December 12th 2011
Richmond, Virginia.
9:36 p.m.
Kyle Barrett cracked open another beer,
tossing the bottle cap onto the littered coffee table. He was already
wasted but he figured he deserved a little treat. After all, he’d put in
nearly three hours at the gym today. Working in an office didn’t mean he
had to let himself go. He hauled himself off the couch and went to the
mirror above the mantle. He took another swig of beer and appraised his
reflection. He smiled, satisfied. Getting pretty buff for a guy who
worked in Accounts. Not that Amy seemed to notice. The hot little
secretary had a great rack and an ass that wouldn’t quit, but apparently Kyle
was invisible to her.
Whatever. Word around the office was she always hooked up with a
co-worker at the Christmas parties. Maybe he was in with a shot this
year. Amy would get it. She would get it hard. He sighed with frustration and glanced at the
two bags of trash sitting by his front door. Yesterday he’d cleared the
apartment of all the pizza boxes and general crud that had accumulated.
His sister would accuse him of still living like a college student. Well,
not everyone could marry a rich architect and then look down on their little
brother. Besides, Kyle had a decent job and his own apartment. So
what if he had to live downtown?
“Bitch,” he muttered
to himself.
He pulled on his
jacket and snatched up the bags of trash. As he left his building the
cold night air bit his cheek and whipped inside his jacket. It was a
chore, having to go round into the alley every time he needed to take out the
garbage. He peered into the mouth of the passage next to his
building. The security-lamp at the far end was busted again, turning the
narrow space into a total creep-show. He cursed under his breath and
trudged into the near-darkness. Fantasy images of a naked Amy played in
his mind; naked Amy in a Santa hat and nothing else. He chuckled at the
image, and stumbled against some broken stones near his feet. He dropped one
of the bags and thrust a hand against the bricks to stop his fall. A
moment later the alley wall beneath his palm seemed to shudder and ripple like
liquid. He snatched his hand away in shocked confusion.
“What the f–”
Something clattered
and crashed over by the dumpsters. A beat of panic went through
him. He squinted in the darkness, still clutching one of the garbage
bags. There was someone behind the dumpsters. A hunched, dark
figure. Kyle didn’t want to admit he was afraid. Images of being
mugged at knife-point flashed in his mind. Despite himself he took a few
steps forward.
“I can see you,
asshole…”
The figure lunged
from behind the dumpsters, and for a moment Kyle thought he was about to get
stabbed. But the figure stopped short. Kyle dropped the bag and
made a made a move to block them. His heart was slamming in his chest
now. He couldn’t see their face but he registered a slender female silhouette.
A flood of relief swept through him. The woman tried to dart left, then
right, like a cornered animal.
“What the hell were
you doing back there?” he barked at her, angry that a woman had managed to
freak him out. Maybe she was some crazy homeless chick. Maybe she
thought he was going to rape her.
“Sweetheart…” he
began, but the woman cut him off.
“Don’t touch me,” she
hissed, with a strange guttural depth in her voice. “Stay away from me.”
Kyle took a few angry
steps forward. “Listen, bitch, I was trying to help you…”
“I don’t need your
help! Don’t you dare touch me!”
The sheer violence in
her odd, growling voice should have stopped him, but his pride was
bruised. He shot forward and snatched her wrist. “Listen, honey…”
A burst of pain shot
through his hand and rushed up his forearm. His breath caught in his
throat as he stumbled away from her. It was like someone had shoved his
entire arm into an ice-bath. His stomach knotted as he peered down at his
own hand. Even in the semidarkness he could see the colour of his skin
draining to an ashen white, as frost and little ribbons of ice began to
form. He couldn’t process what was happening, and then the freezing
coldness was inside his hand, his arm, creeping up and over his shoulder.
Suddenly it was agony. Kyle’s mind went blank and a ragged scream burst
from his lips.
The woman took a few
paces forward. He saw her face, but he couldn’t understand it.
Stringy black hair with glassy little chunks in it. Eyes that were sheer
white, without irises. A ghost-white face covered with frost and veins of
ice. Kyle realized he was still screaming. There was ice in his
blood, in his bones, creeping into his heart. He didn’t want to
die. He didn’t want to die like this. Not like this. He tried
to stagger away from the nightmare woman but his feet were rooted to the spot.
His screaming became a high-pitched wail as blind panic subsumed his
consciousness. Kyle Barrett’s last thought was the realization that he
was literally about to die.
The woman in the
alleyway with him just watched impassively as the colour drained from his face,
as the ice formed, as his eyes became twin orbs of white frost.
The ice-sculpture’s
mouth was open in a rictus of uncomprehending horror.
“I warned you,” she
hissed, and kicked its knees. The knees shattered and the sculpture
toppled, crumbling into icy shards as it fell. Brittle chunks of human
anatomy scattered and bounced and rolled across the ground. For a moment
the woman stared blankly at the frozen carnage spread at her feet. Then
she broke into a run, racing towards the mouth of the alley.
*
Rural West Virginia
2:19 a.m.
The old farmhouse sat alone in a cold
expanse of white beneath a black sky. The snow was falling lightly, not
as dense or as frequent as it could sometimes be for the beginnings of a
Virginian winter. Inside the old house
it was warm. The lounge was cast in lamplight as Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully sat together on the couch, watching an old black & white
movie. Scully took another sip from her bottle of beer and nuzzled close
to her partner. He put his arm around her. On the television screen
Orson Welles as Charles Foster Kane stumbled madly through Xanadu, trashing
priceless artifacts from his own personal empire.
Mulder couldn’t
believe that Scully had never seen the film in its entirety. As though
reading his mind she said, “Good choice, Mulder. This film is pretty
intense. I’m impressed.”
He nodded as he
peered at the screen. “It’s an American classic, Scully. Possibly
the American classic. I’m not all about B-movies, you know.” He
glanced at her, a faint smile on his lips. “Plus, it beats watching How
Stella Got Her Groove Back.”
Scully smirked and
nudged him playfully. “Never.”
Mulder could tell she
was already drunk, and she was only on her third beer. He guessed it had
been a particularly long day at work. She might fall asleep in a cuddle
and he’d have to carry her to bed. He smiled and planted a kiss on her
temple.
“Tired?”
“Mmm. Four
consults and two surgeries.”
“Super Scully.”
She chuckled.
“Well, I am the main breadwinner now.”
Mulder was about to
make a quip about being an excellent house-husband, but stopped himself.
They weren’t married, even though they lived in this place like man and
wife. He wondered for a moment if Scully still worried that they were
just playing house, playing until the world came crashing back in with full
force.
Maybe that was part
of the reason why she was taking on so much responsibility at the hospital – to
stave off the crash for as long as possible. He could understand it, and
his heart went out to her. Mulder realized that something in the back of
his mind was niggling him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Instead he said, “Ok,
I’ve waited long enough. Can I say the thing now?”
Scully smiled.
“Say the thing, Mulder.”
He peered at her with
mock-seriousness and intoned, “Rosebuuuud!”
She rolled her eyes
but the little smile was genuine. “I’m glad you got it out of your
system.” She yawned and sat upright on the couch, rubbing her eyes.
“Can we watch the rest tomorrow night? I’m exhausted.”
“Sure.” He
jabbed the remote at the DVD player to stop the movie.
“Staying up for a
while?” she asked, and downed the last of her beer.
Mulder waited until
she looked at him. He put some mischief in his eyes and raised his
eyebrows suggestively.
“I was hoping…you
know.”
She smiled at
him. “You’re insatiable, Mulder.”
He adopted his best
‘redneck’ voice. “Damn straight, woman.”
“C’mon, Mulder.
I’m too tired for nookie. Sorry.”
He smirked at
her. “Morning nookie?”
There was amusement
in her eyes. He’d nailed it. “It’s a deal.”
Mulder grinned and
triumphantly thrust his beer bottle into the air. “I’ll hold you to that,
FBI.”
Scully laughed,
kissed his cheek and rose to her feet. “Goodnight, crazy.”
She smiled at him
again before making her way upstairs. Mulder sat alone on the couch,
sipping his beer in the lamplight. He didn’t want to dwell on the odd
feeling in the back of his mind, the sense that his intuition was trying to
make him aware of something. He was a little too drunk for that.
Instead he would read for an hour or so in the study, before climbing
gratefully into bed beside the gorgeous redhead.
Scully was undressing in the dark
bedroom. She really was exhausted, and she could feel the alcohol dulling
her thoughts. She was a lightweight these days, but tonight had been
fun. She would have a few hours to spare before work tomorrow. A
little special time with Mulder, then a shower, then some breakfast.
Regardless of what time Mulder came to bed, he would probably be awake and up
before she was. Sometimes she wondered how he could survive on such
little sleep. She usually woke to find hot coffee in the machine,
sometimes breakfast already prepared as Mulder ran laps around the old
farm. For a guy who had recently turned fifty, he was in excellent
shape. That was simply her medical opinion, obviously. She smiled
as she pulled on her pyjama bottoms. The thought of morning nookie wasn’t
all that bad, now was it? They were both getting older, but Scully would
stick to the gymnasium. She’d never really understood jogging anyway.
As she buttoned her
pyjama top she caught a flash of light through the bedroom window. Something
was moving high out over the trees. She rushed over.
A point of brilliant
white light was growing, moving towards the house.
For the briefest
moment, thoughts of Duane Barry and alien ships and abductees tumbled together
in her mind. But she could already hear the relentless throb of a
helicopter’s engines. She could even feel it growing in the floor beneath
her bare feet. The chopper was banking over the trees just beyond the
property. The downwash of its rotors was blasting leaves from branches
and kicking up little flurries of snow.
“Scully!” she heard
Mulder call from downstairs.
“Yeah, I see it!” she
yelled back.
She hurried from the room
and down the stairs to find Mulder already pulling on his boots and coat.
“It’s an FBI chopper, Scully.”
They shared a dour,
knowing look before Scully resigned herself to doing the same thing as
Mulder. She shoved her feet into her shoes and pulled a long coat from a
peg by the door. She stole another glance at her partner. Mulder’s
expression was dark, the old intensity in his eyes again.
“It’s got to be bad,
Scully, for them to come all the way out here. The last time they did
that, Dr Frankenstein was kidnapping federal agents and carving up young
women.”
Scully already felt
the dread in the pit of her stomach. Mulder threw open the door and the
two of them hurried from the house. The spotlight on the helicopter
angled towards the ground. It touched down only fifty feet away, throwing
up a swirling mist of snowflakes. Now Scully could clearly see the
letters FBI stencilled in orange on the chopper’s side. The spotlight
went dark. Two figures jumped down from the cabin and began trudging
towards them. Scully glanced at Mulder when the figures got close enough
to recognize.
Walter Skinner and
Monica Reyes.
Scully felt angry and
afraid, standing there in a cashmere coat and pyjamas. She watched the
bald Assistant Director glowering at them as he approached. Beside him
Monica Reyes stared wide-eyed, an embarrassed smile on her face. When the
two agents got close enough to be heard over the chopper’s idling engines,
Skinner threw his hands up in frustration.
“You switched off
your cells and took your landline off the hook!”
Mulder just tilted
his head at their former boss. “And a Merry Christmas to you too,
Walter.”
“Nobody’s looking for
you anymore, Mulder – why did you switch your damn phones off?”
Mulder glanced at
Scully, then Monica, then peered back at Skinner. “Actually, we were
watching Citizen Kane.”
Scully’s anger got
the better of her. “It’s the middle of the night, for God’s sake!
We don’t work for the FBI, Skinner. We’re not answerable to them, or
you. This is our home, remember? You’ve got no right to just swing
by whenever you feel like you need some help solving a problem!”
Monica just stood there,
looking awkward, but Skinner didn’t seem too chastised.
“Scully, we wouldn’t
be here unless we had to.”
Mulder peered at
him. “Spit it out, Walter.”
Skinner sighed and
nodded. “There’s a really bad crime scene down in Richmond.
Seventeen dead. And Mulder, your name came up in connection with this
mess. Agent Reyes called me, told me the details, emailed me the photos –
and I got on a plane.”
Skinner glanced at
Monica, as if urging her to pipe up. Monica took her cue and nodded
earnestly. “I’m sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night. But it
was a complete fluke that I was in Virginia. I was visiting a friend down
at Quantico. She got a call from her partner at Richmond Field Division.
I was standing right there when she got the call…”
Monica seemed so
nervous and apologetic that Scully felt herself soften
slightly.
“…anyway, when she
mentioned your name, Mulder, I said ‘But I know this guy. He used to be
one of us.’ And suddenly the whole thing felt very, very strange. It was
like I was supposed to be in Virginia this week. Like it was –”
“Fate,” Mulder
finished gravely.
Monica just nodded
and peered down at the snow. Mulder turned and stared at Scully.
The dread in her stomach wasn’t going away.
Mulder looked back at
Skinner and said, “There’s no X Files unit anymore, so are you really here just
because my name gets mentioned at a crime scene?”
Skinner
frowned. “When Agent Reyes called me…I had a feeling. A
hunch. You remember those, right? Mulder, if this isn’t an X File I
don’t know what is. At first they thought it was some kind of contagion
or chemical weapon, but apparently the air is clean. The photos, Mulder.
It’s awful.”
Mulder just shook his
head and turned to face Scully again. His eyes were fierce.
“I can be back before
tomorrow night,” he told her. But Scully could see that he wasn’t sure of
that.
Gritting her teeth
against anger and the cold she said, “You’re not some freelance consultant they
can just pull out whenever they need you, Mulder.”
But his eyes told her
that he’d already set his mind to go with them. And despite herself, she
understood why. She wasn’t going to battle him this time.
They had tried
running once before, and the darkness had found them anyway.
Scully swallowed and
peered at Monica, into her soulful eyes. There was more to this.
Monica was holding something back for some reason. She hadn’t seen the
tall, dark-haired agent since the night she and Doggett helped to break Mulder
out of military custody. Monica had helped to save Mulder from being
executed on a pathetic trump charge. Scully had written to Monica and
Doggett more than once from an anonymous P.O. Box, but she owed them more than
that.
As though intuiting
her thoughts Monica said, “It’s been a long time, Dana. I honestly
wouldn’t intrude in your life unless I felt like I had no other option.
I’m sorry.”
Scully glanced warily
at Mulder. “Fine. Just let me shower and get dressed. I could
use a day away from the hospital.”
*
Richmond, Virginia
5: 53 a.m.
They were coming in over the city
now. The sky was beginning to break into low bands of dawn. The
city’s lights glimmered down below. It was pointless trying to have an
extended conversation over the throbbing roar of the chopper’s engines.
Mulder just sat peering from the cabin window, at the city passing beneath
them. Scully put her hand in his and he
squeezed it reassuringly. She knew he was afraid of something. She
knew the wheels in his incredible mind were already turning. She didn’t
like the look on his face but she remembered how spectacular her partner could
be. If they gave him enough rope he’d end up ten steps ahead of most of
the agents around him. Scully felt a flash of pride, remembering how
powerful it had once felt to step through dark doors with Fox Mulder. She
didn’t want those dark doors in her life again, but she couldn’t deny that she
recalled the thrill.
As the chopper banked
over a particular street Scully could see police and FBI agents clustered at
multiple cordons. The helicopter came to rest in the middle of the road
and a group of agents ducked low and hurried forward to meet it.
When the chopper’s
occupants stepped down from the cabin a tall, well-built man with steel grey
hair came forward and shook Skinner’s hand. Mulder glanced at Scully and
raised his eyebrows in a ‘well, here we go’ expression. The group hurried
out from under radius of the chopper’s rotors as the pilot powered down.
The guy that shook
Skinner’s hand peered at Mulder. “You
Fox Mulder?”
“Yeah.
Unfortunately.”
The guy offered his
hand. Mulder took it. “Daniel Therrier. I’m the ASAC for
Richmond Division.”
Mulder frowned.
“You’re not letting the Response Team handle this. You came here
yourself. Must be bad.”
The ASAC just nodded
gravely. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
As he guided them
through another cordon and deeper into the street, Mulder glanced at Scully,
trying to judge her feelings. She just looked tired and worried.
Skinner hadn’t told them much about what they would find at the crime
scene. He obviously wanted Mulder to process it raw, first-hand.
Mulder caught
Monica’s gaze and she looked away immediately. Why was she so
cagey? What hadn’t she told them? Maybe it was something she didn’t
want to mention while Skinner was around. Mulder looked at Scully as they
walked, caught her attention, then glanced pointedly at Monica. Scully
picked up on it and nodded slightly. They both recognized that Monica
knew something she was hesitant to divulge.
“So, you used to work
the X Files unit, huh?”
Mulder glanced at
ASAC Therrier. “Yeah. Both of us.” He gestured at Scully.
“I heard rumours
about that unit. Unofficial, right? Crazy stuff, so I’ve heard.
Kind of hush-hush.”
Mulder smiled
humourlessly and said, “That unit was dissolved a long time ago.”
The ASAC just
nodded. “Still. Spooky.”
Mulder tensed at the
mention of the word spooky; his
former nickname back at the academy – a compliment at first, then later a term
of ridicule. He wasn’t sure if Therrier was making a little joke.
If he was, Mulder didn’t find it funny.
“Just show me where
the bodies are.”
What the ASAC led
them to made Mulder stop in his tracks. A car had flipped onto its side
in the middle of the street, but about thirty feet behind it were a string of
what Mulder first assumed were statues randomly lining the sidewalk. But
it only took him a moment to realize they were people - standing corpses,
frozen in place. Lots of them. Each one was encrusted with frost
and ice; mouths open in agony. From a distance it looked like some kind
of morbid street theatre. They were all halted in various positions, three
of them on their hands and knees, silently screaming.
“Jesus,” muttered
Mulder. He looked round at Scully. Her eyes were wide with awful
disbelief. Monica and Skinner stared on with similar expressions.
Obviously the photos hadn’t done it justice. Mulder snapped his attention
back to the ASAC.
“Skinner said
seventeen victims. I only count fifteen.”
Therrier jabbed a
thumb at the overturned car. “We’ve got a body in the driver seat.
And what’s left of one in the alley behind you.”
Mulder glanced at the
alleyway. “What’s left?”
“Pieces. Just
frozen pieces. Like he fell apart.”
Mulder swept past the
ASAC and approached the nearest standing corpse. A man, peering down at
his own hands, his mouth agape. A few feet behind him a woman stood
clutching her own throat, the same silent scream on her lips. And on it went
for at least forty feet. Mulder could see their frost-white eyes and the
skeins of ice covering their bluish skin.
He didn’t know what had caused this, but his intuition told him that it wasn’t
any orthodox biochemical weapon.
He looked back at
Therrier. “You had CDC out here?”
The ASAC
nodded. “They didn’t find a thing. No radioactivity, no airborne
toxins. Nothing.”
Mulder looked again
at the alleyway and traced the path along the sidewalk of flash-frozen
bodies. “A person did this. They were running. I think they
made physical contact with each of the victims as they ran. Whatever this
was, it was communicated by touch.”
Therrier
frowned. “That’s exactly what the witness says happened.”
Mulder shared an
exasperated glance with Scully. “Listen, Agent Therrier, what does this
have to do with me? Did your witness give my name to your Response Team?”
“No. The
suspect was calling your name, apparently.”
The ASAC led them
away from the crime scene, back the way they had come. Sitting in the
back of an open police van was a young officer, no older than
twenty-five. He was clearly still in shock. Angered, Mulder turned
to Therrier.
“If this officer was
a witness to this, he really doesn’t need to still be here. Why are you
keeping him at the crime scene?”
“He insisted.
He said he wouldn’t leave until you got here. He’s been sitting here all
night.”
At that, the young
cop looked up and finally realized they were all standing there.
He locked gazes with
Mulder. “Special Agent Fox Mulder?”
Mulder took a long
breath and nodded. “Once upon a time.”
The officer jolted to
his feet so fast that Mulder flinched. “Everyone she touched turned to
ice!” Mulder took a step back in case the guy did something crazy.
“In seconds! I watched them freeze…I…she came racing out of the alley,
slammed into the side of that car. It crashed and flipped. And she
just ran, shoving through people. And then…then they just froze where
they were standing.” The officer grabbed Mulder’s wrist and Mulder forced
himself not to pull away.
“But the whole time
she’s screaming your name in this awful growling voice: ‘Fox Mulder, Fox
Mulder, Special Agent Fox Mulder!’”
The officer stared
with pleading eyes, as though asking for it to all be explained to him.
Softly, the young cop added, “She was a monster…I saw a monster.”
Mulder looked over at
Scully, who pressed a fist to her lips in disbelief.
*
FBI Richmond Field Division
8:25 a.m.
ASAC Therrier had other
responsibilities and so a younger agent led them through the building and into
a small conference room. On the way, native agents at their desks
curiously eyed the new faces. By this point Scully was exhausted and just
wanted to sleep, yet the gruesome crime scene they had just witnessed had
kicked up her adrenaline.
Once inside the
conference room the younger agent said, “The ASAC will be with you again as
soon as possible.” He offered them a curt nod and was gone.
Alone now, Mulder,
Scully, Monica and Skinner exchanged glances. Skinner was the first to
pipe up. “So, Mulder – what do you think?”
Mulder glanced at
Scully, who gave a bewildered shrug. “I’m working on it.”
But in truth, Mulder
was stumped. Perhaps he’d been in ‘retirement’ for too long and had lost
his edge, but he couldn’t get past the sheer awfulness of the crime scene.
“Did you ever come
across anything like this in the X Files?” asked Skinner.
“I don’t know, Walter.
It’s been nearly ten years. You tell me. You were our A.D., you
read every report that we wrote.”
Scully frowned at
Mulder’s aggressive tone.
“Just trying to
help,” Skinner muttered.
Monica sighed and sat
down at the conference table. She looked up at Scully, then Mulder.
“Listen,
guys. There’s something I didn’t mention to Skinner when I told him about
the crime scene.” She glanced at Skinner and tried for a disarming
smile. “I didn’t want you to think I was completely flaky.”
Skinner just raised
his eyebrows in irritation. “I’ve always respected your capability as an
agent. And believe it or not, I’m a lot more open-minded than you might
think.” He gestured at Mulder and Scully. “It’s something I learned
from these two.”
Monica nodded
thoughtfully. “Ok, well, a few days ago I had a dream. A nightmare,
really. Or a vision. Something…came up from the underworld. A demon.” Monica laughed at her own
words. “A demon made of ice and rage. She belonged in the
underworld, but somehow she broke free and found a way into our reality.”
Nobody said
anything. Monica’s words hung heavy in the air.
“When I found out
about the crime scene…it was obvious it was connected to this dream.” She
peered sheepishly at Mulder. “I’m officially crazy, right?”
Mulder shook his
head, saying nothing.
“Unfortunately, I
don’t think you’re crazy,” said Skinner.
“Me neither,” added
Scully, glancing at Mulder’s focused expression.
Monica smiled,
comforted a little. “The thing is – the dream, the crime scene – I just
knew it was connected directly to the two of you.”
Scully looked again
at Mulder, seeing the intensity gathering behind his eyes. “What’re you
thinking?” she asked him.
“I’m thinking that
something has shifted. Something in the air is different.” He
focused his full attention on Scully. “To be honest, I’ve been feeling
strange for a couple of weeks now. I thought it was just the usual cabin
fever, but…”
Scully sighed and nodded,
knowing that most of the time her partner’s intuition was unparalleled.
“It feels like a door
has been opened,” Monica said quietly.
“Yeah,” said
Mulder. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”
Skinner glanced among
them as they pondered. “You guys are giving me the creeps.”
Finally, Scully went
over to Monica and kneeled beside her at the conference table. “Monica,
can we talk privately, just us girls? I could use a very strong coffee,
somewhere outside this building. It would mean a lot to me. I never
got a chance to thank you in person for helping Mulder and me.”
Mulder and Skinner
shared a glance. Monica pressed her lips together and smiled.
Scully looked over at her partner. “If you learn anything useful from the
ASAC, call me.”
Mulder nodded
silently.
*
High Grounds Coffee-House
Richmond, 9:40 a.m.
Scully placed the two espressos on the
table, sat in the booth and smiled at Monica. The attractive, dark-haired
agent had aged really well since Scully had last seen her. The same lithe
physique, the same soulful eyes and warm smile. Now that they were alone,
Scully realized how much she’d missed her.
“Monica, I’m sorry I
had to cut off all contact like that. When Mulder went into hiding, and I
was alone with William…you were a good friend to me. I needed somebody
and you were there for me.”
Monica’s awkward
smile made Scully reach out and touch the back of her hand.
“Dana, I completely
understand. You were on the run. I got your letters, I wrote
back. I was just glad that the two of you were safe. Me and John,
we both were.”
Scully gently took
her hand away. “Have you seen Doggett recently? In his last letter
he said he was thinking about moving back to New York.”
“Yeah, he moved there
last year. I saw him a few months ago. He took me out to the
movies; we ate hot dogs and got drunk together. I’m still in D.C. so…it
was good to see him.”
Scully sipped her
coffee, thinking there was more sadness in Monica than she remembered.
“Your last letter was
nearly two years ago. Are you seeing anyone?”
Monica gave another
awkward smile and peered into her coffee. “Yeah. It’s been about
six months. But it’s kind of a long-distance relationship. We meet
up when we can but…it’s all very new and weird.”
Scully studied her
face. Monica didn’t want to look at her. “Is it a woman?”
Monica chuckled and
nodded. Finally she looked up at Scully. “Yes.”
Scully gave her a
warm smile. “That’s big.”
Monica grinned,
seeming relieved. “Yeah. But it’s still kind of weird to think of
myself that way. To admit those things to myself. I feel completely
out of my depth.”
For a few moments
they sipped their coffees and shared an easy silence.
“Do you think you
might be serious about this person?”
Monica nodded.
“Actually, she’s the one I came to see this week at Quantico. She’s
FBI. She works at Richmond Division.”
Scully wondered if
she had passed this woman in the corridors earlier. “I really hope it
works out, Monica.”
“Me too. It’s
strange, but not as strange as I thought it might be.”
Scully could sense
that Monica felt unburdened and didn’t really want to say any more about
it. “So, this dream. This demon from the underworld…what do you
think it means? How is it connected to me and Mulder?”
Monica frowned.
“I don’t know, Dana. I wish I could tell you something concrete.
While I was having it, I understood that she was delivering some kind of
message to our reality. Like a harbinger. I knew that you and
Mulder were directly linked to it. I’ve been trying to figure it out
since it happened. When Sasha told me about the crime scene, shivers went
down my spine.”
Scully glanced
through the windows at the early-morning Richmond traffic. “You said this
demon…she was made of ice and rage?”
“Yeah. I know
how crazy it sounds. I can still sense things like I used to, but I
haven’t had an actual premonition in a long time. Not one so specific.”
There was another silence
between them, this one a little heavier than the last.
Finally, Scully said,
“I missed you, Agent Reyes.”
Monica looked up at
her and smiled. “Me too.”
*
FBI Richmond Field Division
10: 23 a.m.
When ASAC Therrier finally entered the
conference room, Mulder and Skinner were sitting at the table. They had
been catching up on each other’s lives, leavened with a little mild teasing
from both men. Therrier looked annoyed, and slumped into a chair.
“Any news?” asked
Skinner.
“Well, they’re saying
it’s some kind of cryonic compound…but they also said there are huge traces of
human DNA spliced with the compound. It’s like nothing they’ve ever
seen. Extremely sophisticated stuff. Basically, they told me the
technology to create something like that doesn’t exist.”
The words, “Not yet,
anyway” rolled off Mulder’s tongue without him even consciously
realizing. When he recognized what he’d said a flash of awareness pierced
his fatigue and confusion. A chill skittered across his shoulders and he
sat upright in the chair.
“How could I not
remember…? Whoa.” He stared at Skinner, his mind now buzzing with
intuition and potentials and memories.
“What?” said Skinner,
staring intently at Mulder.
“Do you remember an X
File we investigated where a cryogenic compound was used to flash-freeze a
victim? I can’t believe I didn’t remember that.”
Skinner
frowned. “I read hundreds of reports, Mulder. You’ll have to jog my
memory.”
Mulder pressed his
eyes shut, willing himself to recall the details. “Jason…Jason Nichols.
He was a post-doctorate at MIT. That old man…that old man was Jason
Nichols…”
ASAC Therrier glanced
with confusion at Skinner.
Skinner said, “I have
no idea what you’re talking about, Mulder.”
Mulder bolted up from
his chair and glanced at the two men. “I’m talking about time-travel.”
The ASAC
laughed. “Excuse me?”
Mulder just turned
away and said, “I need to talk to Scully.” He hurried from the conference
room and out into the corridor. He pulled his cell from his jacket
pocket, glanced to his left and saw Scully approaching. There was a look
of concern on her face.
“Are you ok?”
Mulder shoved his
phone back into his pocket. “I was just about to call you. Where’s
Monica?”
Scully frowned.
“She had to go. Said she’d be back in a few hours. Talk to me,
Mulder.”
He glanced at a few
agents eying them at the end of the corridor by the elevators. He pulled
Scully to one side and moved close to her. “I think I’m starting to
understand what’s happening, Scully. Do you remember an X File where an
old man we interviewed was able know things before they happened? He was
injecting people with a cryogenic compound. They seemed dead but they
were in some kind of stasis. Don’t you remember? An oriental man
burst into flames on the operating table because we brought his body
temperature up too quickly.”
Scully stared
uncomprehendingly at him. “What’re you saying?”
“I told you that I
believed that old man was from the future. That he was an older version
of one of our suspects; Jason Nichols, a physics doctorate at MIT. I told
you that I thought he was an actual, genuine time-traveller…and that he was
somehow using this cryogenic compound on himself to make that trip possible.”
Scully scrunched up
her face in irritation. “Jesus, Mulder. Time-travel? Are you
serious?”
Mulder suppressed a
flare of annoyance. It felt like they were right back in his office
basement, playing out their dialectic. “Scully, I think I’m right about
this. This new suspect, freezing people through touch, what if she’s some
kind of more advanced –”
Scully raised a hand
to cut him off. “If you’re saying that all those people were killed by a
time-travelling monster that can freeze people with a single touch…then I don’t
buy it. She’s looking for you, right? She was screaming your
name. So where the hell is she?”
Mulder looked away in
frustration, glancing down the corridor. The elevator doors opened and
Monica Reyes stepped out...along with another Dana Scully. The pit of
Mulder’s stomach fell away. In an instant he understood. He snapped
his gaze back round, but the Scully he’d just been talking to was already
lunging through the stairwell door and racing down the steps. In shock,
Mulder glanced back at Monica and the other Scully. They were peering at
him with wide eyes. They had both seen her too.
At that moment Mulder
came to his senses and bolted through the stairwell door after the
lookalike. He leapt the first few steps and nearly slipped, slamming hard
against the wall. He raced down after the fleeing figure as the sound of
their footfalls echoed around him. His heart was already thudding in his
chest, more from disbelief and adrenaline than exertion.
He realized what he
was chasing. The thing wearing Scully’s form was something they had encountered
more than once before. Mulder couldn’t really believe this was
happening. He pounded down after the false Scully, catching a glimpse of
red hair just before she turned each corner. Damn, the thing was
fast. He’d forgotten how fast. Mulder was racing down the steps at
full pelt. If he tried to go any faster he would trip and fall, putting
more distance between himself and his quarry. He didn’t know why the
entity was here, or why it had taken Scully’s shape…but it had to be big.
Suddenly he acknowledged the sound of two other people racing down the
stairwell a few flights above him. He knew it would be Monica and Scully,
the real Scully – his Scully.
A flight below him
the lookalike turned and threw open the door to the ground floor, and as she
shot through it Mulder knew the chase was over. He ploughed on anyway and
came to a stumbling halt in the ground-floor hallway. Agents moved back
and forth, some of them peering curiously at the sweaty, out of breath stranger
in their midst. No sign of the Scully lookalike, of course. Mulder
grimaced, spun round and slammed his palms against the wall.
“Damn it!”
A few seconds later
Monica and the real Scully came rushing out of the stairwell, coming to an
unsteady stop when they saw Mulder standing there. “Too late, Scully,” he
heaved. “I was too slow.” All his early morning jogging, all his
training. He tried to suppress the feeling of complete failure.
Scully and Monica glanced
wildly around, as if still trying to catch sight of the imposter. Mulder
knew it would do no good. The bounty hunter was gone.
*
12: 33 p.m.
Mulder, Scully, Skinner and Monica were
sitting in the office of ASAC Therrier. The Assistant Special Agent in
Charge looked exasperated.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t
go to my boss with this. I want to find out who killed those people as
much as everyone here…but time-travel and shapeshifters? You sound
completely insane, Mr Mulder.”
Mulder got up from
the chair, sighed and began pacing.
Monica stared at the
ASAC and said, “Sir, Scully and I both saw this imposter. We’ve
encountered things like this before in the X Files.”
“That’s right,”
Scully said darkly.
Therrier rolled his
eyes. “Right, the X Files – an unofficial unit that wastes taxpayer money
by looking for ghosts and goblins. Give me a break. I have
seventeen dead civilians in the division I’m responsible for. And trust
me, they are dead. We’ve got no idea how they died, and you want to sit
here and talk to me about aliens?”
Mulder continued
pacing and said sharply, “Did you not hear that three people in this room saw
that thing?”
Therrier glanced at
Scully and Monica. “You saw a woman with red hair, for like a second.”
“I was standing right
next to her, looking into her eyes!” Mulder barked.
Skinner leaned
forward. “Daniel, with all due respect…you know me. And I’d advise
that you take their story very seriously. I’ve encountered what they’re
talking about first-hand.”
Therrier laughed and
threw up his hands in disbelief. “Oh, so you’ve met an alien creature
that can adopt the form of anyone it wants? You kept that pretty
hush-hush back in D.C. didn’t you, Walter?”
Skinner just
grimaced.
Mulder stalked over
to Therrier’s desk and put his fists on its surface. “Just go and check
the security footage.”
Therrier stood up
from his desk. “I already did that. The footage has been erased.”
Mulder was
confused. He backed away from the desk. “Then…you’ve obviously got
a mole…or…”
The realisation hit
him and he looked at Scully. She got up from her chair and nodded.
“…or this bounty hunter is the one who erased your cameras,” she finished.
Mulder took a deep
breath. “He’s still in the building.” He focused his attention on
Therrier again. “Are you listening? This non-existent shapeshifter
is still inside your division.”
Skinner and Monica looked
worried now. Scully frowned at Mulder. “Why would he be here?
Why would he impersonate me just to talk to you?”
Mulder pressed his
eyes shut, trying to will some clarity. “Because…he’s looking for our
suspect. And she’s looking for me.”
Scully suddenly
realized what that meant. “She’s going to hand herself into the
FBI. Somehow she knows you’re here. Mulder…”
He nodded and looked
at Therrier. “Scully’s right. She’s going to come here. And if she can do what we think she can
do...you better tell your men to batten down the hatches.”
The ASAC just stared
uncomprehendingly at Mulder. A few moments later an alarm began sounding,
and then the phone on the desk started ringing.
Mulder, Scully,
Monica and Skinner exchanged worried glances. “Sounds like she might
already be here,” muttered Monica.
With a glare of
uncertainty Therrier snatched up the phone. “What?” he barked. The
group watched his face fall as his eyes became haunted. “Ok. We’re on our
way.” He peered up at Mulder with a look of horror. “Our suspect is
downstairs at reception. Two security guards are down…and four others
have guns on her. She’s asking to speak with Special Agent Fox Mulder...”
Mulder turned and
locked gazes with Scully. Therrier bolted around the table and cried,
“Come on!” He was already out of the door when the group came to their
senses and sprinted after the ASAC.
In the glass-panelled reception of the
FBI field office, a stand-off was occurring. When Mulder rounded the corner and
saw her he literally gasped. There by the entrance the nightmarish
woman was waiting, with a security guard lying frozen a few feet away. Another
guard was on his knees in front of her. The woman had her hand around his
throat. But he was still alive, eyes bulging in terror.
Her mess of long
black hair framed a deathly pale face covered in frost and ribbons of
ice. Her hands were the same. Her eyes were sheer white, like she
was blind. Four guards had their weapons trained on her, two near the desk and
two near the elevators. Mulder could feel the tension in the air.
The guards were just itching to put several holes in her, and he could
understand. She’d wandered into their place of work and had just murdered
some of their own.
One of the guards
shouted unprofessionally, “ASAC, let me shoot this freaky bitch!”
From behind Mulder,
Therrier barked, “No! Hold your position!”
“Sam is lying dead at
the front gate! She just killed two of us!” The guard’s aim was
trembling, and Mulder had the feeling this was going to end badly. He was
about to lunge into the fray when Scully beat him to it. She took several
paces towards the woman.
“Not you, bitch!” the
woman screamed, with an impossible growl in her throat. “Just him!
Just Mulder! Or I’ll kill this man!”
The guy on his knees
tried to speak, but the woman’s hand seemed clamped firmly around his
throat. She was obviously far stronger than she appeared – and whatever
strange ability allowed her mere touch to freeze people, she could control
it. The guy on his knees was still alive, for the moment.
Mulder raised his
hands to show her that he didn’t have a weapon, and began moving towards
her.
“You don’t know what
you did,” she hissed. “You stupid son of a bitch, you don’t know what you
did. You were supposed to save us. You weren’t supposed to give
up…”
“I’m sorry,” said
Mulder, continuing his approach. “I don’t know what you want, but I am
willing to listen to you. I’m willing to hear what you tell me.”
She screamed,
“December 22nd 2012!”
Mulder glanced back
at Scully, who stared at the woman in horror.
“Don’t you look at her!”
the woman shrieked. “You look at me! Look at what I had to become to get here!”
Mulder gave her his
full attention. “I apologize. You can let the guard go. Take
me as a hostage instead.”
“Mulder, no!” Scully
protested from behind him.
For a moment the
woman just peered at him with her unearthly eyes. Then she shoved aside
the terrified guard, who scrambled away across the polished floor. Mulder
made sure to step into the line of fire. If one of the guards took their chance
and shot her, they would have no idea why any of this was happening.
“Tell me about
December 22nd 2012,” said Mulder, in an attempt to soothe
her. She snatched his wrist, and for a moment Mulder expected a piercing
coldness to rush through him. Her grip was cold, but no more so than a
corpse. Mulder inhaled sharply, realizing the woman was letting him
live. Looking into her eyes, he was afraid. This woman’s appearance
was so unearthly that he couldn’t judge her age. She could’ve been
eighteen or eighty.
“They took the sound
away. From everywhere. Just silence. You couldn’t hear a thing. Then they
took away the power. It was the eeriest feeling. Oh God...”
“I hear you,” said
Mulder, but she only tightened her grip on his wrist and peered at him with
white eyes.
“Then the ships
came. I couldn’t hear a thing, not even my own breathing, but I saw those
things…descending through the overcast and the rain. They just glided silently
down. Some were small, some were huge. Dark shapes, some like
saucers…some like huge, flat triangles. Just hovering there. I
remember the look on people’s faces in the street. It didn’t feel like
we’d gone deaf…it felt like those things in the sky had sucked all the sound
from the world. I remember the look on my Mom’s face. It was like
we were all standing in the same strange dream. I was only three years
old, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Then the military men came
and took us to the nuclear bunker in North Dakota. That’s where the
project is based.”
Mulder tried to
absorb what this murderer was telling him. “What’s your name?”
“Imogen Ianelli.”
She peered at him with those cold white eyes. “Lisa Ianelli was my
mother. Jason Nichols; the first to come back…he was my father. I
was an in-vitro baby. My Mom worked with cryonics. That’s why the NSA recruited her. Her
compound changed everything. But my father hid things from my Mom when he
travelled here…the invasion…the colonisation. He just wanted to destroy
the project, but the project is the only thing we have left. But now my
father never was. And I have to live without him now.”
Mulder’s mind was
reeling, buzzing with associations and implications. He struggled to
cross-reference his memories of the old case with what she was telling him.
She gestured at the
men pointing guns in their direction. “Are they going to kill me now?”
Mulder tried to hold
her awful gaze. “No, Imogen. We just want to understand. Why
did you come back?”
A thin smile curved
her mouth. “For you, Fox.”
“Why?”
“Because you were
supposed to be a hero. You could’ve stopped it all. But you tried
to pretend that your destiny was a lie. And the whole world
burned.”
Suddenly she let go
of his wrist, still peering at him with that thin smile on her lips.
Mulder felt himself tense.
“I’m fifty-three
years old. Do you know what it’s like to live underground for fifty years? Up on the surface…it
was nothing but ruins and blood and fire.”
At the sound of her
words, a dream-image surfaced in Mulder’s mind. Lying in a bed while the
Cigarette Smoking Man stood at a window. Mulder was sure he glimpsed fire
beyond the glass. A chill skittered down his spine and he knew suddenly
that Monica had been right. A door had opened.
“You stupid son of a
bitch,” Imogen hissed. “The shame…the shame is going to devour me because
of you…”
Her eyes suddenly
rolled up into the back of her head and she let out a tortured moan. The
frost and skeins of ice on her skin melted away. She shuddered,
convulsed…and her deathly pale skin blushed into healthy flesh-tones. She
slumped forward and Mulder instinctively reached out to grab her. She was
like dead weight in his arms. Cradling the unconscious woman he snapped
his head round and barked, “We need an ambulance!”
Scully, Skinner,
Monica and the rest of them peered on disbelievingly. The armed security
guards didn’t lower their weapons at first. Mulder’s pulse was pounding
in his ears.
*
St Mary’s Hospital
Richmond, 7: 46 p.m.
Mulder stood with Skinner and ASAC
Therrier, outside the room where ‘Imogen Ianelli’ was being monitored.
Two armed guards stood on either side of the door. Exhausted, Mulder
listened to the aggression and fear in Therrier’s voice.
Finally getting a chance to speak, Mulder said, “You can’t honestly
blame me and Scully for what happened today. We tried to warn you.
And weren’t you the one who signed off on dragging me out here?”
But Therrier was
barely listening. “This psychotic, mutant bitch strolls right into our
division, into the FBI, and murders two of our guards in cold-blood! The SAC
is on his way here right now. What the hell am I supposed to tell him?”
“The truth,” Mulder
said simply.
“The truth?” Therrier
growled. “That this woman has killed nineteen people in the past
twenty-four hours, two of which worked for my division? That she killed
them all through physical contact?”
Skinner finally
spoke. “If Mulder hadn’t intervened you’d have three of your men dead
instead of two.”
Therrier just peered
at Mulder with wild, frightened eyes. “That thing in there doesn’t
deserve to still be breathing! You should’ve let them take their shot!”
Mulder realized at
this point Therrier was no longer thinking like a senior FBI agent. He
was full of shock and anger and powerlessness.
“I know you’re
scared. What happened today frightened everybody, but –”
“Scared?” Therrier
hissed. “I’m not scared, I’m horrified! What are we supposed to
tell the families of those two guards?”
Skinner frowned and
glanced at Mulder. “We just have to remain professional, as professional
as we can be.”
Therrier squeezed his
eyes shut, placed his hands on his hips and took a long, tremulous breath.
“If your SAC is on
his way here, you need to report the truth,” said Mulder. “The truth, as
you understand it…as clearly and concisely as possible.”
Therrier finally
opened his eyes, peered at Mulder and nodded. “Jesus Christ. I’ve never
experienced anything like this before.”
Mulder nodded
sympathetically, glancing at Skinner. “You’ve apprehended your
suspect. She can’t hurt anybody else. You tell that to your Special
Agent in Charge.”
Therrier tried to
smile but it was more of a grimace.
Mulder left him in
the corridor with Skinner. He nodded at the armed guards on either side
of the door and went back into the room.
Imogen Ianelli was
lying unconscious in the hospital bed, hooked to various machines. Scully
and Monica were sitting on either side of her. They glanced up when he
came in.
“Everything ok?”
asked Monica. “We heard the shouting.”
Mulder shrugged.
“Just playing a round of the blame game. How’s our Ice Queen doing?”
Scully looked at
him. “Perfectly, Mulder. No abnormal brain function, no
irregularities in heartbeat – nothing to suggest her previous extreme
hypothermic state.”
Mulder went over to
the bed and squatted beside Scully. “Hypothermic? It was a whole
lot more than that.”
“I know, but it’s the
best medical term I can come up with.”
Mulder stared at the
apparently normal woman in the bed. She’d told him she was fifty-three
years old, but in her current state she didn’t look a day over thirty.
Scully said, “So this
is our demon from the underworld.”
Monica glanced
between them and got up from her chair. “I think I should give you two
some privacy.”
Scully winced.
“Monica, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded…”
Monica raised a hand
to placate her. “It’s ok, Dana. I was the one who got Skinner to
speak to Therrier and drag you out here. I dumped all this dream stuff on
you. I didn’t expect any of this. I’ll give you two some time.”
Scully tried for a smile
as Monica left the room. Mulder glanced at the living X File lying in the
bed beside them. Alone now, Scully turned her full attention to Mulder.
“Time-travel?”
He frowned and
nodded. In a hushed voice he said, “She told me about colonisation.
She said she’d been living with military personnel in a nuclear bunker for
fifty years. Somewhere in North Dakota. I think we’ve been there
before, Scully. She talked to me about destiny. That we were
supposed to stop what’s coming.”
Softly, darkly,
Scully said, “You, Mulder. Not us. Not me.”
Mulder felt his
stomach clutch slightly at her words. He could feel her anger and her
despair. “I think Monica was right. I think a door has been
opened…”
Through gritted teeth
Scully said, “I know…I know.
But we lost so much because of this.”
“Dana…”
Scully tensed at his
use of her first name. “Don’t, Mulder…”
“Baby…”
Mulder could see the
tears forming in his beloved’s eyes, but she held them at bay. He
understood that she’d hoped and prayed that they were finally free of all the
shadows and pain.
“Scully, I love
you. More than life, or truth. And no matter what happens I’ll be
right beside you.”
Scully reached over
and hugged him fiercely, pressing her face into the curve of his neck.
“I’m not a skeptic anymore…that’s why this frightens me. I know what’s
out there. The X Files took everything away from us.”
Mulder didn’t know
what to say to that. It was true, after all. He just held her,
peering over at the unconscious woman in the hospital bed.
“I need more coffee,
Mulder, or I’m gonna pass out.”
Mulder chuckled,
pulled away and looked into her eyes. “Partners?” he asked softly.
She offered him a
little heart-breaking smile. “Always.”
He kissed her,
quickly but deeply. God, she felt good. Like home.
“One extra-strong
coffee coming up.”
Mulder noticed Monica was already
asleep on one of the chairs in the waiting area. Her jacket was draped
around her like a blanket. At the end of the hall, Skinner and ASAC Therrier
were talking with an older, stern-faced man that Mulder assumed was the
Richmond SAC. Better leave them to it, he thought. He eventually
found the coffee machine at the end of the second hallway. He fished in
his jeans pockets for change. He sighed as he began feeding them into the
machine. He and Scully hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.
“Hello, Ace.”
The voice from behind him was horribly familiar. Mulder spun round
instantly. Alex Krycek was standing a few feet away. Looking as
solid and real as the day Skinner put a bullet in his head.
Mulder went cold at
the assassin’s piercing stare. He still remembered it clearly.
“I’m imagining this,”
Mulder blurted, unconvinced of his own words.
A half-smile played
on Krycek’s lips. “Like before, huh? Just shut up and listen,
Mulder. It’s still gonna happen. I know you can feel it.”
The dead man’s
presence was impossible, yet there he was. The old anger flooded back
through Mulder so easily; anger at this apparition of the man who murdered his
father.
“Feel what?” he spat.
Krycek let the
half-smile play on his lips again. “Colonisation. The technology
that our government used to create supersoldiers…alien technology, Mulder –
they used the same technology on her.”
Mulder couldn’t take
his eyes off the apparition. This had happened once before. Was the
son of a bitch really there, or was he losing his mind?
Krycek continued,
“They combined that technology with the ice-compound, fused it to her DNA.
She can survive, consciously, at a temperature of absolute zero. That’s
why she can travel. She’s dangerous, more than you think. You’re
running out of time, Mulder. Take Scully and get as far away from her as
possible.”
Mulder glared silently
at the dead man.
“Go!” screamed
Krycek.
And Mulder finally
came to his senses. He turned on his heels and sprinted down the hallway
without looking back. His stomach was in knots, his pulse kicked up as he
recognized the realness of the danger. As he bolted round the second
corner he saw that the two guards on either side of the door were gone.
It was a bad sign. He threw open the door and rushed into the room,
stopping dead in his tracks.
Imogen Ianelli was
out of the bed, standing in the middle of the room with Scully in front of her,
a hand around her throat. Mulder’s heart plummeted when he saw the look
of mortal terror in Scully’s eyes. Imogen
still looked human, but she hissed, “Take another step and I’ll kill her.
I’ll put ice in her veins.”
“Please,” Mulder
began, spreading his palms in a gesture of submission. “Don’t hurt her. Just tell me what
you want.”
Scully’s throat was
gripped so tightly that she couldn’t even beg for mercy.
“It’s a little late for
that. My father tried to change the past. He sacrificed his own life…and
all he ended up doing was helping the future along.”
“Leave her alone,”
growled Mulder.
“Do you have any idea
what you’ve done, Fox? The Earth is dark. The world burns because
of you. My husband is dead because of you.”
Skinner suddenly
burst into the room, gun pointed. “Let her go!”
Mulder realized tears
had begun rolling silently down his face. “If you hurt her…”
He realized Skinner
was unable to take his shot without risking Scully’s life. Mulder’s heart
was now pounding like the drum of an interior tribe.
Behind Skinner, a
young nurse walked brazenly into the room and shut the door behind her.
Mulder glanced fearfully at the nurse. When she turned away from the door
she peered intently at Imogen. The nurse walked calmly up to the woman
and her hostage. Scully stared with choking incomprehension.
The nurse looked
Imogen in the eyes. “I cannot let you do this. Let her go. Let her go and I won’t tell
my people what you did. It’ll be easier for you.”
With an expression
full of hate, Imogen said, “This world isn’t yours to occupy.”
The nurse took
another step forward. “This world was ours before humans even learned to
dream.”
Mulder understood a
moment before it happened. The young nurse’s flesh and clothes suddenly
shifted like an optical illusion, and a tall, muscular man in a black flight-suit
was standing in her place. The bounty hunter stared with dark, impassive
eyes.
Enraged at seeing the
transformation, Imogen suddenly hurled Scully aside. She went crashing
into the wall and slumped to the floor.
Mulder screamed,
“Scully!” Skinner squeezed twice on the trigger of the gun in his
hands. The bullets slammed into the shapeshifter’s shoulder. Mulder lunged instinctively at Imogen, but the
bounty hunter pivoted at the waist and shoved Mulder away like a mere
nuisance. In the next moment Skinner was tossed aside before he could
re-aim and fire. Mulder slammed backwards into the closed door, and fell
gasping to his knees. Skinner went tumbling painfully over the corner of
the hospital bed. When Mulder managed to look up he saw Imogen was again
covered with frost and ribbons of ice, peering blindly at the bounty
hunter. The shapeshifter stood his ground, unconcerned by her demonic
appearance.
Imogen turned her
gaze to Mulder on the floor of the hospital room. He could feel the rage
coming off her. It was palpable. With an impossible growl she
cried, “This is for William, you bastard!”
She lunged at
Mulder. Skinner thrust an arm around the edge of the hospital bed and
fired three times, but the bounty hunter had already stepped into his line of
sight. The gunshots slammed into his broad back as he threw his arms
around Imogen.
A piercing white
light blasted through the windows and instantly filled the room. Mulder’s
eyes were forced closed immediately.
When the light
finally faded behind his eyelids, Mulder willed his eyes open. Imogen Ianelli
and the bounty hunter were gone. Skinner was still lying beside the bed,
the gun in his outstretched hand. Scully was still lying on the floor on the
other side of the room. Mulder scrambled over on his hands and knees and
took her into his arms. Scully was conscious and sobbing almost silently,
peering up at Mulder with haunted eyes. It felt as though a fist closed
around Mulder’s heart as he held her. She buried her face in his chest
and then Mulder could hear her cries…a low, muffled moaning. Mulder
kissed her; the top of her head, her hair, over and over, rocking her
gently. When he could finally bring himself to do it, he peered blankly
at Skinner who hauled himself into a cross-legged sitting position. The
bald Assistant Director just shook his head, tossed the gun away and put his
face in his hands.
The door burst
open. Monica and ASAC Therrier rushed into the room, weapons drawn,
peering wildly at the three figures on the floor of the hospital room.
The two guards that were supposed to be stationed outside followed them in a
moment later, but it was too little too late. Mulder closed his eyes and
held Scully, listening to the muffled sound of her cries.
*
December 14th
Rural West Virginia
10:26 a.m.
They were finally driving home.
The crisp morning light cast a glare on the endless snow around them.
Scully was sitting silently in the passenger seat of the rental car. As
Mulder drove he wished he could think of something truly comforting to say, but
he could feel the heaviness that had descended since the events of last
night. He felt kind of nauseous, as
though something oily and malevolent had gotten into the pit of his
stomach. He had dragged the woman he loved back into hell. How
could he possibly make her feel better about that? Mulder realized he was
afraid to even look at her for too long. He wanted to erase the last
thirty-six hours. He wanted to be back on their couch, watching Citizen
Kane and drinking beer with the most incredible woman he’d ever known.
But he couldn’t go back. Neither of them could. The door was open
now. He knew it…he felt it.
And Mulder knew that Scully could feel it too.
“You ok, Scully?” he
managed.
Without looking at
him she said, “William. That
woman said our son’s name. ‘This is for William’. She was talking
about our son.” There was an edge in Scully’s voice that unsettled
Mulder, a kind of cold calmness. It usually meant that she was
exceptionally determined about something, but there was also a quality to her
voice that Mulder had never heard before. Something had shifted inside
her, he realized.
Mulder took a long,
slow breath as they pulled up in front of the gate to the old farmhouse.
The car rolled to a halt.
“The darkness,
Mulder, it’s found us again.”
Mulder peered at the
gate. Their home no longer felt like a sanctuary.
“It’s going to keep
coming, Mulder. All of it. We tried to run, but it found us.
I gave up our son…and it still…it still found us. And I think…I think it
finds him too. It wants to take our son. It wants to take the
Earth.” Finally, Scully turned and looked at him with an expression of
stone. “We can’t let them, Mulder. I’ll die first. We’ll die first.”
An awful
mixture of anger, terror and excitement was swirling in Mulder’s gut. He
peered at his lover, his partner, and nodded. “I know.”