Sliding Doors by Ten

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Sliding Doors by Ten

TITLE: “Sliding Doors” (1/4) BY: Ten E-MAIL ADDRESS: [email protected] NOTE: I’m in the habit of posting out one part per day, but if you request the rest, I’ll send it to you individually…

CATEGORY: S, A, UST (no more overt than in the movie), Mulder and Scully Torture, H
RATING: PG-13 for a naked guy covered in goo (Crash, wipe that grin off your face!)
SUMMARY: A ‘what if’ story. How would the rest of the movie have gone if MULDER was the one stung by the bee? Yeah, anything for MulderTorture!
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Moviefic. So it has spoilers from most of the episodes of the series that come under the conspiracy arc.

ARCHIVE INFO: It goes to Gossamer through xff. Can be archived anywhere as long as my name, addy and disclaimer stay intact.
FEEDBACK: Love it.

The song ‘Crystal Ship’ is written by and copyright the Doors.

THANKS TO: The usual suspects…

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files and the characters of Mulder and Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting, and are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit will be gained.

Written August-October 1998

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The X-Files: “Sliding Doors” (1/4) By Ten

“You’ve made me a whole person.”

Scully stood in the hallway, listening to his words, on the verge of tears. When Mulder finished speaking, she stared at him, overwhelmed and struggling with her emotions. Then she stepped forward and hugged him. She kissed his forehead. She rested their foreheads together as if in benediction.

/I need you to know what you mean to me. You did it in words, I do it in gestures. If only I had the courage to take the final step, to put my lips where they belong

⍬

Mulder had accepted the touches in a passive wonder, a man receiving salvation. Then he raised his head. She saw the look in his eyes. At the same time, his hands came up from her back to claim her cheek and neck.

His face came towards hers and she gave in willingly to the pull of his gravity. Their eyes slipped shut.

“Ouch!” One lip grazed hers as his head yanked away. Mulder pulled his hands off her and stepped back.

The world which only contained them a second ago was now filled with rejection. She stood mute and shaken. He’s changed his mind. A mistake… We should never…

“No,” he winced, explaining, “something stung me…” He held out the hand that had rested at her neck. A stinger was half imbedded in the flesh of his upper palm. Scully took his hand in both of hers as he kept speaking. “Must have been in your collar. There it is.” He pointed to the floor, where a bee lay kicking its legs. “Geez, Scully, why didn’t you tell me you had a personal bodyguard? I wouldn’t have tried making a move…”

She felt a giddy wave of relief wash over her. His expression was apologetic and bemused and slightly pained. She gently rubbed the back of his hand. “Let’s go back to your apartment and get it out.”

He nodded. A quirky grin passed between them at this bizarre interruption. But the grins were charged with more than had ever been shown before.

They turned, his unstung hand slipping around her waist at the same time as her arm went around his. Two steps towards no. 42 and Mulder staggered.

“Mulder?”

“Some…something’s wrong…” Suddenly his eyes closed and his arm fell away from her. He sank heavily to his knees and pitched forward towards the floor.

“Mulder!” Scully caught him. Her arms strained, but she managed to lower him more gently to the floorboards. “Mulder! Answer me!” His eyes remained closed. She checked his breathing and pulse. “Squeeze my hand – come on, Mulder!” No response. He wouldn’t wake up.

Scully hovered over her partner’s sprawled form. This wasn’t anaphylactic shock. Ohmigod… The bee… She remembered Mulder telling her about two different incidences of bee attacks – the ones he and Jeremiah Smith found after Bodmill Road, and the ones released at an elementary school when she was in the hospital for cancer treatment. Separate incidents, but in both the bees were carrying a deadly virus.

Her cell phone was in her car – she’d been too distracted to bring it up with her. Mulder doesn’t have his either – he said he gave it to that new informant… She raced through his still-open apartment door to the phone and dialled 911. “This is Agent Scully of the FBI. I have a medical emergency – agent down!”

She quickly informed the dispatcher of the situation and their location, then returned to kneel beside her partner. Doors were opening along the hallway, neighbours sticking their heads out.

Mulder suddenly let out a strained choking noise. It abruptly ceased.

“Mulder?” Scully froze, then checked his vitals. His pulse was beating…

He wasn’t breathing.

“Mulder! Breathe!” She tilted his head back in readiness to give him mouth to mouth, but then he abruptly spasmed and coughed and began taking air in again by himself.

His eyes fluttered.

“Mulder?” Scully supported his head carefully.

He focused on her. “Now that’s…a panic…face…” Her partner’s eyes closed and she couldn’t rouse him.

A fragment of song came to her: Before you slip into unconsciousness, I’d like to have another kiss…

By the time the ambulance personnel arrived, Mulder’s body had spasmed several times, then settled. His breathing was now deep and regular, heartbeat constant, which should be reassuring…

The bee was in my shirt. It should have been me… Why wasn’t it me?

Scully kept giving the EMTs information and instructions as they strapped Mulder to a gurney and took him to the ground floor via the elevator. She kept pace with fierce determination.

“A bee? Carrying a virus?” one EMT asked incredulously as Mulder was loaded into the back of the ambulance.

“Yes -” She tried to step around him to slide in next to Mulder, but the medic deliberately blocked her way. “I’m going with him, let me through!” Scully demanded. “I’m his partner, his Medical Power of Attorney, AND a doctor!”

“Ma’am, you’re going to have to meet us at the hospital.” The EMT was stepping back to the doors, which were ready to close.

“Why?” she demanded, “Why can’t I come along with him? Which hospital?” She stepped up in his face, ready to gain an opening and use her small body to dart past to Mulder’s side.

The blow landed hard across her face. Unprepared, Scully stumbled backwards, nearly falling. She began to raise one arm in defense, the other for her gun – Damn, I handed it in to Skinner with my resignation! – but the ‘EMT’ struck again.

This time Scully was spun to her left and fell. Her head struck the side of the curb. She lay on this stone pillow, moaning softly as blood ran down her brow. One hand reached out towards the lights of the ambulance, unaware that what she wished for was gone, that this was an entirely new vehicle pulling up. The one she had called.

The cryopod was loaded quickly and efficiently into the aircraft. The Cigarette Smoking Man lived up to his name as he watched the cryopod pass him. The viewing panels were beginning to ice up, but Mulder’s motionless form was quite visible.

Motionless – unless you counted the black worms moving under his skin.

The Cigarette Smoking Man observed this thoughtfully. The vaccine Mulder had been given in Russia had not cured him – it had been over a year ago, and obviously was a weaker batch than the one Krycek handed over – only making the worms dormant, sending them into hibernation where no medical tests would pick them up. Now the virus was making Mulder’s body acceptable to their development again. It would be very intriguing to study the effects on Mulder since he had survived the retrovirus as well as this cancer previously. Even the initial infection was different in him than others – he was in a coma, but not as badly affected as if an ordinary person was the one stung.

Well, the Consortium had ordered Mulder killed, or at least for Scully to be taken away from him. The unexpected bee had made the choice for them and done the work. The Elders would adapt to this development; they always did.

Now to rack up more frequent flyer miles.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading her chart.”

“What? How the hell did you get that?”

“Snuck it from the nurses’ station down the front of my pants.”

“Plenty of room down there.”

“Don’t steal jokes. Anyway, I just wanted a look.”

Voices… Familiar… Pain…

“They’ll notice it’s missing! How are you going to put it back? The fact we’re hanging around is worrying her mom enough without her coming back in and realising we’re reading her daughter’s chart!”

“Byers, calm down. In a few minutes we’ll go out, you distract the nurses, and I’ll put it back!”

“I still think we’re making her Mom nervous. Maybe we should -”

“Leave Scully? And what would Mulder do to us when he found out? We have to stay and see if we can help!”

A ceiling… Light fixtures.

“Hey, she’s coming to!”

“She’s coming to!”

Scully turned her head to the side. Three faces loomed over her. One in particular was very close. Frohike.

“Scully?”

“Oh God…” She groaned. This is NOT a good dream. If it HAS to be a Lone Gunman, can’t it at least be Byers? At least he didn’t eye her off all the time. She slammed her eyes shut.

“Scully?”

The pounding in her head eased slightly, and she snuck another look. This time Byers was the closer one, which was at least more appealing to her eyes.

She put a hand up to feel her face. Her fingers hit sore spots that must be bruises and there was a bandage on her forehead. “What am I doing here?” She was drawing a blank. But something very very important had hap-

“Witnesses said you were hit twice in the face. Your forehead struck the curb – concussion; it’ll be sore to talk for a few days at least. Fortunately no fractures.”

“MULDER!?” She sat bolt upright and realised it hurt to yell too. But he was gone, taken…

“We don’t know where he is – his ambulance never arrived at any hospital, local or otherwise. One of Mulder’s neighbours looked for a plate number when the EMTs left you lying there and drove off, but there was none. The witnesses say everything happened so fast – boom, you were down; ambulance doors closed; it disappeared. Anyway, we know you called 911. We found a bug in Mulder’s phone and one in the hall.” Byers gestured to where Frohike was holding up a vial. “An Africanised honeybee.”

“How long?”

“You’ve been here for about ten hours.”

“I have to find him…” Scully threw aside the sheets and swung her legs over the edge. The Lone Gunmen didn’t know which way to look or what to hold onto to help her as the agent unsteadily landed on her feet in the skimpy gown.

Frohike was forced to grab her, and his hand encountered half material, half bare flesh. “Uh, sorry…” He quickly adjusted his hold and kept supporting her.

“Scully, they’ve got someone watch -” Langly began.

“Agent Scully -!”

“Dana!”

Skinner and Maggie Scully came in, looking alarmed. Her boss – ex-boss? – said, “Agent Scully, get back in bed.”

“I have to go to him…” Dana said, dazed. Over his shoulder she saw someone peering through the strip window in the door, then disappear. A guard.

“Tell me where he is and I’ll find him for you,” Skinner said.

“I don’t know!” she said in frustration, fighting tears. Her head ached. It felt like she had a lump the size of a basketball. Then she remembered something. As they’d been wheeling the fireman’s body to the morgue to examine him, Mulder had told her what he was going to do while she performed the autopsy. I’ve found another source. His name is Kurtzweil – Dr Alvin Kurtzweil – he says he knew my father. He approached me at Casey’s. I gave him my cellular so I can contact him for more information and meetings. So don’t try my phone.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know someone who had BETTER know where he is.”

Maggie came forward. “Please, honey, lie back down and tell us how we can help.”

Scully took a deep breath as she peeled at the bandage on her head. “Mom, I need your clothes.” The expression on Maggie’s face was classical as she continued, “Unless you’re brought me some of my own.” Scully turned to the Gunmen. “I doubt we can magically change my hair colour to match Mom’s, so I’m going to need a distraction to get that guard out of the way.” She turned to Skinner as the trio began brewing a plan. “And Sir, can I please have your cellular?”

Kurtzweil had agreed to meet her – he’d suggested Casey’s. Well – the back alley thereof. He sounded even more paranoid than Mulder the time he was on drugged water. But Kurtzweil seemed to know her, or of her – he said he would know her on sight. No time to think on that. She wished he’d been able to tell her over the phone where Mulder was, but the doctor said he was in some sort of situation and couldn’t talk.

The taxi was a few blocks away from Casey’s when the traffic thickened and slowed to a crawl. In desperation Scully paid the driver, got out and ran down the pavement. She took the jacket off and tied it around her waist. She would pay her mother back later on if the sleeves were stretched. But it was too uncomfortable around her shoulder blades to keep on, and she needed to run…

She got quite a few stares when she burst into Casey’s, gasping for breath. Some people were drunk enough or surprised enough to continue gaping openly; others immediately became very self-conscious, hastily dropping their gazes back to the counter or to anything but her face.

One guy was drunk enough to be bold. “Geez, lady, you fall off a barstool?”

“Shut up, Mike – her guy probably beat her up! Are you okay, Miss?” the bartender asked.

She looked around and managed a “No,” as she headed for the back of the bar. She’d only been to this place once before – with Mulder. It hadn’t left much of an impression.

She exited into the night, facing two forking alleys. And in one, a man was opening the front passenger door of an elegant towncar for another man, who was about to get inside. They turned and she immediately focused on the elder.

Him. The man from Bill Mulder’s funeral. And the orchid house. The Englishman. One of Them.

“Hello again, young lady.” He came around towards her, away from the open car door. His eyes studied the injuries on her face. “My, you have had quite a time of it.”

“Where’s Mulder?” she demanded. “And don’t tell me he’s dead. You already tried that one once, and it’s not going to work this time.”

“On the contrary, I have here the means with which to find Agent Mulder and save his life.” He held up a green felt envelope. “Please.” He gestured to the other side of the car, which his unruffled driver had moved to, now opening the back passenger door for her.

Scully hesitated. “Where’s Kurtzweil?”

“He’s come and gone.”

She pulled Skinner’s phone out of the jacket pocket – slowly so the man didn’t think she was going for a gun – and dialled Mulder’s number. A ringing noise came from the depths of the towncar’s trunk. Scully studied the trunk for a second, bile rising in her throat, then glared at the Well Manicured Man as he watched her calmly, unperturbed by her confirmation. She turned off her phone. She weighed her options.

Then she got in the car.

⍬

“Sliding Doors” (2/4) by Ten

They drove through the wet, darkened streets. Scully perched uncomfortably in the opulent interior and turned to look across the back seat at the Well Manicured Man. He handed her the green envelope without any prompting.

She opened it. Inside was a capped syringe, a small vial full of an amber liquid, and a piece of paper bearing written co-ordinates.

She held up the vial, studying it. “What is it?”

“A weak vaccine against the virus Agent Mulder has been infected with. It must be administered within ninety-six hours. Though due to his exposures to the retrovirus and the black cancer in Russia, he might have some immunity or his system might fight it off longer. Or perhaps succumb faster…” At Scully’s angry look, he shrugged. “We cannot be sure. He is a unique case.”

Ninety-six hours…and these co-ordinates – that’s Antarctica! A wild goose chase…? Get me out of the way while they do what they like to him? Dispose of him? Use him for tests? “What do you mean, a ‘weak’ vaccine? Does it work or doesn’t it?”

“Testing has proven reasonably successful.” His tone was slightly uncomfortable. “We are working on improving it.”

“What – the vaccine or the virus itself?” Scully didn’t bother to hide her mistrust.

“This vaccine is Mr Mulder’s best hope,” he replied with a touch of defensiveness. “As is your science. If you walk away now, you condemn him and millions to this fate in coming years.”

“You’re lying.”

“No. Though I have no way to prove otherwise. The virus is extraterrestrial. We know very little about it, except that it is the original inhabitant of this planet.”

“If it is the original inhabitant of this planet, then by definition, it can’t be alien.” She was not going to let him get away with anything, especially in assuming she would swallow this story because of a few hits to the head and a blind desire to find her partner.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “However you wish to define it, the virus originally came from outer space. Do not look so sceptical, Agent Scully. Remember the chimera you found in your own blood?”

“Your people – your tests – put it there!” she spat at him. “You took my ova and gave me a metal chip! Cancer! A hybrid…” She couldn’t go on.

The Englishmen actually looked genuinely sad. “The tests… One of the reasons I remained part of the Consortium was to ensure that none of my relatives were ever taken. But they will still have to face this future if we are unsuccessful. I am sorry for your ordeals, Agent Scully, but the testing is necessary. You will see why. We did give you your life back, just as I am offering the chance to save Mulder. I wonder what it will take to convince you what you and he are up against – that there ARE aliens. But your scientific attitude is as essential as it is annoying.”

“YOU are the ones manufacturing this virus, taking tanker trucks to cornfields – or have the little grey men suddenly become farmers and beekeepers?!”

“We are co-operating in the hope of buying time to save ourselves – humankind. To gain access to the virus – as you yourself know, that is the first step in searching for a cure. We have to study what we are up against. We need humans to test on – hence the abductions and the taking of ova in secret; the rewiring of brains to believe they were taken by aliens so no-one will believe them.”

Dana stared out at the passing landscape, mind spinning, trying to work out whether to be horrified or angry. She noticed the driver watching them alertly in the rear view mirror, then his attention returned smoothly to the road.

The Well Manicured Man continued speaking. “Agent Mulder’s aliens arrived on this planet millions of years ago. Those that didn’t leave have been lying dormant underground since the last Ice Age, in the form of an evolved pathogen, waiting to be reconstituted when the alien race returns to colonise the planet. Using humans as hosts. Against this we have no defense. Nothing but a weak vaccine. This is why it was kept secret – why men like your partner’s father had to lie and conceal. Whether you believe it is aliens or humans or a combined effort, Agent Scully, you must have seen enough evidence to know that a mass viral release and colonisation is planned. An overthrow. If the public knew, there would be mass panic. The aliens would find out and take counter- measures. Our work would be lost. Until Dallas we believed that the virus would simply control us; that mass infection would make us a slave race. Imagine our surprise when they began to gestate.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“For the sake of my children and grandchildren. And your own.”

“What?” she asked sharply. “More hybrids?”

He shook his head. “Your future children. Your ova are still in storage. Perhaps one day…”

She let the pain of her headache channel into her anger. “You’re telling me this to save yourself. You’ve got some agenda.”

His laugh was as harsh as his refute. “My life is over.” He glanced pointedly at the driver. “I am sorry for what you have had to endure, but you were chosen for Agent Mulder for a reason. Your scientific ability and his determination are our best hopes to prevent the future. Your joint strength will see you through. You are both survivors.”

“Where is he?”

“You have the exact co-ordinates.”

“No. I need more information. Where is he being held? A secret military base? Under guard? ‘Base One’ – One of what? Heavily patrolled? How do I get in there?”

“This conversation is over. Driver, stop the car.”

“No!” Scully said angrily, but the driver of course obeyed his boss and rolled the car to a stop in a deserted street. Scully rounded on the Well Manicured Man, only to freeze as she saw the gun now resting in his hand.

He spoke. “The men I work with will stop at nothing to clear the way for what they believe is their stake in the inevitable future.”

Scully went for the door handle, but the lock clicked shut. He was raising the gun.

“I was ordered to kill Kurtzweil, and I was ordered to remove you…”

He fired. The driver jerked and slumped, his blood suddenly covering the upholstery. A red-rimmed bullet hole gaped in the front windscreen.

Dana pressed back against the seat, shaking.

“Trust no one, Miss Scully.” With that, the Well Manicured Man merely lowered his gun and opened his door, getting out. “Come.”

Somehow she willed her body to follow. They stood facing each other in the empty street.

“I was ordered to take away what Mulder cannot live without – but fate intervened.” The Well Manicured Man watched her absorb this. “My group recognises that he cannot live without you. I know the reverse is as true. Go find him, Agent Scully. Then you will have your proof that aliens are real – and know the immensity of the Project. The alien colonists don’t know this vaccine exists. Its introduction into the alien environment may have the power to destroy the delicate plans we’ve so assiduously protected for the last fifty years.”

“You have to tell me -”

“Go!” The Well Manicured Man lost patience with her, cocking the handgun in her face. “Go NOW!”

She turned and ran, not bothering to get her bearings. She heard the slam of a car door. Then she heard the explosion the very second the shock wave reached her, propelling her forward and towards the ground.

The vaccine!!! She twisted in mid air so her other arm would brace her fall instead of the hand holding the envelope. The impact jarred her arm, drawing a cry from her lips. She turned as she lay there to find the towncar ablaze.

Were there explosives in the car so that Kurtzweil’s body could be burnt beyond recognition when disposed of? Did the Well Manicured Man trigger them off as suicide rather than be hunted down…?

But as he had said, the Conspiracy wasn’t the issue at the moment. Finding Mulder was.

With a quick check of the contents of the envelope, which were fortunately undamaged, Scully painfully pulled herself to her feet. Her head was protesting violently. Have to get out of here before people come… She stared down at her clothes – her mother’s clothes. The stylish blouse Maggie loved was covered with muck. Mom, I owe you a shopping spree… Big time.

Then she ran. A rat kept pace with her all the way to the corner.

WILKES LAND ANTARCTICA 47 HOURS LATER

Dana Scully drove the snowcat with fierce determination. She didn’t have the heater on very high – she was bundled up royally in clothing. On such short notice the only spare protective clothing the base could provide her with was for a medium-sized man. So to keep the coat from flopping around her or swallowing her whole, she’d had to put on extra layers underneath. All her sleeves were rolled up, the same with the legs of the thermal body suit, jeans and waterproof overpants that she wore, and so on. The boots were padded.

Ice and snow. Nothing else in the world but her and the snowcat. Just the tracks behind them. Getting out and walking would be a quicker option. This cat laboriously paddled through the snow like an old-fashioned river steamer.

The song from the hallway was still going round in her head. The days are bright and filled with pain; enclose me in your gentle rain. She thought of the hug in the hallway. She thought of the near kiss. She looked at the empty seat beside her. We’ll meet again…we’ll meet again…

Her face was still hurt and swollen. The bruises on her face had gone through more colour changes than the lights of an aurora borealis, though since she was now in the southern hemisphere, the version ‘aurora australis’ was more accurate.

Every so often, she paused to check her progress.

BASE 1 SOUTH 83 DEGREES LAT. EAST 63 DEGREES LONG. 326 FEET

This time when she consulted the handheld Global Positioning System Receiver she found she was bang on top of her goal. She was relieved, because the hours had raced even as they crawled, but she was also worried because a look out the windows showed her quite plainly that there was NOTHING to be seen. Even an underground ice base would have something noticeable on the surface so it wasn’t missed by its minions, surely?

There WAS a ridge of rock up ahead, blocking the horizon. She would trudge to the top of that and look around.

As the top juts of rock came within reach, she crouched down low and inched her way forward. Scully peered over the top…and saw a base, sitting in the middle of a snow plain. Five white little domes, a semi-circle of snowcats and tractors flanking them.

I think we’re on top of a larger structure…

She retrieved a pair of binoculars from her fur-lined parka and scanned the base and surrounding terrain. No signs of life.

Problem. The base was right out in the open. Exposed. There was no way to sneak up on it. She wasn’t in camouflage clothing… Well, nothing for it but to get down there. No time to waste studying the place from all angles to pick a line of least defence or the timetable of movement of personnel. With any luck, they think the isolation of the base is enough security…

She came down the other side of the ridge carefully and began taking on the plain in a ground-eating trot to conserve her resources. A straight line as she tried to pick which dome to enter. Just go up and try a door? This is crazy… But Mulder’s in there somewhere. And his time is running out. It may have already run out – the Well Manicured Man said the virus may affect him more adversely… Don’t think. Just find him. Save him.

A sob caught in her throat. Don’t let him die believing that you were going to quit and walk out on him. Not after what he told you. As difficult and as frustrating as its been for me too at times, I feel what he feels – we make each other whole people… They’re NOT going to divide us. She kept moving in a straight line, the base getting closer and closer.

There was still about 500 yards to go when a figure suddenly appeared from behind one of the domes. Scully gasped and skittered sideways and down, flattening herself behind a slight rise in the snow that was no cover at all, but all there was. Fortunately the person was not facing her, and went straight through the door of another dome, closing it behind him or her. No one else followed.

Breathe. Dana picked herself up and kept going.

Suddenly there was a crack beneath her feet. Then there was NOTHING beneath her feet.

She fell, hit ice and broke through, fell some more, hit ice, fell again, hit ice, fell and was just getting into the monotonous rhythm of it when she hit ice that did NOT give, and got the remaining wind thoroughly knocked out of her.

Scully lay on her side, clutching her ribs. The fur hood had fallen over her face and threatened to smother her as she fought for breath. She knocked it away and gulped in air. The injuries on her face let her know of their displeasure, but the pain was banished from her thoughts in a second when she thought of: The vial – oh God, please don’t let it be broken! She had wrapped it up in insulation for protection before setting off, but that may not have been enough… She scrambled to a sitting position and pulled her gloves off, then unzipped her coat enough to reach inside.

A few seconds later she was able to see that the vial was intact.

Carefully she rewrapped it, put it back in her coat and zipped up again. Scully remained sitting to catch her breath and pat at her torso to reassure herself that she was still in one piece. All these layers of clothes. Better protection than a flak jacket… But I bet I get plenty of bruises to coordinate the rest of my body with my face. Back on with the gloves. She stood slowly and took in another breath as she finally looked around.

Ice everywhere. A hole up above, framing the sky. She was in some sort of air pocket. In the second it took to realise that the air here was actually slightly warm, her eyes landed on a circular vent – the source. Vapour swirled there. The air had formed this space, melted the ice just enough. The vent was open. It was big enough for her to fit into. She couldn’t see where it went – but she could see that it was her only option.

And hopefully it would be better than going up to a dome door and letting herself in.

Within a minute she was crawling along a pipeline. Some sort of ventilation shaft. For what? What does this underground base do?

The pipe went on forever…then suddenly there was light. Scully approached it and peered out cautiously. Dimness. She was up high. Surrounded by indistinct, motionless slabs. She managed to manoeuvre herself around so that she could lower herself from the vent. Her feet found some footholds, then she lightly jumped the rest of the way to the floor.

The echo of her booted feet landing made her wince and tense. She squatted down and waited, but nothing stirred. She pulled a flashlight out of a pocket and turned it on. The surroundings defined themselves in the light. It was a corridor full of upright slabs – green slabs coated in ice and frost. She turned a slow 360 degrees to be met by the same sight.

She went up to the closest slab and rubbed at the surface. Soon a face stared back at her. Human. Translucent. Even more so than the fireman she had started to autopsy. There was some sort of tube – a respirator tube? – coming out of the man’s throat.

He can’t be alive… But why keep a body in this state? Then she remembered what the Well Manicured Man had told her, and frantically scraped at the concealing ice down lower.

She found herself staring directly into the blank face of a classic ‘grey’. It was cocooned, frozen, in the man’s torso. She turned and looked at the dozens of other coffin slabs within view.

Here be aliens.

Aliens. Colonisation. This is what the Consortium is working with… Fighting… The realisations, the proof, had come too fast and she fought to handle it, to shrink it down to a manageable size. Mulder. They have Mulder. Find him before he’s reduced to this.

Gathering on the shared resource of strength that had carried them through five years, Scully held the flashlight out and went to see what was at the end of the corridor.

She found a junction that branched into more corridors bearing slabs, and a low opening in the wall. Light was coming through it, and a sound so faint that Dana wasn’t sure if she was imagining it or not. But she bent down and went through the archway towards it. She had to squat- crawl for a minute, then the passageway ended and she could stand up and move out onto…a balcony…

She gazed around, gaping. “Lots and lots of balconies…”

The roof was so far above her it might as well have been the night sky. It umbrellaed down in a dome. It and the walls were dotted with these balconies. Scully moved further out on hers, feeling air move past. These were vents, just on a grander scale. To ventilate…what?

She looked down. And down.

It was like an ampitheatre lair of a Kraken. Dana’s naval father would have appreciated the imagery. Scully could almost picture the giant squid spread out below in the structure. Right in the middle of the floor below was the centre – the head – and spoked tracks like giant tentacles stretched up from the centrepiece, up onto the walls. Some carried ice coffins on runners, hanging motionless, empty. Other spokes, like the one that ran past Scully’s balcony, were completely empty, disused. Still others – down below, only in a certain section – were moving the coffins along. These coffins were a more bright green, newer, ice not having a chance to establish so much of a grip. Being clanked along to their final terminus.

The other sections must be full… Before she could stop it, her analytical mind calculated an estimate of how many bodies that could mean.

The crystal ship is being filled, a thousand girls, a thousand thrills…

No human could have built something on this vast a scale. She swallowed.

How to find Mulder? Literally my one in five billion. She pulled out the binoculars and trained them on the ‘new’ section. There were tanks, rows of slabs progressing like puppets on strings…

Hang on. Something down there seemed out of place. A nagging flaw in the symmetry. And that was a phrase that definitely summed up Mulder… She trained the binoculars on it. Way down below, some sort of plastic slab lay at an awkward angle to the rest of the layout. Some sort of stretcher, with a plastic bubble over the top. Oxygen tanks on the side.

Some sort of…cryogenic pod? Like the boys in Blackwood Texas had said their friend was taken away in? To keep a recent victim alive? Mulder. He had to be in one of the upright containers near it.

At least, she hoped he was. This was too much conjecture for her liking. But there was no time to search this whole place. She had to narrow her search.

Now, how to get down? Surely there was a lift…

But she couldn’t find it and Mulder’s time was ticking away.

She stared at the ‘tentacle’ on the wall beside her. It had parts jutting out that she could use as foot and handholds to climb down. They were the Kraken’s ‘suckers’.

Scully edged out onto it, hands and boots gripping. She took a deep breath, and began lowering herself down, carefully feeling with her boots for holds.

She didn’t look down. It was taking forever. On and on and on.

Her foot slipped. Suddenly she was dangling by her fingers… “God…” she gasped. Her arms burned and screamed at her. She tried not to kick out with her legs, instead scrambling with the tips to find purchase, a crevice. She couldn’t hang on much longer… Her fingers were slowly slipping…

Her left foot settled into a gap and held there. She was able to re-establish her grips, and clung for a minute, panting.

Mulder. Scully straightened her aching shoulders and resumed her slow descent.

She knew she was getting there when the tentacle began to curve more, until she was nearly crawling down it on her knees. She risked looking below to ensure she wasn’t heading right for an abyss. She wasn’t. The abyss was on her left… Soon she was able to turn over and stand up to walk down the slope.

To reach the floor she had to step atop a huge tank. There were a few stains on it. Black. Like oil. She avoided those patches.

Scully slid down the side of the storage tank, staggering as she landed, forcing herself to ignore the jarring pain. I need sleep… She pushed that thought aside and headed in the direction of the cryolitter, using the sounds of the conveyor belt of bodies to guide her, turning on her flashlight. There were no signs of life – just motionless bodies in their frozen tombs and banks of equipment.

She quickly found the cryolitter. Habit and training forced her to check the vicinity first, even though she wanted to rush forward. Finally she crossed over to the open litter and looked in.

Devoid of her partner, but not empty. His clothes were there. Even his watch. She knelt down and picked up his dark green t-shirt, watching the material flop limply over her hand, as if the act could make Mulder materialise back in it, or that he was hiding below it. Tell me where your freedom lies; the streets and fields that never die. She touched the t-shirt to her cheek for a second, then decisively dropped the clothing back down and headed for the nearest row of ice coffins.

Suspended from the ceiling were dozens and dozens of these coffins. This was her first up-close look at newer, less iced containers; at people who weren’t affected enough yet to be turning translucent; to see the hideous thick tubes sticking out of their mouths…; the green gunk they were floating in – Please tell me that it’s soda pop in those canisters… – hair haloing in a deceptively peaceful way.

Colonisation. They’ll use our bodies and our minds. Slave or incubator… All these people… Panic threatened to overcome her.

Stop. Save Mulder. Then save the world.

Are the two mutually exclusive?

The first man she saw was staring wide-eyed, unblinking, into the future. No translucence to mute the horror of his expression.

Not Mulder. Not Mulder. Not Mulder. She kept progressing down the double line of pods, shining her flashlight into every face.

And then she found the panic face.

⍬

“Sliding Doors” (3/4) By Ten

“Mulder!” She pressed her free hand to the surface of the coffin. “Mulder!” She banged at the pod with her fist and her flashlight, horrified to see him trapped like the others, but overwhelmed with relief that she had found him at last.

The flashlight left no impression. She calmed down enough to search the sides of his hanging tomb for a handle or some sort of opening mechanism.

How am I going to get him out of there? It was like being on the other side of the vending machine door all over again, lacking the power to smash the door in. Terrified that his time was up. Though if the bomb countdown had gotten down any further, she would have done a Xena and turned the barrier into splinters, baby.

Scully rubbed away a thin layer of ice on the left side and looked carefully. There…three raised bumps. It was hard to see, but if she was right… She pressed all down at once.

Nothing. She pressed again. Then tried one after the other in different sequences.

She was just about to run back to the cryolitter for one of the oxygen canisters to implement a less gentle approach when a hum sounded right in her ear. She jumped as Mulder’s form swayed slightly – the whole pod did.

Oh God, what have I done…?

But with a few clicks, small panels slid back in the base stand of the pod, and the green semi-liquid goo began draining out into the channel it hung over. The level of the goo receded with relative quickness down past Mulder’s head, torso, ankles…

Then with a series of creaks and a sharp crack, the front of the pod swung open a few inches, like a hinged door. A coffin lid. She pulled it completely open.

“Mulder?”

He stood in place, eyes elsewhere, tube still firmly in his throat.

That thing is so big and thick… He’s had plenty of respirator tubes and feeding tubes taken out, but I don’t want to mess with this one… But I’ll have to! I don’t dare press any more buttons… She thought this while digging out the enshrouded green envelope for its final and most important task.

She primed the injection and jabbed the needle into the flesh of his shoulder. She pushed the plunger of the syringe, delivering the vaccine into his body. Giving it via IV would have been faster, but also possibly deadly – vaccines were not given that way, so she didn’t want to risk it.

Then she stepped back a few millimetres, eyes never leaving his face. “Mulder?” It was question and prayer.

Dana, IM shots take at least twenty minutes to work, remember… Just be –

Mulder blinked and suddenly gagged without sound. Amber liquid appeared in the tube, spreading from his throat.

Scully gaped at how quickly it was working. Her wish granted; but was this speed a good thing or a bad thing? And as the amber liquid progressed, the…organic feeding/breathing/whatever tube…shrivelled up. It grew desiccated, becoming much smaller.

Scully took a deep breath and reached for the tube.

The floor rocked. She was thrown across the corridor, bumping into the pod of a blonde-haired woman. Dana shuddered and stared around wildly. Small jets of steam were suddenly erupting in the walls and floor. The lights flickered and pulsed. A metallic groaning filled the air, like a robot giving birth. Mulder’s pod, along with all the others, was rocking on its tethers.

The Well Manicured Man’s voice sounded in her head. You will have your proof that aliens are real – and the immensity of the Project. The alien colonists don’t know this vaccine exists. Its introduction into the alien environment may have the power to destroy the delicate plans we’ve so assiduously protected for the last fifty years.

A few cc’s of vaccine…and it’s going right through the place?

In the ice base, Cancerman stared at the computer screen, at the readings spiralling out of control. He’d once said that he had never underestimated Mulder… He knew how to play the agent. Just like when he returned the comatose Scully at a carefully calculated time, knowing the effects this would have on the young man. To distract him from the launch of vital Consortium plans.

But what of underestimating Scully herself?

Scully reached into Mulder’s pod and seized the tube. It felt like a shrivelled garden hose. She pulled as gently but firmly as she could manage. Mulder made noises in his throat and blinked for a few uncomfortable seconds as the long length was removed. Finally it was out and Scully dropped it.

“Mulder?” She reached in and up to cup his cheek, stroke it. “Can you breathe?”

His mouth opened and closed several times. He made gasping noises, eyes straining, then he coughed up several mouthfuls of goo and was able to suck in breath. His breathing was harsh and desperate, but he was doing it. That was the main thing.

He stared at her in recognition. She nearly laughed at the comical expression on his face. His hair was plastered flat from the goo – not his best look. She kept stroking his cheek. She could hear more worrying noises coming from the bowels of this place – something was waking up. More steam was filling the air. They had to get out of here while she could still find the way.

“Mulder, can you move? We have to get you out of here.”

She put her hands on his arms and gave a gentle pull of encouragement. A second later she was lying on the floor with a goo-coated Mulder splayed on top of her. He made alarmed noises, struggling weakly. Dana tried to get a grip on her partner – in some safe location… It was like mud wrestling. She was able to finally wriggle out from under him enough to scramble up and gather him into her arms.

“You’re alive, you’re alive,” she whispered into his ear, just glad to hold him.

“I’m naked…” he murmur-croaked. He sounded curious in a detached way.

That was a point. Up until now, her every thought had been focused on finding Mulder and injecting him with the vaccine. Then getting him out of the coffin. Now there was this problem.

He’s naked. We have to go out into freezing conditions and he’s naked apart from a layer of goo… If there was a guard, I could steal some… There are humans somewhere above us. They may even be coming down to investigate – wait!

She smoothed the slicked hair off his forehead. “Mulder, just sit here for a minute. Don’t move – I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded.

Scully hesitated. He seemed okay… She hurried down the short passage, back out to the cryolitter. Even on that short trek, she could see the affect of the vaccine throughout the system. Ice was melting off into the drainage ditches, wet steam floated, things were getting much warmer. It was hard to believe there was desolate icescape above. Hard to imagine there was a world out there at all. Scully gathered up every scrap of clothing in the litter, including his shoes, and went back down the passage.

No Mulder.

Panic gripped her. She dumped the clothes and yelled for him, racing forwards. At the end of the passage she ran smack into something soft and wet.

Scully’s heart nearly stopped. “Mulder! What the hell were you doing?”

He stared at her, dazed, propping himself against the wall with his hand. “Where’d you go? You weren’t there…”

She took his arm and led him back to the dropped bundle. He let her dress him like he was a little child. Boxers, socks, t-shirt, pants, shoes. Then she unzipped her coat and took it off. “Here.”

A flare of the old Mulder. “No.”

“I’ve got heaps more layers on than you.”

She threaded his arms through the sleeves, then took off her waterproof outer pants as well. Thank God for the bagginess – she got them on him. She zipped up the coat.

“Okay, c’mon, partner. We’re getting out of here.” Please let him have enough strength to make it out of here… I can’t carry him… Well, if I had to, I could rig one of these cryolitters and push it along the track… She remembered racing out of the Federal Building, the bomb due to detonate in under a minute, only to realise that Mulder’s feet had stopped pounding behind her. He wanted to go BACK INTO the building, and Scully had felt an adrenalin surge so strong that if Mulder hadn’t come then, she could have hauled him over her shoulder and thrown him in the car.

To her relief, as she guided Mulder along, arm around his waist, he managed to keep pace with her very well. He was looking around in a puzzled daze, but obeyed her directions and answered lucidly enough when asked questions.

Then he started asking his own. “Where are we?”

She couldn’t believe she was about to say it, but what she’d seen was pretty conclusive proof. “Inside a grounded UFO – I think. Or at the least a Consortium base in Antarctica storing people…and aliens.”

“Ah.” He accepted this matter-of-factly. She was sure that would change as soon as he was alert enough to fully comprehend what she had said. “How’d we get here?”

“You took the express – what’s the last thing you remember?”

“We were about to -”

“We were about to what?”

“No, that must have been a dream… You were going to leave…you said I didn’t need you.” His voice was faintly accusing.

“We almost kissed,” she admitted. “And I was only leaving because they were splitting us up.” He just looked at her, but the accusation had left his face.

He started to ask something about the state of her own face, but it was time to climb. She was glad Mulder was wearing running shoes that had good grip. And that he was alert enough that she didn’t have to drag him up each ‘rung’. It was still dangerous though, with the melting ice and condensation. Somehow they made it to the top. Mulder was breathing heavily and sat down.

“We have to keep moving…”

“Can’t…”

“Can.” She pulled him up and pushed him on ahead, towards the little arch.

By the time they got back into the corridor with the vent in it, Mulder was still on his feet, but coughing. Scully patted his back gently as she carefully navigated them through the mist and water that overflowed the ditches running along the flooring.

Then she was distracted from Mulder when her eye caught on one of the ice coffins. Ice no longer, she could see it clearly, despite a bit of fog. She could see one trapped human clearly. His face looked like that of a…Neanderthal! Unless it was the distortion and disfigurement of being in the goo and being inhabited. The aliens in their bodies were terrifyingly visible.

And in motion.

Oh God… She could see three fingered – no, clawed – hands moving, flexing. Eyes blinking. Watching her and Mulder as they passed. Grey limbs were stretching, straining the remains of the frail hosts. Making the bodies move in the pods like zombies.

Move, move! Scully hustled Mulder along until they were under the opening. “Mulder, can you reach up? If you put your foot in my hands and I push, can you get up and grab that vent?”

He coughed and stared at it. She tugged at his coat. “Mulder! This is important! We have to get out of here – that’s the only way I know for sure. You have to get up there!” Her blood chilled again as she saw the way the alien in the pod below the vent was eyeing them. She’d seen that look on enough mutants in her time: it was eyeing its prey.

Something bumped her. Scully turned to see Mulder collapse to the floor. He was gasping for breath.

Then he stopped breathing.

⍬

“Sliding Doors” (4/4) by Ten

“Mulder, breathe! Dammit! You’re not getting out of this with just one near-kiss, you bastard!”

She positioned him and forced the air into his lungs, cursing her small stature because it gave her lower lung capacity just when she needed…

The aliens were stirring more vigorously inside their hosts. Dispensing with the human bodies like dead outer skins…

Mulder. Focus on Mulder or he’s dead.

“Mulder!” Again the mouth-to-mouth. A kiss of life. His heart was beating, but he just couldn’t get air…

Oh God, if his heart stops now… She stared down at her small hands. Yes, she’d restarted his heart once before, in Alaska, but back then she’d been in an equipped ER, using a defibrillator. To actually manually do the compressions – would it be enough? How long could she keep doing it for? She breathed for him again.

Alien hisses and hunting cries resounded as the creatures beat against the pod doors. Again and again. The surfaces cracking…

“Mulder, breathe!”

He wasn’t obeying.

Scully pulled back with a gasp. Things were coming out of his nose and eyes. Black things. Cancer worms – like they’d seen in the nursing home after Mulder came back from Russia. He had reluctantly admitted his own infection and when nothing came up in his subsequent tests they were both relieved. The gulag vaccine must have worked…they assumed… Or this might be a new batch given to him when he was placed in the coffin. She had no way of knowing.

Now the things weakly twitched, then lay still on his face. Hand shaking, Scully used the tip of the flashlight to flick them off him. There seemed to be no more. There was no time to wait for any more. She put her mouth back to his and breathed. Once, twice.

Again. “Mulder…” she whispered, tears forming.

Again.

And his breath mingled with hers.

He moved, gasped, coughed. His eyes blinked instead of bulging desperately. He stared up at her. She kept a hand reassuringly on the side of his face.

His lips moved. She leaned right down and could finally make out a weakly smug: “Had you big time…”

They both grinned. “Okay, okay. I’m buying!” she said.

Then she realised the pounding she could hear wasn’t the blood rushing through her ears, or her heartbeat. It was the creatures. The pods began to shatter, and unhuman arms and feet were emerging through the gaps, creating bigger holes as slush poured through. Creating a way out.

Scully leapt up, grabbing Mulder by the arm and hauling him up too. He started to slump, then steadied against her. She made a cradle out of her linked hands. “Mulder, I’ll push you up. You have to grab that vent, NOW!”

Somehow he put his large foot in her hands. Calling on their special strength, Scully heaved, and Mulder was lifted enough to snag the vent, scrambling for hand and footholds as Scully kept pushing at his legs. Her gaze was nailed by that of the still unhatched alien in the pod below the vent. It was beating the cracked facade of its pod, in a frenzy to reach them.

Its fist suddenly broke through. Scully clubbed it with the flashlight. Both the impact and the beam of light full in its face caused the alien to scream and pull its arm back inside.

Creatures were stumbling out of the pods into the corridor now. Newborn, glistening, dripping. But deadly. Mulder’s legs disappeared through the vent hole and Scully, her way clear, wasted no time jumping upwards from a standing start. Just pretend you’re scaling something in the Quantico training course… She grabbed hold of a protuberance and scrambled up, arms begging for retirement. She lifted herself up, legs pushing off the pod. Mulder’s hand appeared to help, and then they were both in the shaft tunnel.

“Keep going, Mulder!” She shoved him forwards.

He muttered something in reply – she could have sworn it was “You just want…a good view of my…ass…” – and began crawling. His brush with death below the vent had made him slower and weaker.

Scully was about to move off when a noise from behind whipped her head around. Oily three-fingered hands were grasping the rim of the vent. A head started to appear over the lip.

Scully drew both legs up together, then sent a double kick into the alien’s head with all her might. She heard an inhuman shriek and a thud as it hit the corridor floor. Then she rolled over and crawled madly in the opposite direction, yelling at Mulder to keep going, and to do so quickly.

Along the shaft they went. As they were getting closer to the light at the end, Scully could hear noises of pursuit behind her. “Hurry, Mulder – we’re almost there!” And what the hell do we do when we get there with that thing following us? We’ll be stuck in that snow cave… She mentally went through her pockets, trying to come up with something to use.

She had to help Mulder through the air pocket’s vent opening with a few pushes, then scrambled up herself. She pushed him forwards, looking around frantically. The area had gone from having a hole in the roof to being an open ampitheatre from all the heat and steam jets. The ice was melting everywhere. The walls were still high, but not as impossible to try tackling.

Scully looked behind her as she steered Mulder through the slush and broken pieces to the most promising looking wall. He let out a few choice words as he gazed at it.

Then the creature sprang out of the vent opening. It landed on its haunches a few metres from the vent. It grimaced in the bright sunlight, blinded.

It was a ‘grey’, but not the small, benevolent stereotype. This one was a sinewy killing machine. All coiled potential.

Mulder gasped at the sight. It heard and instantly went to leap towards the sound, but Scully had been moving as soon as it appeared, grabbing up a piece of ice big enough to be a computer printer, and hurling it. The block caught the alien square in the chest, knocking it backwards.

“Mulder, climb!” Scully snatched up a piece the size of two bricks and flung it.

The creature snarled as it sprawled over the vent, nearly falling back in.

“But -” Mulder began.

“GET OUT OF HERE!!!!” Scully bent her knees and heaved at a slab that wouldn’t be out of place as the top of her coffee table.

Suddenly a rumbling noise issued from the shaft, getting louder and louder. Steam appeared. The ground shook. The alien froze in place, staring down, head tilting in puzzlement.

“Mulder, duck!” Scully threw herself at him, knocking him down. She looked back in time to see the alien swallowed up by an explosion of steam rupturing out of the vent. The mass of steam fortunately missed Dana and her partner. It did strike one of the remaining ice walls though, and when Scully was able to see its handiwork, she found it had carved a slope for them to use.

They stumbled up onto the ice plain. Mulder groaned at the even-worse glare and fell to his hands and knees in exhaustion. She knelt down beside him, hand gentle on the back of his neck, trying to catch enough breath to get them both across the plain to the snowcat. She glanced back at the base. All the snow vehicles were gone. Dome doors were flapping open. They’d abandoned ship. Steam jets were everywhere, even more appearing as Scully looked.

There was something very…precise…about the jets.

She realised – they were at regular intervals, not haphazard. They were in, as far as she could tell, a circle. A very very big circle.

Her earlier suspicion was correct. The Consortium had literally abandoned ship. A ship. A UFO that was now firing its engines… Scully looked around and down…

The ice was beginning to crack up under their feet.

“Mulder, Mulder, we have to run! Get up!” She hauled him up, put an arm of iron around his waist, and began sprinting. If he didn’t keep up, she’d drag him.

They ran. Behind them the five station domes sank and disappeared. Bursts of noise raced past them, and ice was gobbled up behind them, the hole radiating out, bigger and bigger as it pursued them.

They fell. They got up. They kept running.

The cracks outran them. The ice dropped away. So did they.

The partners landed on the surface of the spaceship. Scully had barely felt the impact, the realisation, before there was the sensation of the ship rising, of them sliding down the slope… She grabbed for Mulder’s arm as he tumbled limply just before her.

They fell down to the edge of the ice sheet with a shower of broken ice. Scully threw herself over Mulder’s head and shoulders. A piece of ice glanced off her head. It felt the size of a small nation. She collapsed forward over Mulder.

Scraping noises. Deafening. An unearthly humming. Darkness. Pain and dizziness. Mulder moving under her. Moving out from under her, shaking her. She groaned in response.

“Scully, Scully, you gotta see this!”

Because it was Mulder asking, she tried. The emerging ship was so immense that she couldn’t get her injured head around the concept. Our crystal ship… Mulder was holding her in his arms, and they watched as the spaceship rose enough to let them have the sun back, then it gracefully disappeared into the clouds.

She and Mulder looked at each other. The wind whipped around them. His gaze was full of exhaustion, amazement and concern. She wanted to tell him where the snowcat was, about the radio, that she’d let the base know where she was going, that rescue should come – especially with the UFO being one hell of a signal flare – but she couldn’t stay conscious.

He cradled her. She felt him wrap his arms tightly around her drenched body, pulling her knees in against her chest. She fit so well. His face was in her hair. He could carry her to the cat. Her strength would carry him. Scully passed out.

FBI OFFICE OF PROFESSIONAL REVIEW
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING WASHINGTON, D.C.

A.D. Jana Cassidy was in full flight, “- in light of the report I’ve got here in front of me – in light of the narrative I’m now hearing, my official report is incomplete, pending these new facts that I’m being asked to reconcile.”

Agent Scully sat in front of her, the bruises on her face still visible. There was not enough makeup in the world to conceal it all – the marks from the EMT’s attack were faded from what they had been previously, but the ones from the ice rain were still vivid. And she could not just brush her hair to cover it. She was making no effort to mask her determination though.

“While there is direct evidence now that a federal agent may have been involved in the bombing -”

Scully nearly laughed. After the hearing where she’d presented the bone fragments and her suspicions, Cassidy had sent agents to SAC Michaud’s house. They found PETN residues on his personal effects which matched the vending machine bomb.

“- the other events you’ve laid down here seem too incredible on their own, and quite frankly, implausible in their connection.”

“What is it you find incredible?” Scully asked without a trace of uncertainty or embarrassment.

“Well, where would you like me to start?” Cassidy was exasperated. “This is the sort of thing we expect from your partner.”

“I wrote down exactly what I saw. What we saw, and the purposes for which they are being used.”

“May I mention something called concussion, Agent Scully? Something you are familiar with as a doctor and as a victim. I have several medical reports here, from Georgetown and Antarctica – the latter facility of which may be a little behind us, but can presumably still make a qualified diagnosis of such an affliction – which state that you not only had concussion from a slab of ice to the head, you also had an existing concussion from greeting a city curb a few days previous. How can we, in light of your condition, be expected to believe your account? Agent Mulder’s recollection is even worse. I appreciate that you both endured a horrible ordeal, and it has clearly affected you, but we cannot accept this.”

Scully tried not to let her frustration show. When she’d woken up in the base hospital, her memories of the alien ship – both the interior and exterior – were still there, but not quite as clear. It was if they were distanced from her slightly, detached. Opaque. If she was so inclined, she could quite easily talk herself into believing that it was all a hallucination… Or that it was all a base built by humans and the creatures were genetic experiments, mutants…

But it wasn’t. She knew. She couldn’t afford to dismiss those visions.

“Antarctica is a long way from Dallas, Agent Scully. I can’t very well submit a report to the Attorney General that alleges the links you’ve made here. Bees and corn crops do not quite fall under the rubric of domestic terrorism.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Most of what I find in here is lacking a coherent picture of any organisation with an attributable motive. To go accusing FEMA…” Cassidy had a look of distaste. “An organisation set up to help disaster victims…”

Oh yes, the corrupt businessman donates to charity, so he MUST be a good man… Spare me…

“The holes in your account leave this panel with little choice but to delete these references from our final report to the Justice Department, and until a time when hard evidence becomes available that would give us cause to pursue such an investigation.”

Scully stood up and walked forward to stand before Cassidy. She placed three vials, one after the other, down on the conference desk with precision.

The first vial held a dead bee. The second contained a few millimetres of a gooey substance. The third held bone fragments.

Scully glanced at Skinner and the board, then back to Cassidy.

“We couldn’t fit the crater into an evidence bag for you. But I think the aerial photos will bring it up nicely.” They’ll just say it was a sinkhole caused by the ‘earthquake’. “We’ve had some samples of what you see here already run. Some interesting results came to light.” Copies of the tests and samples were safe with the Gunmen. Unfortunately the vial and the needle were lost on the ship when Mulder keeled out of the coffin onto her. “But I don’t believe that the FBI currently has an investigative unit qualified to pursue the evidence at hand.”

Without waiting to be dismissed, Scully dismissed them as she turned and walked out the door.

CONSTITUTION AVENUE WASHINGTON D.C.
NEAR FBI HEADQUARTERS

Scully approached the park bench. Mulder sat there, holding a newspaper. As she got closer, she could see the fading marks of the mild frostbite on his face. He looked up at her.

“There’s a nice story on page twenty-seven. Somehow our names were left out.” He folded the paper in angry, precise movements, then handed it to her.

She was not surprised to see: FATAL HANTA VIRUS OUTBREAK IN NORTHERN TEXAS REPORTED CONTAINED

“They’re burying it, Scully. They’re going to dig a new hole and cover it up.”

“I just gave OPR the evidence, told them everything I know. What I experienced. What you experienced. The virus. How it’s being spread by bees from pollen in transgenic crops. The ice base with the aliens and all the collected humans. How they’re going to colonize. There should be enough there for the panel to accept my report or at least look into it without dismissing it offhand.”

“You’re wasting your time, Scully. They won’t believe you. It can’t be programmed, catalogued or easily referenced.”

“I’ve come to believe, Mulder. That’s something in itself. That means there’s hope for the others. We’ll go over their heads -”

“No. How many times have we been here? Right here. And now to be right back at the beginning with nothing…after all that we’ve seen! You’re right to want to quit. You should get as far away from me as you can. That could have been you stung. You could have died in Antarctica. I’m not going to watch you die trying to save me or follow me because of some hollow personal cause of mine. Go be a doctor, Scully. Go be a doctor while you still can.”

“I can’t. I won’t. Mulder, I’ll be a doctor, but my work is here with you now. It always has been. This virus has a cure. I held it in my hand.” She wondered if the vaccine through the ship’s system had defeated the aliens…how badly it hurt their agenda. There was so much to do. And one person to do it with.

She took his hand, the one that had been stung and held it in both of her own. “If I quit now, they win.”

They stood for a long moment, hands clasped, saying so much just with their expressions. A small smile played on Mulder’s lips, and he nodded slightly. One day they would finish that kiss. For now it hung there as a promise. The emotions behind it bound them, unstated but acknowledged at last.

Then, together, reavowed, they turned and walked back towards the Hoover Building.

In Foum Tataouine, Tunisia, a conversation was being held in the haze of heat and cigarette smoke:

“He’s determined now. Reinvested.”

“He is but one man. One man alone cannot fight the future.”

“He’s not alone.”

In a number of locations, gleaming tankers bore the declaration “NATURE’S BEST CORN OIL” as they bore something else entirely.

In Texas, a tray of fossil fragments went missing, and a cornfield burned.

In Tunisia, a cornfield flourished as a discarded telegram flapped in the wind.

THE END.

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