By GenieVB
avan@home.com
 

Date: Wed, 28 Jul 1999

RATING: MT/ST/MSR/Language Warning!

THANK-YOU'S: I thank the MULDER/TORTURE Site
maintained by SMILEY!

This story is free for archiving anywhere with
my full permission and gratitude. But please
let me know where so I can brag.
 

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files series, movie, characters,
are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen
Productions and the Fox Network. I don't want
any credit, fame or fortune from X-Files, I only want
to write about your show and characters to entertain
myself and others.
 

 As always, I drool stupidly for feedback.
avan@home.com or genyah@hotmail.com

SUMMARY:   Mulder & Scully do what they
must to survive.
 
 
 

THIS WAS A FANFIC' CHALLENGE! (the challenge being to
write a story where Mulder & Scully are thrust into a closed
environment and left to "breed a new race" because the
collonists have invaded).
So here I am, I've started it.
 

The New Breed.  by GenieVB
--------------------

Scully carefully measured the step of her shoes, lest their
quick clicking echo their determination to his ears that
were turned away from her approach. She knew if her rapid
footsteps sounded like a Search and Rescue, he would say
nothing to her.

She didn't ask for permission to open the passenger door
and settle herself beside his slump.

Neither did she immedietly begin speaking.

He was crying you see.

A very typically male type of weeping. Tears that accumulated
at the rims of his lower lids, pooled in the inner corner of
his reddened whites, and then flowed wide and slow like
a mid September creek. A man's tears and the hardest for her
heart to endure because she knew the depth of the grief
necessary to cause them.

Often, when a woman wept, it was something small and
perhaps the next day would even be looked upon by her
as silly. Not always but sometimes.

She herself had done it on more than one occassion. The truth
of that did not invalidate the hurt. But it was so.

Mulder cried when he had nothing left with which to ease
the pain. He cried when he felt at the end of choice or hope.
When he looked out at the world and his life engulfed
in it's unkindness and saw nothing good for him ever.

How she hated to see those tears of his.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" She asked after
his sniffs has receeded and his eyes had been dried with
shaking fingers. "Or are you going to tell me a lie?"

It was best to be straight with Mulder. If she gave him the
opportunity to beat around the bush, he would.

Evasion, thy name is Fox.

"Y-yeah."

Scully waited but nothing more came forth. She did noticed
the reddening of the tips of his ears. Stark contrast to the
milky flesh of his tired face.

Mulder had had his general physical that morning. Scully
mentally sat up. She'd forgotten about that. Not because
it wasn't important but because it was so routine and Mulder
hated them. Waste of time, he'd muttered as he'd left just
before eleven for the seventh floor of the Hoover Building.

She hadn't even wished him luck. The routine of the yearly
employee physical stood out like one duck among the flock
of passing days.

On-site physician, one hour and done for another year.
Nothing special and back to the pond.

Except Mulder hadn't returned for their noon-hour break.

Neither had he called.

Around twelve-twenty-five, when she'd felt the hunger pangs
and the craving for a Latte', she'd gone Mulder-seeking.

Main floor bathroom because the basement didn't have one,
- had opened the door and called in - no Mulder.

Skinner's office. Even Skinner had gone to lunch. Kimberly,
his secretary had looked up at her quizzically through a
mouthful of muffin crumbs.

Cafeteria - though he would have come and fetched her
first.

Allison behind the counter in her stained apron also had
not seen the object of her romantic fantasies.

"No, I haven't seen Agent Mulder."  The "Mulder" said as if
she was swallowing his penis: "Muuuul-derrr".

No answer at his house or on his cellular had then alerted
her. There was more to it than Mulder is late as usual.

Piss-bitchiness thrust aside, Scully had thought for a moment.

Parking garage.

Yes. There he had been. Driver's seat, windows up, doors
unlocked. Coat on, cell' off.

He still said nothing but turned to her and she bit her lip.

Fuck, she hated finding Mulder like this. The worlds worst
pack of dogs after him on a regular basis and he just
ran and dogged a bit harder. Shrugging them off like
nuisances.

When his personal demons took up the chase however,
he'd crawl into his hole and curl up like his namesake;
out of the burning heat.

It was at those times the hounds would sniff him out and
succeed in ripping him open.

Christ, she hated that look, too, the one he was giving
her now.

His post-tradgedy face, the one he tried to hide from her.
She'd shrink inwardly when that face turned her way, the
one that begged her to pretend that, after six years,
he was still okay. The face that told her to lie to him
about his own wounds; that he was, indeed, the
same old Fox Mulder.

She used to play that game. Look back and reflect things
in her face other than what her eyes told her, that Fox
Mulder was tired and worn out and that for him to keep
going day after day was a bonafide fucking miracle.

Now her eyes said back to him: Bullshit.

No, no, Mulder, Scully thought as she waited for him to
elaborate, we're not playing that game anymore.

***
 

**

"Tell me." Simply stated request as gentle as
a down pillow. No pressure points anywhere
so as not to wrinkle that careful control he'd
managed to summon for the confession.

"I had my physical."

"I know."

"He, the doctor, didn't like the results uh-of
one t-test." He cleared his throat and his
voice dropped slow low as to almost disappear
in the din of air molecules colliding around them.

"It's okay." Assure him that whatever it was, it
was between them and only them until he was
ready to reveal it to those less feeling.

"My-" He stopped abruptly. His color deepened.
Then he took a breath of bravery. Whatever it was,
it was obviously both embarrassing and painful.

"-my sperm-count is nil."

Scully froze.

The relief.

The relief was like an orgasm. She'd been expecting
"cancer", "I have Aids", "I have a year to live, Scully".

Sperm-count.

That was treatable. Fixable.

He knew that...

""Nil"?" Scully questioned. "Don't you mean low?
It's low?"

"If that's what I meant, that's what I would have said.
He said the smear looked "wrong". So he checked the
slide himself right there in that fucking ice-cold
examination room. Nil is what he told me. None.
I am totally sterile."

He stared at her, defying more arguement. "He wants me
back tomorrow to find out why."

"I'm sorry." There was nothing to say.

She knew what it was like to receive that news. And she
knew he knew she knew. That's why he didn't have to sit
there an elaborate on his feelings to her. Or his lack of
them because news like this leaves you stone cold dead
inside at first. It gives you something new to think about,
though:

Diseased-tainted-abnormal-mutant-thing.

Useless.

Fitting, all of them.

"I'm sorry." She repeated, feeling all of them with him.

"Thanks." The tears came just a bit more and he let them.

"I don't know why this is bothering me so much. I never saw
myself as having kids anyway."

Scully read between the lines. He didn't believe that he could
make any kind of decent father to a child. Therefore bringing
one into the world was unthinkable.

Into THIS world.

Under HIM.

But it was different when the choice, the decision, was taken
from you. It was an unholy theft of ones humanity.

A theft of life. Of self.

"Blessing in disguise." He said to her as her heart broke anew.

They were both victims of gross crime.

Somehow she knew this newest attack on him was not an accident.
Somehow, he was being punished by someone for something.

What had he done recently but bend his back to Kershe and his
disapproving eyes?

What had he done to deserve the discarding of his dignity?

"I'm coming with you tomorrow."

The eyes were not totally empty that looked at her.

No hope. Compliance, yes.  Acceptance of the inevidable.

Scully took his hand in hers.

But he was like a roped creature with its head down, waiting
for the next blow.
 

***

Next days follow previous days with infuriating regularity.

Why can't time flow backwards just this once? Scully
thought as she maneuvered the car into a parking stall
and switched off the engine.

She'd done the driving that morning, picking Mulder up
on the way to work.

It just seemed the thing to do. She didn't know why other than
he looked feeble yesterday. Hollow and mashable. Overcooked
tortellini. And this morning he looked like he'd slept in his clothes.
Probably had.

Or, more likely, had not slept. She'd smelled the distinct
odor of yesterday's rye on his breath just as he'd stuck
the toothbrush in his mouth after greeting her at his apartment
door.

He was running behind. Doctor's office in one hour. There was
no hurry.

Scully noted the empty liqour bottle on the coffee table. No
glass even.

Right from the spout, eh Mulder?

When she'd learned of the theft of her ovi, her tear had been
to sit at her dining room table and look at picture albums.

She'd dug out Bill and Tara's pictures and choked back
grief at the faces of their children and the smiling faces of
the happy parents, something she would never now be.

She hadn't even contemplated looking at pictures of Emily.

She'd wanted to mourn her fate, not commit suicide.

Mulder'd done his mourning inside a Twenty-Six-er.

She heard him shaking out asprins. Water running into
a glass. Swallowing. A cough.

The headache of mourning.

He'll wear his black suite, she thought.

"Thanks for picking me up, Scully." He said and rentered
the front hallway, all in black but for a white shirt, and
struggling with a, for once, subdued tie. He fumbled.

All the better to hang yourself? She wondered and moved
in to finish for him.

Cinched it snug but not tight up against his throat, just under
that adams apple that bobbed when he swallowed.

The bags under his eyes were separate creatures that told
the tale of his self-punishment of last night. She should have
stayed over and watched him.

What if...?

Mulder was dressed. "Ready?" He asked.

She wondered at him. Often and today again.

Took his hand and lead him out the door and down the hall.

She was ready but not certain for what. She was ready to
be there. Ready to catch him if he fell. Fall with him if need
be.

And Mulder? He was just giving her that look again.

Searching for his hole.

Scully was scared shitless.
 
 

***

DR. GERARD'S OFFICE. HOOVER BUILDING:

"Now, after the exam we'll be sending you down to the lab for
blood work, X-Rays and toxicology to see what might have
caused this."
 
 

Mulder next endured a prostate exam, and despite feeling
like someone was shoving a baseball bat, thick end first,
up his butt, Gerard found nothing abnormal.

But the testicular exam next caused the formation of a crevase
between the good Doc's eyebrows.

Mulder saw it. "What?"

Gerard released Mulder and told him to get dressed.

Teeth ground down to nubs, he did so, all the time watching
the Doc peel off his latex gloves. Gerard was looking at him
like this was a game he'd played all week, and now it was
his misfortune to declare Mulder the loser.

Gerard settled back, leaning aginst his stainless steel counter.
"There seems to be some hardening of the testes."

"What?"

Gerard pulled out a chart and suddenly Mulder was front row
center of a cross-section diagram of male genitalia.

Gerard pointed with his finger. "Here. The Epididymis. Where the
sperm first start their journey to maturity. It's a fifteen foot long,
coiled tube sitting atop and slightly behind each testicle. They lead
to the Vas Deferens ducts which go to the seminal vesicles behind
the bladder. Here they form an ejaculatory duct, this then passes
through the prostate, I could explain the whole thing, but in a nut
shell if your Epididymis have hardened, it could mean, and I'll be
frank, tumors, though possibly benign tumors, blocking the flow of
sperm. It might mean the Epididymis have atrophied, which is
an extremely rare condition, but there are things which could
cause it."

"What things?"

"Testicle trauma, severe infection of the reproducive system or
an STD, a previous cancer if those _are_ nodules or cysts-"

"-I've never had cancer."

"Well, we'll check for it anyway of course. Have you ever been
exposed to a toxin. A really bad  viral infection might cause
a state of atrophy, have you ever-?"

Mulder buckled his belt. "-yes to both questions."

Gerard raised his eyesbrows at that.

"The toxin was, we think, LSD or somehing like it. The virus...
we don't really know."

"It'd be good if you could find out some specifics for me-"

"You'll have to speak to my partner, she's a medical doctor and she
was there. She'll be able to tell you."

Gerard straightened and followed Mulder out of his exam room.
He spoke , his voice low, "Depending on what is discovered, you'll
most likely be going to a specialist after this. Try not to worry."

Mulder saw Scully stand and walk toward them from her chair in
the waiting room. She'd been flipping through a ratty magazine.

Mulder didn't waste time. To Gerard:

"This is Doctor Scully, she'll fill you in."

To Scully:

"I have to go get X-Rays." And left.

Scully watched him push through the swinging doors and almost
didn't hear Gerards question.

"I'm sorry?" She said.

"I wonderd why Agent Mulder's bout with the toxin and the virus was
never recorded on his chart here?"

"Oh. Umm, well, he was being treated under a different doctor at the
time."

"It still should have been made part of his medical history as an Agent
of the F.B.I.."

Scully was suddeny angry and no just at Gerard. But at the situation.
Mulder'd been through enough. So had she. Ans she was angry with
Mulder because he was doing that "I'm closing off my pain" thing.

Scully looked at Gerard and put on her own professional, doctor
face. "What do you need to know?"

***

X-Rays confirmed Gerard's suspicions.

Both Epididymis had atrophied, no sperm could flow.

The X-Ray technician had injected the delightful dye, taken
the pictures and, after reading them and handing his own
findings to the Physcian in attendance, Mulder found
himself standing before the Back-lit, staring at cross-section
of his own out-of-commission sex organs. He didn't know why
but it made his stomach heave.

"Does this mean-"

"No." The doctor, (that she was female made it worse to even
look up from his shoes), quickly answered. Scully wasn't so
hard, he trusted her not to be patronizing or overbearing. But
he'd found such was not usually the case.

This one, however, smiled slightly to put him at ease, "That's
always the first question and the answer is, your performance
will be unaffected. You'll be able to attain a normal erection."

That made him color a bit. //Like I've lately had the pleasure.//

"So, what now?"

"Now we send you to Doctor Thomas Thorndyke."

Thorn-DICK??

She saw his face, "It's pronounced Thorn-die-k. Hopefully
you'll be able to figure out what's going on."

Oh. Thorn-DIE-k. Wonderful. Was that fate whispering in his
ear?

Mulder took the name and number of his newest destination,
remembered to thank her and left.

***

Gerard asked:

"So he's been through some very serious illnesses. What follow
ups have been done?"

"I can get that information to you, I don't have all his complete
charts on-hand."

Gerard nodded. "You're a pathologist?"

"Yes."

"Have you treated him yourself for anything?"

Tricky question. She was not a legally practising doctor. Mulder
was an F.B.I. Agent, a federal employee, an officer. "I have, but
only under emergency circumstances where NO. OTHER. HELP. was
immedietly available."

Gerard, wanting to calm the hackles he'd just raised on her, "Relax,
I know what it can be like in the field, I treat unusually dressed
superficial wounds all the time here. I'd say he's lucky to have
a medical doctor as a partner. But it might be to his benefit if
you spoke to him about it, especially after hearing some of the
stuff he's been through. Do you know if Agent Mulder takes care
of himself? Is he on anything, does he use recreational drugs?"

"As to the drugs, no. I know that for certain. He does tie one
on occassonally, but that's rare. As for taking care of himself...
if you mean does he examine himself, I don't know, the subject's
never come up."

"Perhaps you'd like to talk to him. He was pretty shut-off with me."

What's new?  She thanked Gerard and left.

***

They met in the car.

"So, how are you?" Scully asked.

"If I tell you how I am, Scully, I want you to promise not to ask
any more questions."

"Why?"

"That's a question." But he looked out his side window.

Preparing for battle, Scully thought.

"I have the name of the next pit stop. I just want to handle this one
on my own from here-in." He tried not to sound bitter. "Thanks for being
with me this far."

So then, it's not a temperature-induced Zero Count. "So what's wrong?"

Mulder read from a scribbled note he'd made for himself: "The
Epididymis,
both of them, have atrophied. They don't know why."

"We'll have to find out why." She assured him. "I'm sure it can be
treated."

"I'll find out why, Scully. This is...hard to share with you. I'm
sorry."

She understood. It had taken tremendous courage for her to call Mulder
that horrible Christmas. But she had and he'd come, though in
retrospect,
at the time, she knew she hadn't let him know how much she'd appreciated

it. In fact, she'd almost brushed him off at the hospital. And it had
hurt him.

Tit for tat. "Okay. But I'm here if you need me, Mulder. I'd rather
be in on this but I'll respect your privacy. Wll you anser one question
for me?"

He nodded.

"Do you take of yourself properly?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you self-exam. This problem might have been there for a long
time, and the sooner something like this is treated, the better are the
chances-"

"I know the statistics." He snapped then felt ashamed. Sighed. "Look,
guys just don't go around feeling up their balls."

"In other words, you haven't. You're pushing forty and you've never
examined yourself?"

"No. All right? No, I haven't. Everything's always..."worked" just fine,
not that I've had-"

He stopped. "Can we drop this now?"

She was defeated. When Mulder clammed up, he clammed up tight.
"Remember what I said."

He nodded and started the car.

***
 
Scully was home.

Mulder was in apartment 42.

He imagined her sipping tea under a quilt on her couch
on such a cool night. Reading a book, maybe, in her
_home_. Wondering why he'd been such a fuck-head
to her.

He wondered too from his darkened apartment 42,
where he'd stumbled in after three bars (fuck the fucking
doc's name and the fucking appointment on the fucking
slip in his fucking pocket!), and a liqour store and seeped
into the center of his couch like a greasy spill.

Psychologically, he accepted that having an empty clip
didn't make him less of a man. But his heart kept
arguring the point. So emotionally, he felt like a eunich.
Man sans balls is no man at all - that's what he kept
feeling.

Scully was barren also. But her eggs, at least she had
those. Suspended in a preserving fluid and kept at minus
two hundred centigrade in the private deep freeze of her
choosing, but she had them.

Some day when her clock started chiming, she at least
had the option of artificial insem-...insam-...implantation,
or whatever the no-fuck it was called.

She'd need a sperm doner of course.

Not him. Nobody _ever_ him.

He'd always hoped (hah!) - no - dreamed and fantasized
that, when that day came, he might be considered for the
job. And not just the preliminaries, but the whole contract;
daddy, hubby, best friend and lover.

Now he wouldn't even make the starting list.

Mulder swigged back a jigger of burning whiskey. He was
pretty convinced that he and alcohol would become fast
friends.
 

"How much of that shit are you going to down, Mulder?"

Mulder half leaped, half fell off the couch, trained his gun
that in his drunken state had by some bloody miracle made
it to his hand from his holster, into the shadows and the
origin of that voice he knew and hated so well.

"Krycek! Come out, you son-of-a-bitch or I'll start ssshooting.
I'm drunk, I shwear to god, I will becausse right now I don't
give a fuck who I hit."

"Feeling a little _teste'_, are we?" Krycek emerged from the
darkness.

"My favorite coward." Mulder said, "What the hell are you
doing here? You have five sheconds to ansher or I'm gonna
blow your prick and you in different directionsss."

"We did it to you."

Black pupils in green inside bloodshot blinked. "What the fuc-?"

"We did "It". Your little problem. Just last week actually.
Remember that boobied bitch who kept hitting on you at Rooney's,
that dump? Remember she kept buying you drinks and you just
kept drinking them."

"You're a goddamn liar."

"Uh uh. It's a simple process. Two toxins delivered one after the
other. One to numb your senses, although you were pretty souced
by then..." Krycek moved ever so slowly towards Mulder who was
swaying and still focused on the wall where he used to be. "...the
other did the actual "surgery". Amazing stuff, really, it uses the
genetic code, the exact DNA string designating the part that it needs
to zero. And neutralized. We invented it by the way."

Mulder's finger tightened on the trigger. If he could just get Krycek
back in his sights, he would fire. Fuck, it would be better than sex
to see that double-crossing, lying, psycho bastard bleed out right
there on the floor. It would at least compensate a bit.

But Mulder was far too drunk and Krycek far too fast. One kick and
Mulder's gun flew to a far corner of the room, another and Mulder
himself was down, doubled over and holding his painful and booze
distended stomach.

The next, Mulder was slipping into unconsciousness with one jab
from the hypodermic Krycek  sunk into his butt. "Sweet dreams,
Mulder. See you in the New World."

***
 

"Mulder. Hey."

Mulder opened his eyes to a gorgeous woman looking down
at him and it was Scully.

He sat up, too quickly he learned, when the room and her
began spinning around him. She placed those caring
hands flat on his chest, and pushed him back down. He felt
thick mattress beneath him, bright lights overhead so kept
his eyes closed.

"Where am I?"

"Better question: Where are _we_?"

Now he opened them. He'd assumed hospital. When have you
ever felt a comfy mattress in one of those? He saw rough,
concrete and metal walls, metal floor, small metal table...

Big metal door, flush against the wall. No handle or grip
of anykind.

"It's locked." She told him.

Sitting up a bit more slowly, he checked out the rest of their
room. About twenty feet by twenty feet though one corner
was partitioned off with a tiny connecting door. Toilet?

He looked back at Scully. She looked tired. A tad guarded.
Poised.

It was an expression of hers with which he'd become so
familiar, that ready to run, leap, fight, or escape face and
it all depended on what happened next.

"What the hell is going on? Are you okay?"

Scully helped him swing his legs to the floor. He was shakey.
His throat hurt. Everything in the room seemed very sharp
and defined yet out of focus too..."Have I been-?"

"I think so. And, yes, I'm okay."

Scully sat beside him. Told him in simple sentences, wasting
no time bringing him up to date on recent events as far as she
understood them. Her voice was matter-of-fact but smaller.
She was frightened.

"They were waiting for me that night you dropped me off. They
kept telling me I would not be harmed and they said that you
were their second "pick-up" and that you would be joining me
soon. I must have been drugged because I woke up here. I'm
certain they've done the same to you. There are no clocks in here,
Mulder, but I estimate I've been down here at least two days prior
to your arrival."

"And where is "here"?"

"I can't tell you _where_ we are, but I can tell you where we _are_.
We're about ten thousand feet beneath the surface of the earth
in an enormous man-made complex they've created."

""They've". As in Smokey and his boys."

"Yes. Krycek among them."

Mulder felt a tenderness developing in his groin. As soreness, as
if someone had given his jewels a good pinch. Whatever pain
killers they've given him, they were wearing off. "You said
you were here for two days alone, what happened to me in the
meantime?"

"I think they've done something to you, Mulder. Something to both of
us. Myself, I'm not sure, but with you I can guess."

Mulder swallowed, the soreness suddenly haven taken on so much
more signifigance. Some terrifying meaning that left him weak
with fear. "What the hell do they want with us?"

With a groan the metal door opened, swinging in on them.

Both looked into the relative dimness of the hallway beyond
and to the persons standing there. A very fat man and two
meat-packed thumb-busters.

_The_ Fat Man. The man Scully had described to him once during
his ill-fated train journey.

That Well-Fed fucker who looked like he ate kittens for breakfast.

"You're here," (the pudgy prick began), "..because certain parties
argued for your preservation and that you might contribute to
the Work."

Scully looked at him with bearely disguised disgust. "And what "work"
is that?"

"The most important series of steps since it all began, now that the
invasion has begun."

Mulder didn't bother to hide his disgust, either in his voice or on
his face. "Invasion?" He didn't believe him. You're free to believe in
the aliens existance, Mulder, but just don't trust this tub of lard.

"Of course. Did you think they could be delayed indefinately? Someone
will be along shortly." His tone was one of dismissal and he turned to
leave.

"Wait!" Mulder stood up. It was hard to do. The anesthetic and whatever
it is they'd done to his nether region was making him feel quite ill.
"What the hell did you do to us?! I demand an answer you-"

"You are in a position to demand nothing, Agent Mulder." The Fat Man
said over his shoulder, waddling his retreat down the hall as a thick
associate swung the door shut with a clang.

From the other side, the locked was turned.

***

It may have been minutes or hours in between visitors but when that
metal door swung wide again, Mulder was waiting to launch himself at
whatever or whoever stepped through. What entered, though, was not
a solid form, but a gaseous substance that toppeled him to his knees in
a second, leaving him coughing and with cooked noddles for limbs.

"It's an instant anesthetic." Krycek explained pleasantly. "It'll wear
off in a minute."

Scully herself, now behind the door, had inhaled less of it but choked
and staggered to the bed, landing on her butt beside it.

Krycek came in all the way and leaned against the table, his right arm
arrogantly crossed over him. His left, stiff and unmoving against his
side.

"That was stupid, Mulder." He informed him. "Where do you think you're
going to go? This place is underneath a mountain. _Underneath_ it. Only
the Elders know the way in and out. Beyond the Complex, there's miles
of tunnels and dead-ends. The whole structure is completely self-contained
with enough food, water and air to last two hundred years. The three
routes to the surface need a DNA-Scannd I.D. and twenty digit code just
to get passed the first security measure. See, we figured, once we came
down here for good, there wasn't much point in having any quick exits
because,...well,..there'd be no where up there left to exit to that
isn't going to be over-run by your favorite and mine: Greys...."

Mulder concentrated on breathing and indulged in a little fantasy of
tearing off Krycek's other arm, while he listened to the bastard's
lengthly speech. Krycek was talking freely and openly and occassionally
even smirking down at his two captives. There was no doubt about it,
Alex was enjoying himself.

"...Those security measures work both ways. There isn't a door in this
whole place that's less than six inches thick of tempered steel. Yeah,
Little green men, Mulder. Little green men with an army of millons
and the technological power to wipe every living thing off this planet
if they wanted to. We bargained for a while but...well, humans aren't
the only creatures that know how to lie. so this,..." he gestured with
his
one movable limb, "..was our last resort contigency..."

"Shut up Krycek." Mulder ground out, still somewhat breathlessly from
the gas.

"What?"

"I said," looking at him as if he were an imbicile, "Shut. Up."

Mulder could see the color deepen in the younger man's face. Young face,
but old, wisened eyes. Wisened by frightening things.

Krycek walked the two steps over to where Mulder was lying on his side,
trying to will some feeling back in his arms and legs and where Scully
was sitting, pale and lethargic.

Mulder readied himslef for a boot in the face but instead, Krycek just
crouched down and talked some more. Mulder had to admit it, Krycek
knew how to keep his cool.

"You'd better listen to me, Mulder, because I'm your savior and I'm
letting you in on the scriptures here..."

Mulder sniffed the sausage on the man's breath and heard the dead
seriousness of his tone and the words that carried it. His mouth was not
a foot from Mulder's right ear. His green like a cat's eyes shone with
knowledge of terrors in the night. Like that night.

Again the Devil kisses me and explains Truth.

"...we are the only ones who are going to live through this. You, me,
Scully and about two hundred and fifty others, all down here, all the
brightest, the strongest, the elite of humanity. Those who would do
anything...anything.. to assure the survival of our race. Why do you think
you're here, Mulder?
You're smart but you're not that smart. You're here because you're a
fighter.  Because, once you've figured something out, you'll die to uncover the
truth of it. You'll expose anyone to bring corruption to light. And Scully's here
because if it weren't for her, you'd have been dead meat by now a dozen times
over, so she's here because she's good for you. Am I getting through to you?"

Mulder listened. His head wanted to believe. His heart hated and hated
and wanted to kill Alex and his lies.

"Do you get it? You're here because two of us argued for your
preservation.
Just two. The future could always use another female..."

Scully looked sharply at him.

"...and this next phase of the Work is the only way to preserve anything
of
the human race."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

Krycek smiled a little, but it was a mixture of sadness, bitterness and
regret.
There was nothing at all triumphant in it. "It means offspring, Mulder.
Kids.
Children. A race of human-hybrids that can one day return to the surface
and
either intergrate into whatever alien society has been created up there,
or figure
out a way to exterminate those bug-eyed mother-fuckers."

Mulder's groin burned. It was listening too. "What the hell did you do
to us?"

He was terrified of the answer. Krycek was going to confirm his terror.
He
knew it.

Scully inhaled sharply as the implications of Krycek's monologue sunk
in.

And in.

And in.

"We were going to do it while you were still topside but you went on a
drunk
instead of showing up at the Doc's." At Mulder's expression of
disbelief. "Yeah,
we owned him too. Your going on a drunk threw a wrench in the works for
a
few hours but it's just as well. The aliens bumped their little invasion
forward a
few years and there really is no time to waste."

Mulder sucked air, a whole lung full. "I asked you what you did to us!?"

Krycek straightened and returned to his position by the table. Mulder
struggled into a seated position and moved closer to Scully. She had
said nothing during this whole thing. Her head was down and she
stared at the floor like it was all moving over her and around her but
not
touching her. Reality in its present state seeming to have no meaning to

her and her no need of reality. "Scully?" Mulder whispered but Krycek
kept talking.

"We knocked out your sperm. You and that nobody Gerard hadn't discovered
it yet, but your sperm were dead and your ability to create more. Now it
isn't. You're "fixed" though not in the manner that word might imply."

Mulder wanted to heave. "You've done something to it."

Krycek just stared back.

"Alien sperm?" At Krycek's "keep guessing" face, " _Hybrid_ sperm.
My,..my.."

"Your unmentionables, yeah. Genetically altered to produce Hy's and
nothing
but Hy's."

Mulder looked at Scully. She flicked her eyes to Mulder once, in
sympathy
for him, but returned them to the floor in front of her.

Mulder swallowed, whispered to Krycek. "And Scully?"

Krycek looked almost remourseful. "Her ova are all there. No nucleus.
Empty shells, ready for the Hy's. Hy's have their own complete genetic
code, all the necessary chromosones, so no egg nucleus is needed."

Mulder watched Scully's face as Krycek delivered the news that she was
now nothing more than a physical host for monsters. She had her eyes
closed and was shaking. Trembling like the last leaf on the last branch,
dead center of a raging storm.

Mulder launched himself at Krycek. "YOU RAPING FUCK!!!!!"

****

****

Krycek easily blocked Mulder's attack. With his one
useable arm he grabbed Mulder's nearest one, which
had been reaching for his throat, twisted it behind his
back, allowing Mulder's own momentum to land him
chest down on the cold metal of the table.

That cold was nothing to the cold of Krycek's body
holding him there. He could feel his tendons straining
in the shoulder of his twisted arm and the hardness of
Krycek's artificial one pressing painfully down on his
other still rubbery limb.

He could feel the breath on his neck and the words next
arriving in his ear. Even his breath was cold.

But the words were ice daggers in his soul.

"I saved your life, Mulder. It'd be pretty stupid if you toseed
it away now, wouldn't it? What would Scully do, huh? Would
you like us to pair her off with someone else?"

Mulder cried out when Krycek twisted tighter to send his
point home. "You listen. You listen real well because I won't
be back and I won't be making anymore sweet talk to the
Elders about your pathetic ass. You have an opportunity here,
you and Scully, to see the human race live through this. Your
offspring. Your children will have life someday beyond this
fucking tincan buried in the rocks. Do you think we all have
that privilege? Huh? Do you think we all have the same
destiny? Do you? Mine was written for me years before we
ever met. I'm going to let you up, now, and if you try anything,
I mean if you do anything but be thankful and polite, I'm
going to end you. And Scully will be reassigned. I'm going
to assume you know what that means."

Krycek let Mulder up.

Mulder pushed himself to an approximation of a standing
position, glaring such hate at Krycek, even Krycek found it
hard to believe.

"You still think I'm lying. You still think this is just a hoax, some
elaborate illusion created just for you. The world revolves
around you, doesn't it, Mulder? Your the common denominator
to every conspiracy ever hatched, aren't you?" Krycek gestured
toward his head. "How do make room in there for that kind of ego?"

Krycek turned to leave. Knocked on the door twice. Loud thumps
with his fist.

Turned to speak as he waited for the gurad to let him out. "Think
about it for a while if you have to, Mulder. You got nothing but
time now. Years, decades of it. Nothing but time."

"What does that mean?" Scully asked it. In a tiny, frail, girl-child
voice. Krycek looked down at her.

Pretty. Petite. Smart. Thrown in with people and things that had
scarred her for life. Now the Final thing. He wondered if she had
become a bit "touched".

"It means that you, Mulder, or even me, we're never going to
leave here. Ever. That's what it means."

The guard opened for Krycek.

Krycek left and didn't look back.

**

He didn't really want to witness the breakdown of these two.

He respected them. wished it had gone better. Wished she hadn't
looked so devestated. Wished Mulder hadn't looked at him with
such undying hatred and loathing. Wished for a lot of things.

God damn that smoking prick for making him deliver the news
of the New World to them.

God damn him, and himself, to this Hell forever.
 

**

THREE WEEKS POST CAPTURE.
 

"I say we try and get out. Escape." Mulder said.

He was attempting once again to spark some kind of
reaction from Scully. Fish for some kind of response
out of her other than that terribly long, drawn out sigh.
Or her at best one or two word answeres that came
irregular intervals. Little firecrackers that fizzled out
just before igniting the powder, that's how she spoke
to him.

She was thin. Ate almost none of the food  - and it was pretty
good food - offered to them three times a day. Occassionally
he skipped a meal here and there so, due to the inactivity
of their days and nights, he wouldn't put on around his middle.

Push-ups, stretching,..there really wasn't much else to do in
such a confined space. He'd tried running in place but that
had only seemed to irritate her so he'd given it up.

There just wasn't anything to do. Even their laundry was
picked up twice weekly and delivered back to them
clean and folded.

Their jailers knew litle of the human need for work,
for action and mental stimulation it seemed. For him,
being forced into neutral was like having a cage around his
mind. Pretty soon he knew he'd been pacing and then
beating at the bars to get out.

Scully seeemd to be handling it better. Well, handling
the teeth grinding silence and bordom anyway.

Two days ago she'd stopped talking to him altogether.

Another sigh. As if the oxygen in the room was too thin. Or
just her brain reminding her that to live, one must breathe.

That was the thing he was most afraid of, that she was
"handling it" because she no longer cared to.

Mulder tried again. "I don't believe Krycek."

Scully was resting on the bed, flat on her back, her hand moving
in tiny little circles over her stomach, sometimes stilling. Then
it would start again. Tiny little movements that seemed to mean
something to her. He wished she would let him touch her. Not
sexually, but just be near her. Comfort her, if she would allow him.

But instead he stayed across the room occupying one of the
two upright chairs at their one table.

He was frightened for her. Mulder rubbed his face hard with
both hands. It was getting harder and harder to maintain
his hold on rationality. Harder and harder to reason. There was
so much empty time to fill with nothing to do but think.

*

You called it a "priviledge", Krycek.

Do you even know what that word means? It means honor.

Did you consider it a priviledge when they hacked your arm
off, Krycek, you fucker? Did that feel like an _honor_?

Was it an honor to shoot my father in the head, you scum-shit?
Did you get off watching me cry over him as he bled all over my
hands and the bathroom floor?

You were still there, I know that now. I fucking do! I was just too
sick from your little cocktail served via somebody's plumbing
cleverness to have done anything about it. Too consumned with
grief to think anything, other than Daddy-daddy-daddy-daddy-daddy...
 
Did you masturbate when you knew they were going to take Scully
away? Is that how you celebrated?

You and your pals?

Just abduct her you cock-suckers. Just abduct her and drug
her into a coma for three months, let her get fat and unhealthy
lying on a slab, rip off her ova, stick some fucking chip in her
neck, then send her home to die.

But don't stop there. Give her cancer. Let her waste away
before her own eyes and those of her family. And her partner,
me,  (punish me too), arrange a cure but make the "cure" _another_
chip. And who knows what this one does, maybe it was working it's
dirty magic right now.

Then give her a child. And, even better, take that child back.

Kill it.

Is that how you define honor and privilege?

We are "priviledged" to be here. You see, coming from you,
I know what that means. It has unique meaning in your
fucked-up universe. And so there is nothing in it that could
possible contain anything untainted by you.

Because you're _that_ dirty.
 
*

"Scully-"

"I'm ovulating." Scully deadpanned.

Mulder stopped. Swallowed. He knew she'd had her period
about two weeks  ago. Hard not to notice the tell-tale odor
of it in their tiny living quarters. Men had a nose for it anyway.

"We don't have to listen to them, Scully. They could be lying.
There might be nothing going on above ground, this could be
an elaborate method of-"

"Of what, Mulder? Of giving me back my eggs? Dead eggs?
Nothing in them that's me or that's human? So they can spy
on us? they've been doing that for years, they didn't need
to lock us here for that."

"No, but there may be more to this than we understand. We
don't know anything because we're _in_ here." Mulder
spoke fast and furious, he wanted to keep her talking.

"Mulder, I know one thing they didn't lie about."

"What?"

"They did give me back my eggs, or someones. A woman
knows when's she's ovulating and I haven't done so for
years."

"So what do you want to do? Stay here? Play by their
rules?"

"What if they're telling the truth?"

Mulder couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

Scully sat up. "I've been lying here, resting. Thinking.
For days. I can't see any reason why they would want
us down here together other than the one that was
explained to us."

She looked at him with such comprehension, such
empathy for how he was feeling, he felt open and
exposed to her. Scully was seeing into his raw
and violated soul. "And for what they did to you. If
this was just an expirament, if we were just two
among thousands, they could have abducted us, Mulder,
they could have done it a long time ago. They didn't
even need our consent or knowledge. All they would
have needed to do was steal my eggs and your sperm
and test-tube the rest."

"Scully. _Don't_ believe them."

Scully laughed. One of irony. "Mulder, do you think aliens
are going to invade the planet,...someday?...based on
what you know, what you've seen? Do you believe at least
they exist?"

"Yes."

"I don't." She shook her head at what she saw as the
ridiculousness of it all, the whole thing. "I don't. I didn't."

"But now..."

He gestured around the compartment that had served
as their "home" for almost a month. She was amazed
they hadn't ended up hating each other. She and Mulder,
beyond an occassional all night consultation in either
her or his hotel room during a case, had never spent any
significant time together outside of work. Almost none.

She realised he had been trying very hard not to upset
her and loved him for it. She'd been withdrawn and cool.

But she'd needed to figure it out. And herself. And what had
happened and the situation as it stood.

And themselves too.
 
"Now, I'm not sure. But I know one thing. I am ovulating.
And if they've told the truth about these eggs inside me,
then why should they be lying about what they did to you
and what's going on? I really can't find a reason. If you
can, tell me."

"What if I can't except say that I'm playing a hunch? Do
you want to stay and do their bidding? Jump in the sack,
make babies and see what comes out?"

She looked like she was going to cry and he mentally
kicked himself.  "We may have no other choice."

"What are you talking about?"

"We've been here three weeks, how long do you think they're
going to wait on us to...to...do what they want us to? I'd
rather it be you, Mulder."

That floored him. They just might make good on the threat
to separate them and with Scully in some other guys
"nest", maybe someone only to happy to oblige and just
maybe only too willing to be as rough as necessary to get
Scully to as well.

With that Smoking fuck watching from the balcony.

***
 

"I know there's something I should say to
that, something nice, but this situation is
just too bizzare, even for me. I don't know
what to say."

Scully's "I'd rather it be you." hadn't fluffed
Mulder's feathers much. In fact, he was feeling
rather like the compensation prize on The
Price Is Right - canned chicken with a ribbon.

"So what do we do?" Scully asked him.

"We get the hell out of here."

"How?"

"I-"

The door lock turned loudly and both retreated to
the opposite side of the room. Whatever escape
plan they might eventually hash out together, neither
wanted being gassed as any part of it.

It was Krycek.

Arrogant and fanning his tail. Rooster-Boy in all his
controlling glory and cock-a-doodle-doo.

After the door clanged shut and was locked behind him,
he stood and stared at them for a few seconds then
spoke. "Tonight."

Mulder "hrmmphed". "How many times didja' have to
write that speech down, Krycek?"

"Shut-up, Mulder. My coming here a second time wasn't
my idea."

"Ours neither." Mulder felt like playing off him. He felt like
pissing Krycek royally off. Sometimes you could learn things
that way, getting someone mad, like which elevator went up
for instance.

Krycek was clearly in no mood.

"You stupid idiot." He said. "You're stupid, both of you.
Tonight, YOU," he pointed to Mulder, "will fuck HER",
pointing to Scully, "tonight or they will split you up
for good. Tomorrow morning, first thing. And someone
else'll be fathering Scully Junior."
 
"You fucking shut your mouth!" Krycek's gutter terms
for doing to - no - _with_ Scully something he'd dreamed
about for a long time made Mulder angry enough to kill
him.

"Afraid it might be me, Mulder? I am on the back-up plan."

Scully grabbed Mulder's arm when she felt him tense up,
ready to charge full throttle.

Krycek could see he'd gotten to him in just the right spot
in just the right proportion. "Or did Daddy beat the balls
out of you? Too many whippings? Huh? Or was it something
_else_? Did daddy fuck you, Mulder, so bad that now you
can't get it up for anyone, even Scully?"

Mulder just managed to restrain himself, seeing the tiny
spray gun hugged in Krycek's right palm, but just barely.
His limbs trembled with rage.

So he was as suprised as Krycek when it was Scully
who was suddenly flying across the room and attatching
to him like an angry alley cat, ripping and tearing at
him, balling up her fist and punching him in the face
again and again.

Mulder just stared for a few seconds in total shock. She'd
actually gotten on top of Krycek and was pummelling his
face and upper body with all the pent up energy of three
weeks in a cage.

Scully had a hard fist. He knew.

Krycek had been taken so unexpectedly, he'd lost his grip
on his little aerosol can and it went rolling across the floor.

Mulder grabbed it and tucked it down the front of his pants. Let
the one-armed big-mouth show his own balls. Let Krycek show
his guts and frisk him there.

It was over as quickly as it had begun. Scully had tired and was
crawlling off Krycek who then struggled to his feet.

The fight had lasted thirty seconds tops, yet Mulder was astonished
at the devestation to Krycek's pretty face. Astonished and delighted:
Bloody nose, split lip, shiner already on it's way to a deep purple.

Mulder laughed, quietly and not for long. Krycek heard it
- but that was okay - it was meant for him.

The only disappointing thing about the whole cockeyed scene
was they couldn't end the story on a happier note: the door
was still closed and locked.

"Don't you two get that I'm trying to help you!?" Krycek spit
a gob of blood and saliva on the floor between them. "You
will die, Mulder. They'll fucking slice your throat without a
second thought or even a first one. We're the only ones
who've kept you alive this far!"

Scully was sore after her impulsive rumble but she didn't give
a damn. All that shit about Mulder and his dad....just did it for
her. She'd suddenly wanted Kycek dead, right then. Not someday
put in jail or punished within the Law, but dead, dead, dead on
the floor. Dead under her hands and by her hands so she could
look down, nudge his corpse with her foot and know for a fact the
goddamn two-faced prick wasn't gonna be picking on anything
except a harp from then on.

A red harp and with only one arm.

In Hell.
 

*

Krycek departed with an angry pounding on the door and a
wary glance over his shoulder lest another red-headed beast
latch onto his back to finish the job.

He hadn't wanted to hurt Mulder, not really. Well, part of him
had. The part that didn't feel anything, the part that started
just below his left shoulder. The part that reminded him daily
he was less than whole and it was because of Mulder.

What he'd mostly wanted to do was goad Mulder. Pick at him,
get it to somehow stick in his head that they were here for the
long haul just like he was.

Like he himself loved it here. Oh, yeah, regular Hilton.

It was a prefabricated purgatory but they were all gonna have
to simmer in it if they wanted to see anything of humanity
survive.

Already the reports were coming in. Smokey kept them
all informed.

Widespread panic at the hundreds of ships moving across the
land. Frightened hoardes hiding in their basements from the
lights in the sky.

'Course, no one but Smokey and the Big Boys had any access
to topside to see it for themselves. But then, those who went topside
tended to disappear. They died.

Like almost five billion others were going to in the next few
months.

The shit storm cometh.

Mulder had the opportunity now to be part of the fight. Him
and Scully, to live. And their kids, somehow, to survive.

Isolating them the way they had been forced to was no way
to gain their trust but Krycek knew Mulder. The man fought.
Not just against him or Smokey or abducutions or injustice,
he fought everything. Even good sense.

So Scully was made part of the deal, years ago. Chosen for him.

Didn't the stupid shit get it yet? Daddy wanted his Mulder alive and
knew Scully, unknowingly, would help him attain that end. She
was his gift to his son and she would survive along with him. Pretty
damn nice gesture if you think about it.

Smokey had arranged it all. Had sacrificed his whole life to the
Work.

Krycek rubbed his aching jaw. Jesus, what a right that little ball
of fire possessed. Mulder had himself his own fighter, his own
protecter. His own goddamn best friend and lover with him and
he was too stupid to appreciate it.

Few in the mountain could enjoy such status. Few had been able to
choose. Most had just been paired off.

Krycek hadn't even been given that. He was too valuable as
he was, in his type of work. His specialty.

Besides, he'd wanted his balls left in peace. That had been
his gift in exchange for joining the work. His bargain. No goddamn
needles, no doctors, no drugs, no mother-fucking alien DNA injected
into him anywhere and especially, not _there_!

***

LATE THAT NIGHT.

They lay side by side, facing each other.

Up until that night, each had, in unspoken agreement, slept with their
backs turned. It was the only drop of privacy afforded them in their
four hundred square foot world.

But tonight, each had read the others mind and knew it was time
to talk. To calculate and weigh the options and make a plan.

And make a decision.

"I'm glad you're here, Mulder." Scully took his hand, twined her
fingers in his, not letting go.

She could see the question in his eyes. The fear for her, too.
The hatred for what was being done to them. The anger for
all of it. "I didn't...want it to be like this." He offered. He had
nothing else to give her. No box of chocolates or wine. Or
walk on the beach. No fireplace to warm them and encourage
their burning for each other.

"I know, it's okay. I wanted it to be you. Not just because of
all this. For a long time I wanted it to be you. And then they
took my ova and..."

Mulder raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
Left his mouth there. It would erase nothing. None of the pain.

It would not make the four walls vanish.

"I'm sorry I shut you out for so long, Mulder."

"It's okay, you were hurting, Scully, I understand."

"No, well, that, yes, I was doing some thinking, some serious
thinking about all of this, about what we're about to do..." She
saw his eyes mist at it. He wanted her, it was there in his
dialated pupils and the steady movement of his chest. "I meant
for these last few years. Ever since the cancer, ever since losing
Emily, since losing the ability to have a child of my own, I
shut you out."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, Mulder, I did, even if you didn't see it. I knew, even though
I loved you. _Love_ you."

His breath caught.

"I love you and I've known that for a long time but I denied it and
fought it. I blamed you in part."

She saw him swallow painfully. It was breaking something in him
to hear that but she wanted total openess now. Complete truth.
Before the next step or that step would be based upon a lie
and it's foundation would crumble. "But I don't now. I choose
to stay with you, Mulder. I had lots of opportunities to go. I stayed
because of _you_. And because of our work. But mostly you."

"Scully-"

"No, let me have my say. Whatever happens from here on in, it's
total truth between us and not because it's the right thing to do,
but because it's the only thing I could live with now. I won't get
through this if you try to protect me or hide from me, like you've
been doing. You do it too."

"I guess we both learned to be cautious, even with each other."

Scully placed one palm on his cheek. "No more." Kissed him
once on the lips, quickly.

Mulder stared at her as if all his demons had just suddenly packed
their bags and left town. "Scully, I........

........_love_ you."

It was the way he said it. He didn't need to make a speech as she had.
He couldn't, wouldn't have been able to find the words. He didn't
need to appologize. He'd been appologizing since that first time.
Since they took her away on a mountain and left him to grieve
and tear through work and people like a man gone mad. A specific
kind of madness, a broken heart that still held a breath of hope. One
breath.

Mulder didn't need to say anything because everytime for the last six
years, when she saw him look at her when she was feeling low, or had
a sniffle, or was late coming in for work, his head would snap up with
frightened, needful eyes or with carefully wrapped joy. God how those
eyes of his could speak.

One glance. Ten thousand words.

Scully frowned in thought. "One more thing." She was whispering,
"I want to leave here. I don't know who or what to believe, but I do
want to leave here with _you_. I won't let them dictate our future.
But I don't think it can be done unless they think we've been defeated.
Unless it appears to them that they have gained our trust and
cooperation."

"What's your idea?"

Scully bit her lip. "I doubt they would expect a pregnant woman
to be comfortable for long in a space this size, with one bed and
one toilet and one upright shower stall."

"You think they'll move us to a different location once you're-"

"Yes."

Mulder swallowed. He looked terribly sad. "I didn't want it to be
like this."

"I know. But it's not the place. The place means nothing, Mulder.
It's us. It's _you_."

He reached for her and she for him, and that night it became more
than a kiss or a touch of a hand.

Soon, the last wall between them, the final hurdle that took them
beyond hiding and into the realm of truth, faith, hope and love,...

Fell.
 

**

Scully became pregnant. And Mulder became a fussing,
doting, annoying moron who wouldn't let her do anything
at all. In fact, he was nearly driving her crazy with kindness.

"Mulder, for God's sake, I'm only two months along,
I can still lift a plate!"

For a while that had reined in his soon-to-be-
a-daddy-and-therefor-terrified coddling of her.

But it soon returned. The terrified part in particular.

Because just what was growing inside Scully? He
asked it silently everyday. Dozens of times a day.

Scully seemed unconcerned, however, about the
physical nature of her fetus and went about daily
living as if she were Mrs. Laura Petrie. Occassionally
he would even catch her humming a tune and
rubbing her stomach which was getting rounder.
Just like his eyeballs were. He'd never seen a woman
go through it before. Not really.

Not the day to day tiny changes in mood, appetite, weight,
water-retension, sex-drive, complexion. Somedays she
glowed like an angel. Others, she looked downright ill.
It was facinating and frightening and wonderful.

To Mulder, it was also the sexiest she'd ever looked. It
made him blush for what it did to _his_ hormones;
sent them raging like a bull down an avenue. He
wanted to shout: I DID THAT!
 

Scully of course recognized all of this and pretended
she didn't notice when his gaze would fall upon her and
travel south, stopping on her protuding stomache.

Those hazels would caress her tummy for long minutes as
she moved about the room, or even when he did. She was
worried lest he strain his neck and injure himself with all
the contortions he resorted to necessary to still look at her
when his back was turned and she was behind him.

Somehow, he still managed it. Tiny little glances to see:
was the stomach bigger? Was it lopsided? Boy? Girl?

Scully could see he was also asking himself: It?

To her, though, it made no difference. She didn't know why,
but it didn't. It just did. not.

It was a baby and that's all that mattered.

He'd understand eventually.
 

**

In her third month, they were moved to a three bedroom "facility"
more suited to her physical needs.

It was heaven to luxuriate in a bathtub. Hot water. Hot, not merely
lukewarm which is what they'd been living with.

Mulder seemed to fuss ever more as Scully's stomach began to
really grow. He teased her about her slightly waddling gait and
her "cute" little dimples and her "sweet double chin" until she found
herself becoming more and more curious about how it felt to kill
a man.

"You KNOCKED ME UP, you male PIG!" She screamed at him
one day when the bathroom called her for the tenth time that
morning and after he had said one too many cutesy things.

Mulder cringed but there was nowhere to hide. They were
still locked in. Bigger place. A bedroom, a kitchen/living room
combo and a full bath.

But it was still a prison and they were stir-crazy. He was. She
was just pregnant.

He seemed to pick the wrong thing to say at the wrong time in
the wrong way. That was the way it was some days.

Other days she would glow like a china doll and smile a lot
and hug him and say how much she loved him.

He liked those days much better.

It wasn't long before Scully looked like she was ready to pass
a basketball.

It worried him. She was so tiny. Built so small. Could she even
do this? What if something went wrong? What if she bled too
much? What if...? Until Scully sent him to the bathroom for
a shower and to get him out of her hair for ten minutes.

Occassionally, he'd take her in with him and wash the baby.
Soaping up her distended belly with the "outsy" with hands so
gentle and loving, it often made her cry. Under the shower spray
he never knew.

But he knew she loved him. He knew because she showed him
in every way as much as she could in their confined and often
frustrating three room universe.

And he showed her, at night, (in the only possible position), with
tender, tender kisses and passionate massage with trembling hands
and loving from a penis so hard, it drove her wild.

One night, as he filled her from behind, shoving home again
and again, she came with such force, she almost ripped the skin
off his hand that was cupping her breast.

Six years. For SIX years - God, what she'd been missing!

***

Scully, eight months along, came up with their little escape plan.

She whispered one day they should talk, and Mulder matched
his voice to hers, "I thought you wanted to wait until after the
baby came, Scully? How can you possible travel any distance
in your condition?"

"I'll manage. I have an idea, Mulder. It'll get us out of this
three room box at least, but you're going to have to use that
fantastic brain of yours and come up with the rest on the spot
once we're out that door."

"What's your idea?"

**

It was so simple. Really, it was too simple. It couldn't possibly work.

Scully faked birthing pangs and, after Mulder pounded on their door and
shouted at the top of his lungs for minutes upon minutes, the guards
showed, took one look at the woman lying on the bed, knees bent,
a bloody smear on her pants crotch and fled to get help.

Help came in the form of two nurses, one male and one female.
With Mulder's assistance, Scully was lifted onto a geurny and the
whole group moved out and down the hallway.

Appearantly, no-one believed that Mulder would ever think of
trying to escape when his Scully was about to pop.

Mulder looked at Scully when they seemed far enough away from
their living quarters but not too close to anywhere else except
empty corridors in every direction.

Scully looked back. He moved his head, an almost imperceptable
nod.

Scully pulled the tiny areosol can from under her bra and sprayed
all those around her, some of it even hitting Mulder. He had, of
course, held his breath.

All fell, including the two guards who had tagged along.

Mulder, still holding his breath, helped Scully off the geurny and
they hurried off down a long tunnel opposite to "home" or
the nurses destination. An infirmary meant people. And they
wanted to meet no people on his journey.

Well, just one, actually.

But that would be asking too much. Luck wasn't on their side
these days.

Scully panted, not running, not walking. Little, hurried steps,
holding her stomach with one hand and Mulder's with the other
as he all but carried her along.

"Where to, Daddy?" She asked.

"I don't know- wait." He read a painted sign. "BIO-CONTAINMENT",
and an arrow to show the way. He looked down at her questioning
doubt.

"Better than running in circles." he offered and they pushed on.
 

**

"BIO-CONTAINMENT" was not an area, they soon discovered, that held
teeny alien fetuses. It was the enormous section of the complex
dedicated
to the filtering and removing of outside toxins from the circulation
system
that fed air to the entire underground structure.

No suprise that the living quarters were so close to it. Only the best
air
for the futures babies of the human race.

That was their first suprise.

The second came when they rounded a bend. Miraculously, they'd
encountered no other living beings on their thus far twenty-two
minute flight.

Until now.

"Holy sh-" Scully swore and halted. Mulder also.

Smoking man and he looked even more shocked than they did.

"Wha-?" He began to say but Mulder didn't pause again before
he grabbed the wrinkled old coot by the throat and slammed
him against the wall. "Not one word. Not ONE or I swear to god,
I will twist your head off."

"I wouldn't think of it." He wheezed, hands fumbling with Mulder's
one that held him in an inhumanly strong grip. Hate made mere men
into warriors.

"That's good. Good for us. Guess what, you're gonna show us the way
up." Mulder announced.

"That's suicide. You'll be killed once you're topside, the,.." WHEEZE!,
"
...the aliens,..they're everywhere..."

"I think you're lying."

"No, no, you've got to believe me..."

"SHUT-UP! I said no talking."

Cancer-Man struggled, his hands tembling, with age, it seemed. Or
fear.

"You're shaking, Tar-Man. What's up?"

"Mulder..."

It was Scully. Mulder'd been having so much fun garrotting the
old pecker-head, he'd forgotten where they were and their
more immediate problem. "Yeah?"

"We should go now." she said.

"Yeah," releasing his catch, "Yeah. Sorry, Scully."

"And the shaking's because of this place. Filtered air. No smoking
allowed." She reasoned.

Mulder had to smile at that. Served the old bastard right. Somehow,
he seemed _less_ without his trademark stick of fire. He seemed just
another old politician who'd worked one too many years beyond
retirement. "Let's go." Mulder grabbed his collar and their oldest enemy
lead them to freedom.
 

**
 

MANY ELEVATOR RIDES AND MANY CORRIDORS LATER...

"This is as far as I go. If you follow this tunnel, it'll lead you
outside."

CancerMan pointed them down their final walk. It wasn't like the
rest of the structure, this tunnel was still rough, as though just hewn
from the rock.

Mulder, Scully's hand in his, started to walk away.

"You'll die out there." His voice said to them as they walked farther.

"We'll see." Mulder answered.

"Fox. Fox!"

Mulder turned and Scully instinctively held his hand tighter.

"I'm your father."

Mulder shook his head, not in disbelief, but in sad resignation. "Is
that suppose to mean something now?"

"You would have died if not for me."

""If not for yo-?!"...If not for you, how many would NOT have died?!
Even if I AM your son. You took my sister from me, you took Sam
and you left me with a father who beat me and humiliated me. But you
know what? At least he was there! Where were you, you son-of-a-bitch,
when my mother cried every night for a month? Where were you when
my father, my father BILL MULDER, was murdered? Where were you
when Scully was taken? Where were you ever when I needed you?
You're not my father. And even if you are, you have nothing,
- NOTHING - I need."

Mulder turned and Scully followed, giving no further backward glances
to he who was the past.

"Fox." The voice was growing fainter but still echoed down to them.
"You'll be killed. In here I offer you life."

Mulder called out but didn't look behind him.

Never again did he look behind.

"I'd rather we take our chances on what we find out there than spend
one more minute breathing in your rotton stink!"

Scully followed Mulder, keeping pace now. The baby stirred within her.
Life was growing there and it belonged to them. No matter what he or
she looked like or was. It was their's. Their baby.

Their new life in what ever new world. Whatever new breed of living
had to be done, they would do it.

Scully looked ahead to a distant light, an opening in the rock wall. The
artificial lights of the machine-carved tunnel, embedded in the rockface,
had ended meters back and were giving way to natural rock, forged by
time and patience.
 
 

She could feel clean air and moisture on her face.

*
END!!
 
 

Well, folks, that's it. I might do a sequel to this sometime. I mean,
Scully hasn't even had her baby yet...

GenieVB

MULDER CENTRICITY

www.geocities.com/area51/comet/4051/index.html

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