, they 
blinded him. He looped his arm around the swinging boom and grabbed at 
his skull. Again, lightening ripped across the sky and suddenly, in a torrent, 
the images poured out before his eyes.
 
Flashes of moments suspended in time that were permanently etched, but 
recently forgotten, broke loose from his mind. His apartment, his mother in a 
hospital bed, cases of one kind or another flashed in his mind in a flood. 

Fox Mulder was remembering.

But one memory hit resonance as it flashed in his mind in one form or 
another. Bent over an autopsy bay, reaching across a diner table to steal his 
food, gun pointed at his chest, he saw her over and over until the images 
overwhelmed him and he fell to the deck. Bent over limply on the wood and 
fiberglass, images still streaming before his eyes, he threw his head back, 
chest exposed to the sky and screamed above the crash of thunder.

"SCUUHLLY!" He yelled above the roar of thunder, the whoosh of rain, the 
pounding of surf. 

His arms flailed out for the life lines along the deck as he slid closer to the 
edge. He was helpless to all but the memories returning. He tried to stand, 
but could not, and another wave rushed over the side of the boat filling his 
mouth and nose with cold, fresh water. 

He coughed and held his head in one hand, his other on the lines. The 
images started to slow, and in between them, he could see flashes of the 
boat and surf before him. 

Another image of Scully flashed before him, soft and radiant in the warm 
glow of lights in her apartment, and his chest ached with the pain of 
heartache and the sting of the cold, pelting rain. 

Another image of Scully, and another, too close together for him to process 
the image of the huge wave crashing over the side of the ship, sweeping him 
over the edge and into the cold, dark, raging waters of Lake Michigan. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully and Richter, with Elspeth cradled in his arms, fell back against the

wall of the building from which they had just escaped.

"Fuck!" Richter yelled.  "How long were we held in there?  It's snowing!"

"I can see that!" Scully shouted back in retort.

"Wasn't it just October?"  Richter began a string of curses.

"Calm down.  We're in the Midwest.  The weather here is always 
unpredictable.  We couldn't have been in there more than a week . . ." she 
trailed off.  In actuality, she had no idea how long they had lain, 
unconscious inside the lab that burned behind them, but she wasn't about to 
look behind.  They had to push forward.

Though it was snowing, the roar of the flames from the inferno around them  
set off waves of heat that brought on the feeling of a mild summer.  Scully 
involuntarily shivered contrary to the warmth that radiated from the burning 
city.  She threw a glance at Richter who seemed just as perplexed as she was, 
if not more.

"I'm not sure if I want to know what caused this," he said plaintively, 
redistributing Elspeth's weight in his arms. "I have my suspicions though," he 
continued, and then returned his attentions to the rag doll of a woman who 
lay in his arms.

"We have to go somewhere," Scully said more to herself than anything.  "We 
need to keep pushing and get to Wisconsin while we still may have a chance 
to," she hesitated and almost laughed at the how absurd the phrase seemed 
to  her, "to save the world."

She soon recomposed herself though, and they began the cautious walk out 
of the fenced-in compound.

"Let's hope their perimeter security is as lax as their internal security,"

Richter mused as they approached the barb wired, and possibly electrified 
fence.

"No need to worry about an electrified fence.  Door's open," Scully said 
lamely to Richter as they rounded a corner.  She shook her head though, no  
with relief, but with the knowledge that beyond this gate there still lay 
thousands of barriers, hundreds of detours, and a countless amount of pain 
to still come.  But she retracted some of her bitterness and an ounce of the 
weariness.  Though the road ahead was long, there was still hope, and they 
would have to cling to that if they wanted to have a chance at doing 
anything.

"Let's get somewhere warm--hopefully somewhere with food and, God, 
some warm clothing," Scully continued tersely.  "Let's move fast.  I want to 
check up on Elspeth as soon as possible."  She glanced back.  Elspeth was 
not looking good, but she kept it to herself.  There was no reason to alarm 
Richter.  They all had enough on their minds right now, and adding to his 
burden would only weaken him more, and slow them down on an already 
long journey.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She had not realized how far Colonization had stretched its merciless arm. 

Chicago, once bustling and always alive with life and light, was now akin to 
a ghost town.  Snow had been falling, but even the pure whiteness of the 
landscape could not hide the hideous scarring that had already been done.  
Now with the raging flames that engulfed the skyline, the view only 
worsened.  Snow melted and rivers of soot flooded the streets.  Worst of all, 
ashes filled the sky and then returned to earth in blackened tears. It was 
beyond sorrowful, and it took almost all of what was left of Scully's strength, 
not to break down and cry in despair.  But she knew she would not show 
weakness now.  With Elspeth incapacitated and Richter drained and 
zombie-like, she was thrust into the lead.  She was to be the mind and body 
behind their mission.  She was to be their logic, their reason; their pillar of 
strength.  Through all the bleakness, she smiled to herself.  She could do this-
-she had no choice in the matter--but she could do this.  She had done it 
before, for someone else . . .

"Dana?"

She turned and blinked the snowflakes from her eyes.  Richter pressed 
Elspeth tighter to his chest.

"We really need to rest, Dana.  I don't think," he glanced down, "I don't know 
how much longer we can just keep walking in this weather, especially with 
her in this condition.  And it's not helping us either."

"I know, I'm sorry, but," she said, waving a hand at the crumpled remains of 
once mighty buildings, "we'll stop soon.  Trust me."

Richter sighed, something that seemed to come from his toes and out the 
pursed lips.  "I trust you."  Scully turned, startled by his sudden admission.  
"I'm just worried."

She nodded, but she walked now, a bit astounded.  There obviously had 
been problems in their small knit group.  And obviously some ambivalent 
emotions rearing their heads, especially between Richter and Elspeth, but she 
had felt that their situation had been pushing them all closer together. Still, 
the admittance of his trust seemed akin to someone else vowing a life debt.
 
Everything seemed to change and shift quickly these days.  She peered  
through the snow and motioned Richter to come over.  Why she still seemed 
surprise by the speed of things, she didn't know.

She pointed to a dark spot that stood out against the falling snow and ash.
 
"Shelter."

He turned to her and smiled.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It was a old house, a throwback from the Depression, in the middle of 
nowhere.  Somehow the effects of the assault on Chicago had not touched 
it.  It stood next to rubble and remnants of damage, but the important thing 
was that it stood.

Elspeth was placed on a couch and Richter went in search of blankets 
immediately.  Scully walked into the kitchen in search of food.  She let no 
reaction hit her as she entered and noted the chaos imprinted against each 
tile on the floor and each cabinet flung open wide.  It was getting dark 
outside but a few glimmers of light from sun and fire slanted their way into 
the blinds that drooped from each window.  She side-stepped a fallen pot 
and made her way towards a cabinet.  Spying a few items, she pulled them 
out, turning the cool metal tins in her hands.  Quietly, she rummaged through 
the rest of the kitchen but bypassing the refrigerator.  This area had been 
long without electricity.   They had battled quite enough unseemingly things 
so far, another adventure into the gleaming-white icebox would be one she'd 
rather avoid.  Finding six cans of food overall--creamed corn to imitation 
ham--Scully placed them onto the wooden kitchen table and sat down, 
leaning back tiredly against a wicker-backed chair.

How long days seemed, she thought.  And how far the past seemed behind 
them.   Places and memories of seasons past and of people lost.  She heaved 
a sigh, one that seemed to be the compilation of all her sighs ever repressed. 
  
Mulder, she mouthed, lost in thought.  How long since she had last seen him?  
How long had she last felt his nearness and his earnest affection?  She could 
almost feel the stubble on his face and the smile that would curve 
underneath her hands, though this was something she had never dared to do 
in real life.  It was real because she could imagine it through all this despair.  
"Scully," he would say, beaming with a sexual energy and mischief, "Scully . 
. ."

"Dana?"

Her head bobbed forward and her eyes flitted open.  Dreams, she thought 
sadly.  More dreams clouding her head.  Richter peered through the 
doorway, his body a dark shape before her eyes.  She mumbled 
incoherently.

"Any luck?"

She nodded and stood up, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs that had 
formed in her mind.  She pushed the cans together and left them on the 
table.   "Elspeth?" she asked without expecting an answer.  They walked into 
the living room and Scully began to tend to her patient.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Elspeth, fortunately, was amazingly resilient.

"Are you my Prince Charming?" she asked quietly, blinking up into Scully's 
concerned face.  Her response made her chuckle.

"No," she whispered, "but he's right over here," she said, nodding her head 
slightly to where Richter sat slumped and sleeping in an armchair.

"Ahh, good," Elspeth replied contented.  "Make sure he doesn't turn into a 
frog."  She then closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.  Scully stood up 
and piled on another blanket on top of Elspeth, watching her burrow her 
head of dark hair  beneath the warm fleece sheets.

What a peaceful face, Scully thought, her eyes darkening some.  She bit her 
lip.  They would still have to question Elspeth about what had happened.  
Diana Fowley's words echoed in her mind.  "You mean you don't know yet . . 
. ?"  She shuddered involuntarily and swallowed hard.  She wanted so much 
to trust these two.  Right now, it was her second biggest wish.  Right after the 
wish to see again the face of the only other person she had trusted before 
now.

Soup.  The thought sprang to her head like a bolt of lightening as she 
clutched her growling stomach.  She recalled the cans of tomato soup still in 
the kitchen, but the electric stove also came to mind.  A knife could easily 
puncture and open the can, but the prospect of cold and salty soup hit her 
worse than the hunger.

Richter stirred from sleep.  "Dana?  I'm sorry," he began, wiping the sleep 
from his eyes.  "I shouldn't have fallen asleep . . ."

"You need your rest," she simply stated.

"So do you."

Grimly, she smiled.  "We also need food, and that's the first thing on my 
mind right now."

He forced himself out of the comfortable chair, wobbling, his legs unsteady. 
"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No," she began, but her eyes wandered over to the fireplace she had not 
seen before.  "Damn," she whispered to herself, glad at their good luck.  
"Actually, yes.  Can you start a fire?"

"Yes, and," he continued pulling something from the coffee table.  "The Boy 
Scouts taught me well.  That and I got these matches."

"Works for me.  Break up some chairs or find some logs--we need a fire."

"What's for dinner?" Elspeth murmured, still half-asleep.  She rolled over, 
oblivious again to her surroundings.

"Tomato soup, but we need some water."

"Nothing's working," Richter frowned.  "Electricity's dead.  Water and 
plumbing, gone."  He looked around.  Suddenly, his face brightened. "Snow."

"Ash," Scully corrected sadly, but she thought again.  "Icicles . . . They 
should be pure still!"

"If you want to get them, I'll start the fire."

"Be right back."  Scully walked down the hallway and pulled open a closest 
that was built into the wall.  She pulled out a Chicago Bears winter coat and 
pulled it over her head.  Marching outside, she moved around the porch and 
finally, after jumping a few times, resigned herself to grabbing a chair from 
inside to reach the icicles that hung like pure, clear fangs from the awning.  
She laid each down on the railing as though they were precious diamonds.  
Looking at her good work, she began to gather them into her arms when she 
heard the cries for help.  She froze.  The cries were nearby, but she was wary 
and very suspicious.  She couldn't help it.  Grabbing a snow shovel that sat 
abandoned on the porch, she listened for the cries between the crunching of 
snow beneath her feet.

The screams for help seemed to be coming from pile of rubble down the 
block.

"Who's there?" Scully shot out into the bleak, cold air.

"Help me!  I'm over here!"  The cries grew stronger, new hope instilled in each 
syllable.  "Underneath this debris."

She could not leave a person here to die, she thought as she approached the 
female voice that yelled.  But the thought that it was a trap remained pinned 
to her mind as surely as that woman could be laying pinned beneath the 
twisted metal beams.

"I'm coming," Scully called out calmly.  There seemed to be a sudden gasp, a 
pause coming from the direction of the yells.  Scully felt herself chilled.
 
She could not determine if it was the wind or something else that made her 
feel this way.

As she turned the corner, there indeed lay a trapped figure in the shadows.

"Agent Scully!" the person cried, half excited, half surprised.  "Please!  Help 
me out!"  It almost was a sob, and Scully suddenly could not split her 
ambivalent feelings.  It would be so easy for her to just walk away.

"Please," the voice called out again, this time almost pleading.

Scully resigned herself.  She would not stoop to that level.  She was still 
human, after all.

"Lay still," she said coolly, crouching down.  "I'll get you out in just a little bit, 
Diana."


Chapter 11

Mulder awoke slowly. He brought his hands to eyes, trying to wipe the sleep 
out of them. He was a little dizzy, and hesitated to open them. 

"Hey, he's waking up," he heard a male voice say distantly. 

Immediately, he felt nauseous and rolled over and vomited. 

"Oh great." 

This time, the voice was much more clear, and he recognized it as belonging 
to John Baxter. 

He hazarded attempt at opening his eyes, and he did so. 

The nausea began to lift, and he blinked and looked around him. 

He was in one of the staterooms on the Prometheus Unbound, and Baxter 
was sitting near him on another bunk, nautical maps strewn about him. He 
was looking with disgust at the floor that Mulder had just soiled, and then 
glanced up at Mulder.

"Sorry," Mulder apologized.

"That's alright," he said, though he didn't sound much like he meant it. 
"We're just glad to see you conscious. Feel better?"

Mulder nodded.

"Do you know how long you've been out?"

Mulder shook his head.

"About three days."

"Three days?" Mulder asked, surprised.

"Yeah," John said.  "Do you remember what happened?"

He thought about the storm, about bringing the life vests up from the cabin, 
and then succumbing to the visions from his past while prone on the deck. 

"Some of it. What happened?"

"That's what we were going to ask you," John said, "you were coming up on 
the deck to help me loose the sail in the storm, and the next thing we know, 
you're laying there, barely hanging on, and then, whoosh, you were 
overboard. What happened to you? Cass said she was watching and that 
nothing hit you, you just suddenly collapsed."

"I…" Mulder started, looking up and into John Baxter's eyes, "I 
remembered.  Everything. I don't know how, or why, but it all just hit me."

"You're kidding…" John said, a little unbelieving.

"No," Mulder answered him, sitting up in the bunk. "I'm not. What happened 
when I went over?"

John stared at him for a moment, then shook himself and spoke up.

"Well, I saw you go in, and I dove in after you. We're lucky you were 
wearing a life vest, or we'd both be dead. Cass managed to get us into the 
boat, and at that point you were unconscious. I think you know the rest."

Mulder nodded and looked down at his bare chest. He rubbed at his beard 
and looked about the cabin. Finally, he spotted his clothes, folded on 
another bunk. He rose and began to dress, pulling the jeans on gingerly, his 
right hand still hurting a little from his stint on the bridge, and stepped aside 
as John walked into the cabin after retrieving some paper towels. By the 
time he'd finished dressing and was pulling on his shoulder holster, Baxter 
had finished cleaning up his mess.

John threw the towels into a trash bag and headed for the door, turning for 
Mulder.

"Come on," he said.  "Let's go let everybody see you and tell them the good 
news."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"So, you remember everything?" Invictus asked, as they all stood around the 
deck, the sky a sunny one, in deep contrast to the way it looked the last time 
Mulder had seen it. 

Mulder nodded.

"Even me?"

Mulder thought back to the day he'd first seen Invictus. 

He was standing on the side street near the Hard Rock Café in downtown 
DC, not far from the Hoover building. Invictus approached, and Mulder 
turned before he reached him, and headed down the next alleyway.

Invictus rounded the corner and paused.

"Agent Mulder," he said, nodding.

"McCloud," Mulder nodded back.

"Where's your partner?" Invictus had asked him.

Mulder felt the conflicting emotions he'd felt then once again, and again 
regretted not telling Scully where he'd gone. 

At that point, the van had pulled into the alley, blocking their exit, and two 
men dressed in wait-staff uniforms from the Hard Rock stepped out of the 
building behind them, and they were trapped.

Mulder shook his head to clear it, and looked to Invictus.

"Yeah," he said. "I remember you."

Invictus took in Mulder's pained expression and pulled him to the side as the 
others set back to working on the boat.

"What's the matter?" he asked him.

Mulder looked out over the water, casting his eyes in the full 360 degrees 
around the boat. There was no land in sight. Inside, he felt just as lost. 

He found Invictus' eyes again, and he shook his head.

"It's nothing," he mumbled.

"Your partner?" Invictus asked him honestly.

Mulder sighed and nodded. 

Invictus took a moment standing beside Mulder then asked, "So why are 
you remembering? Why now?"

"That," Mulder said, "is the one thing I can't figure out."

"So you were up on the deck…" 

"And the storm broke, lightning flashed, and there it was."

"The lightning…" Invictus said quietly to himself.

"What?" Mulder asked.

"The lightning," Invictus repeated, louder this time. "Were you looking right 
at it?"

"I guess,"

"Maybe that's it then," Invictus said.

"What's it? What do you mean?" Mulder asked.

"Well, you know the principles behind epilepsy seizures? How, like, a strobe 
light can induce them?"

Mulder nodded.

"Maybe it set something off in your head like that. Although, I can't really 
see how or why for sure…"

Mulder got a strange look on his face and bit the inside of his cheek.

"What?" Asked Invictus when he hazarded a look at him.

"Well, I don't really remember all that well, but, according to my mother, I 
suffered from epilepsy seizures until I was twelve."

Invictus stared blankly at him for a moment and then shifted on his feet.

"I guess that explains that, then." 

The two men stood on the gently swaying deck for five minutes more in 
silence, then made their way back down toward the galley.

When they arrived in the main stateroom, Cassidy had the electronics board 
open and was arguing with Alan Shirilla.

They didn't hear or see the two men come in and continued quibbling for a 
moment while Mulder and Invictus watched on in silence.

Finally, Mulder broke in.

"What seems to be the problem, here?" He asked. 

Cassidy stopped her rant mid-sentence, glared at Alan a moment before she 
composed herself and turned to the two men.

"The storm threw us off of our course, and lightning hit the ship, which 
knocked most of the electronics either completely off, or it screwed them up 
something fierce. I'm trying to tell Alan here that we're headed in the right 
direction,  but he maintains his stance that I don't know how to read a 
compass." 

"That's not," Alan began, then paused a moment, trying to regain his own 
composure, "that's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying that we've been out 
here lakeside forever. We should be there by now. I think we're going in 
circles."

"And *I* was saying," Cass went on, "that the last time I checked, my 
compass still worked."

"I just proposed the idea that maybe the aliens might have the technology to 
screw that up."

"They don't have the power to demagnetize the entire *planet* Alan," Cass 
said, beginning to show her irritation with the man once more. 

Alan opened his mouth to protest, but Mulder interrupted.

"That's," he started, "pretty unlikely."

Alan shot him a dirty look, but remained silent.

"What about GPS?" Mulder continued.

Cass shook her head but kept her eyes on the maps in front of her.

"The satellites stopped working long ago."

Invictus stepped forward to take a look at the instrument and electronics 
panel when John Baxter came all but sliding down the stairs, excitedly.

"Land!" He shouted a bit loudly in the crowded stateroom, "I saw land up 
there. We made it!" 

The group couldn't scramble to the deck fast enough.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Diana's face was molded into a grimace that accentuated the care-worn 
lines

on her face.  Scully tried to avoid looking at her as she crouched over to 
remove the heavy beams and boards that were pinning her to the ground, 
but could not avoid seeing the small trickle of blood by her mouth, guessing 
that Diana had bit her lip in an attempt to hid her scream of pain as Scully  
dragged a steel sheet off of her torso.

"I'm sorry this is hurting," she said with something akin to pity in her voice.

Diana's breaths came out fast but shallow.  Her face was almost as pale as 
the blanket of snow she lay on.  "It's not your fault," she rasped as Scully 
pulled hard at a beam.

After some struggle with said beam, Scully told Diana, "I'm going to get 
some help," as she wiped the sweat from her brow.  A hand suddenly caught 
her elbow and Scully stared down in disbelief at the strength of the grip.

"Please don't leave me, Dana.  I'm almost free.  Please . . . "  Tears were

teetering on the edge but did not spill over.  "I don't want to be left here 
alone."

Scully tightened her mouth, but she nodded in compliance to Diana's 
request. 

Her mind though was abuzz.  Why was Diana afraid?  Was there something 
out there, roaming unchecked . . . ?  She shuddered as she gave one last great 
pull and felt the heavy wooden beam groan unhappily at being moved.  
Scully herself felt a twinge of dissatisfaction at having to free Diana, 
especially after all she had done to them, but she was not a cruel woman, 
even if she had a reason to be.   She would not let that change.  If she found 
Mulder again, she would return to him the same woman and start back 
where they had left off, if they could say they had actually left off 
*somewhere*.

"Can you walk?"  Her voice was chilly as her eyes.

"I think I just need a little support."  She looked up at Scully, her eyes wide 
and droopy like a puppy dog.  Scully sighed, not completely in irritation but 
more so in pity.

"Here."  She bent down and Diana sat up, moaning in considerable pain and 
wrapped one arm around Scully's shoulder.  "Lean on me."

"I don't have much of a choice.  You're much shorter than I am."  Diana 
smiled at her attempt at humor.  Scully let it pass and together they struggled 
through drifts of snow and years of animosity toward the house where 
tension, anger, and the truth would undoubtedly reveal itself as it welcomed 
them back.

Home sweet home, she thought.

XxXxXxXxXxX

She could read nothing and everything in their eyes when she entered, 
dragging Diana behind her.  She made no pretense, made no effort to 
explain then, and took Diana upstairs to be deposited into a room.  On their 
way up Diana made no move to hide her extreme pain.  She clutched at her 
chest, almost sobbing as she jerked and wobbled up the stairs.  She was 
having a very hard time breathing.  Scully marveled that she had made it 
this far.

Though she had no equipment and had not looked Diana carefully over, 
Scully sensed that time was running out for the once tenacious Agent 
Fowley--traitor to the human race, she added as a side-thought.

Diana moaned mournfully as she laid down, and dropped off to sleep not 
soon after Scully left the room to face Richter and Elspeth. Richter stood at 
the bottom of the staircase when she descended.  His face looked impassive, 
but she knew it was anything but that.  He opened his mouth to speak, but 
she raised a hand and he stopped.  Brushing past him, she walked into the 
living room where Elspeth sat, face turned to the window outside.  Richter 
stopped in the archway of the room and leaned up against the curve of the 
wall.

"No food?" she inquired looking at the open soup can and the fire.

"No water," Richter said flatly.  "You went out for the icicles and 
disappeared."

"Feel free to hide your contempt for me," Scully snapped.

"We were more worried about what had happened to you.  We were talking
about 
going out to find you when you came back in . . ." Elspeth trailed off.

"With her," Richter finished, the sneer of the early days returning.  Scully 
scowled.  "Richter, get off your high horse, will you?  Did you even stop to 
consider why I brought  her here?"  Her face grew red, but not from the heat 
of the fire that glowed behind her.

"I'm wondering why you didn't leave her out there to die."

"Because I'm not you."

That shut him up, and he turned away, ashamed.

"I'm sick of this fighting, and this mistrust!  How long have we been 
together?  We have been through so much, but still this bickering!"  She 
glowered at Richter.  "Try to learn to ask questions before you pass 
judgment!"

"We have been together a while," he began again, the anger rising once more, 
"but we still know so little about each other."   He glanced quickly, and 
sadly, over to Elspeth who seemed to be lost in thought.  "And if it only were 
so easy, Dana.  There isn't time to ask questions, and you know why?  
Because people lie, and sometimes when you take too much time for 
courtesy, you find yourself lying dead in your own blood."

"Is there so little trust in your heart for me?   For Elspeth?  Do you think that 
we're conspiring against you?"  Her voice was much softer now, the anger 
burned out.

"Didn't your friend Mulder believe that everything was a conspiracy?"  She 
froze at his inhuman tone, but she recovered.

"Maybe, but I trusted him, and he trusted me, and he did not let his anger 
and prejudices cloud his mind."

He paced, looking back at her, and then at Elspeth.

Scully's voice changed  "She's dying, Richter.  It won't be long."

"Then why didn't you leave her?"

"Because . . . . There are things we still don't know or understand.  Maybe she 
can give us the answers."

"She could just as easily lie to us."

"But why?  She's dying."  They both turned to look . Elspeth spoke now.  
"Maybe telling us what we want to know will clear her conscious.  She can 
die knowing that she did something good, regardless of what she was 
before."   She turned away again, pulling her blanket up closer to her chin. 
"What's she got to lose?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Are you here to listen to my confession?"

Scully placed a tray of warm soup on the night stand adjacent to Diana's 
bed.

"If you like, but I'm just here to bring you some food."

"I can feed myself."

"I had no intention of feeding you."

"You really don't like me, do you?"

Scully pulled out a chair from a nearby desk and moved it towards the bed. 

She sat down, patience and calm coloring her demeanor.

"It really doesn't matter if I like you or not, does it?  It didn't seem to

before."

"What if I said I was sorry?"

"You would actually have to be sincere for me to care, Diana.  You'll get no 
reaction otherwise."  Scully pulled distractedly at a tiny ball of lint that had 
gathered on the sweatshirt she was wearing.

"That was a low-blow," Diana said, hurt.

"Yes it was, but it's true, isn't it?"  

Diana changed the subject, speaking not with irritation, but more of a 
resignation in her voice.  "I'm dying, aren't I?”

Scully almost softened with pity.  "Yes," she said quietly.  "I'm not going to 
lie to you."  Diana gulped hard, and her hands shook.   However, Scully 
continued.  "A couple of your ribs are crushed, and it doesn't take X-rays 
and tests to see that you are bleeding internally."  She motioned to the area 
above Diana's stomach.  "I think two of your floating ribs have broken and 
collapsed in on your abdominal cavity, likely puncturing some organs there."  
Suddenly, she stopped, realizing that her cold analysis was not going to 
make Diana's inevitable death any more comfortable.  "I'm sorry that there's 
nothing I can do to help."  She spread her hands out, palms up, helplessly.  "I 
have nothing to make it better, and nothing to make the pain go away."  
Diana nodded as she continued.  "I'll try to make you as comfortable as 
possible . . ."

"Before I die," Diana finished tonelessly.  A tear trickled down her cheek, 
and more came following after it.   Yet she did not sob.  It was like rain on a 
sunny day--odd and out of place.  As the flow of tears began to stop, Diana 
tried to straighten herself in bed with more dignity.  The haughty face also 
seemed to return, much to Scully's disgust and dismay.

"We're two women who understand each other," Diana said out of the blue.

"No, I really don't think we are, Diana," Scully returned sharply.  "I really 
don't understand why you do what you do.  That's why I'm here.  I need you 
to answer some questions for me."

Diana ignored her and continued.  "We are two women who understand 
each other," she asserted, "but you're afraid to admit it."

"Admit what?" Scully asked agitated.

"Him."

Scully froze.  "What?"  Almost a whisper.

"We both loved him.  We still do."  Diana sounded smug, but Scully did not 
look at her face.

Love, not *loved*, Scully thought despairingly.  And though not willing to 
verbalize it, Scully could not control the compulsion to mouth the words, 
and Diana saw this and smiled.

"What are you trying to get at?" Scully asked irritably. 

"I just want you to realize that though we are different, in some ways we are 
alike.  I'm not all bad, Dana.  I still have love and compassion in me, no 
matter how dead inside you think I am."

"I'm not here to be your judge, Diana.  God has that right, not me.  I'm just 
here to question you."

"Why should I cooperate?"  Diana began to cough, grabbing for a tissue 
from the night stand. A small red stain appeared to blossom on the fragile 
sheet of paper.

"You don't have to cooperate," Scully shrugged, "but if your deeds lie on 
your conscience at all, maybe this is how you can die with a clean slate.  
Unmake the harm you have done.  You're not a bad person, Diana," Scully 
continued.  "You've just been misguided."

Diana seemed to consider it and then looking up as she pulled away the 
blood-stained tissue, she said, "What do you want to know?"

Scully took a deep breath and leaned forward in her chair.  "Tell me why we 
have been chased across half the country."

"You still don't know?" she muttered with a shake of her head.  "Your friend 
Elspeth is who they want.  She hasn't told you what she is yet?"

Scully felt a twinge of pain hit her broadside.  "No," she said hoarsely. "She's 
revealed only so much, but I trust her."

"No reason why you shouldn't," Diana said matter-of-factly.  "Don't worry, 
she's not a traitor, but I am really surprised still that she hasn't told you 
anything about what she is."  Diana leaned forward like a sixth-grader with a 
pressing secret to tell.  "She's a hybrid.  Full-blown, full-blooded, made in 
America hybrid.  Just like Cassandra Spender.  You remember her, don't 
you?"

Scully leaned back, puzzled.  "Well that's a surprise, but why should it matter 
. . ."

"Because she's the link.  You must have heard about the slaughter at 
Antioch?  Oh you must--your man down there was one of the ringleaders . . . 
those people, they weren't hybrids, you know.  Most of them were clones.  
The others, just some very unlucky men and women."

"That's horrible!" Scully cried, covering her mouth quickly.  "They died 
without purpose. . . Why?"

"Those idiots didn't know anything!"

"Why is she so key?  What makes her worth the slaughter of all those 
innocent lives?"

Diana hesitated and coughed.  "I honestly don't know why they want her so 
much.  My job was to find her and deliver her--alive.  You and your friend 
were lucky that I recognized you, or else you would've burned in that ditch."

"Should I be thankful for that?"  Scully said acidly, not at all appreciating 
Diana's patronizing tone.

"Sorry."  Diana suddenly lurched forward and began spasming and 
coughing.  Scully leaned forward and supported her.

"I also need to know--is the vaccine really in Madison?"

"Yes."  Another cough.  "You're headed there, aren't you?"

"No where else to go.  But tell me, why Wisconsin?"

"Why not Wisconsin?  They used the facilities at the university to produce 
the vaccine, I'm assuming."

"'They'?  Who are 'They'?"

Diana broke out into another spasm of coughs as her condition was 
worsening almost by the minute.  "You tell me," she rasped.  "I don't know, 
and I'm damn  certain I'm not going to be around to find out."

"What are the colonists planning?"

"They're colonists--what else do you think they're going to do?"  The next set 
of racking coughs disabled her as Diana Fowley broke into uncontrollable 
sobs of pain.  "I can't, I can't answer anymore.  Please let me rest."

Scully nodded.  She had enough information, and there was no reason more 
to torture the dying woman, although she was tempted with one last 
question.  She kept quiet though because she believed, with or without 
confirmation from another source, that he was, indeed, still alive.  Scully 
remained by Diana's side--a quiet watcher.  Time passed, but more in feeling.  
Minutes turned to hours and dusk turned into deep evening.

Diana was going fast.  Her breathing began to slow, but she remained lucid.
 
Her eyes blinked open weakly, and Diana turned her head to Scully, who 
dozing slightly jerked awake.

"Thank you," she began, "for helping me--even after all . . ."

"Shh," Scully said, patting Diana's hand. With that, a last breath broke from 
her lips and she shuddered dead, eyes half-opened and locked onto heaven.

Scully stood up and shut Diana's eyes with her hand.  For this woman, she 
thought, it was going to be a long struggle to God, but she resolved to pray 
for her and help her on her way.

One last look and Scully moved out of the room and down the stairs to find 
Richter and Elspeth.  It was time to move on.  She shut the door quietly 
though there was no way she was going to disturb the dead.  She forgot 
about the soup.  It sat on the night stand next to dead, neglected, uneaten 
and cold.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"We'll bury her before we go."  Scully stood and addressed them before the 
fireplace.

"What did she tell you?" Richter inquired.  He was still wiping the sleep from 
his eyes.

Scully looked at Elspeth, and it seemed that in that glance, they both 
became aware of the mutual secret they now shared.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. We need to get some rest for the trip."

"Trip?  Already?" Elspeth asked.

"We'll find another car in the morning and then we're off to Madison. God," 
she muttered in vain, "we've got to get moving.  We've been inactive so long 
that nothing is going to happen if we don't make it so."

"Then tomorrow," Elspeth said.

"Tomorrow," Scully replied, shutting her eyes and saying a silent prayer--for 
all of them.  They would need all the help they could get.


Chapter 12


The country they encountered wasn't as devoid of life as had been the 
islands of Northern Michigan. 

They hadn't sailed north along the shoreline long when they came across a 
harbor. They had sent out numerous calls to the harbormaster on the hailing 
frequency to no avail. But, just as they were about to give up and dock there 
anyway, an answer came through on the VHF.

"Vessel hailing the harbormaster, vessel hailing the harbormaster, this is Seas 
The Day KRF-315, switch and answer on seventy-one, skipper if you read 
me, that's 7-1."

Cass grabbed at the handset and immediately switched to channel 71. There 
was already a voice talking on the frequency.

"Dave said to go to the third step," it said, "I can't believe he fell on the third 
step."

Then it repeated itself.

Cass looked up to the other members crowded around the radio, confused. 
She wasn't alone.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" 

Mulder and Invictus simply shrugged. John looked down at his feet, shaking 
his head.

Alan, still somewhat sulky, mumbled something quietly. 

John bent his head toward the smaller man and asked him what he said.

"I said, he's trying to tell you to go down three channels. To channel 68."

When they all simply looked at him, he explained further.

"It was something we came across in Lansing," he said.  "They were saying 
the same thing when we switched channels to try to talk to the resistance. 
They say a name, and tell you how many channels you either have to go up 
or down by counting on the steps, and then whether *to* go up or down by 
either saying that he fell on the third step, meaning down, or he tripped, 
meaning up." 

"Fancy that," said Invictus.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They had hit land in a small town just north of Racine.

A group of about 20 individuals had been passing through the area and had 
been carrying a VHF radio when they heard Cass' hails. As luck would have 
it, three of them had had some sort of dealings with the resistance, and knew 
what was safe to say over the airways and what wasn't.

Some members of the large group met with Cass, Mulder, Invictus, John and 
Alan and helped them to dock the boat and even supplied them with a car 
for their further journey to the state's formal capitol.

They were fleeing from Chicago, they had said. The Windy City was on fire, 
and they had fled.

They hadn't known why, but suspected that it was the colonists way of 
eliminating both the human and architectural elements of the city so they 
could put it to their own uses.  The group, only about five strong at first,  had 
managed to pick up people along on their way north, and eventually 
caravan along the shores of Lake Michigan. They were headed, they said, to 
the Porcupine Mountains. They had heard that there was a village there, a 
sort of safe house community where many survivors had gone to. Many of 
the group had lost family, and hoped to find them there, near Lake in the 
Clouds. 

None of the group had offered to go with Mulder's small party, but had told 
them what to expect when they got there, and where to, and where not to go.

They had told of secret tunnels that the government and colonists had built 
underneath the city and University where the vaccine had been created, 
transported and, was apparently being held. 

They gave the small group all the information they could, some supplies, 
well wishes and then were on their way. Their need to find and reconnect 
with their families, intense.

And so Mulder, Invictus and their co-conspirators from Mackinac Island 
found themselves in one of the arcane tunnels of Madison, Wisconsin, near 
the shores of Lake Mendota planning their next move.

"Listen, Pike said that when we found the tunnels, that we should go to the 
Capitol building. That's where they think the vaccine is, right?" Invictus 
asked.

"Yes," Cass said.  "But he also said that it could be pure speculation.  
Rumor."

"Right," Mulder added.  "But the fact that the tunnels are here at all I think, 
gives credence to the fact that the rumors that the resistance has been 
gathering are all true. And you yourself, Cass, said that you'd heard over the 
resistance grapevine that the vaccine was in Madison and all of that."

"True, but I hadn't heard about the tunnels. It could just be a story.  
Hyperbole."

"Do I need to mention again that we're still standing in the tunnels," Mulder 
piped in.  "Or would that be overkill?"

Cass sighed and nodded. He had a hell of a point. But she was wary of 
moving or taking action until they had a little more information. On the 
other hand, Mulder and Invictus wanted to move as soon as possible. They 
were afraid that what was happening in Chicago was happening in the rest 
of the world and that they needed to stop it at any cost. 

They were at something of an impasse. 

When they had arrived in the city, their helpers told them, they had to be 
careful. Helicopters supposedly flew around like nobodies business and 
much of the city had been leveled. There were very few locals left, as was 
the rumor, and those that were there took pot shots at just about anything 
that moved. 

They found that just about everything they had been told so far was 
accurate. 

And still Cass was against doing anything.

And that was starting to get to Mulder. 

He was still sore emotionally from missing Scully, and his memory and the 
world he'd lived in, and he was on a short rope that was beginning to fray.

He took a deep breath and tried not to let his emotions consume him.

Fat chance, he thought to himself. Like that had ever worked before. It 
certainly wasn't going to work now. 

It was beginning to be to much, and he was ready to pop.

"That's it!" Mulder burst, nearly out of nowhere. "I need some air. I'll be 
back."
"Do you want some company?" Invictus asked quietly as Mulder made his 
way out of the temporary headquarters they had made. They'd found a 
room with a table, a few chairs, and an empty file cabinet and claimed it for 
their own.

"No," he said shortly, and disappeared.

"Was it something I said?" Cass asked, half joking.

Invictus turned to her when he was sure Mulder was out of earshot. 

"Partly," he said, "but that man's mind is an emotional battlefield right now, 
I think, and I don't even think *he* knows what side he's on." 

"Getting his memory back was that hard on him?" John asked, "I would 
think that it'd be a relief."

"I suppose it depends on what you have to remember," Invictus said, "when 
he couldn't remember, he didn't know what he'd lost. He'd gotten everything 
back, and then instantly realized that most of it was probably gone. We've 
all had some time to deal with losing our families and homes and lifestyles. 
He hasn't."

"Do you think it's too much for him?" Cass asked timidly, not really wanting 
to know.

"I can't tell," he answered morbidly.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When Mulder reached the entrance to the tunnel, he retrieved his gun from 
it's holster and held it at the ready.

He opened the door slowly and scanned the white horizon, looking for 
anything that might be a threat. 

Seeing nothing, he stepped cautiously out and took a deep, cleansing breath.

The air had gotten much colder in the past couple of days, and had a crisp, 
biting quality to it. More snow was on the way. 

Mulder hadn't had much time to digest any of the events that had happened 
since he awoke in a bunk, fathoms underwater,  next to a man who's name 
meant "unconquered." 

Only Mulder's focus on the goal of getting the vaccine and staying alive to 
do so kept his mind off of all that he'd lost. 

But when he did let himself think, he felt most licentious when he thought of 
Scully. 

And he let himself think a little too often. 

What had she gone through? Where was she? Was she even alive? What 
would have happened if he'd took her along to with him to meet with Curtis 
McCloud on that fateful day? 

Mulder shook his head and tried to clear it of any such thoughts. They didn't 
help, and he had other things to concentrate on at the moment. He would be 
with Scully again, but he'd have to save the world first.

Small task, he thought to himself sarcastically, easily done.

Deep in the background he began to hear the beating rotary blades of 
another chopper.

Mulder again scanned the sky for the source of the sound. He didn't see any 
helicopter and didn't really worry. They had been flying all over the city on a 
near constant basis. But they seemed to avoid the lakes, and concentrate 
mostly on the university and surrounding area buildings. 

He walked down to the edge of the lake, crunching through the blanket of 
snow and on to where the lake lapped gently at the shore. A thin layer of ice 
bordered the chilly water and it's crystallized cousin. He surveyed what lay 
before him.

The sun had just set and the sky was getting more and more dusky. He felt 
like he hadn't seen the sun in days. Then he realized that he hadn't. They'd 
stayed in the tunnels during the daylight hours, and when they had emerged 
when the sun was still burning overhead, it had been masked by billowy gray 
clouds spitting a constant haze of white.

An early November snowfall had fit, somehow. The gray clouds of cold 
vapor, dust and ash moving in with the clouds of destruction and despair, as 
if the Earth sought to purify herself once more. To cover what had 
happened on her surface and begin anew.

Movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye and twirled to his 
right. Three people were ducking into a nearby building, not far from the 
entrance to the tunnel that he had just come out of. 

He was reaching behind his back to draw his gun as a precaution when he 
focused on the last of the three. The figure was small, definitely female, with 
a bright, red hair that matched Scully's color exactly. Her hair was a bit 
longer than he remembered Scully's being, but from the back it looked 
almost just like her…

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and convince himself that it 
wasn't, couldn't be her. He was only projecting and unconsciously trying to 
make himself feel better, after his deep, longing ruminations. But he couldn't 
help the feeling that maybe, just maybe…

She had just made it to the doorway when the woman paused. She tensed a 
bit and slowly turned around, as though she felt his eyes on her.

And their eyes met. 

And it *was* her.

For a split second, neither moved, staring unbelieving into each others eyes. 
Obscured only by the fluctuating puffs of steamy breaths. They neither 
heard nor saw nor felt anything but one another. 

The second of inaction and reconnection ended, and Mulder moved to run 
to her, their matching gaze still held. Just as he did so, a white-hot light 
blinded him. 

He blinked and looked away and his other senses hit him again with blunt 
force. Momentarily blinded, he staggered to the side just as the roaring of 
helicopter blades hit his ears, and the force of wind created by it swirled 
around him, sending sharp crystals of snow into his eyes and mouth. He 
looked up to the source and the chopper flew by above him, close to the 
ground, keeping it's light trained on him, turning almost immediately to 
make another pass. 

Then, the search light from the chopper swung around to where Scully was 
standing. 

Mulder seized the opportunity presented him and dove headlong into the 
frigid lake, disappearing beneath it's surface. He swam as far as he could 
underwater until he couldn't hold his breath anymore.

He broke the surface with his head just enough to take a deep breath and 
look to Scully.

The helicopter's light was shining full-force on the doorway where she had 
been standing.

But Scully was gone. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

The chopper quickly moved it's search to the water, but Mulder easily eluded 
their detection, and soon, the helicopter gave up and headed back towards 
the Capitol building. 

Mulder stayed for a moment in the freezing water, then emerged and ran, 
dripping wet to the door that Scully had disappeared into. 

He should have been freezing and stiff, standing there in the snow, but he 
was-finally-on fire. Something he hadn't been in far too long.

It was locked.

Mulder pounded on it, and considered shooting the lock off, but thought 
better of it. 

Better, he thought, to go and tell the others and employ their help. 

He paused for a moment looking at the door, willing her to open it, then 
whirled and headed back into the tunnels, water flying behind and around 
him. Frosting over his path.

He navigated the twisting maze of concrete quickly and nearly burst into the 
room where he'd left the others.

"Whoa, Mulder!" Cass nearly yelped when he burst in.

"What the hell happened to you?" Invictus asked right after her.

"Nothing," he said, dripping his way to the table they were sitting around, 
"but..."

"But what?" Invictus asked, catching onto the keyed-up, excited energy 
Mulder was all but oozing.

"Scully's here," he said excitedly, "I saw her. But then a chopper came 
and…"

"Whoa there, hold up!" Invictus said, trying to calm him.

Mulder took a deep breath, barely able to contain his anxious, almost joyful 
excitement. It wasn't a face he wore often, but it fit him well. 

Invictus was loathe to upset it.

"Huh?" John piped in, "I'm lost, why are you wet? And you actually *saw* 
Scully? She's here?"

"Yes!"

They all exchanged worried glances as Mulder nearly beamed around them. 

Invictus was getting more worried. Mulder had been through hell and back, 
and it was beginning to show. He doubted Dana Scully was even alive, much 
less in Madison, Wisconsin. He feared the younger man was seeing things to 
make himself feel better or stop hurting. He didn't want his delusions to go 
any further.

"Mulder," he broke in, "I know you want it to be her, but-" 

"It was!" Mulder said loudly, his excitement gone, replaced by an anxious 
rage. "She's here!"

He slammed his fist down on the table fiercely in emphasis with his last 
word.

Cass shot a worried look to John who threw her back a matching one. He 
held her gaze a moment and shook his head. 

Mulder was losing it.

Chapter 13

Mulder spent about half of the remaining evening trying to convince the 
others that he had seen Scully. When they had finally started to agree with 
him that it might be her, he realized they were only doing it to make him 
calm down, and he spent the rest of the evening effectively sitting in the 
corner and pouting. 

They'd laid down the few blankets they had along the floor in the small 
room and were settling in for the night.

Mulder was along the far wall, laying on his side with a blanket draped over 
him, facing away from the others.

He was dressed only in a T-shirt and his boxers, as the rest of his clothes 
were hanging out over the table and chairs, almost dry. 

He felt confused and vulnerable, and the lack of his clothes, though barely, 
only reinforced his emotional turmoil.  

Invictus had tried talking to him once, but had given up soon after. Mulder 
wasn't in the mood to talk. 

And he couldn't decide much of what mood he was in. All he knew was that 
he needed to be alone. He felt that way already, so he figured he might as 
well complete the ensemble. 

He got up suddenly and grabbed his clothes. Quickly putting them on, trying 
to avoid the stares of the rest of the group, he tied his boots up.

"Going somewhere?" Invictus asked quietly. Looking around the room, 
Mulder ascertained that it was a collective conjecture. Everyone was staring.

"Yes," he answered shortly.  "I need to think."

He overheard Cass whisper to Invictus.

"I *won't* go far," he said, standing up looking directly at Cass, "I'll be back. 
I need to clear my head." 

With that, he stood, and left the small enclosure. Instead of turning towards 
the door that led to the outside, he turned toward the interior of the labyrinth 
and headed deeper into the tunnels.

He didn't mean to go far, only so far as to escape the feeling that there was 
anyone immediately around him. But he'd gone liminal. 

He had a tendency to do that, he knew. To live so far in his head that he 
functioned on the barest of motor-mechanical skills. It was a form of 
highway hypnosis he'd perfected over the years. 

And now he found himself in a particularly large section of tunnel that he 
and the other group members hadn't ventured into yet. There were several 
doors on either side of the tunnel, these much bigger and more secure than 
any they'd seen yet. 

He stopped as soon as he realized his folly and held his breath, listening.


There was a faint hum in the background, but no sounds to indicate that he 
wasn't alone. He breathed a sigh of relief and  curiously, though still a bit 
nervously, took a few steps forward and tried one of the door handles. 

It came open easily enough, though the room was pitch black and he 
couldn't see into it more than a few feet. Forgoing the idea of trying to find a 
light switch-he and the other members of the group decided early on to 
simply go by the lights that seemed to be on at all times in the main hallways 
of the tunnels. Though there had been a few light switches, they hadn't 
wanted to alert anyone to their presence, and hadn't turned on any lights. He 
closed the door and moved to the next one. 

It was similarly open.

He tried every door in the hallway and found all but one to be unlocked. 

He was just turning to make his way back to the rest of the group when he 
thought he heard something. He paused, fight or flight flaring. 

Almost positive he was imagining it, he turned to head back when he heard 
the sound again. He froze when he realized that they were footsteps and 
quiet voices, and they were coming his way from the opposite direction, 
from deeper in the tunnels.

He threw open the nearest door and went through the doorway blindly, 
closing it softly behind him. 

As he knelt by the doorway, gun in hand, ready to fight back should they 
come through the door, his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that 
permeated the room. Before his eyes could make out anything in the room, 
his nose immediately began categorizing it's musty scent.

It smelled like a pet shop, he thought to himself. Cedar shavings and shit.

Then he began to make out shapes. There were cages strewn about the 
room, all empty. Some with the doors hanging wildly open, some shut.  
There were cabinets lining one wall, and tables clear of any debris in 
between. 

This must have been a laboratory, he thought, where they perfected the 
vaccine. 

So they were right, they WERE in the right place. Now all they had to do was 
find it. 

If he lived that long, that was.

The footsteps got closer, and paused right in front of his door. He held his 
breath, willing the party to move on. 

A few seconds later, after some mumbling that he couldn't make out, they 
footsteps resumed, headed for the rest of his group, and he breathed out 
reverently. 

But his relief was short-lived. They were headed right for Invictus and Cass 
and the rest, and they had no way of knowing who or what was headed their 
way. 

But there was no way for him to get there first and warn them, so he stayed 
put and waited. He'd head back after a while, he determined, and threw up a 
short prayer to a God who, even if existed was probably dead that his 
friends remained safe, and that Scully, wherever she was in the city, was 
safe too.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He waited a half an hour and cautiously headed back toward the small 
room where they'd stationed themselves. He moved quietly, with his gun 
drawn, trying not to make a sound.

When he got within about ten yards of the room and still heard nothing he 
started feeling equal parts of both relief and trepidation. 

He quietly reached his head around the corner and saw all of his party but 
Invictus sleeping soundly on the floor. Invictus was sitting at the table 
looking curiously at him.

Mulder motioned for him to come out and join him and he did.

When they'd gone about twenty feet from the small room, Mulder turned 
and spoke softly to Invictus. 

"There are people here," he said, motioning back toward where he had just 
come.  "They were headed this way."

"I haven't seen anyone," Invictus answered him. "Do you  know how many, 
or if they were military or whatever?" 

Mulder shook his head. 

"Well," Invictus said, "I'll wake up John and have him keep watch with me 
for a few hours, we haven't heard or seen anyone, they're probably just 
locals exploring or something. In the mean time, I don't see that there's a lot 
we can do. Go lay down and get some sleep, you need it."

Mulder was about to agree, but had heard a shade of doubt and worry in the 
older man's words. And Mulder knew he wasn't thinking about the people 
Mulder had just heard.

"I saw her," he said, his voice low. 

"I believe…" Invictus hesitated, "I believe that YOU believe you saw her." 

Mulder simply nodded at the man and went and laid down. He admitted 
that he needed some rest. Maybe when he woke up things would look a bit 
differently. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Things certainly did look different when he woke up.

For one thing, he wasn't allowed the gradual recognition that normally 
comes when ones body plays reveille. 

He was jolted awake.

For a split second, he was absolutely confused and had no idea what was 
going on. Then, when he saw Invictus and John Baxter at the doorway with 
both of their guns drawn and trained on a man he could only partially see, 
he bolted upright and stood where he'd been laying. 

From his new vantage point, he could see that the unknown man had one 
arm in a makeshift sling, and the other he was holding back slightly behind 
him as if he was driving and had to come to an immediate stop, trying to 
protect whomever was in the passenger's seat. 

He could see at least one more pair of legs behind the man, but could see no 
faces.

"I asked who the hell you were," Baxter all but shouted. 

Cass was still laying down, but had shifted her weight to her elbow and was 
looking on the events before her with apprehension.

Alan was simply sitting up, a blank look on his face.

"I could ask the same of you," the man said.

"You could," Baxter answered, "but *I* have the gun, so *I* ask the 
questions."

"Would it make a difference?" the man asked.  "You're just going to kill us 
anyway, aren't you?"

"Alright look," Invictus interjected, "let's just settle down. You and whoever 
you've got out there just come in here slowly, and we'll talk this out."

The man in the doorway narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded when a 
voice said softly behind him, "Richter…"

He moved forward slowly, wincing a bit as he walked. 

Mulder looked behind him and his jaw instantly dropped. 

Coming through the door was a small woman who had her arm wrapped 
around another's waist. The other woman's ankle was swollen so badly that 
Mulder could see from  where he was how large it was. She was 
concentrating so hard on walking that only when she looked up through 
tangled strands of red hair and met eyes with Mulder did she stop.

And then, after a few seconds, from pain, weariness, and simple surprise that 
came together to defeat her resolve to be strong and stoic, Scully fainted.

XxXxXxXxXxX

When she regained consciousness, the first thing she was aware of was the 
throbbing pain in her right ankle. Her attached leg was elevated and resting 
on something relatively hard and cold. Her head, conversely, was resting on 
something relatively soft and warm. 

When it shifted under her, she struggled to open her eyes. She blinked in the 
overhead lights.

"I was hoping you'd wake up soon, you were starting to cut off my 
circulation."

Mulder? She thought to herself.

"Yeah, it's me."

Oh. Maybe she'd said it.

But then, she was more likely feverish and hallucinating. She was almost 
convinced of this when beneath her, something shifted again. You couldn't 
hallucinate feeling, right? Her mind was too muddled with pain and 
overwhelmed with confusion and hope for her to begin even thinking. But 
she could feel.

"Oh my God," she said quietly, almost to herself, reaching up to grasp at 
anything, everything.  "Is that really you?"

Flailing blindly, she encountered a head, his head, with a near thunk, and 
latched her fingers onto his hair, refusing to let go.

"Yeah," he said on a sigh, finally coming into her field of view, "it really is."

She let herself revel in his presence for a moment, not wanting to let herself 
cry though she felt the tears welling up inside her. After all of this, he really 
was alive, and he really was here. It was almost too much. 

Then, she heard a familiar voice somewhere off to her left.

"Is she coming to?" 

It was Richter. She glanced to her side. There were a bunch of people, she 
realized, all watching her.

Damn it. Damn everything. Damn the colonization, the resistance. Damn 
them all for being here with her and Mulder. Damn their not being able to be 
alone together. 

Of course, not that. Never that. 

She tired to sit up, but winced in pain when her ankle slid off of the table it 
was resting on, and she stopped. 

She felt Mulder slip his arms under hers and carefully moved her until she 
was sitting up, slightly turned his way.

She turned her head to look at him in full. And her soul was reborn. And her 
spirit was resurrected.

Because of him.

She took a moment to reacquaint herself with him as he looked now. She 
reached out slowly to touch his new grown beard and the rest of her body 
followed until she found herself wrapped in his arms tightly, her head tucked 
securely underneath his chin. 


Chapter 14

A cautious whisper.

"She's awake."

A glance and a survey of the surroundings.

"I suggest we move." A smirk danced on the verge of a woman's lips. "I think 
after all this time, a little privacy is called for."

Muffled laughter and the pitter-patter of not-so-little feet shuffling into 
another room left Mulder and Scully alone, lying, albeit injured, in each 
other's arms.

Invictus took lead, and as they left the room to allow their friends some 
catch-up time, they could not refrain from the slightest bit of eavesdropping. 
Somehow the tone, not so much the words, filled the others with a glimmer 
of hope that temporarily brushed away the despair creeping  into their once-
vibrant determination.

He unconsciously brushed her cheek with this well-weathered hands, a 
gesture of tentative love that appeared to be done out of habit, but really 
was not. There was a catch in his throat. "Yes, Scully, it's really me."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Over their mutual concern for Scully, Elspeth and Richter avoid coming to 
blows with Invictus' faction. Her swoon had not come unexpected--they had 
sustained a vicious fall, one that left Scully limping and Richter partially 
incapacitated. Elspeth had amazingly suffered little damage, coming away 
with a few cuts and bruises. Winding through the dark tunnels below 
downtown Madison, they had finally discovered a light source, which lead 
them into their present company.

John's gruff voice commanded their attention back to the issue at hand.  
"Richter, you said your name was?"

Standing close enough to Elspeth that they seemed joined, Richter nodded. 
"Who are you?"

Ignoring him, John pressed on. His head flicked slightly towards Elspeth. 
"And you, who are you? What's your business here?"

"We mean no harm unless you do," she said icily. "That fact that you're still 
alive accounts for that."

Her words threw John for a loop. Although the odds were decidedly in their 
favor, the . . .John could not think of a better word--the balls she had 
displayed and the stealth apparently in her eyes made them step back and 
reconsider their actions. Then from the shadows behind them, the observing 
figure of Invictus emerged sage-like to face Elspeth.

"You are familiar." It was a statement, not a question.

The silence hung heavy as the underground dampness. Invictus half-circled 
them. Richter shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his injured arm. Elspeth, 
warrior-like in stance, still in her transformed state, eyed him back with equal 
curiosity. Then it came, a spark of recognition that lit up her dark eyes.

"Out of the night that covers me, black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank 
whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul."

Invictus betrayed a smile. "You obviously know who I am," he said with a 
small nod.  "But who are you?"

She moved to speak, but Richter touched her arm to stop her. Her gaze 
softened as they looked upon him, acknowledging his concern, but her face 
conveyed to him her decision. "My name is Elspeth Parr, Mr. McCloud. I see  
you've recovered the famous Fox Mulder."

"And you the mysterious Dana Scully, once thought to be merely an 
illusion."

"We all sort of discovered each other, along the way. Our mixed company is 
a pawn of destiny through decision." She shot a look back to the room 
where Mulder and Scully rested. "And it's good to see that our queen and 
king are finally back together."

The light mood was shattered by a grating voice breaking through unwanted.  
"What the hell is going on?" Alan snapped, his irritation taut as wire. 
"McCloud, who are these deviants? And why do we have to have anything 
to do with them?" His face was twisted with suspicion.

Cass rolled her eyes, shoving him. "They're on our side, you idiot."  However, 
Alan still didn't look convinced.

Richter cleared his throat in attempt to gain attention his way. "If I'm 
reading this right, our goals are the same. I suggest we work together." 
Elspeth's quick look to his face beamed with admiration. "I'm damn sick of 
this game," he continued, his voice a little tight. "It's time to win or lose, and 
I'm not in the mood to lose to some glorified, extraterrestrial bullies."

"I'm guessing you're looking for exactly the same thing we are," Elspeth 
asked. "The . . ."

" . . . vaccine," Invictus said, clapping his hands together in devious delight. 
"Welcome to Mission Save the Earth."

"Glad to be aboard," Elspeth said, now grinning widely.

Cass stepped ahead, her grin matching Elspeth's. "Yeah! Let's show them 
what having game is all about!"

And from both sides, they all let out a collective groan.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder shifted her pant leg up gently to get a better look at her swollen 
ankle. He paused a moment and flashed her a joking little smile.

"Scully, you're legs are hairy," he said.

"So's your face," she replied in kind.

His grin grew wider and he turned his attention back to her ankle. "How are 
you feeling?" he asked, giving her the once-over.

She shrugged, or maybe she was stretching--he couldn't distinguish, and said, 
"I've been better." Then her voice hitched and she pulled back a little bit, 
looking into his hazel eyes, her blue ones softening as she did so. "I take that 
back, I don't think I've ever felt this good." 

Impulsively, she threw her arms around him and held him tight, running her 
hands up and down his back to assure her even more. He reeled a bit from 
the hug, but returned it after only a second's worth of hesitation. He didn't let 
her go until he felt her arms slacken and experienced the sensation of her 
warmth leaving his embrace.

Then, she made contact again. Shoving him with both arms, she demanded, 
"Where the hell have you been?"

Mulder gave himself a moment, propping himself back up with his arms and 
letting the air that she had knocked out of him, back into his lungs. "Where 
have I been . . . ?" he trailed. She gave him a hard stare and besides himself 
with good humor, he couldn't repress a smile. She was still tough-as-nails 
Scully. "Where have I been," he repeated. Then giving her a roguish grin, he 
answered, "I wish I knew myself. It's all still really fuzzy."

"So you're telling me you had amnesia?" she asked incredulously.

"Actually? Yeah."

"Oh brother."

"Where have I heard that before?" he moaned.

Then a little kinder, she asked, "Really Mulder, what's happened to you in all 
this time?" A small smile betrayed her face. "I'm used to having you run out 
on me, disappearing--being dead and returning from it, but the 
circumstances usually aren't this . . . extreme." Then as after-though she 
added, "And that's saying a lot."

He let out a long sigh. So much had happened and she hadn't even seen the 
tip of the iceberg yet. Scully's face remained ever-inquiring, and now, looking 
into it again so close for the first time in a very long time, he found himself 
lost and dizzy again, like so many times before in the years they had known 
each other.

"Well?" she asked impatiently. "Are you going to tell me or . . ." He silenced 
her with a hand. Her eyes wandered confused over his face.

"Or what?" he mumbled, offering it as a suggestion, not a repetition. Then he 
smirked, his mind whirling with an idea.  "I think that I'm going to kiss you 
now, Scully," he said, voice cracking but determined. Her mouth formed a 
perfect "O" but she said nothing in protest.

He took it as a positive sign. "I just want you to hear me out. Let me kiss 
you and you can slap me or yell at me afterwards. I just, I just think this is 
something I need to do." He swallowed hard, embarrassed and anxious all at 
once. He looked at her again, searching.

"What are you waiting for?   Still all talk?" she asked softly.

Gently, they pressed their foreheads together, noses touching ever-so-slightly. 
She wet her lips, terror streaked with excitement in her eyes. Blinking, he 
finally leaned in first and touched her mouth with his. He felt Scully's sudden 
intake of breath, but then just as quickly felt her relax into the kiss. It began 
sweet--a melancholy interlude setting them up for the harmonic climax of a 
masterpiece. As the kiss escalated, so did their movements. Her hands went 
to cup his face, the stubble welcoming to her hands. His arms curled around 
her waist, then climbed up her back, wrapping her up so completely that it 
could not be determined where one began and the other ended.

She tilted her head back and he followed her lead, their kiss twisting and 
turning in the throes of passion. When they finally broke apart due to lack of 
air, they did so reluctantly. Gazing at each other in as much surprise as in 
pleasure, they pulled back, numb and wordless.

Clearing her throat, Scully broke the silence. "I don't think I'm going have to 
slap you for that," she said, her voice analytical. Reaching out, she took his 
hand. Then taking the cue, he pulled her closer, and they kissed again, 
oblivious for the moment of all that surrounded them and awaited them 
beyond the light of each other's company.


XxXxXxXxXxX

Invictus cleared his throat and broke Mulder and Scully out of their revelry 
of each other. They both looked up at the same time, the flush of 
embarrassment coloring their faces. Invictus could only smile, choking down 
a joke to allow them their peace. Probably the first peace for them in a 
damn long time, he thought.

"How are you feeling, Dana?" a smooth voice asked, tinged with concern. 
Elspeth stepped forward towards them. Reluctantly, they disengaged 
themselves from each other and Scully allowed Elspeth to examine her 
ankle, even though she was more than capable, and more qualified, to make 
any sort of diagnosis.

"I assume you all have gotten to know each other," Mulder said with a wave 
of his hand towards their group.

"Yes, but I don't believe we've met," a dark-haired stranger said to him. 
"Richter McLachlan." He came into the light cautiously and bowed his head 
in greeting. Seeing him injured, Mulder did the same in greeting him. "I've 
heard much about you, Mr. Mulder. I'm happy to meet you."

"Under the circumstances," Mulder said in equal politeness, "it's my 
pleasure." Then he turned to an attending Elspeth who was brushing a tendril 
of hair from her eyes when he looked. Sensing him, she turned and thrust out 
a hand. They exchanged a firm handshake, not a word passing between 
them until Elspeth twitched an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"You are real," she mused. "I hope you're as good as advertised."

Mulder shot Scully a questioning glance to which she only returned to him a 
wily smile. "Ah, I see how it goes. Well, I suppose we should do something 
then to get this shindig off the ground, hmm?"

Invictus snorted. "It's about time."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Elspeth moved from Richter's side. She shot Invictus a look, to which he 
acknowledged and addressed the group. She was still too much of a stranger 
to presume that the others would listen, no less trust her or Richter.

"We've been discussing plans of action, and I think the best idea out of the 
pot is splitting into two groups and searching the tunnels out. We need to find 
routes of escape or routes that will lead us *somewhere*." Invictus rubbed 
his chin. "Hopefully we'll be able to find out some information, too, though I 
don't know how. Maybe artifacts." He shrugged nervously, turning his eyes 
towards Mulder and Scully who sat rapt in attention. "Two groups of three. 
That way we're big enough for back-up and small enough to elude attention 
if we run into any trouble."

"There are eight of us," Mulder pointed out.

"And one of us--Scully--is too injured to be moving about too freely. And 
another who's still having memory problems and has to remember 
something important, no doubt," Invictus chided, "that's you, needs to stay 
with her.

Anyway, we need people at a pivot point to report to, and we can't risk all of 
us at once."

Cass tossed John a gun. "Remember to arm yourselves," he said, "but stay 
calm. We don't need to be attracting any unwanted attention." Weapons 
were distributed like pieces of candy. "We also don't have a lot of artillery, so 
don't waste what you use."

Richter inserted the magazine with a click. "How are we split?" He reached a 
hand out towards Elspeth but she shook her head.

"Me, Alan, and Invictus," she said. "You, Cass and John.

"We can't protest this?" Mulder asked, watching the others jumping into 
action.

Elspeth looked at the two newly-reunited FBI agents. "Do you really want 
to?" His lack of response gave her his answer. "Good." She motioned for 
Invictus to take the lead.

"John, take your group that way," he said motioning towards the archway 
where they had first confronted Scully and her group. "Elspeth says that she 
saw some doors and tunnels branching off the main route. I'll take my group 
through the tunnels that lead toward the center of town--near the capitol 
building."

Invictus spoke to Mulder and Scully now. "You two be careful. There's 
something vital that you two still need to do. I don't know what it is, but 
whatever the outcome, you two need to stay alive. Call it a gut feeling."

"I feel it too," Elspeth murmured to no one but herself. She wandered ahead.

"So is the Force telling you this, Invictus-Wan?" Mulder joked.

"Ah, if only it were," he sighed. "I'd love to wave my hand and make all the 
bad guys fall down. But really, now that that's settled . . . C'mon, children. 
It's time to save mankind."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Cassidy, Richter, and John backtracked towards the lake, weaving through 
the fallen debris that littered the tunnels.

"Nothing but crap," John muttered.

Cassidy sniffed the musty air disdainfully. "Certainly smells like it."

They pushed on but found nothing of interest. However, for the other group, 
the same could not be said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Invictus carried a flashlight, shining the faint glow on the area ahead of 
them. Water dripped from the ceiling of the tunnels, producing a hollow, 
dungeon-like drip-drip echo.

"So who are you really?" Alan asked Elspeth in an off-handed voice. She 
frowned and continue to move ahead, ignoring his question.

"Hey, I asked you--"

"Shut up you damn fool!" Invictus hissed at Alan. "You want to make it a 
little more obvious that we're here? Who knows who else is down here and 
what their intentions are. You want us to get killed, because I'll gladly let you 
take lead and at as our bullet shield."

"Thank you," Elspeth muttered underneath her breath.

Alan was immediately huffy. "I'm just looking out for our safety, *Curtis.*

There are some people I'm still not sure I can trust."

"You're lucky we didn't string you when you killed Dice!" Invictus snapped.

Elspeth shushed them irritably with waves of her hand calling for silence. 
Reluctantly, both men turned from each other and progressed. Defiantly, 
Alan moved to take the lead, pulling the flashlight out of Invictus's hand.

Elspeth glanced at him, but the blond man simply shrugged, continuing 
ahead and ceasing any valid argument he had.

Into three more "rooms" they explored, finding nothing. Their hour was 
almost up, but when they were about to retreat with no results to their 
scouting mission, a clattering brought them to attention. The noises came 
from just beyond another darken entrance-way, crashing boxes and 
muffled voices. Quickly, the three of them rushed for cover in the room, 
which appeared to be a cleaning-supply storage room. Huddling together, 
they strained to hear as two distinctly male voices seemed to come closer 
and become clearer.

" . . . waste of time," one voice said unhappily.

"Buck up, Marine," a condescending voice replied. "There were sightings by 
the shore of people. It might be those rebels we're after."

"Probably just troublemakers. Really, Rae, do you honestly believe that 
*the* Mulder and Scully are in Madison, Wisconsin of all places?" He 
snorted. "I heard that one or both of them were dead. And what about that 
woman the Doc is looking for? The hybrid?"

"It's highly possible that any of them might be here. We had them in 
Chicago, O'Conner. Remember that we had them once. We'll get them 
again."

O'Conner picked up a piece of cardboard and then tossed it back down at 
his feet. "She would have to be a complete moron to come here knowing 
what will happen to her if they catch her. Hell, Rae, if I were here, I'd haul-
ass in the other direction and never look back."

"You didn't read the fucking file on her, did you, O'Conner? Jesus H. Christ!"

"What?" the other protested, pouting like a little boy who had been sent to 
his room. "I read it."

"Yeah, sure you did." There was a shift in tone. "She's one of those rebels. 
First page, paragraph three. Leader of Phoenix group." The man called Rae's 
voice grew higher. "Operating out of Madison."

"Is that supposed to mean something?" the other asked defensively.

"Why are you such a moron, O'Conner?"

"I've been spending too much time with you, that's why!" the other snapped.

"Anyway--what was the name of that hybrid? Elizabeth? Embeth? 
Something weird like that?"

"Elspeth Parr," the voice belonging to the man named Rae said distractedly.

Elspeth stiffened, clenching her jaw so tightly it hurt, and as quickly Invictus 
reached out a calming hand, placing it on her shoulder. Alan's head swung 
accusingly towards her. "You!" Alan hissed, his tone indicating that he had 
already tried, convicted, and executed her in his mind.

One of the two male voices suddenly tensed, growing loud. "Did you hear 
something, O'Conner?" it barked.

Invictus swore silently and drew out his gun, immediately unlocking the 
safety. Alan did the same, his face hot red. Elspeth, without a firearm, 
grabbed for the nearest thing--a broom handle. Tense, they sat and waited, 
the voices getting louder and closer until footsteps and heavy breathing was 
heard in their room.

Two large men entered the room, their guns drawn. They walked as if 
stepping around land mines, both surprisingly agile for their sizes.

Then the inevitable happened. "Behind you, O'Conner!" Rae shouted, firing 
off a shot into an old bookshelf, splintering the thick wood in two. Before 
Alan had the chance to aim another shot was fired off straight into his 
direction, blowing a hole straight through his head. Blood and brains 
splattered, hitting a shocked Elspeth in the face. She blinked. "Two others, 
O'Conner!" Rae shouted again before either Elspeth or Invictus had a 
fraction of a second to react to Alan's sudden death.

Numb, Elspeth crawled over to Alan's body, shielding herself from the debris 
that exploded around her like fireworks. Frantically-- blindly, she searched 
for Alan's gun, trying to fight off the fact that she was scavenging through 
his still-warm body. Invictus fired off another shot and she heard one of the 
men scream, shrill in his pain.

A bullet whizzed by Invictus, grazing him across the cheek. Flinching back 
forcefully, he dropped himself to the ground and sat crouched. Dust was 
heavy in the air, obscuring what little visibility there was in the damp, 
underground caves. A curtain of silence fell between them as both sides 
waited to make the next move.

Elspeth wiped nervously at her forehead, her mind sprinting off in multiple 
directions all at once. They couldn't let these men just go and spread word of 
their presence underground, but there was the risk that she and Invictus 
could not take them both out, and if what they said about her was true…

The ground suddenly disappeared from below her and Elspeth crashed 
awkwardly onto the floor, gun flying from her grasp as a hand twisted like a 
vine around her ankle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the barrel of a 
gun directed towards her face. Her head fell back against the ground. She 
squeezed her eyes shut. They would not take her. They would not take her 
alive.  They would never take her alive.

"Don't shoot her!" Rae cried out suddenly, stumbling towards his fallen 
partner. Seeing movement, he trained his gun back towards where Invictus 
hid. "Move and I'll kill her, I swear to God."

Invictus could not suppress a roll of his eyes. Obviously they were dealing 
with full-blown idiots here, but out of caution Invictus remained still for the 
time being. There was no purpose in risking both of their lives in a last, 
suicidal attempt of rescue.

Supine on the ground, Elspeth waited with baited breath as the footsteps 
came nearer and nearer. She was motionless except for the flex of her 
fingertips. She had to think of some way to distract or dispose of the Rae 
and O'Conner to buy Invictus enough time to escape and bring warning to 
the others. She gritted her teeth. They had gotten so far. To lose it all now 
was unacceptable. It no longer mattered if she lived or died. Elspeth was 
certain now of what she was. She swallowed hard and thought fleetingly of 
Richter. Of course, she thought angrily, the rage masking her wounded heart, 
of course this is how it would turn out. The die had been cast and she would 
come out the loser--but she would not let the others share her fate. Not if she 
could help it. Elspeth stretched out her fingers again and was surprised to feel 
something very real and very solid in her hand. The broom. A false sense of 
relief flooded her. No, she could not swing it at him. He would see the 
movement and shoot her without hesitation. Or else his friend would get her 
first. She cringed. But maybe this was the opportunity she needed--and the 
chance that Invictus had to get out. Slowly, she pulled the broken broom 
handle into her palm. No, she would not swing it at him. She didn't have the 
arm strength to bring it up fast enough to surprise him. She would have to 
throw it like a javelin at him. As for his friend…

"What a coincidence," Rae said mildly. "We were just talking about you, Ms. 
Parr."

Elspeth did not respond, although a sarcastic comment hung dangerously on 
her lips. She cast a quick glance towards Invictus. She just hoped he knew 
what to do when the time came. Rae was almost directly over her, his 
pompous swagger causing his progress to slow.

"Sometimes, O'Conner, this job is just too easy.  Like stealing candy from a 
baby."

When he looked to his injured partner, Elspeth took the split-second 
opportunity and made her move. Roughly she pulled the leg that was held 
by O'Conner towards her, pulling him in. Crossing one leg over the other, she 
crashed the heel of her heavy boot into his head. Confusion on that end, she 
twisted her body upwards and hurled the broom handle into Rae's stomach. 
He doubled over in pain as the wooden stick struck him in the groin.

"GO" she screamed, but Invictus paid no heed to her order. A carefully 
aimed shot--one he had trained on Rae for the entire time of the man's 
distraction with Elspeth, exploded from the gun and tore into the ex-Marine's 
back. He howled like a beast out of hell, falling but not dying.

O'Conner, recovering from the blow to his head, reached out, bleeding and 
moaning, for his gun. Still on the ground, Elspeth swung her legs again and 
knocked him back down towards the ground. She then fumbled around in 
the dark, searching through the grime. Then she felt it, pulled it up quickly, 
firing off three rounds into O'Conner who finally fell heavy and dead.

Now that Elspeth had moved out of his line of fire, Invictus took the 
initiative and fired again at his enemy. Like a scene out of a bad action 
movie, the body fell in a splatter of blood, flinging more dust into the air.

As the dust settled from the fallen bodies, Elspeth fought off nausea and the 
flood of dizziness that rushed into her head. Forcing a sneer to fend off any 
sign of vulnerability that could betray her--the only face she could make 
without falling apart, she stood up deliberately. She walked over to Invictus.

"We need to get that checked out," she said, indicating the bleeding gash on 
his face. He touched it absentmindedly. "It could get infected."

He shook his head. "I'm fine, really." Then his eyes wandered over to where 
Alan's body lay. They flickered a moment before he turned back to her. 
"He's . . . ?" She sighed and nodded, touching her upper lip. She had tasted 
blood, and realized a split-second that it was not her own. She turned her 
gaze away from where Alan's body lay and shuddered involuntarily.

"Elspeth ," Invictus started with a gulp. His eyes darkened as he seemed to 
search for the right words. Roughly, he grabbed her arm. "Who . . . what are 
you?" he finally spat out.

She felt her muscles twitch in her face. Then she turned away from him, 
ignoring the question. Instead, she walked away towards where the bodies of 
Rae and O'Conner lay. Coldly, she lifted the gun and fired a neat round into 
each body.

Invictus jumped. "Jesus Christ!" he shouted, stumbling backwards in 
surprise. He tried to compose himself quickly. As he did, he pushed  through 
the mess on the floor towards her. When he reached her, she grabbed her by 
the arm. Invictus and Elspeth locked eyes. He looked at her, radiating new-
found suspicion. His gaze was met with a dangerous flash of her eyes, no 
doubt a warning to him to back off. But Invictus had seen so much and 
survived so much that it was little matter to him what she thought.

"Elspeth," he persisted, shaking her, "what the hell is going on? Why were 
those two talking about you? What are you hiding?"

She ripped her arm from his grip and stalked away angrily. "The others," she 
muttered as she paced back and forth like a caged animal. "We have to 
warn the others. Someone's bound to have heard those gunshots so they 
know we're down here now. We have to get the hell out of here." She was 
talking to herself, then looking up, snapped back to reality, she turned 
towards the other doorway and began to walk there, and eventually began 
to run, leaving Invictus standing alone with three corpses and countless 
questions.

"Elspeth!" he screamed as she disappeared into the darkness. "Elspeth!" He 
balled his hands into two fists. Then cursing viciously to himself one last 
time he moved towards Alan's body to check if he really was, indeed, dead. 
The truth acknowledged, he let the wave of pity and frustration surge 
through him. He shook his head again, gritting his teeth. Drawing in a deep 
breath, sucking in the damp air, he muttered to himself, "Why do I feel like 
we're just making all of this up as we go?" and broke into a sprint after 
Elspeth and back to the camp.


Chapter 15

Mulder watched the two groups leave, Scully still quasi-sitting in his lap.


They sat in silence as their friends footsteps retreated into stillness.

"Scully," Mulder finally whispered, dropping his head to her shoulder.

"I know," she said, looping her arm up to hold the back of his head to her, "I 
do."

They stayed that way for minutes, breathing in the essence of one another's 
long absent company. Finally, Mulder spoke, his voice muffled somewhat 
by it's proximity to her shoulder.

"Do you remember the last time we saw each other?" He asked, and finally 
raised his head, searching out her eyes, "because I do."

"I remember, Scully," he went on, "and it's the only moment that I've *ever* 
spent with you that I'd rather forget."

She looked at him sympathetically and nodded. 

He continued.   "After I remembered-after the amnesia-it was the last 
moment that I'd had with you. It was the only thing I had to go on, …. I 
remember what that was like Scully, and I never want to go through that 
again."

Scully closed her eyes for a moment and thought back to the last time she'd 
seen Mulder before he'd disappeared and colonization had begun.

They'd had an argument, based on the deep-seated issue of belief-the only 
issue, if anything, that had continually kept them apart.

"Is it *so* hard to believe, Scully, is it *that* difficult to open your mind a 
*fraction* and accept that it *might* be possible?" he'd asked.

He'd been angry. More upset than normal, too angry for his usual air of 
indifference that he'd exude when he was upset. He'd stressed certain words, 
and that vein on his left temple had been sticking out.

She'd forgotten the actual subject of the argument. At that point though, it 
hadn't really mattered. They were back at square one, where everything 
came down to when it concerned them. Belief. Or lack thereof.

"Yes, actually, Mulder," she'd said, "it is." 

He'd clenched his jaw and stared at her, daring her to continue. So she did.

"Mulder," she said, "honestly. The way your mind works transcends the ages. 
It's childlike and feeble at the same time."

"What?" he'd nearly spat.

"The things you believe in, Mulder. Concepts easily grasped by children and 
old people-because kids  haven't yet found reason not to believe, and the 
venerable have every reason *to* believe."

She hadn't meant the statement as a derogatory one, but he'd taken it that 
way nonetheless. 

He'd gotten really upset at that point and had grown very silent. A staring 
contest ensued that had been interrupted by the ringing of the phone. 

He'd answered it quickly, and after a few short exchanges, he'd hung up, 
grabbed his coat and left. But not before he stopped in the doorway and 
looked at her with disdain.

"I'm leaving," he'd said.

"I can see that," she'd replied.  "Where?"

He'd given her a huff of breath and a smart grin and said, "You wouldn't 
believe me if I told you." 

And that was the last that she'd seen him. 

In the time after his disappearance and the colonization, she'd often thought 
back to that day. And the two worlds-one she'd believed in, and the one in 
which she now lived-still warred with each other.

Sometimes she'd wondered why he believed in the things he did. Sometimes 
she'd wondered why she didn't.

His rumbled words behind her shook her out of her reverie.

"I don't want to go back there again, Scully," he said, giving her middle a 
slight squeeze, "ever."

He paused a moment.

"I want things to be different."

She didn't respond at that point. She merely twisted around a little and 
grabbed his head in her two hands. She planted a firm kiss on his lips, and 
another on his forehead. They looked at one another for a few moments 
and she leaned in for another kiss. When she pulled away, his lips tried to 
follow. 

She smiled at him and ran her fingers through the hair on his face.

"Come on," she said, scooting backward a bit and reaching for his hand.  
"Help me up."

He obliged and asked, "Where are we going?"

"To the table," she replied.  "I need you to help wrap my ankle a little better, 
and we have things to talk about."

He paused a moment to take one more reverent eyeful, then stooped to grab 
his backpack with the first aid kit in it and finally helped her to the table.

XxXxXxXxXxX

John, Cass and Richter were making their way back to the room, their senses 
somewhat dulled by nearly an hour of no action and fruitless searching.

"Chicago is gone?" Cass asked, her voice somewhat incredulous and louder 
than was probably wise.

"Yes," Richter answered.  "Nearly all of it as far as I could tell."

They'd been making nice with each other, John and Richter finding that 
they'd been in college at the same time and each's school having played the 
other's. 

"Jesus," John said quietly.

"So we've gone from cows to extra-terrestrials… Talk about progress," Cass 
spoke.

She took a few steps and stopped, holding her hand up, indicating to the 
other two men to do the same.

John quietly moved up beside her, leaning his mouth in by her ear.

"What is it?" he whispered.

Cass made a walking movement with her fingers then pointed in the 
direction of the room, down the hallway.

They were only a couple hundred yards from the door, and had been 
wondering how to intrude on Mulder and Scully without causing anyone any 
undue embarrassment. 

After a moment, both John and Richter heard it too, footsteps-but more like 
someone running-getting steadily closer.

They nearly didn't have a time  to draw their guns before Invictus and 
Elspeth tore around the corner at break-neck speed. Invictus pushed off 
from the wall as he made the turn, refusing to slow one bit.

"What the…?" Richter said, then all three lowered their weapons and ran 
toward the two others only slowing and stopping when they met in front of 
their room's entrance.

Mulder and Scully, sitting across from one another at the table, hands 
locked together, both looked up, surprised.

Elspeth and Invictus both doubled over, leaning against their knees and the 
wall.

"What…" Cass started, "What happened? Where's Alan?"

"He didn't make it," Elspeth said, looking up between breaths. 

"You mean you ran into… but you got away?" Scully said, as she made her 
way to the doorway and the others slowly, held nearly all the way up by 
Mulder.

Invictus nodded.

"So we're going to have company?" Mulder asked gravely.

Invictus nodded again.

"And Alan…" Cass hedged.

Invictus finally straightened, "You know how you said his head was usually 
so far up his ass that it you were surprised it was still sitting on top of his 
shoulders?"

Cass looked at him strangely and nodded.

"Well," Invictus said, "that's no longer going to be a problem." 

Elspeth unconsciously wiped at her face and clothes again where Alan's 
blood had spattered.

Cass glanced at her and put her hand to the wall to steady herself.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said.

"No time for that," Invictus said, moving to her and escorting her into the 
room, "gather everything together, we need to get out of here."

"Now?" Scully said, glancing at her ankle in worry.

"Yesterday," Invictus answered soberly. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Richter found it by accident.

They'd been walking through the tunnels beneath Madison for hours and 
had finally decided to rest when Scully had let out a whimper that she'd been 
holding in for hours. 

They'd set down their gear at the end of one of the hallways that seemingly 
led to no where and hunkered down against the walls, sitting on the floor. 
Cass had offered to let Scully put her leg up onto her shoulders to ease the 
swelling a little, so Cass sat a little awkwardly on the floor and Scully put her 
head in Mulder's lap. He didn't seem to mind.

Everyone else had grabbed something they'd been carrying and used it as a 
pillow to take a quick nap. Richter, the only one who couldn't lie down 
properly without hurting his arm, instead opted to lean against the wall with 
his good shoulder while sitting sideways on his legs.

The position however, was so awkward that when he finally made his way 
to the ground, inertia and gravity took over and jammed his good shoulder 
into the wall forcefully.

But instead of jarring him, the wall gave in several inches and he nearly fell 
the rest of the way into what appeared before them now as an open door 
way. He found himself on his back looking up, upside down at a lighted 
staircase.

"Buddy?" he heard Invictus say from the hallway.

He gingerly sat up and faced the rest of the group who hadn't moved from 
their prone positions, but were all looking in his direction curiously. 

"Stairs," he said, adjusting his makeshift sling a little so that it didn't dig into 
his side as much, "I think I found some stairs."

"Can you see where they go?" Mulder asked, putting his arm around Scully's 
middle and boosting her up a little bit.

Richter had been irritated with Mulder for no reason ever since they'd found 
him, and while he couldn't explain to himself why, he harbored resentment 
just the same.

"Up," he said, infusing his words with a biting sarcasm, "they go up."

Mulder ignored it.

Scully didn't.

"Richter?" She edged. "Is your arm bothering you? We do have a couple 
more aspirin."

Richter relented and immediately felt a little guilty for snapping. He twisted 
his head a little and looked up into the stairway. 

"I think it's a… I don't know what is," he said, squinting, "it looks like a 
friggin museum."

He turned back to the group. 

"The ceiling does, anyway."

Invictus frowned a little and got up, his knees cracking as he stood.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he drew his weapon, moving up the stairs 
slowly.

When he got to the top, he didn't lower his gun, but some of the tension 
drained visibly from his shoulders.

"Well I'll be damned." He muttered quietly to himself.

XxXxXxXxXxX 

What Richter had discovered wasn't a museum, not in the classical sense, 
anyway.

Scully mused that by today's standards the label wasn't exactly a stretch.

What he'd found, was instead, the general assembly hall of the Wisconsin 
State Capitol building.

The tables and chairs that had been used in the general assembly had been 
pushed to the sides of the great room, and stacked somewhat neatly along 
the walls. There was, in place of those desks, a large collapsible table strewn 
with maps, charts, geothermal readouts and various other papers of the sort.

Upon inspection of the readouts, the group found that they were mostly of 
the east coast, and the southern west coast of the United States.

"We've just walked into the middle of enemy camp," Mulder said slack-
jawed, his eyes scanning the room up, down, left, and right. 

"Then it's stupid to stay here," Richter concluded.  "We don't know if this 
place is being monitored, or if someone's going to come back any second 
and full us up with some fresh rounds of ammunition.  I'm in no mood to 
stay.  I don't know about the rest of you."

"Time to move the party elsewhere," Invictus agreed.  "But where to?"

A strange look crossed Elspeth's face and before she, or anyone else could 
say another word, she had hurdled over broken chairs and tables and had 
headed towards what appeared to be the governor's seat at the head of the 
assembly.  She pointed up to the three-paneled mural that stood out 
prominently against the wall.  "This signifies past, present, and future," she 
told them, moving her hand across from each picture to the next.  She 
frowned and muttered something about symbolism or parallelism and then 
said,  "Though I fail to see where colonization is being represented, though."  
Seeing their confused looks, she elaborated.  "Learned it on a campus tour 
back when I went to school here," she said with a shrug.  "Don't ask me who 
painted it, though."

Richter was the first one to start after her, the others following suit after him, 
but when they were by all up there, they only stood and watched Elspeth as 
she pushed and  shoved against the oak chair and desk, dropping on her 
knees and feeling for something, though none of them knew what.  "It's here 
somewhere," she muttered, concentrated on her own efforts.  A few, futile 
more seconds elapsed and she stood up, face twisted in consternation of 
herself.  "I  swear . . ." she muttered and suddenly, stopped in mid-sentence 
as something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.  She laughed.  
"Well I be damned."  Reaching back behind a tall, white marble column, her 
hand disappeared, and then the rest of her followed.  

"Secret passage," Mulder remarked without a hint of surprise.  

"Let me guess," Scully said as she hobbled with help, through the 
passageway.  "This leads to a secret bedroom."

"A governor's gotta have his mistresses too," Invictus said matter-of-factly.  
"Can't let the presidents have all the fun."

"No, you certainly can't," Mulder noted wryly.  "That's one thing I think both 
parties
can agree upon."

XxXxXxXxXxX

It turned out that it wasn't a secret bedroom, but the governor's private 
office.  Wisconsin state memorabilia littered shelves, ranging from Packers 
autographed football helmet to a different sort of headgear in the form of a 
wedge of cheese.

"Charming," John muttered as he stalked the room, surveying it for anything 
unexpected.

There was not much of note in the room, but it proved to be the refuge they 
needed at the time.  Naturally, many of them split up in pairs.  Cassidy and 
John. Richter and Elspeth, and of course, Mulder and Scully.  As each 
thought of this, the names--the idea seem to roll off so naturally it seemed as 
though they had never parted.  Leaning against each other, Mulder 
especially tender to the injured Scully, they drifted off into half-thought and 
half-sleep.

In the meanwhile, Invictus left without someone to act as his "better half" 
found company with a bronze statue of a badger, the Wisconsin state 
animal.  Out of one eye, Mulder noted that his friend was carrying on a 
rather heated conversation with the decidedly mute and inanimate badger.  
He wasn't sure if Invictus was going completely mad, just bored, or a little bit 
of both.  Or if he knew something the rest of them didn't. He sighed heavily 
and turned his attention away from Invictus to Scully who was snuggled 
contentedly in the crook of his arm.  He brushed away some hair that had 
fallen in her eyes and smiled faintly.  If things could be like this after all this 
was over, he swore to himself then as he gazed at this beautiful woman 
before him,  he resolved that he would do anything to make it that there 
*was* an "after" to look forward to.  

There was a shift in the stillness of the room, and all eyes rose to lift towards 
Invictus who had given up on his conversation with the bronze badger to 
advance upon Richter and Elspeth who rested together in the folds of a 
window curtain.  There was some whispering amongst the three which finally 
resulted in Richter getting up to leave the other two to a private 
conversation.

The dark-haired man, still a mystery even to Scully who had spent 
practically every waking moment with him since fleeing Rhode Island, 
roamed restlessly around the large room.   Scully stirred closer to 
consciousness in his arms, but Mulder's attention remained trained on 
Richter McLachlan.  Scully had related to him as much as she could have 
about her experiences in the time they had had together since being reunited, 
so Mulder knew the bare facts about Richter and Elspeth Parr.  The same 
went for Scully and her knowledge of Invictus, John, Cassidy, and Alan.

He was like a lion in a cage, Mulder thought to himself, still watching Richter 
pace, and he certainly possessed the fierceness in his face to match that of 
the king of the beasts, he amended.  It didn't seem so much nervousness that 
colored his body language but fear.  His eyes constantly strayed towards 
Elspeth and Invictus and Mulder could not help but wonder to the nature of 
that conversation.

At one point, it was not Elspeth or Invictus' eye that Richter caught, but 
rather, it was Mulder's.  Mulder gave him a sympathetic smile but got in 
return a scowl.  He didn't allow himself to think before he acted and the 
words just came out of his mouth.  

"What?" he spat angrily.  Richter, a passive look on his face, began his way 
over to where Mulder and Scully sat. 

"What?" Richter echoed coolly, using his standing advantage to stare down 
disdainfully at Mulder.  "What do you think?"

"What have I done to wrong you?" Mulder hissed, trying not to disturb 
Scully who had drifted back into sleep.  "I barely know you.  I don't 
understand  what warrants this hostility towards me.  Do you care to 
explain?  Because I would be really interested in knowing."

Richter shifted his injured arm.  He licked his lips, dried and cracked from 
over- exposure to the elements.  "I understand that this is a group effort," he 
began calmly, his voice flat and without any hints of emotion.

"So you don't think I'm doing enough--" Mulder began tersely.

"Let me finish," Richter continued, annoyance flashing in his face.  "This is 
obviously a group effort, and yes, I am wondering what you have done thus 
far, but that's not the issue.  I'm . . . curious.  I'm curious as to what you 
intend on doing, and why," he said with a sweep of his good arm, "why 
everyone seems to hold you in this strange reverence.  Why they say things 
like 'he's the one' as though you were some hero out of some bad science-
fiction movie. Tell me, Mulder," letting his name shoot out of his mouth like 
a bad taste, "tell me why this is so.  Give me a reason to trust you."

"Mulder?" Scully suddenly said sleepily, her eyes blinking open.

"Shh," Mulder soothed, glaring at Richter.  "You don't trust me?" he said 
finally.

"Please," he said irritably, "give me a better answer than that."

"I'm not casting any illusions, Richter.  I didn't make them believe anything 
about me. They believed these things on their own, with or without me, and 
even before they had even met me.  I don't claim to understand . . . or 
maybe I just don't remember."

"That's your excuse?"

"This is ridiculous!  Utterly and completely ridiculous.  You're a grown man 
and this isn't--"

Harsh voices coming from Elspeth and Invictus momentarily distracted 
both of them from their argument.  Scully also woke up to the noise and 
watched with a confused and horrified look all at once.  John, who 
apparently had been awake for a while and had been doing more checks on 
the room, also turned his  attention towards the source of the noise.  They all 
watched on.  Elspeth gestured angrily but Invictus did not relent, physically 
pressing his issue as he confronted her.

Richter looked torn, unsure whether or not to continue his argument with 
Mulder or to go to Elspeth.  But it was John Baxter who made the decision 
for all of them.

"Shut up!" he growled, his head swiveling left and right and up and down. 
His gun immediately appeared and he raised it cautiously.  "I heard 
something, out  in the hallway," he said, pointing his gun towards door that 
had been flung ajar by someone else, some time ago.  All arguments, 
disagreements were immediately dropped and the companions readied 
themselves and fell in line behind him.

John stood, poised in the doorway, the rest of the group nearly crowded 
around him, none really wanting to be left out in the hallway- prone to 
attack, and neither really wanting to face the perils of what they were sure to 
find in the room.

John, gun raised, scanned the room from left to right. He paused a moment, 
and just as Cass opened her mouth to suggest they move forward, they 
heard a shuffle from inside the room, and a head and body came up from 
behind a counter in the room, facing the other direction and completely 
oblivious to their presence. 

John waited a moment and then cleared his throat saying, "you move one 
inch, and you'll look more like a pincushion than yourself when they bury 
you."

The figure froze, his arms at his sides.

"Turn around," John said in a dangerous voice, "slowly."

The man did so, and as he faced the group, Mulder and Scully were the only 
two people that had any sort of reaction.

They were taken aback momentarily, and then, in the same instant, both 
exclaimed.

"Frohike?"


Chapter 16

Three perfect O's formed on Frohike's face as he stared dumbfounded at the 
group before him. His eyes strayed around the room, but finally came to rest 
upon Scully's face.

"I must be dead," he said in a whisper, "because I see an angel." Then a beat 
later he turned his attention to Mulder who stood next to Scully. He pursed 
his lips and scratched at the scraggly beard on his face. "And a ghost." 

He stood for a moment, unsure of his reality when John finally spoke up.

"You know this furry little man?" He asked, prodding him on the chest over 
a filthy, but distinctively Frohike-signature vest.  Protectively, Frohike's 
hands flew up and knocked John's away disgustedly.

"No respect among the young anymore," he grumbled, ignoring John as he 
brushed brusquely past him towards Mulder and Scully. He looked at his old 
friends, a wave of amusement as well as relief washing over his familiar face 
that almost masked the deep lines of despair and fear that marked his flesh. 
He let out a deep breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Small 
world."

Mulder reached out and clasped his friend in his arms.

Frohike gasped. "And getting smaller, Mulder. Jeez, let go!" Mulder released 
the Lone Gunman from his grasp and chuckled to himself. Frohike brushed 
himself off disdainfully. "Hey Scully, don't I get a hug, too?"

Scully smiled, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. "I think Mulder 
gave you enough for both of us," she said dryly, but seeing his face

fall, an exaggerated expression or not, she softened. "Oh, what the hell."  
When Scully released him, Frohike smiled dreamily and sunk into a seat on 
pile of debris. He sighed happily, oblivious to the seven pairs of  eyes that 
watched his every move. The others watched in great interest as they 
automatically split apart and created a circle. 

"Where are your cohorts, Frohike?" Mulder asked as he paced in a circle. 
"Are they behind door number two?"

Frohike jerked his head up and gazed evenly at Mulder who shuddered 
involuntarily at the ghostly look in his eyes. His arms wrapped around his 
small body and he rocked gently in his spot, suddenly very far away.

"Frohike?" Scully's voice was filled with concern. She reached out and 
touched him on the shoulder.

"Byers--he's ok, last I saw him. Actually, he's probably still with Suzanne

Modeski. Lucky bastard."  A gulp.  "Considering..."

"Who--" she began, but Mulder's surprise quickly cut her off.

"Modeski...she's...oh wow!" Mulder exclaimed, pulling on his face, cheeks, 
nose and dropped jaw. "Before you and I became partners, Scully..."

Frohike raised his hands and gestured for Mulder to stop. "You've actually 
met her, or were in the same building, Scully. Um," he hitched, looking away 
from her, "you were a little out of it then. But that was then--this is now.

"To make a long story short," he continued, "she was a chemist that some 
government goons were after a long while ago. Well, after, after the invasion 
Byers went batty. Not like you, Mulder, but  'the aliens have invaded'  crazy. 
Langly," his voice choked on the name, "and I had to tie him down at one 
point, and then he began to rant and rave about finding Suzanne. We tried 
to  dissuade him, but there was no getting around him. He got out of the 
restraints and took off. We followed his trail and finally found him in 
Arizona—and I'll be damned, he had found her."

He stopped and took a deep breath of the stale underground air. "You guys 
got any water? I'm parched." Cassidy pulled out a small flask she had 
tucked under her coat and handed it to Frohike. "Thanks." He took a big 
gulp and let the liquid trickle slowly down his throat, savoring each molecule.

Suspicion crept into her mind and fear crept into her heart.  Scully inched 
closer. "Frohike, where's Langly?" she asked quietly, afraid to hear the 
answer. Frohike glanced up at her, all the light gone from his eyes. She knew 
the answer before he said it.

A pregnant pause touched there air and he answered at last in a quick , 
simple tone, "He's dead."

"I'm so sorry, Frohike," Scully said gently. "I'm so sorry."  

"What...what happened?" Mulder ventured, the pain apparent in his face, 
slack and numb from surprise.

Neither Mulder or Scully had ever seen Frohike so unanimated; so gray and 
somber. He was a ghost trapped in a man's body with nothing on his mind 
but rest, and the change shook all those in the room.

"We were following a lead up here. Suzanne and some of the people she was 
with, they talked about a vaccine that some scientists had been developing--
former members of 'The Project' that had defected when they got scared by 
the idea of actual colonization in their lifetimes. The story goes that by using 
the data they had on the aliens, they formulated a vaccine that made it 
impossible, or at least difficult, for human biology to be compatible with the 
alien life--that," he swallowed hard, eyes behind his dirtied glasses darting 
nervously around from face to face, "that the biochemical reaction would 
kill the invading parasite and make it impossible for human beings to be 
used as hosts."

Invictus whistled. "So we were right about that. Damn."

"We're dirt to them," Cassidy said blankly. "Dirt." She shook her head, still 
unable to grasp the reality of what they had all known long ago but never 
spoke about.

"We heard that the research had been going on at the University of 
Wisconsin, so Langly and I headed up here while Byers stayed with Suzanne 
on finding more information." Frohike shrugged. "It wasn't anything 
concrete at the time, but it was a possible lead, and anything was worth our 
time at that point." He looked up, his face pleading for understanding that 
they would not have refused him for the world, but the guilt that ate away 
inside him, dismantling him like a virus, did not allot him that luxury. He 
could not believe that his friend's death was anything short of his fault. "We 
were so desperate then, for anything."

"We all were," Elspeth said gently. "We all still are, and things will happen 
that we can't forecast, and we'll make mistakes that we regret, that we wish 
we could go back and fix, but we can't do that. We can only try and move 
on and repair the damage. We have to push on. We have to or else . . . what 
the hell's the point?" Then sighing, she sunk back against the wall.  Frohike 
looked at her thankfully and continued on. "We got here a few weeks later, 
and um," he paused and chewed on a fingernail. "We got here and this place 
was like a wartime encampment. The whole *fucking* place was swarming 
with troops day and night. People were either dead or running the hell out of 
this place.

"Langly and I hid out in the Oscar Meyer factory for a while." He cringed as 
he said this, remembering the stink of stale factory air and rotting meat. 
"With all the activity  going on it took us a while to get to downtown 
Madison where most of the action was going on. We heard some crazy shit--
most of it from people we overheard. Some of them military, some just poor 
bastards like the rest of us. It was mostly 'aliens!' and hysteria. Lots of 
blubbering and crying, but when we really listened, I mean really listened . . ."

"You don't have to tell us all of this now if you don't want to," Scully said 
gently. "If you need to rest first or get some food."

"No, no." He shook his head adamantly. "If I don't tell you this now, I don't 
think I could do it again later." He glanced around at the group darkly. "And 
I don't know if all of you are going to be here later on. So this has to be said 
now."

Richter, still thus far, suddenly stalked across the room to where Elspeth sat, 
propped up against the wall. She gazed up at him and took his rough hand in  
hers. They held fast to each other. Then he looked at the others and made a 
movement with his head that seemed to tell them to ignore him. Frohike 
continued, his tale weaving erratic and emotional until he came to the part 
that he had been dreading all along--to the graveyard of his story where he 
had to kill and bury his comrade.

"We had been hiding out in the library. Hackers amongst the institutional 
green of the library stacks," Frohike snorted. "We couldn't believe it. Those 
military idiots were still using computers to process a lot of their data and 
Langly and I just used the computers in the library to hack into their 
database." He cleared his throat again and begged for another drink of 
water before he went on.

"Some of the stuff we more or less knew already. It was pretty much set that 
vaccine was for real--or at least that something like it existed and it was 
being safeguarded here at the capitol building. There were some other files 
that we got into that we thought were pretty fascinating."

His voice abruptly dropped, so quiet that many of them had to strain to hear 
what he was saying. "We thought they wouldn't notice our hacking. I mean, 
who's gonna hack in times like these?" His words were coming faster and 
faster, slurring one into another. "Not that we didn't take some safeguards. 
We did, but-- but they weren't enough. Not damn enough. They broke 
through the glass windows on the first floor and when we saw it we ran, but 
Langly couldn't find cover in time." There was a catch in his throat now and 
he finished. "I found my way downstairs somehow and I hid underneath a 
giant 'Cat in the Hat' paper maché display."  He broke into a small sob. "I 
was the scardy-cat in the hat and Langly was just dead."

"Oh, Frohike . . ." Scully felt her heart breaking with him as she went to kneel 
before him, placing her head on his shoulder and grieving with him. "It's not 
your fault." 

Mulder came up to stand behind her, she turned to him and exchanged a 
meaningful look as Frohike's bowed head rested against her shoulder.

The sobs soon subsided and Frohike was calm and a little embarrassed, but 
he recovered his composure remarkably, as though finally admitting his 
feelings of guilt over his friend's death had removed a huge weight from his 
heart. He continued on with his narrative, the deadness fading from his eyes.

"Of the 'other' things we discovered. Mulder, you might know something 
about this," he said looking up. "Hybrids."

Scully automatically whipped her head to look over at Elspeth and noticed 
with much astoundment, that Invictus had done the same. Elspeth's made 
no  acknowledgment of them, though. She stared straight ahead, eyes hard 
and cold.  Next to hear, Richter had bowed his head, a storm brewing in his 
heart.

"Yeah. Cassandra Spender--"

"And Antioch," Richter chimed in, tonal and haunting like the dying strains 
of a church organ.

"Yeah. Well, with what I read of the reports, the facts seem to imply that the 
vaccine isn't fool-proof."

"What do you mean?" Invictus queried.

"It seems that human/alien hybrids are immune to the vaccine."

"You mean it doesn't work," Invictus concluded. "Hybrids can't be 
protected?"

"Yes. Which means that colonization could continue and actually speed up 
if a hybrid is found."

"But weren't they all destroyed at Antioch?" John asked incredulously. 
"There aren't any left, and if there were, how could colonization actually 
speed up? There can't possibly be enough hosts to accommodate--"

"They have the technology to clone," Frohike broke in. "And they can do 
that quickly at that."

"And incubation period is short," Mulder said, moving protectively to Scully's 
side, remembering the arctic; remembering her face encased behind the 
glass, her body  floating so helplessly in green ooze. Mulder suddenly started, 
this memory triggering a realization that contorted his face in half-shock and 
half-pain. "Is that--" he stammered, "Is that why I . . . why we . . .you guys 
think . . ."

Invictus clapped his hands together and laughed. Remembering that a loud 
noise of any kind might attract the wrong kind of attention, he immediately 
clamped his hand over his mouth and chuckled. "He finally remembers!" he 
smirked.

Mulder frowned. "More like I just figured it out," he mumbled.

"Mulder and I are already immune," Scully said breathlessly, catching on to 
the fact that she had also been unaware of until now.

"Bingo," Invictus said. "And you've both have faced off against the aliens 
before. You know how to fight them."

"Not exactly," Mulder disagreed.

"Better than we do," John said. "To a lot of us, they're still a faceless enemy."

Mulder scratched at his beard and considered the new implications. He 
shook his head, the information too much to process at the time. "Frohike, 
go on," he finally said with a motion of his head. Leaning up against Scully 
who held him tightly, he lapsed into silence along with the others to hear the 
remainder of what Frohike had to tell them.

"The vaccine should keep us safe, but the margin for failure is still huge.  The 
first scenario is that we don't get the vaccine, or, if it doesn't work. Then we're 
good as dead. The other scenario is if they military finds a hybrid and is able 
to harvest the DNA necessary  to begin cloning. Then it's search and destroy-
-or die."

As his narrative had progressed, Scully had involuntarily found her line of 
sight going back to Elspeth. And with each glance, she become only more 
aware of the implications, and of how snow-white pale Elspeth was fast 
becoming. 

Since their reunion, Mulder had only become more in synch with Scully, so it 
was not more than a few seconds after she had tensed that he became 
aware of her discomfort. The others had immediately become engaged in 
discussion after Frohike had finished, but amidst the buzz, Mulder had 
naturally focused in on Scully's every tick.

"What's wrong?" he whispered conspiratorially, trying to keep his tone light 
to not darken the situation any further.

Scully opened her lips to answer, but words failed her. She tried to gesture, 
her chapped hands reaching up and then down, and then forward but 
finding no direction in the end. He reached towards her and put an arm 
around her reassuringly, but only frustration and indecision filled her 
normally pragmatic mind. There was a needed silence between her and 
Mulder, and in those brief moments, she let the thousand of thoughts flitted 
through her mind. The scene in front of her became mute, and the edges of 
the image blurred to  where should could only see Elspeth--Elspeth slumped 
and weary. Elspeth getting up from Richter's side to speak to Invictus. 
Inaudible whispers with huge repercussions, but none that she could hear. 

Mulder squeezed her shoulder as she leaned a little more into him, letting the 
comfort of his closeness infuse in her some much-needed strength. Strength 
that she would need, because regardless of the trust, respect, and faith she 
had in this strange woman who had been thrust into their lives what seemed 
like only a short time ago, there were things Scully knew--and they were 
more important than the life of one person when the rest of the world was at 
stake. Breathing from what felt like the bottom of her belly, Scully  took a 
step away from Mulder and let the words form in her mind; let her tongue 
loosen, and prepared to speak and strike what could only be a blind-sided 
blow to Elspeth Parr.  But the words had barely settled enough to even begin 
processing in her synapses when Invictus rose his hands in the air to quiet 
them all down. Yet he said  nothing when quiet was obtained. Instead, he 
nodded his head towards Elspeth who nervously stepped to the center of the 
group, concentrating all her efforts into what she was going to say next. 
Scully bit her lip and waited.

"Invictus and I have talked and we've come up with a *suggestion* for a 
course of action." She quick shot a glance at him, some private 
understanding passing that everyone caught but nobody knew the meaning 
of. "I think it doesn't even have to be said how imperative it is that we go get 
the vaccine as soon as humanly--" her voice caught on the word, but Scully 
and Mulder noticed it and cast each other a questioning glance. "As 
humanly possible." 

Then Elspeth's voice grew stronger, and she straightened herself so she 
seemed taller, and something strange and calm flashed in her eyes. "We 
have a plan." She then crouched to the ground and used her finger to begin 
drawing in the dirty. "And if you'll hear me out--I think we might just start 
getting somewhere."


Chapter 17



"No!"

"Hear me out--"

"No!  It's suicide!  Don't be ridiculous, Elspeth! You're not going to do 
anything like that!  I'm not going to let you."  

"You don't have veto power, Richter.  And," she butt in quickly before he 
could say anything, "there's no one else who can do this.  Everyone else who 
might be able to, is injured. Like yourself."

Frown lines creased along his forehead as he turned away from the rest of 
the group.  "There's got to be another plan, some other option . . . ."

"Richter . . . ."

A long, dead silence passed before Invictus mercifully broke in.  "What we 
need is a  distraction big enough to get as many of those troops out of there 
at the same time, and one big enough to give us the time we need to get in at 
least, and maybe get out without having them return.  As for short-term 
solutions-which is the only option we really have -this is probably the best 
bet.  Easy, right?"  Nervous shuffling followed his explanation. Richter 
walked away, and there was more shuffling.

Mulder and Scully did not even have to look at each other.  The sense of 
awkwardness was mutual, mirrored reflections in their eyes.  Scully touched 
his hand, and he took it in his larger one, warm and once again familiar.

***

"This whole thing feels like a situation straight out of a  sci-fi B-movie," he 
said, leaning down and muttering with that dry, growling voice of his.

"Funny," she commented with equal indifference in her voice, "I thought the 
only movies you watched were the X-rated kind."

He shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips despite their current situation which 
was like an ominous bolt of lightning in the sky.  "You've got me there."  
Then he leaned down and pressed his face against her cheek.  "You sassy 
minx."

Scully smiled despite herself, and reached an arm around his waist.  "Hey."

"Hey yourself."  Mulder's expression changed.  He looked at her 
questioningly.

"Be careful, and I mean careful.  Not Mulder-careful, that doesn't cut it, not 
this time. You need to come out this in once piece, if not for your own sake, 
for mine."  She grew quiet, unaccustomed to her own frankness.  She refused 
to look him in the eye.

"The same for you," he said softly, squeezing her hand even tighter.

"Alright!" Invictus barked.  "Time for the group huddle."

Mulder and Scully broke apart and moved to join the circle in which 
Invictus and Elspeth stood in the middle.  Scully reached for her gun, pulling 
it out of its holster.  She unlocked the safety, then looked up at Mulder who 
did the same, grim determination obvious on his face.

"Ok, a quick rehash of the plans to make sure that we're all on the same 
page.  Elspeth here, will be off first while John, Cass, Mulder and I, will be 
over there," he said, quickly motioning to a pile of rubble adjacent to a 
doorway, "waiting until all is clear. Scully, you, Richter, and Mr. Frohike will 
be bunkered behind that fallen bit of ceiling over there to cover us when we 
go in." A wry smile crossed his face.  "Easy peasy, don't you think?"

"Very," Mulder remarked without a hint of sarcasm, though the look on his 
face said otherwise.

"Time's a-wasting."

"That it is," Elspeth half-snarled, throwing a black hood over her dark hair.  
"Time to go and save the world, boys and girls."  She quickly shot a look at 
Richter, who stared her dully.  Disregarding his blindingly-obvious attempts 
at ignoring her, she would go over to him later after the group had broken up 
to try and mend things over, however fragile and tenuous this temporary 
peace of theirs might be.

As they stole a last few moments together, Scully and Mulder did the same, 
huddled together, nose to nose.  No words were exchanged, but they knew 
each other well enough to know what the other was probably thinking.  They 
broke apart and moved to their respective positions where immediately, they 
became aware of the cloud of absence that stood between them, something 
that they both hoped to evaporate upon the other's return.

***

"I'm not liking this so much."

Scully waited for Invictus' signal and Elspeth's acknowledgment from her 
position on an upper tier before she responded.  She shifted her position, her 
ankle aching.  "I don't like this much either, Frohike, but what else can we 
do?"  Her gun found a sweet spot behind the cracked concrete shield and she 
aimed it accordingly.

"I know," he grumbled.  "I wish there was more I could do.  Guns really aren't 
my style."  He raised his awkwardly to illustrate.  Scully stopped paying 
attention to his ramblings.  She was looking towards the marble balcony. 
Above them, Elspeth nodded slightly and motioned that she was ready.  By 
force of effort it seemed to Scully, Elspeth did not look back.  She did not 
look down to see Richter, for this one time only, his heart full in his blue 
eyes, dark and sad.  However, she thought of him, and of basically 
everything her life had consisted of these last few months.  Heavy sighs were 
her only company now, and she took another as she poised her gun and 
fired.  

"Hey!" she screamed.  "I have a question for you about a helicopter!"

***

She had been planning this for a while, but she hadn't been certain whether 
or not she would go through it until now.  Nor had she known this would 
somehow involve her stealing a helicopter, but that was how it was going to 
happen.  But it was a strange world now, even stranger than it had been 
before.  This was probably  an event that would not even register in those 
terms.

Elspeth Parr suddenly felt very young.  Growing up, she had always felt older 
than her age, and stranger, in many ways, to everyone else,  though she 
hadn't know for a long time.  Her father had been almost suffocating in his 
protectiveness towards her, but he was gone now.  Soon, she though wryly, 
she would be joining him. They were badly in need of a conversation, and 
she had more than enough questions ready for him.

But she kept on going, because at the moment this was the most important 
thing for her;  in her life.  Not the most brilliant or practical idea, but the 
fastest one they could think of, and Elspeth had quickly agreed, so here she 
was, arms pumping, legs racing in a blur of black against the snow that 
twinkled gently underneath floodlights.  It occurred to her then that she had 
not once blinked since she started her sprint, and she didn't until she found 
herself taking down the single guard that stood over the Hawkeye.

The helicopter rose with a jerk, lifting into a half-spiral as its black blades 
whirled in mechanical delight.  The roar was loud, a groan in her ears as she 
maneuvered it around the white, marble dome.  She stared and noted how 
peaceful it looked.  The world suddenly looked so peaceful, and it broke her 
heart.  Quiet buildings stood drenched in snowflakes in front of her, and 
beyond them were the lakes, sleeping and  oblivious to the chaos that 
surrounded them.  She shivered, breaking her from her daze in time to avoid 
clipping the golden statue of Lady Forward that stood silently on top of the 
dome.

"Right."  She gritted her teeth.   It was time.  There was no longer any point in 
waiting. Turning the helicopter away from the capitol, Elspeth turned it 
towards those sleepy buildings, saying a silent apology to them in her head 
as she accelerated ahead blindly.

***

The explosion sent them reeling, not to mention head-first into the concrete 
before them. Scully's first reaction was to turn and reach out to Richter 
whose eyes were wide in unabashed horror.  She held onto his wrist long 
enough to see his pupils dilate, but not long enough to tell him "no," to tell 
him not to go.

He was up and gone without another second's hesitation.  The rubble 
seemed to hardly deter him as he hurdled and dodged his way out of the 
building.

Scully winced as she aggravated her ankle injury.  She slumped against the 
wall and looked at Frohike who could only shake his head.  "Fuck," she 
cursed, drawing the word out long and hard.  "Fuck."

***

"Aw, fuck."  

She heard her own gasp, but her vision was blurred still, and there was a 
tightness in her chest.  There was an intense pressure that seemed to burn all 
over her body.  She hoped it was because she was in  hell, because she was 
supposed to be dead.  She had to be.  It was the only natural outcome, 
unless things had gone awry.

"Elspeth!"  It was Richter. 

Blindly, she groped for him, for his arms which quickly accepted her into 
their fold.  She held back the groan of pain that hung on the tip of her 
tongue.  "This ended wrong," she explained lamely, her voice hoarse.  A 
pause, then she turned her sightless eyes to where she could feel his warm 
breath.  "But you know that, don't you?"  She sighed.  It hurt to do that, and 
it hurt more to talk, but she had to explain now that the situation presented 
itself.  "Richter, I . . ."

"Shh," he soothed, moving them closer to a spot near the building where 
snow and shadows hid them from eyes out in the dark. "I knew. I've had  
suspicions for a while, but it doesn't matter. It stopped mattering a while ago, 
Elspeth."

She was quiet, then struggled to cover coughs that racked through her 
injured body. She rested her head on her arm.

Richter turned and touched her hand, giving it a squeeze. Words hung at his 
lips but nothing was said. Then he touched her face, stroked her cold cheek. 
She blinked, her eyelids suddenly growing tired and heavy.

"I . . ." she swallowed hard.  "I don't know what happened. I was supposed to 
go down . . . . "

He turned his head away from her and surveyed the area around them. The 
he looked up, his eyes drawn up to the sky as he saw the searchlights blink 
out, and the night fill with darkness. "Come on, now.  You're safe.  You're 
alive, that's what's important," he said stubbornly. 

Her smile was thin.  "Hardly.  This is the worst case scenario.  A perfectly 
good helicopter destroyed in the name of what?"  A deep, wrenching cough 
rocked through her, and she fell sideways, out of his arms and into the snow.  
"I was supposed to die in that crash.  You know that.  Two birds with one 
stone."  Her voice softened and faltered at what she said next.  "Although I 
suppose that's just a technicality."  

He tried to ignore that. 

"Richter?" It was becoming harder to breathe.  "Promise me something?"  
She leaned up, her hand on his chest.

"Yes?"

She was struck by clarity, as clear as the night sky.  "When I die, you have to 
burn my body as soon as possible."  A finger touched his lips, however 
awkwardly. "Promise me.   You know why this has to be done.  They can't 
get their hands on my DNA..." She grimaced in anguish and self-hate as the 
words rolled from her tongue.  "Don't let them get a chance to win, Richter.  
Promise me you'll burn my body when I die."

"If you die."

"When," she snapped, then reneged.  "Sorry."

"If, then," he said calmly,  "yes.  If you wanted me to--"

A sigh.  "Don't say anything more, love, don't say anything more," she 
whispered, reaching out to touch his face.

Richter smiled to himself as he forgot where he was for a moment, but he bit 
his lip in consternation a second later, remembering their situation.  Recalling 
that Elspeth lay inches away from him, her life bleeding away, red stains on 
a white, crystal carpet.

He let a note of child-like hope crawl into his voice, a feeling that he had 
buried deep away for what seemed like an age ago. "Do you think this 
vaccine really works, though? This miracle cure for mankind?"

Elspeth made no response.

"Elspeth, do you think the vaccine is for real?" he repeated, fear shaking his 
voice. But he only heard silence.

Minutes he sat, still as death. Fear crept into his heart until it almost burst 
and he could bear it no longer. Finally, Richter turned to her.

Her chest was still and no breath escaped from her lips, no puff of cold white 
air indicating that life still lived in her body. Her dark brown eyes were wide 
open, directed heaven-ward, and her expression calm. The hard lines of 
bitterness and despair suddenly erased as she looked up towards the stars in 
wonder, unaware of the horrors that had rained from the skies and 
dismantled their lives. Elspeth Parr now only saw the beauty of the stars as 
they glittered faintly in the winter sky above her.

Richter moved slowly to her side, his whole body weighted down by agony.  
He shrugged off his sling and as he gathered her body in his arms, cradling 
her gently as though she would break, he let the first tears touch his eyes 
since forever. Tears that had eluded him when his wife and child had been 
murdered; tears that had finally been moved beyond the brink and now 
came crashing down past all the barriers he had worked all his life to build 
up. He pressed her body closer to his, stroking her face; brushing away the 
hair on her forehead.

His heart breaking on each word, he whispered to her in death what he had 
never told her in life. "I never told you . . ." he choked, his face buried in her 
hair. "I do.  I still do, you know." His voice broke and he could say no more. 
Then he held her until the warmth had left her body, and then--for a little 
while longer.


Chapter 18

At the helicopter's explosion, Invictus, Mulder, Cass and John stood in the 
corridor crammed in a small doorway. A moment or two after the incredible 
noise, about five troops ran from the doorway still strapping on LBE's and 
slinging their M-16's over their shoulders. 

After another moment without any movement from the room, Mulder and 
Invictus decided to move forward toward the chamber that Frohike had 
described to them. John and Cass followed, each holding their weapon a 
little awkwardly.

As they approached the doorway, Mulder turned to the two companions 
following and gave them a smile of reassurance. John tried his best to return 
it, and Cass simply glared at him, breathing quickly and nervously through 
flared nostrils.

As they reached the doorway, Invictus edged his way along the side and 
pointed his index and middle finger at his eyes, indicating Mulder to move 
into the room and cover him as soon as he was inside. Mulder nodded and 
brought his weapon up at the ready.

Invictus took a deep breath and mouthed the count of three so that 
everyone would be in sync. On three, he grabbed the door handle and threw 
it open, throwing himself through it at the same time, his gun held ready 
chest-level.

Mulder flew in behind him, but nearly barreled into him, having to raise his 
gun with one hand and skid his feet to halt no more than a few feet into the 
room.

Mulder nearly panicked and brought his gun back up, scanning the room 
quickly, and then he too stopped where he was.

The room was empty. Save for a few stools, one that had been knocked 
over, no doubt in the rush of the soldiers to leave the room, the rest of it was 
bare.

Mulder opened his mouth to say something, but Invictus quickly brought his 
finger to lips, then pointed in the direction of the one door on the opposite 
end of the room. Mulder nodded and then turned to the doorway, motioning 
for John and Cass to follow him, but quietly.

They moved toward the door silently, and Invictus moved up to the small 
window that was about eye level and quickly peeked in. He turned to the 
rest of the group and held up two fingers, then smiled. 

With that, he swung open the door quickly.

Inside the room, the two figures, one, what looked to be a scientist in the 
perfunctory white jacket, the other a soldier. Neither turned to the heavy 
industrial door as it opened.

The soldier had both arms out, that the scientist was loading up with several 
small silver boxes.

"What was it?" The scientist threw over his shoulder at the open doorway, 
not turning from his task.

"I think it was the sound of the shit hitting the fan," Mulder said wryly.

At the sound of a voice that neither recognized, the two men both turned 
slowly to the four intimidating and armed figures in the doorway. The soldier 
flinched as if about to drop the cargo he held in his arms, but then stopped 
and  thought better of it. The scientist simply straightened himself and took 
a step toward the doorway.

"What do we have here?" Invictus asked.

"Something you can't have," he said to the group, his voice not betraying 
any kind of fear.

Mulder was immediately on his guard, having in his experience found the 
scientific kind to have neither the bravery nor the machismo to be 
intimidating to a federal agent, much less four armed rebels.

Invictus looked around the metal plated room, directing his stare at the 
sinking and drifting telltale smoke of frozen nitrogen pouring from one of 
the open cabinets. 

"You don't seem to be in the position to argue, Dr. Joel," Invictus said, taking 
a step forward himself.

With that, Mulder flicked his eyes from the scientist to the soldier and back 
again.

The man was indeed the same Dr. Joel from the underwater fortress in which 
he'd been held, he realized. But the soldier's reaction was odd. He'd 
previously been looking down at the boxes in his arms,  likely trying to figure 
out a way to get rid of them and get to his sidearm that was holstered at his 
side. But, as soon as Invictus had mentioned the doctor's name, he'd looked 
up at the scientist as a look of confusion washed over his face for a 
moment.

The doctor, on the other hand, had no reaction at all, save for taking 
another step toward Mulder and the others in the doorway.  

"Stop it right there," Invictus said, his voice low, as he raised his gun up a 
little higher, his finger poised read at the trigger.

Immediately, Mulder lowered his own gun and put his hand on Invictus' 
shoulder.

"Wait," he said, and reached into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out the 
small metal cylinder that Scully had placed there with a quick kiss and a 
just-in-case before they'd headed off down the corridor. It was the stiletto 
that he'd found in the sub, and had forgotten about until Scully had found it 
in his backpack. 

They'd decided to keep its existence to themselves for the time being, but at 
that moment, as he looked into the eyes of 'Dr. Joel' and Invictus' itchy 
trigger finger, the point was moot.

He raised it up so that the doctor could see it and pushed the small button on 
its side, the long awl shooting up with a hiss of air.

It was then that the doctor looked at them with any real kind of fear and 
took a step back.

Mulder had been right, then. The man was probably an alien bounty hunter.

Mulder stepped inside the chamber, past Invictus and stood menacingly in 
front of the scientist, the soldier simply standing with his arms full watching 
the scene play out before him. 

"You know, it looks to me," Mulder said, shifting the stiletto to his right hand, 
and his gun to left quickly, "that you're in a position you'd never really 
planned on." 

The bounty hunter took another slow step backward and cocked his head 
warily at Mulder.

"I'd say," Mulder said in a near ponderous tone, "somewhere east of the 
rock, and west of the hard place. Or would you rather have the coordinates 
in galactic terms?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the bounty hunter lunged at him. 

There was a quick scuffle, and a crash, as the bounty hunter and Mulder 
tussled and the soldier seized the opportunity and distraction to drop the 
load in his arms and grab for his sidearm. 

However, in the next second, Mulder had the bounty hunter, who'd morphed 
back into his imposing and apathetic countenance, much to the shock of 
John and Cass, shoved against the side of the chamber with the business end 
of the stiletto making a small indention at the base of the hunter's skull. 

Invictus, who never seemed to be shocked by anything, had swung his 
weapon to the soldier.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Invictus said jovially to the soldier, who paused his hand at his 
holster, "not a good idea, sport."

The soldier took a step back from the mess he'd just made on the floor and 
raised his hands above his head.

"There you go," Invictus said, moving to him and bending down to inspect 
what lay at his feet.

Most of the small metal containers had broken open, spilling frozen nitrogen 
and vials, which lay scattered and broken, but two had been spared. Invictus 
opened one and removed the intact vial with the bottom of his shirt, holding 
it up for the rest to see.

"Jackpot," he said.

They'd found the vaccine.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Richter stood, his weary knees creaking and popping as he rose.  He lay 
Elspeth down gently.

He took a deep, steely breath and looked resolutely back toward the capitol 
building, several hundred yards  away. There were several small figures 
leaving the building and heading quickly his way.  He wasn't sure if they 
were friends or foes.

He moved to run to a nearby building that was still standing, however 
smoking, but stopped, glancing back  at Elspeth's body, his jaw tightening to 
fight the wetness in his eyes.

He'd made her a promise. And however gruesome and wrong it seemed, 
after all they'd been through, this  was one he was determined to keep.  If 
not for her reasons, for his.

He hefted her body up and over his bad arm's shoulder, wincing a bit, and 
made off toward the building, keeping as low to the ground as he could. 

He heard the hum of motors approaching in the distance, and paused at the 
door of his destination, looking back at the wreckage of the helicopter, and 
then kicking the door in. Smoke immediately poured from the  open 
doorway, but he ignored it, intent upon finding its source.

He began to weave through the scattered items that littered the floor, 
choking and sputtering from the smoke, his eyes tearing so that he could 
hardly see. Through his tears though, he saw the faint glow of what he was 
looking for through one of the doorways directly in front of him. He made 
his way through the entrance to the room and turned his face as waves of 
intense heat seared at him from the room. 

The entirety of the room before him was ablaze, and he paused for a 
moment, closing his eyes and already regretting what he was about to do.  
He touched her face briefly and was flooded with images of what could 
have been, but he blocked them out quickly.

The lack of oxygen was getting to him, and his knees nearly buckled. He 
moved forward before they did, throwing Elspeth's body into the inferno, 
tears streaming down his face that had nothing to do with the acrid smoke 
that clawed at his eyes.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"That's it?" Cass tripped forward several steps and then stopped again, 
"that's the vaccine?" 

Her tone was reluctantly hopeful, and Invictus glanced up to Mulder, the 
vial still in his hands.

Mulder nodded, pushing the bounty hunter further into the wall for 
emphasis. He recognized the dark amber substance that had saved Scully 
from the affects of the black oil so many years before, and his stomach 
flopped at the memory.

"Yeah," he said, "that's it."

"Well let's go!" Cass said, grabbing at one of the surviving boxes, and 
Invictus picked up the other and stood.

"Not so fast," John piped up from the doorway.  "What are we going to do 
with them?" He pointed at the soldier and the bounty hunter and looked at 
them warily.

"Take him outside," Mulder motioned to the soldier with his head, "I'll take 
care of this guy."

Invictus looked at him a moment, then gave Mulder a brief nod. He then 
turned to the soldier and motioned his gun in the direction of the doorway.

"You heard the man," he said, the soldier moving slowly, eyeing the scene 
before him with trepidation. He seemed to want to be where he was even less 
than everyone else in the room. 

When Invictus, Cass, John, and their prisoner were safely out of the 
chamber, Mulder put his mouth to the ear of the bounty hunter and 
whispered harshly.

"You aren't the first of your kind that I've killed, and I promise you won't be 
the last."

With that, he sunk the stiletto deep into the creatures neck, shoving it's body 
to the ground, and leapt out of the room, slamming the door shut on the 
toxic blood oozing out of the creature.

He then moved to the doorway, where John, Cass and Invictus were waiting 
for him.

"What do we do with him?" Mulder asked Invictus, who's gun was still 
trained steadily on the soldier.

"Well . . ." Invictus began, turning all of the way to the prisoner and taking a 
step closer to him.

The soldier took a step back as well, and finally opened his mouth, speaking 
for the first time. "Look," he said, "just go. I won't go after you. In fact, I 
almost hope you make it."

Invictus regarded the man for a moment and then stepped toward him, 
removing the man's weapon from his holster and taking another step back.  
"Good to know," Invictus said, "now get on the ground, face down."

The soldier winced, likely convinced they were going to kill him, but did as he 
was told anyway. 

Invictus stepped up to him and bent down.  "You can either tell them we 
cold cocked you," he said, "or we can do it for real."

"I'll tell 'em," the man said, his voice muffled by the floor.

"Okay," Invictus said, but then knocked the man in the back of the head 
with the butt of this gun anyway.

He then stood up and shrugged to the trio in the doorway that was looking at 
him rather oddly.

"Never did trust the military," he said, then moved quickly out of the door, 
the metal box tucked safely under his arm, and the rest of the group 
following quickly behind him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

As soon as they emerged back into the room of rubble, they glanced around, 
found the room otherwise empty, and ran to the fallen pile of ceiling where 
Scully and Frohike were waiting for them.

Frohike scrambled up to meet them, and bent to offer Scully a hand, but 
Mulder already had his arm under hers and was half hauling her to her feet, 
and half hugging her.

He swept the hair back from her forehead, and then swung his head round, 
searching for something.

"Hey," he said, "where's Richter?"

"Gone," Scully said, "when Elspeth… We couldn't stop him."

Mulder made an almost disgusted face and nodded, accepting the situation. 

"We'll have to leave without him" he said.

Cass spoke up.  "We can't just-" 

"We'll have to leave without him," Mulder snapped, clearly unhappy with 
the situation

Cass recoiled and took a step backward, closer to John. 

"Mulder," Scully said quietly, squeezing the hand that she was holding.  He 
looked down at her and closed his eyes, apologizing silently.

"We'll figure it out," Invictus said, "but right now we need to get the hell out 
here like we stole something."

"We did," Cass said, still a bit miffed, and shifted the box under her other 
arm. 

John reached out and relieved her of its burden, giving her a quick smile.

"Yeah," he said, "let's just go."

They all headed over to a doorway that led to a fire escape, but paused 
when Frohike stopped and  turned to them. 

"You all head down and get away from the building," he said. "I'll catch up, 
there's something I have to do."

There was silence for a moment, but then the group all nodded and 
proceeded out the emergency doorway. Frohike's tone had, for once, barred 
any argument.

"I'll stay with him," Invictus said to Mulder and Scully, the last to leave 
through the door. "We'll catch up with you." 

They both nodded at him, as Mulder helped Scully down the ladder below 
them.

"Thanks," Mulder said, clapping Invictus on the arm and taking the vaccine 
from him, before he headed down himself.

Invictus then turned to Frohike.

"Well?" He said to the shorter man. "You want me to wait here or do you 
want company?"

"I'll be right back," Frohike replied, and then sprinted as best his legs could 
carry him down the corridor they'd emerged from not minutes before.

Invictus waited for a few minutes, wondering what exactly the hacker was 
doing, and then jumped, as Frohike catapulted himself out of the corridor, 
and up to where Invictus was standing.

"Go!" The running man shouted, waving his hands toward the emergency 
doorway frantically. "Go! Run!"

Invictus' mind flitted to a vaguely remembered Audi commercial from just 
before Colonization of a man in the woods standing while his friend hurtled 
from a thicket yelling at him to run. When they finally got to the car and 
gunned it down the road, the man's friend produced a candid shot of him 
and bear. 

Invictus threw open the door and took the steps down two at a time, 
ruminating in the back of his head that if Frohike had done the same to the 
soldier down in the lab, he was going to kill him himself.

As he jumped down the ladder onto the solid ground below, Frohike landed 
quickly behind him, surprisingly spry for his age and height. 

He cast about for a second before quickly spotting Mulder waving them 
over to a crumbled bit of building about 500 yards from the Capitol. They 
took off toward the waiting group and slid behind the rubble next to John 
and Cass, panting. 

"What the hell was *that* all about?" Mulder shot at Frohike, as the man 
struggled to regain his breath.

"What?" He panted. "You didn't think Langly and I came here to only 
*hack* did you?"

An enormous explosion punctuated his question, and they all threw their 
hands over their ears as the Wisconsin State Capitol building was blown to 
high hell.

As bits of paper and mortar fell around them, they all shot Frohike a 
questioning glare in synchronous head turns.

The man shrugged, on the verge of saying something when the screeching of 
tires ground to halt just behind the rubble in the parking lot Invictus and 
Frohike had just run across. 

Mulder, Scully and Invictus all grabbed for their weapons and peered 
around rubble warily. When they straightened and stood, the others did the 
same, curiously following their stare. 

Richter, his arm a bloody mess hanging at his side, and the rest of him 
covered nearly head to toe in soot, stood outside the open driver's side door 
of a large military Humvee, squinting first at the smoldering remains of the 
Capitol building and then to the ragtag band of rebels hiding on the other 
side of him.  Elspeth was noticeably missing, and Scully knew without much 
more than a look that she was never going to see her friend again.  And she 
knew that the Richter she had come to know was also gone, and in his place 
was this man, tired and withdrawn.   Who he was now, probably only he 
would know She simply hoped that whoever he was, he would find a way 
one day to find peace with himself.

They stared at him as though he had come from nowhere.  "Jesus," he said 
grimly, "you all need a ride?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder pretended to be asleep as her heard Scully jiggle the door handle to 
their room. He heard her pause in the doorway, and then move across the 
room. Only then did he dare open his eyes.

She seemed to glide across the room, her back straight, her stride liquid, as 
her ankle had healed quite nicely, and a small omni-present smile on her 
face. She walked to the open window, the shimmery white curtains fanning 
her face, as the sunlight streamed in around her, a stark contrast as the 
photons of light that couldn't penetrate the strength of her body, much less 
her spirit, shone around her curves.

She breathed in the hot Arizona breeze and sighed, content. 

It was a sight Mulder couldn't help but relish.

"How is your mother?" he asked quietly, finally speaking up. There were 
times lately, when he'd wanted to want to wake her up if she was sleeping 
because he couldn't wait to hear what she would say next. He couldn't seem 
to get enough of her. Luckily, she seemed to feel the same.

Scully turned to him then, the sun now a back light, shining through her hair 
and infusing them with titian flame.

She smiled at him, taking the sight of him in as well, the copper tones that 
the Phoenix sun had melted into his skin contrasting sharply with the white 
of the sheets tucked under his arms. 

"She's good," she answered contentedly.  "Reveling in the order and 
organization required to keep this  going."

She took a step towards him, smiling, but paused when there was a sharp 
knock on the door.

Cass opened it then, hesitantly, and popped her head in giving them both a 
quick, apologizing smile.

"I'm heading out to the HQ," she said.  "We've got a big group from Oregon 
and Idaho that just got here. Almost two hundred."

"We'll be up in a few, Cass," Mulder said from the bed. "Thanks." 

She smiled at them once more, and closed the door behind her.

They'd arrived in Phoenix, Arizona nearly three days after leaving Madison. 
Taking back roads where they could, expressways where they couldn't.

When they arrived at the location that Frohike had gotten from Byers before 
they'd separated, they were nearly bowled over.

Suzanne Modeski, Byers, and a contingent of resistance forces the Gunmen 
had been in contact with, had built up an impressive complex, complete with 
housing for thousands of people, supplies to feed and clothe them all, and a 
lab just waiting to break down the vaccine and reproduce it for the masses.

As Mulder laid in the bed of the room he and Scully shared, he ruminated on 
how far they'd come. There were people coming in every day now, 
sometimes in the hundreds, sometimes in the tens, to receive the vaccine, 
stocking up and then leaving a few days later to spread the word to the 
world that there was indeed a vaccine, and they could indeed get it. 

They even had an impressive defense system, and arsenal of weapons 
protecting them and the precious vaccine they were continually 
manufacturing. 

Phoenix had truly been as good a place as any to house the rebuilding of the 
modern world. As they knew it, anyway. Like the phoenix, from the ashes, 
they too, were rising again.

Scully drifted to the bedside and sat down, the weight shift causing Mulder 
to list a bit toward her. He let gravity roll him the rest of the way until he hip 
was pressed to her back.

She smiled at him and then looked back at the window, squinting a bit as the 
sun streamed into the room. 

Mulder caught a hint of something amiss, and stroked her shoulder.

"What is it?" He asked without pretense.

She swallowed once and then turned to him, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Invictus is gone," she said matter-of-factly.

"What? What do you mean gone?" He asked, sitting up a bit, and propping 
his head up onto his hand.

Scully shrugged. "He left."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know, Mulder," she said softly, "maybe the same place he came 
from."

Mulder reached up and fingered the small cross Scully still miraculously 
wore around her neck.

"Maybe he did just that," he answered.

Scully grabbed his hand and held it, smiling down at him. She stood and 
pulled on it to heave him up, but he easily pulled her back down and onto 
the bed with him.

"Come on Mulder," she said, finally relenting and leaning back against him, 
"you told Cass we'd be right there."

He tilted her chin up toward him and stole a long, smoky kiss. 

"So, they'll understand," he said, kissing his way down her neck, "we're doing 
this for the good of mankind."

"Hmm?" Scully inquired absently, enjoying the sensation too much at that 
point to put up much of an argument. "How's that?"

"We're procreating," he mumbled into her shoulder.

She chuckled into the hair that had fallen into her face and reveled in the 
feel of his cleanly shaven face running along her skin.

He lifted his head then and leaned into her, nose to nose, talking in a pillow 
whisper. 

"I've seen too many miracles to discount them altogether, Scully." 

With that, she couldn't disagree. 


Epilogue 

 The world was indeed, new. Its surface was altered; its cultures upheaved; 
its people-changed. What had been, was no longer. 

The world was repainted in new shades of gray and black- its canvas 
covered in the paints of blood and tears and sweat.
 
People had been ripped apart. And yet somehow, new alliances were 
formed, friendships established, families formed.
 
And the things that became most important were the things that no one 
could remember. And yet the void was filled, for better or for worse, with the 
things that no one could forget.
 


 THE END

XxXxXxXxXxX



Feedback: red_phile@yahoo.com and kelida_flynn@hotmail.com

 Author's Notes and Thanks:

Kelida Flynn:  Four years later and one story finally complete, I'm off to 
retirement land.  This calls for thanks, so I want to first of all thank Slippin' 
Mickeys, first of all for being my co-writer, but mostly for being my friend.  
Smart asses are hard to find, and some of them just aren't that funny.  She 
just happens to be.  Go figure.  Maybe it's the red hair.  Or maybe I'm just 
saying that 'cause she's probably got 8 inches on me and could beat me 
within an inch of my life if she tried.
	And I want to thank the MNL, especially Regina for being the poor 
soul that had to edit this bitch, and to Kim who's just fantastic for being 
there and helping us get this story out there.  Both are worth all the million-
dollar words I could muster up, OED in hand.
	Also thanks to Meredith and MCA, who at the very beginning were 
just so great, and just so supportive to me, not to mention inspiring.  You 
want to talk great XF fan fic writers, here are two of the best out there.  
Hands down, no argument, because beautiful, introspective writing like this 
is hard to find, and they transcend so much that is out there.
	Finally, thanks to those who have been supportive on my past 
stories and on this one, especially Twyla—who incidentally writes the BEST 
feedback in the free world.  It's rare thing to find someone who writes 
creative feedback, and she had the market cornered.  So thanks, Twyla, 
wherever you are.  And big thanks to Lucy G. without whom this story might 
have festered in incomplete land.  So don't go around throwing any of those 
weird walleyed fits, m'kay?  You're the best, btw.   Did I tell you that?
	So yeah!  I'm done!  Hope you all enjoyed the story if you made it 
this far.
       Smell ya' later, X-Files Fan Fic, it's been interesting.

Slippin' Mickeys: Well, I doubt I'm finished with XF fic, just when I think 
I'm done something on the show just isn't quite right and I have to pull out 
the ole "Oh, criminy. Here, let me do it. Again." Suffice it to say, I'll keep it 
short and sweet. First off, thanks to Kelida Flynn. This fic wouldn't be here if 
it wasn't for the germ of the idea you came up with, and your fantastic 
writing. If this fic is any indication, the publishing world had best look  out 
for you, you'll be kickin' ass and taking names in no time. I also want to 
thank the MNL. Most especially Reg, our poor editor, and Kim, full of 
endless support. I also have to give props to Twyla and Lucy. You girls 
single-handedly kept this fic going. So from the bottom of my heart, 
thanks!!




137