By

Lacadiva (Lacadiva @ aol.com)

March 5, 1999

Category:  Flickfic/MSR/MSS Friendship/X-File/Holiday Challenge/Scullyangst/
Skinnerangst/Muldertorture

Rating:  PG13 for violence.
 

Before we get started here:

This story is in answer to SciNut's challenge for holiday theme stories.  I
wanted to have this posted way way back before New Years Eve, but I failed.
<Sniff>  So here it is, monstrously late, but hopefully entertaining.   And of
course, things have changed in the show's story line.  So all of this is based
on the series prior to "Two Fathers, One Son" (although I have tried to
sprinkle some of those realities in the latter chapters, such as mild
references Krycek's nanoprobic leash on Skinner, etc.  Hope you enjoy the
effort anyway!

Summary:  The Day is upon us, but Mulder has a hard time convincing Scully to
duck and cover.

So, without further ado, I give you. . .
 

FIGHT:  Y2K (1/6)

By

Lacadiva (Lacadiva @ aol.com)

March 5, 1999

Category:  Flickfic/MSR/MSS Friendship/X-File/Holiday Challenge/Scullyangst/
Skinnerangst/Muldertorture

Rating:  PG13 for violence.  Spoilers:  Entire conspiracy arc.

Disclaimer:  The characters and situations of the television series, The
X-Files, are the sole creation and property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting,
and Ten Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission.  No
Copyright infringements are intended.  No money will change hands for this.
However, for the right amount of money maybe I'd change my hands.

Feedback:  Oh, you know me, I'm a hog for encouragement.  Archive:  Yes, of
course, just write first and tell me where I can find it.

Note:  This story is in answer to SciNut's challenge for holiday theme stories.
 I wanted to have this posted way way back, before New Years Eve, but I failed.
 <Sniff>  So here it is, monstrously late, but hopefully entertaining.   And of
course, things have changed in the show's story line.  So all of this is based
on the series prior to "Two Fathers, One Son" (although I have tried to
sprinkle some of those realities in the later chapters, such as Krycek's
nanoprobic leash on Skinner, etc.).  Hope you enjoy the effort anyway!

Summary:  The Day is upon us, but Mulder has a hard time convincing Scully to
duck and cover.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"And now you will be silent and not able to speak until the day this happens,
because you did  not believe my words, which will come true
 at their proper time."  Luke 1:20
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIGHT:  Y2K (1/6)

J. Edgar Hoover Building
Indoor Parking Structure
December 11th
9:07 AM

She climbed out of her car on Level B of the indoor parking lot of FBI
Headquarters and turned to lock the door.  Someone was approaching.  She could
hear the soft footfall and occasional squeak of sneaker rubber against the
concrete.  Scully made note of the exact location of her gun and estimated how
long it would take her to get to it if necessary.   She unbuttoned her overcoat
and black suit jacket to improve her reaction time.

"Clean your windshield, lady?"

She turned with a start, though the voice was familiar.

"Mulder!"   Scully let out a sigh of relief.  "What are you doing here?  You're
supposed to be on vacation."

"I am."

"In Hawaii."

"Weather sucked.  Actually, I never made it on the plane."

"You never had any intention of going away, did you?  Kersh is going to blow a
gasket."

"Forget Kersh.  None of this is going to matter in two weeks."

"Mulder, let this go," Scully said with a tired sigh.  She stared at her
partner's face, hoping to see that twinkle in his eyes to let her know he was
joking.  Not the dark, hollow expression of a desperate man running out of
time; a look that could be interpreted as the onset of madness.

"I can't Scully.  You heard Kurtzweil."

Scully had a tendency to cringe whenever she heard the OB/GYN/lunatic's name.
Up until a few months ago, Alvin Kurtzweil was supposedly dead.  That's what
Mulder believed, and had told her.  But one night, on the hottest night of the
year in the District, Kurtzweil was found sitting on a bench near the Foggy
Bottom Metro Station, babbling incessantly to himself.  Mulder had gone to see
him practically everyday thereafter, "information gathering," he called it to
justify his multiple visits to St. Elizabeth's Hospital, where Kurtzweil
remains committed.

"I heard a man diagnosed as borderline schizophrenic, a man who spends the
majority of his days in a drug-induced stupor, ranting and raving inconsolably
about aliens and spaceships while fighting to extricate himself from a Strait
Jacket, predict that the world would end December 31st ."

"Scully, I need you to come with me."

"Where, Mulder?"

"Just across town.  I want to show you something."

"I have a meeting with Kersh at one."

"I 'll get you back in time.  Come on, it's your Christmas present."

*       *       *

Mulder pulled up to the curb in front of Zeus Storage.

"Mulder, why are we here?"

"I thought it fitting to sort of wrap things up here.  C'mon," he said as he
got out of the car.

The cold December air followed them as they entered the storage facility.
Scully shuddered as they headed down the dark corridor until they came to one
of the larger units.  Mulder took a new ring of keys from a pocket and unlocked
the garage-like door.  He lifted the door and turned on a dim yellow light.

Two identical tan Pathfinders were park side by side.

"Mulder, what is this?"

"This one's for you," he said, kicking the tires of one of the vehicles.
"Merry Christmas, Scully.   I actually requested fire engine red, but they said
I'd have to wait two weeks."

"Mulder, why?"

"Look," he said, unlocking and lifting the hatchback.  Scully saw boxes stacked
upon boxes neatly arranged and labeled.  "It's stocked with everything.
Bottled water, medical supplies.  You may want to see what else you'll need.
And there's food, cans and non-perishables.  I got you some freeze-dried ice
cream.  No chocolate , they only had strawberry."

"Mulder, stop!  Why are you doing this?"

"When it all hits the fan December thirty-first, when it all falls apart, I
want you to be prepared.  I want you to be with me."

"No, Mulder."

"No?  Scully, I can't leave you behind, knowing what's coming."

"Nothing is coming, Mulder."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe?  Why won't you trust me on this!  You
would follow me into a burning house before this!  What's different now?"

"First," she said with a hint of a smile, "you'd never run into a burning
house.  You hate fire.  And second, it was my job to follow you.  Well, most of
the time.  But this different."

"Why?  What makes this so different?  After what we saw in Antarctica?"

"*You* saw.  I was out of commission."

"After what they did to you?"

Silence.  Scully just turned away.

"What would it take for you to believe me?  I want you with me, Scully.  I
can't do this alone."

"This has nothing to do with belief!  What about my family, Mulder?"

Her voice cracked, as tears involuntarily welled up in her eyes.  She looked
away from her partner.   "What do I tell them?  'Mom, Bill, I'm leaving to go
underground with my partner to wait out the end of the world, call you later?'
What about them?   If what you say is going to happen, then there is nothing
you can do alone to stop it.  There's nothing *I* can do to help you stop it!
I don't want to hide underground like some rat in a sewer.  I'd rather be with
them.  It's the least I can do, after all we've put them through."

Mulder nodded.  "Here, at least hold onto the key to the Scully-mobile.  Take
it for a joy ride whenever you like."

"Mulder, how could you afford this?"

"Easy financing.  I promised I'd pay it off in three years."

Scully took the key and shoved it into her pocket.  The fingers of her right
hand touch cold metal.

"Oh, I found this in your aquarium."  She pulled out the silvery stiletto, its
sharp point hidden inside the hilt for the moment.  Scully had a flash back to
when she'd tried to use the same type of weapon on an attacker.  Her aim was
off, and it had virtually no effect.  The memory made her shudder.

"Hold onto it for me."

"I don't want it, Mulder.   Take it."

"You'll need it when the time comes."

"Mulder. . ."

"Who do you trust, Scully?"

Scully blushed, and dropped the stiletto back into her pocket.  "I'd better get
back.   Kersh has been in a foul mood every since your fight with Skinner."
She turned and started toward the door.

"Hey, Scully?  No matter what happens, if things go bad, I'll find you."

"What if I don't want you to find me?"

"You say that now. . ."

Scully smiled, and moved back to Mulder.  She placed a hand on her partner's
cheek.  "Get a shave," she said, and walked out of the storage facility.

*      *      *

Office of A.D. Skinner
December 4
(One Week Earlier)

She had watched stunned while her partner and their former direct supervisor
Skinner fought just outside the A.D.'s office, first barking at each other like
angry pit bulls with her stuck in the middle trying to keep them apart.  Mulder
leaped on the Assistant Director and did everything he could to bring the man
down to the floor.  Skinner, however, was not motivated by anger or emotion,
and so was able to pin Mulder in mere seconds.  But not before Mulder could get
in one lucky punch, splitting Skinner's lip, drawing blood and ruining the
man's crisp white shirt.

Mulder spent a full day on suspension.  Scully spent most of that day trying to
get him on the phone.  He wasn't answering and he wasn't calling.

The following day Mulder was ordered to meet with Kersh, Skinner and members of
the Office of Professional Review.  Scully was ordered to attend, not to speak
in Mulder's defense, but to give her medical opinion of her partner's mental
state.

"Would you agree," asked Kersh, in that deadly monotone that sounded of a
disapproving father, "that Agent Mulder's act of aggression against his former
superior, Assistant Director Skinner, was unwarranted and unprovoked?"

Scully hesitated, looking around the room, avoiding Skinner, and avoiding
Kersh's penetrating stare.  She was relieved that at the time Mulder was not
there to witness what she now considered her first betrayal.

"Yes.  However, Agent Mulder has been under a tremendous amount of stress, and
one must take into account --"

"That will be all, Agent Scully.  You are excused."

"There are extenuating circumstances that must be --"

"Thank you Agent Scully, you are dismissed."

"You don't understand!"

"AGENT SCULLY."

She backed down.  That was her second betrayal.  She stood, looked pleadingly
at Skinner, then left the room.

*     *     *

She sat outside the conference room for an hour waiting.  Finally the door
opened and Mulder came out.  He did not stop to speak to her, to thank her or
curse her for her part in this.  He simply turned as if he could not look at
her, and made a beeline down the corridor.

Scully stood, wondering if she should follow him or allow him time to cool off.
 The members of the Review board filed out, with Skinner the last to exit.  He
walked over to Scully, his lip still bruised and slightly swollen at the split,
and touched Scully's arm.

"He still has a job.  But that's about all."

Scully closed her eyes and sighed, waiting to hear the rest.  "What, has he
been reassigned?"

"No.  They're demanding he take some time off."

"How much time?"

"A month," said Skinner.  "And they've asked him to consider psychiatric
counseling."

Scully looked down the corridor and watched has Mulder angrily punched the up
button and paced, waiting for the elevator.  She started down the corridor to
join him.

"Mulder?"

He didn't turn and look, but stepped into the opening elevator.  He let the
doors close before Scully got to it.  'Maybe he didn't hear me,'  she thought.
Hoped.

*      *       *

She stepped into their office and found him sitting with his feet up on the
desk, staring off into space, scratching the side of his head with the eraser
tip of a pencil.  He straightened up a bit when Scully entered, but still would
not look at her.

"Hey," she said, closing the door.  "I hear they're punishing you with a little
forced
R and R.  I imagine it could have been worse."

No response.  She crossed her arms, looking down at the tips of her new black
shoes, trying to force herself not to take offense at his non-responsiveness.
"So, do you have plans?"

"You don't have to pretend to be my friend anymore, Agent Scully.  You did your
job.  You discredited me.  I'm officially on psycho leave.  That's all they
needed, and you put your professional stamp on it.  Thank you."

She stood there with her mouth ajar, completely unable to defend herself.  Was
this Mulder?  Was this the man who had trudge across the Antarctic ice risking
his own life to save her?  The same man for whom she would willingly take a
bullet?

"Mulder - -"

"They want me to turn in my gun, Scully!  My GUN!  They think I'm losing my
mind, that I'm a danger to myself and others.  They want me to see a shrink!
What did you tell them, Scully?"

"Nothing!  I answered their questions!"

"You did a great job.  Anytime I need to ruin someone's career, I'll give you a
call!"

"Mulder, stop it!"

"Look, just shut up.  Just shut up and get out of my sight."

Scully's hands began to shake.  Her eyes began to burn.  She felt her chest
tighten as her anger built.  How dare he, after all the crap he'd put her
through for the last six years!

"You are being irrational."

"Irrational?" Mulder repeated.   He stood and swiped most of the contents of
his desk onto the floor violently.  "How's that for irrational?"

"Mulder!"

"GET OUT!"

"No!  You listen to me!"

"Then I'll go."

Mulder stalked out, leaving the door open.

Scully thought her world had imploded that day.

*     *     *

December 6
6:11 PM

As Scully was leaving the building, she ran into Skinner.  He seemed to be
almost waiting for her, intercepting her just as she was stepping off the
elevator to the tiered parking garage.

"Agent Scully, may I walk you to your car?"

"Thank you, sir, " she said tentatively, not understanding where this sudden
friendliness or chivalry had come from. "I'm on level B."

"Fine.  I'll drive you to level B."  Skinner ushered Scully to his black
Lincoln Town Car, unlocked it and opened the door for her.  As she was about to
climb in Skinner confessed, "I wanted to discuss Agent Mulder."  He walked
around to the front of the car to the driver's side and climbed in.  Scully sat
nervously in the wide leather seat.

Skinner started the car and drove the long circular route to the upper level.
He watched carefully in his rear view mirror.  Scully looked up to see what he
was watching.  They were being followed.

"Sir, what's going on?"

"Have you heard from Agent Mulder?"

"No, sir."

"He hasn't been in contact with you at all?"

"No, sir, not since he walked out of the office yesterday morning."

"Do you know his plans?"

"No, we didn't talk."

"I find that hard to believe.  He's your partner, and he didn't share his plans
with you?"

"No, he didn't.  If I might ask, sir, why are you grilling me about Agent
Mulder?"

"Just trying to look out for him.  I'm asking you to help me."

"No, you're asking me to spy on him.  I won't do that."

"I would prefer not to make it an order."

That was all Scully could take.  First her betrayal, and now Skinner's.  "Stop
the car!"

"What?"

"Stop the car!"

Skinner hit the break, pleased at Scully's reaction.  The car behind them
promptly halted, tires screeching.

Scully disengaged the seat belt and opened the door.

"Agent Scully, get back in the car."

"No, sir."

"That's an order!"

"With all due respect, sir, go to hell."  Scully slammed the door and headed up
the spiraling concrete drive for her own car.

Skinner watched through the rearview mirror, certain the person who watched and
followed them had gotten an eye and earful of the exchange.  This, he figured,
would buy him a little more time, and hopefully keep Scully alive.  So long as
the men in power believed that Mulder and Scully's partnership was dissolved,
and their connection to Skinner all but severed, the three of them just might
make it.

He drove on, out of the parking lot.

*      *      *

It snowed a little that night, just flurries as it often would in DC in
December, all adding up to nothing.

That's how Scully felt that night as she sat in her apartment trying to reach
her partner on the phone.  Six years had all added up to nothing.  She kept
running and rerunning the scenario that unfolded in their office that morning
after the review board's decision.  She relived Mulder's anger, his deep
disappointment in her, his disgust.   It made her sick to her stomach.

She also could not stop thinking about all the signs that had been leading up
to this breakdown, and how she had missed them.  It all began shortly after
their return from Antarctica, after Mulder found out Kurtzweil was actually
alive.  After every visit to the psycho-ward, Mulder seemed to come away more
agitated, more restless, more anxious, as if the insane doctor's schizophrenia
was rubbing off on her partner.

He would disappear sometimes for hours or even days, sometime offering lame
excuses, sometimes not even bothering to make anything up.  He would return to
work from weekends exhausted, barely able to focus, yet claim he'd spent two
days "vegetating."

She did what she could to coax him into opening up to her, sharing whatever
darkness he was fighting through, but her extended hand only served to
aggravate him.  He believed that her experience in Antarctica should have made
a believer of her.  But all it did was create more questions for her.  She had
very little memory of what had transpired after the bee sting.

"Those memories are there," Mulder had insisted.  "We just need to bring them
out into the open."

"No, Mulder.  I've tried hypno-regression therapy twice, and both times I
walked away with nothing.  What makes you think it will work this time?"

"Scully, if you could just open your mind - -"

"No.  If I were to open my mind any further, I'd be sounding like- -"

"Me?"

Scully sighed.  She'd considered that once, long ago when she first met him,
but she would never  say it.  "Kurtzweil.  I was going to say Kurtzweil."

"At least Kurtzweil isn't living in total denial."  That was the first time
Mulder had ever walked out on her.

*       *       *

St. Elizabeth's Hospital
December 7
3:07 PM

Scully stepped into the gray, smelly day room and almost cringed at the sight
of heavily medicated patients sitting and staring mindlessly at the television
set, staring off into space, or holding passionate conversations with invisible
friends and foes.

Alvin Kurtzweil sat in a corner, a man diminished by madness more than age,
staring off at nothing.

"Doctor Kurtzweil?"

He reacted immediately, his eyes finding Scully's and triggering a half smile.
 "Agent Scully.  A pleasure to see you.  Where is your taller half?"

"Actually, I was hoping you could tell me.  Has Mulder been to see you today?"

"No.  Haven't seen him for a while.  He should be making preparations for your
escape."

Scully closed her eyes, not wanting to get lost in the poor man's rant.  "If
Mulder comes to see you - -"

"Mulder should be about his purpose.  You should be at his side.  When this
thing hits, it's gonna hit hard.  Don't make plans for the New Year.  You'll be
terribly disappointed."

Scully turned to leave.

"Agent Scully!  You haven't forgotten what they did to you already, have you?
You haven't forgotten the bees?"

"Ah, yes, the bees," she sighed with barely concealed disgust.

"You realize that's how they're going to deliver the goods."

"Has it occurred to you, this being December, and quite possibly one of the
coldest winters along the eastern seaboard, that the bees you're referring to
will not be able to survive sub-freezing temperatures long enough to 'deliver'
the so-called 'goods'?"

"Of course it's occurred to me!  What am I, crazy?  It's not cold everywhere!
And they don't have to survive the winter!  Just long enough to sting a few
hundred thousand people and poof, they're dead, and so are you and every other
individual with a piece of metal stuck in their necks."

"What did you say?"

His voice was low now, almost a whisper.  "You heard me.  The question you need
to be asking yourself is 'why the implant?'  What's it for?"

Scully felt a tingle in the back of her neck, reminding her of the sting, and
of the implant that resided just under the skin.   It seemed to almost burn.

"They don't want everybody," Kurtzweil said.  "But they will want you.  They
got you once.  They'll get you again."
 
 

End Chapter One
Lacadiva @ aol.com

FIGHT:  Y2K (2/6)

by

Lacadiva (Lacadiva @ aol.com)

March 5, 1999

Category:  Flickfic/MSR/MSS Friendship/X-File/Holiday Challenge/Scullyangst/
Skinnerangst/Muldertorture

Rating:  PG13 for violence.

Disclaimer:  Please see chapter one for disclaimer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIGHT:  Y2K (2/6)

Basement Office
December 8

Scully finally heard from her errant partner.  She received a message from him
in the form of a picture turned down on the desk.  She remembered that was how
she would signal Mulder to meet her in the Watergate parking lot, back when
they had first been separated.  She picked it up and sat it straight, wondering
if it was an accident.  Had she simply knocked it over herself?  Or had Mulder
actually been there?   The small yellow Post-It note stuck to the picture
confirmed her suspicion.  She grabbed her coat and purse, checked her gun, and
raced out of the office.

*      *       *

She waited in their spot for over twenty minutes, and was wondering if it was
she who had lost her mind, when a dark green rental car pulled up and Mulder
stepped out.  Scully felt a lump the size of her fist fill her throat, wanted
to meet him half way and throw her arms around him, but would not.  Not until
she knew the purpose of their meeting.  If it was for more anger and
recrimination, she had a few choice words stored up for him, too.

"Hi, Scully," he said with a smile.

The need to lash out at him evaporated.  "I've been trying to call you."

"I know.  I got all your messages.  I'm compiling them on CD and selling it to
K-Tel."

She smiled.  "Would it have killed you to return a message?"

"Actually, it may have killed us both."

"What?"

"Forget it.  I owe you a shipload of apologies, and I don't know where to start
except to say forgive me.  Please."

"Whatever."

"That was way too easy, Scully."

"Mulder, where have you been?"

"Making travel arrangements."

Mulder pulled an airline ticket envelope from his inside pocket and passed it
to Scully.

"Hawaii?"

"Yeah.  Kersh's orders.  Wanna come?  You could use a little sun."

"Actually, I was thinking of spending Christmas with my family in Baltimore."

"Don't."

Mulder looked way too serious.  Almost nervous.

"Mulder, if this has anything to do with Kurtzweil's end-of-the-world
predictions - -"

"No.  Um, do what you want.  Look, I better get going if I want to make my
flight.  Let Skinner know I'm going, okay?"

"You mean Kersh, don't you?"

"I don't care what you tell Kersh.  Just tell Skinner I'm going to Hawaii.
Tell him I'm going today."

"Mulder, Skinner's been sneaking around way too much, asking questions about
you.  I'm starting to think - -"

"It's okay.  Just tell him where I'm going.  Promise?"

"What's going on?"

Mulder didn't answer, but headed back to the rental car.

"You gonna miss me, G-Woman?"

"Goodbye, Mulder."

"Aloha.  Which, you know, means, goodbye, hello and - -"

"Call me when you get back."

"Try and stop me."

Scully smiled.

"Hey, before I forget, feed my fish for me, would you?  You might want to start
tonight."

"Sure, fine."

Mulder climbed into the car and drove off as Scully watched.

*      *      *

Scully found the audio-cassette of their first interview with Kurtzweil at St.
Elizabeth's.  He was heavily drugged but still talkative, even if what he
talked about made little sense.  To no one but Mulder, of course.

Scully sat at Mulder's desk, dug into his bottom drawer and found the tape
player.  She popped in the tape, hit play and sat back to listen.

"The first thing they'll do," came Kurtzweil's voice, "is shut down all the
utilities.  Gas, water, electricity.  They'll declare a state of emergency and
martial law will be in effect.  The streets will be filled with the military.
Helicopters constantly circling, like there's a war going on.  They'll shut
down the airports, train stations, subways and bus depots, and then set up
blockades along Memorial Bridge, Key Bridge, Roosevelt Bridge, Wilson Bridge,
every possible access leading in and out of DC.  No one gets in, no one gets
out.    In a couple of days, they'll turn the juice back on, and everybody's
television will be playing one thing and one thing alone, a message from the
colonizing forces from space, telling us what to do, where to go, and when to
die.  And then, they unleash the bees.  They'll deliver the virus to
individuals like little flying hypos, and the people they miss, well, they're
superfluous.  They'll end up in concentration camps, or be recruited to aid in
the colonization, or simply killed.  They're gonna turn this planet around in
one generation, I tell you, and it's goodbye human race, hello mutant space
bugs.  You think I'm crazy?  Maybe I am.  But I know what's coming and you
refuse to accept the truth.  We'll know who's crazy January first.   Think
about it.  One, zero, one, zero, zero, zero, one, zero, zero.   Our death knell
in binary code.   Resist or serve.  That's the only choice we've got."

Scully stopped the tape and realized her heart was beating a little faster.
This was so clearly a sick man entertaining a sick fantasy.  Wasn't it?  But
something inside made her a little afraid.  She had seen a lot, had been
through a lot, since partnering with Mulder, but where was she to draw the
line?

There was a knock at the door.  Scully quickly popped the tape player back into
the desk drawer and looked up as Skinner stepped in.

"Agent Scully, I was wondering if you'd heard from Agent Mulder."

Scully almost didn't want to answer.  "Yes."

"And?"

"He's taking A.D. Kersh's advice.  He should be on a plane to Hawaii as we
speak."

"You know this for certain?  He said 'Hawaii?'"

"He showed me the ticket.  Is there a problem, sir?"

"No.  That's actually good to hear."

Skinner lingered at her door, as if there was more to say.  He stared at
Scully, then looked away, leaving her with the impression that whatever was on
his mind was far too difficult to articulate.   This was not like Skinner.
Before she could speak, ask her former boss what was troubling him, Skinner
took a step into the office.

"Everything okay, Agent Scully?" he asked.

"Fine, sir.  Why?"

"Just asking, as a friend."

She felt her face draw up into a smirk before she could stop it.

"You know, Scully, you don't have many friends here in the bureau.  Neither do
I.  We should learn to appreciate the things we have in common.  We need to
trust each other."

Before Scully could rail at the man for his own betrayal, Skinner motioned to
her with a finger to his lips.  Don't speak, not yet.  With the same finger he
pointed to the ceiling.  She filled in the rest.  *They* are listening.  Then
he nodded.

"Are you asking for my friendship, sir, or my trust?"

"Whatever you 're willing to give.  I know you don't give either of them
lightly.  I hope I can earn it, since apparently I haven't yet."

Scully played with a paper clip, untwisting it, and trying to bend it back into
its original position.  It wasn't the same.   Just as she had been bent and
twisted, and no matter what she did, she could never be the same.   'This is my
life' she thought with an unhappy smile.    She lowered her voice, so low that
even if "they" were listening, they'd have to listen very hard.  "You've
protected Mulder in the past, sir.  I'm curious why you allowed him to be so
unceremoniously kicked in the teeth this time."

"I had no choice, Scully," he answered, his voice low as well, even more
resonant in his baritone.  "I don't expect you to understand that right now.
Whatever you think of me, I'm not your enemy.  Do yourself a favor.  Learn to
trust me."

"I'll take that under advisement."

Skinner looked around the office.  Scully could have sworn she saw a sadness in
his eyes.  He missed Mulder, too.  And there was obviously so much more he
wanted to tell her.  But he left, closing the door behind him.

Scully took a deep breath, feeling slightly light-headed.   She looked down at
the misshapen paper clip again.  "This is my life," she said, just under her
breath.  "This is my life without Mulder."

*     *     *

6:04 PM

Traffic was horrible along 395 as Scully headed home.  When she first heard the
helicopter pass overhead, she thought it not unusual.  Police and EMT
helicopters constantly streaked across the District skies in pursuit of their
duties.   But this one seemed louder, and it kept circling.  She noticed as she
scrunched down in her seat to get a better look out of her windshield that it
was large and all black with no familiar markings or numbers.  It just kept
circling over the area.

Kurtzweil's words came back to her.  ". . .Helicopters constantly circling,
like there's a war going on. . ."

She dismissed the thought and took her exit, grateful that traffic was moving
once again.  Before long she was pulling up in front of her apartment complex
and hopping out.  There was yet another helicopter overhead.

A neighbor stood outside his car staring up at the sky.  As Scully walked past,
he mumbled, "Somebody must've done something, huh?"  Scully walked a little
faster, heading for the safety of her home.

*    *     *

It was nearly eleven.  She had crawled into bed early, exhausted, but could not
sleep with the sound of the helicopter buzzing around.  Wondering if Mulder
would pick up his messages with any frequency, she reached for the phone and
speed-dialed his number.

Three discordant tones were followed by, "We're sorry, the number you have
called has been disconnected. . ."

"That can't be," she said.  She dialed the area code and number this time.  She
got the same recorded message.  Had Mulder forgotten, in the midst of all he'd
been going through, to pay his phone bill?

Scully hung up the phone and noticed that finally the helicopter had gone.  She
lay back, resolving that she would be a friend and stop by his apartment to
find his last phone statement and pay it for him.  She also made a mental note
to feed Mulder's fish.  She closed her eyes, hoping to sleep.

*      *      *

December 9
4:13 PM

It was a slow day, as it was whenever Mulder was not around.  Scully left the
office early and, beating traffic as she had hoped, headed over to Mulder's
apartment.

She hit the light switch.  Nothing happened.  The power was off.  Had he
forgotten to pay his electric bill as well?  She was glad there was a bit of
daylight left, but it was fading fast.  She immediately moved to the aquarium
and shook a few flakes into the water.  She was expecting to see the fish swim
up to the top and hungrily devour the flakes.  But there was no movement.
Scully bent down to get a better look.  Were they dead?

There were no fish.  Not even little fish corpses floating along the top.  Why
would he send her to his apartment to feed fish he no longer had?  Unless, she
considered, there was something in his apartment he wanted her to see.  She
looked around for a moment.  Nothing seemed to be out of place, except for the
fact that the light on the VCR and clock were dark.  No sense in checking the
computer for an email message - - there was no juice.  Scully, perplexed, sat
down on his leather couch and tried to imagine what Mulder was trying to get
her to do.  She looked around, noticing that the sun was waning and the room
was taking on a dusky gray-blue.  She'd have to leave soon.  She'd better find
it fast.  Whatever it was.

"Feed my fish for me, would you?"   She repeated his words aloud.  "You might
want to start tonight."  She stood up and went back to the fish tank.  She took
off her coat, rolled up her sleeve, and stuck her arm down into the cold water.
 She ran her fingers through the multi-colored gravel until her hand came
across something that should not have been there.  She pulled it out of the
water.

It was a sealed baggie.  Inside was an object that brought back memories she
preferred never to resurrect.  Cold metal, long and seemingly harmless.  But a
shift of the hand and - - *snick* - - a sharp, deadly stiletto, used to pierce
the base of the neck. . .

Scully dropped the sealed object into her purse, wiped her wet hand against her
side, grabbed her belongings and left Mulder's apartment for the very last
time.

*     *    *

8:38 PM

She sat at her dining table, a barely-touched Healthy Choice frozen pizza
before her, sipping coffee and staring at the unearthly weapon.  She was sure
Mulder meant for her to find it, but why?  Was he expecting her to need it?
Hold on to it for him?  Use it on whom?  She expected to find a note shoved
under her door, or to get an anonymous tip by phone giving her more
information.  She expected to find some obscure coded message sent from Mulder
via e-mail from Hawaii, but all she found was the regular irritating Spam and
messages from family and friends.  She found herself reading each e-mail very
carefully, over and over, trying to extract hidden meaning from each passage
that simply wasn't there.  'This is what you've reduced me to, Mulder', she
thought angrily.

She dumped the pizza into the garbage, dropped the weapon into the side table
drawer where she kept her gun, and flopped down heavily on the couch, tired and
weary of worrying about her partner.  She flipped on the television to the
cable news station, and within minutes fell asleep.

*      *      *

December 11
12:48 PM

"Who do you trust, Scully?" he had asked.  For the longest time, she would have
answered, "No one but you, Mulder."  Now she wasn't sure.  She sat unable to
work, unable to give thought to much of anything but her partner and their
earlier meeting.  He was not in Hawaii, had lied to her, and now he was asking
her to drop everything and follow him on a quest darker and more mysterious
than any other.

He was asking her to step over the precipice and trust that she would not fall.
 He was asking her to jump without a parachute, yet trust that she would land
softly.  He was asking her to give up her family, walk away from them all, for
nothing in exchange, not even an explanation.  Just his word that 'something'
was going to happen.  Should she tell her family what she knew - - what little
she knew - - and try to find a way to save them?  What preparations was Mulder
making for his own family?  Did he care that the two of them may well survive
but the people they loved would perish, if all he said were true?

Scully shut off her computer, unable to finish her reports, unable to even make
an entry in her personal journal.  Her mind wrestled with faith and doubt, duty
and survival, family and Mulder.

She took out a sheet of paper and started to jot down a Christmas gift list for
her family, but the act seemed so futile in light of Mulder's dire predictions.
 What do you give your Mother for the end of the world?
 

*      *      *

12:58 PM

Scully stepped into Kersh's outer office and greeted his assistant with a
lukewarm smile.

"I have a one-o'clock with Assistant Director Kersh," she announced.

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but the Assistant Director was called out
unexpectedly."

"Where is he?"

"I'm not at liberty to say.  He did, however, mention that he would call you
and reschedule upon his return to the office.  My apologies for not contacting
you earlier."

Scully, grateful for the reprieve, nodded and left.

When she returned to her office, she found a photograph turned down again.  She
had just seen Mulder that morning.  What could have happened to make a second
meeting necessary?  And how had he sneaked past building security?  Why risk
being seen unless his life - - or her life - - was in danger?

*      *      *

Watergate Parking Garage
2:15 PM

She waited longer this time, but there was no sign of Mulder.   She was
beginning to get nervous.  Had she been set up?  She stood with arms crossed,
watching every car that passed by, wondering if Mulder was in one of them, and
if someone had done something to scare him off.

And then she heard footsteps.  Heavier than Mulder's.  Not sneakers, but hard
soled Oxfords.  Each step was slow and deliberate, unlike Mulder's.  She backed
against the pylon and pulled out her gun.  She peered around the corner and saw
a very large silhouette of a man heading towards her.

"Agent Scully?"

Scully came around from the pylon with her gun pointed.  "Don't come any
closer."

Skinner stepped closer anyway, holding up his hands.  "Put the gun away,
Scully."

"Where's Mulder?"

"Agent Scully!"

"WHERE'S MULDER!  What did you do to him?"

"I haven't done anything.  Keep your voice down."

"How did you know to come here?"

"Mulder told me."

"He wouldn't tell you this."

"He told me whenever you needed to meet him, when you believed your lives were
in danger, you would turn down the picture of Samantha on his desk, and he
would meet you here.  I turned that picture down because I needed to talk with
you, outside of the office, in private."

"What about?"

"Put the gun away, Scully.  I'm not your executioner.  I'm your friend.  The
only one you've got right now, and your only link to Mulder."

Scully hesitated, then lowered the gun, but kept it in her hand, not willing to
leave herself completely vulnerable to attack.

"Answer my question.  Where is Mulder?"

Skinner lowered his hands.  "In hiding, where he's supposed to be.  I knew
Mulder wasn't in Hawaii.  That was a coded message to let me know how our plans
were proceeding."

"You're lying."

"The fight was staged, Scully.  We needed a legitimate way to get him out of
the bureau without drawing the wrong kind of attention."

"I don't believe you."

"It's the truth.  We had to make Mulder seem more lunatic than threat to the
men who were planning his execution.  And yours."

Scully felt a chill run down her spine.

Skinner continued.  "They knew Mulder was working to stop them.  They wanted to
ensure Mulder didn't upset their plans."

"So you helped him go underground?"

"Yes."

"To do what?"

"To do whatever he could.  We know we can't all-out stop them, but we can
sabotage them.  We can hurt them, slow them down, by fighting back."

"Who are WE?"

"A secret faction within the so-called Syndicate.  I was recruited not long
ago, when they realized my sympathies lie with you and Mulder."

"You believe Mulder, sir?  The date, colonization, all of it?"

"It took some convincing," Skinner said.  "But considering the fact that most
of my directives for the past few years have included thwarting you and
Mulder's attempts at finding the truth. . ."

Scully shoved her gun into her pocket and stared at the concrete floor.   "Why
are you telling me this now?"

"We need you, Scully.  Mulder's asked for your cooperation, but you've refused.
 I'm here to tell you that we can't proceed without you."

"You don't need me."

"You play a big part in the equation, whether you like it or not.  There is a
cure -- "

"For the bees, for the black oil, I know."

"Hear me out.  The Syndicate is holding onto it.  They have no plans to mass
produce it, but to make it available only to an elite few, only those who have
the money and the power to wrestle it from their tight little hands.  But we
have another source.  One we hadn't counted on.  You."

"Me?"

"You're the secret to whether we can survive to fight this thing.  We can
synthesize a vaccine from a sampling of your blood, according to Alvin
Kurtzweil.  Mulder has put together a small team of scientists who can begin to
manufacture it almost immediately.  We want you to head to team."

"You want my blood?"

"We want you, Scully.  We want your complete cooperation.  We can't fight them
without you."

"You don't really need my consent, do you?"

"No.  But I prefer to have it.  So does Mulder."

Scully felt herself teeter forward a bit, her reflexes barely catching her.
She had visions of being strapped down to a table and having every ounce of
blood drained from her body.  She shuddered, then turned and began walking back
to her car.  Skinner leaped forward and grabbed her by the arm.  "Listen,
Scully. . ."

"No!" she cried, wrenching her arm free of Skinner's grasp.  "I'm going home. "

"Scully, that implant in your neck. . . it's not only keeping you alive.  It's
marked you as one of THEM.  They'll seek you out under the guise of making you
a participant, but your only purpose will be to see to the Syndicate's
survival.  And they don't care whether you consent or not.  Now you can work
for them, or you can work for the rest of us.  You may not care, but I'm not
going to end up a host for one of those things Mulder described as almost
claiming you."

Scully had a flashback to the freezing chamber, the thing that was gestating
inside of her.  She shivered.  She wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing for now.  Mulder will be in contact.  Right now, we need to convince
the men who want to use us that you've turned away from Mulder, and that we are
approachable."

"We?"

Skinner reached down and grabbed Scully's hand.  She resisted at first, until
she understood what he was doing.  He pulled her hand up and around to the back
of his neck.  He placed her fingers on his flesh.  She felt a little lump just
under his warm skin.  When she realized it was an implant, like her own, she
gasped and pulled her hand away.

"I didn't have a choice then.  I do now.  I choose to resist.  What about you?"

"Why didn't he. . .why wouldn't Mulder just tell me?  Why did he trust you and
not me?"

"Because he knew you both were being watched.  He didn't want a repeat of what
happened the last time.  He knew at the first hint of him spoiling their plans
for colonization, they'd retaliate like they did before."

"By going after me."

"He wanted to protect you.  Dana, will you help us?"

She could not remember a time when she'd heard Skinner utter her first name.
She thought of Mulder.  He would only use it in the direst of circumstances.

"I have to talk to Mulder," she said.  "When can I see him?"

"Will you go under with us?"

"I don't know, sir.  If it's true, I really don't see how we can fight them."

"Will you go under with us?" he insisted.

"My family - - I can't just walk away from them and let them die."

"I need an answer, Scully!"

"I don't have one!  Not yet!"

"You have until tomorrow to decide.  The office Christmas party is at the J.W.
Marriott.  If you're with us, come to the party, and offer me a toast.  If I
don't see you, I'll know where you stand, and I'll pass that on to Mulder."

Skinner started to walk away, but stopped and turned back to his agent.  "I'd
rather have your consent.  I . . . you've come to mean a lot to me, Agent
Scully. . ."

She heard his voice crack, watched as he turned his head away, unwilling to
allow his face to be seen at this most vulnerable moment.  But he quickly
regained his composure and looked Scully in the eyes.  ". . .but I will do
whatever I have to do the fight what's coming."

She felt her legs weaken.  She watched as Skinner walked out of the garage.

*    *      *

End Chapter 2
comments?  Lacadiva @ aol.com

FIGHT:  Y2K (3/6)

By

Lacadiva (Lacadiva @ aol.com)

March 5, 1999

Category:  Flickfic/MSR/MSS Friendship/X-File/Holiday Challenge/Scullyangst/
Skinnerangst/Muldertorture

Rating:  PG13 for violence.

Disclaimer:  See chapter one for disclaimer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Blessed is she who has believed that what the Lord has said to her
will be accomplished."  Luke 1:45
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIGHT Y2K (3/6)

From the personal journal of Dana Scully:

"We give no thought to the world as it turns.  We expect tomorrow, and plan our
lives accordingly with no doubt that the sun will ever cease to rise.  I have
been given a privilege I do not want.  I know the last day.  I know the moment
our lives will all end, as we have known life to be.  I know that those who
have worked to stop it now know that it cannot be stopped, that it is now
inevitable.  The fantasy my partner has chased his life long has finally become
reality, and we must all now face the consequences of our disbelief.  We will
stand silent and watch while overhead metal ships descend upon us bringing a
plague that will wipe us out, erase our existence from the memory of the
universe and clear the way for the conquering force.  I wonder foolishly how
the first inhabitants of this land must have felt when the European ships
arrived.  Did they welcome them, or tremble at the thought of their own
extinction?  Our nuclear weapons are but bows and arrows to the force that
demands our annihilation.  Resist or serve?  What does it mean to resist?  Can
we?  What will it mean to serve?  To submit to the monsters, thus becoming
monsters ourselves?  Perpetrators of our own demise?  We've traveled this road
since the beginning of time, always teetering on the brink of mutually assured
destruction.  Here is where it all finally ends."

*      *      *

Scully turned off her laptop and rubbed her tired eyes.  She considered eating
something, but didn't have the appetite.  Instead, she stood, stretched and
wandered into the living room.

She flopped down on the couch, grabbed the remote and turned on the cable news
station.

". . .as the year 2000 is finally upon us.  Experts continue to work around the
clock to ensure that the major computer meltdown everyone has been predicting
for years, doesn't happen."

Scully sat forward listening carefully.  The remote in her hand caused her palm
to sweat.

An 'expert' in rolled up sleeves and loosened tie was on screen now, sitting
before a bank of computers and monitors, giving his take on the 'Millennium
bug' situation.

"I think for the most part, we are ready, have been ready for the last couple
of years, but the truth will be told on December thirty-first, right at the
stroke of midnight.  If the lights are still on, if the elevators are still
running, gas and power still on, security systems still on line, trains and
subways still going, air traffic controls systems still feasible, sewer systems
still in operation, and your bank account and credit records are still intact,
we'll probably be okay.  If, however, the crash occurs as the technocrats
continue to predict, we can also assume that our national defense computers may
be vulnerable, and it could be open season on America.  Not just us, but every
developed country that depends on computers to keep their way of life going."

Scully felt suddenly cold.  This is what Mulder and Kurtzweil had been talking
about all along.  This is how they can justify the curfews, the shutdowns, the
troops, the helicopters.  This is what the Year 2000 problem was to cover up
all along  - - the colonization of Earth.

The expert continued.  "Personally, I'm going to clean out my bank account,
cancel my credit cards and hole up in my apartment with a few cases of
champagne, smoked oysters, and my girlfriend.  We may never come out."

You're right, Scully thought.  You may never come out.

This is how the future ends.

*    *     *

J. Edgar Hoover Building
December 13
6:20 am

Scully sat in her office, her third cup of weak coffee sitting cold before her.
 She was exhausted.  She had not slept, having spent the entire night sorting
through her apartment full of belongings.  What to take, what to leave?  How
does one pack for Armageddon?

There was more sentimentality in her heart that she would have cared to admit.
Somehow, she had to come to terms with all she had to leave behind.  Gifts from
Christmases past, birthdays and anniversaries.  Keepsakes since childhood.
Things cherished that once belonged to Melissa and Ahab.  Would those things
mean anything in the world that was coming?

The small things, meaningful things that all fit into a velvet jewelry case as
big as her palm were the only things she could justify bringing along.  She
laid them all out in a row ceremoniously.  There was a gold button from her
father's dress uniform.   A piece of clear chipped crystal from a necklace that
belonged to Melissa.  An old pearl earring of her Mom's (she still remembered
the Thanksgiving the earring's match had fallen down the sink.  Her Dad, being
a dad, had pulled the entire sink apart looking for it to ease her mom's tears,
yet he still could not find it).  Bill's old, blue plastic decoder ring he had
pulled out of a box of Cracker Jacks.  Chris' rubber spider, the same one he
had used to scare Melissa time and time again.

Also in the box, among the strange little family keepsakes, was the Apollo key
chain Mulder had given her a couple of years ago.  How did that find it's way
among the family keepsakes?  Scully didn't realize she had begun to cry until
she felt her lower lip quiver.  She was certain now that she had found a way to
at least buy her family some time.  And she silently thanked God for  Mulder
providing her the way.

She wiped away her tears, picked up the phone and dialed.  A sleepy voice
answered.

"Mom?"

"Dana?  What's wrong?"

"Nothing.  I just needed to hear your voice."  Should I tell her?  she
wondered.  How do I tell her?  How do I make it all make sense to her?

"Dana, are you sure you're okay?  Is it Fox?"

"Mulder's fine, mom," she lied, hoping it was true.  "He's on a case.  Look,
about Christmas. . ."

"You're still coming, aren't you?"

"Yes.  Mom, I need you to listen very carefully.  Does Uncle Pete still have
that house in Westchester County?"

"Yes, he still lives there."

"Do you know whether or not he filled in that old bomb shelter?"

"I don't think so, Dana.  I think he uses it for storage.  Why are you asking
about that?"
 

"Mom, I want you to do something for me.  You're going to think it's crazy,
you're going to think I'M crazy, but I need you to promise me you'll do exactly
what I tell you.  You have to make Bill and Tara and Chris do it, too."

"Dana, honey. . ."

"Please mom, just listen.  This is what I need you to do."

*      *      *

JW Marriott
Crystal Ballroom
1:21 PM

The party was in full swing.  A small band played seventy's soft rock hits. The
female singer in black sequin gown was singing "Reminiscing" slightly off-key.
Scully walked in and immediate searched the room for Skinner.  She walked by
agents she had gotten to know, and some to whom she'd never bothered to say
hello, and wondered how they would react to what was coming.  Should she tell
them?  Rush the stage, grab the microphone and demand everyone listen to her?
And would they be smart enough, knowing that the information came from Mulder,
to follow her advice?

She returned the smiles and greetings from fellow agents as she made her way
around the room.  Someone shoved a small glass of punch in her hand and
squeezed her arm, wishing her a Merry Christmas.

And then she saw him, but the punch table.  A hand in his pocket.  A glass
being lifted  to his lips.  The usual pinched, pensive stare on his face.  She
made her way over to Skinner and held up her glass.  "Merry Christmas, sir."
She gently clicked her glass to his.

"Merry Christmas to you, Agent Scully."

She had never seen Skinner smile like that before.

*      *     *

Baltimore, Maryland
December 24
9:37 PM

Scully dried the last dish and hung the towel up to dry.  She turned to her
mother and smiled.

"Coffee?"  Maggie asked.

"Love some."

They moved into the living room to sit, just the two of them.  Bill and Tara
were busy giving the baby a bath and preparing the guestroom.  Chris wouldn't
be there until the morning.  Now was their time.

"Did you talk to them?"  Scully asked.

"I did."

"I'm surprised they didn't bring it up at dinner."

"I told Bill I wanted a peaceful dinner with my family."

"What are you going to do?"

"You still haven't told me why, Dana.  Why do you want us hiding out in Uncle
Pete's bomb shelter?  What's going to happen?  Is it  The Middle East?  Russia?
 China?"

"No, although I wish it were that simple."

"Where will you be?"

Scully looked down into her coffee cup as if the answer could be found there.

"I'll tell you where."  Bill Scully stepped into the room, wearing that same
sour expression that always seemed to claim his face whenever Fox Mulder
entered the conversation.   The look that said a foul taste had crawled into
his mouth uninvited.  "You're going to be with HIM, aren't you?  Mulder."

"Bill," Maggie said in a warning.

Bill threw up his hands as if to calm her, as if to reassure her he wouldn't
cross whatever boundary he'd promised not to cross.

"Yes," said Scully, looking her older brother in the eyes.

"Doing what?"

"I don't know yet."

"Dana. . ." Maggie started.

"Mom, I'll be fine."

"When came we come out of the shelter?"

"It's hard to say."

"You have to tell us something!"  Maggie's voice was harsher than she meant it
to be.

"If I knew, I'd tell you."

"Do you realize," asked Bill, "what you're asking us to do?  You're asking us
to completely disrupt our lives, all because of that insane partner of yours,
carrying on about little green men!"

Dana stood, looking defiantly into her brother's face, prepared to fight,
determined not to back down.  "Mulder may be the only sane individual standing
between our lives and extinction!  Now I know you don't believe it, but I'm
asking you to do this one thing, if not for me, for little Matthew.  Just get
down there before December thirty first and stay put until it you hear from me.
 And if nothing happens, then you will have had one rotten New Year's Eve and I
will personally help you hunt Mulder down and shoot him.  But if he's right . .
."

"He won't be," Bill said.

"What if he is?  What do you say to your son?  Are you prepared for the
consequences if you're wrong?"

Maggie stood and took her daughter by the arms. "What about you?  If it's not
safe for us, what about you?"

"Mulder needs me, Mom, to help him fight this thing.  There may be a way I can
help him."

"I don't understand," Maggie said.

Bill stalked out of the room, back toward the stairs.  "I'm sick of this Buck
Rogers crap."

"This Buck Rogers crap may just save your life!"

"I'm going to bed.  Merry Christmas," he spat, and trudged up the stairs.

"You trust me, don't you mom?"

"Of course I do."

"Promise me you'll make him go."

"I'll do what I can, sweetheart."

Scully grabbed her coat and scarf.

"Where are you going?"

"There's a ten o'clock Mass at Saint John's."

"I'll go with you."

"No.  Stay.  Talk to Bill and Tara.  We can go again in the morning."

Scully let herself out, into the icy air.

*     *     *

St. John's Catholic Church of Baltimore
10:13 PM

She'd never prayed so hard and so long in recent memory.  Not even when she was
sick and thought she was dying.  Not even when she thought Mulder was dead.
Not even when she lay in the trunk of Dwayne Barry's car when he had so
violently snatched her from her home.

This night, as the Priest spoke of the birth of the Savior and what it meant to
the natural world, all Scully could pray for was clarity of thought, soundness
of judgment, the safety of her family, and to see Mulder again.  One of her
prayers was answered immediately when a man in a heavy navy parka with a furry
hood sat next to her.  He pulled off a thick glove, revealing a strong yet
slender hand that she recognized immediately.  Her heart thudded in her chest
as he undid the hood and slipped it off his head.

Mulder smiled.  "Did I miss communion?"

Scully forgot where she was and threw her arms around her partner.

"Where have you been?" she asked in a whisper.

"Keeping low," he whispered back.

"Then you shouldn't be here."

"You think any of those men are going to be in church tonight?"

"You have a point there.  Mulder, I talked to Skinner."

"And?"

"How long have you known about his implant?"

"A couple of weeks before our fight."

"Can we really trust him?"

"We'll know soon enough."

"I'm with you," she said, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I can see that."

"No, I mean, I've made my decision.  If I'm going to die, I want to die
fighting, with you."

"You're not going to die," Mulder said.

"We might, Mulder.  This is big.  Bigger than all of us."

"Bigger than God?"

"Well, no.  But I'm having a hard time wondering why He would allow this to
happen."

Scully looked down at the rosary beads wrapped around her fingers.

"Maybe,"  Mulder said, "maybe He won't allow this to happen.  Maybe that's why
we're here, you and me.  And Skinner.  Maybe that's why we've been through so
much, yet survived this long."

"You're starting to sound like a believer, Mulder."

"Me?  Nah.  Show me proof."

Scully smiled.  "Mulder, about the vaccine.  I don't want to set any conditions
on my part in this, but I need to ask.  Is it possible for me to get a portion
of the vaccine to my family?"

"It's already been decided."

"For or against?"

"For."

She felt tears begin to well up in her eyes.  Tears of relief.

The few people scattered around the church went to their knees.   Mulder
watched as Scully gracefully knelt to pray.  Mulder hesitated for a second,
then rather self-consciously eased down to kneel beside his partner.

"How do I do this?" Mulder whispered.

"Say what's on your heart."

"Um, I don't know what's on my heart."

"Say what's on your mind."

"I can't say that in church."

Scully almost laughed.  "Then say this. . .Our Father, who art in heaven. . ."

*       *      *

December 25
8:12 AM

Scully watched as Matthew dove into the pile of gifts and worked his way
through each one.  It was a joy to watch such enthusiasm, such abandon, and she
found herself wishing she could feel that way again, as she did when she was a
child.  No fears, no worries.  No wondering what the future would bring.  Just
satisfaction with the moment, with the now.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," said Maggie, giving her daughter a kiss on the
cheek and a strong side hug.

"Merry Christmas, mom," she said with a smile.  "Bill?"

Bill looked up from the tricycle he had just finished putting together for his
son.

"Would you help me unload my car?"

*     *     *

Scully opened the back of the Pathfinder and stood back for Maggie and Bill to
take a look.

"What's all this, Dana?" asked Maggie.

"Supplies.  Bottled water, canned and freeze-dried food.  Freeze-dried ice
cream for Matthew.  He likes strawberry, doesn't he?  I want you to take all
this to Uncle Pete's."

"Dana," Bill began.

"Don't argue with me, Bill.  Please, just take it."  She began unloading it
herself, until Bill moved in and took a heavy box from her arms.

"You two get back inside," he said.  "It's cold.  I'll take care of all this."

Scully said not a word but headed back inside, satisfied that she had done what
she could for her family.

*      *     *

December 26
12:47 pm

Traffic was at a standstill for over thirty minutes on I-95.  It was odd that
there would be so much traffic the day after a holiday, and not even rush hour.
 Scully, bored with the gray scenery, turned on the radio.  There was an
unusual amount of static in the signal.  Voices faded as the static completely
took over.

Finally traffic began moving at a snail's pace.  She imagined there had been
some horrible accident up ahead, imagined the sight of twisted metal, shattered
glass and maybe bodies strewn across the asphalt.  Then, suddenly and with no
indication of what the hold up had been, traffic began moving faster.  She
pressed the accelerator and pitched forward as the Pathfinder gained speed.
She looked out of the side window as she quickly changed lanes.  Scully could
have sworn she zoomed by a military jeep and two heavily armed soldiers.

It's beginning, she thought.  The end is beginning.

*    *     *

December 27

For two nights, Scully dreamed of bright lights, helicopters and covered
trucks.  She dreamed of being chased, falling, and hiding in dark,
claustrophobic spaces from enemies with no faces.  She dreamed of teeth and
claws and nictitating membranes sliding over inhuman eyes.  She dreamed of the
whirring sound of a million bees choking the skies. Worse yet, she dreamed of
Mulder lying dead, his eyes wide open and face contorted in a look of sheer
terror.

She'd practically leapt from the bed, choking back a scream, covered in sweat,
her satin pajamas clinging to her.  Usually by mid-morning the shakiness from
her all-too-real dreams would dissipate.   But not this morning.  As Scully
showered and dressed to make an appearance at the office (hoping against hope
that some word would get to her from Mulder), all she could think of was:
Who's telling the world what we know?

*     *     *
 
 

Headquarters of the Lone Gunmen
8:05 AM

"Agent Scully?"

Frohike looked as if he'd been on a three-day bender.  His permanent five
o'clock shadow had become a full beard.  His clothes had not been changed, and
they smelled like it.  Deep circles were tattooed under his eyes.  "Come in,
quick!"

He practically yanked Scully inside and closed the door, engaging every single
lock and security feature with trembling hands.  "Were you followed?"

"No.  I took precautions.  Have you heard anything from Mulder?"

"Not a peep in three days.  I'm getting worried."

Scully covered her nose.   There was simply no way to be subtle.

"Sorry it's a little ripe in here," Frohike apologized.

"You know what's going on, what's happening in a few days, don't you?"

Frohike signed with great relief.  "Thank God, you believe it.  I was afraid we
were going to have to hit you over the head and drag you in here so Mulder
could find you."

"That won't be necessary.  Has anyone given any thought to how we're going to
warn people?"

"We've been working 'round the clock for weeks on that, Agent Scully."

Frohike and Scully turned as Byers entered, scratching his head.  "Uhhhn. . .I
slept three hours?  It feels like only three minutes.  Agent Scully!  What are
you doing here?  Is it Mulder?"

"Cool your jets, Byers," Frohike said.  "She's wondering what we're doing about
getting the word out."

"I'll go wake up Langly."

*      *      *

Scully sat at Mulder's desk and let out a sigh.  Not of weariness, but of
relief.  Relief that steps had been taken long ago in preparation for the Day.
The Gunmen had shown Scully a rather surprisingly sophisticated communications
array, compiled from hard and software stolen and borrowed and put together
with electrical tape, spit and ingenuity.  With it, at a designated time, the
Gunmen would be able to reach a millions via phone, fax, the Internet, low
power television, cable and network, satellite and microwave with one simple
message:   The Aliens are here.  Word of mouth would have to take care of those
who won't get the message.  That is, if they even believed it.

There was no point in getting the message out earlier, Scully decided.  First,
the message would have been branded a hoax or a joke, and it would have been
forgotten about in short order.  Second, the Syndicate would have intercepted
any transmission of a warning, and the Lone Gunmen would have been targeted for
termination, right along with her, Skinner and Mulder.

The only thing left to do was to wait.  Wait for Mulder.

*      *      *

December 30
11:16 PM

The waiting was driving her crazy.  Scully could not eat, could not sleep,
could only pace the floor and wonder what was going on and what was being done.
 There were no outward signs of resistance or danger.  Outside her window, life
seemed to be so very normal.  Every morning the neighbors' alarms went off,
then off they'd go to work, pursuing their day, unaware of what was only a
little more than twenty-four hours away.

What was worse, there had been no word from Mulder.  No secret messages, no
surprise appearances, no midnight phone calls.  It was as if Mulder no longer
existed.  Was Mulder dead?  Had they found him?  Shot him down in an alley
somewhere, or stormed his secrete hiding place and firebombed it, trapping him
inside?  Had some consortium hitman forced him at gunpoint into a car and
driven him to some remote location where he was executed, or was he under the
influence of the black cancer, his mortal body only moments away from the alien
parasite ripping it's way out of her partner's chest?  Scully shuddered at the
thought.

She remembered how Mulder often went running to work off stress.  She quickly
threw on a set of sweats, thick socks, sneakers and a heavy down coat, grabbed
her keys and gun.  She moved toward the door, but something stopped her.  She
remembered  the stiletto, the alien weapon.  Something in the back of her mind
told her to take it with her.  She pulled it from the side drawer, found a roll
of electrical tape and taped it to her ankle.

She made it only a few blocks from her apartment when she became aware that she
was being followed.
 

End of Chapter 3
Lacadiva @aol. com

FIGHT:  Y2K (4/6)

By

Lacadiva (Lacadiva @ aol.com)

March 5, 1999

Category:  Flickfic/MSR/MSS Friendship/X-File/Holiday Challenge/Scullyangst/
Skinnerangst/Muldertorture

Rating:  PG13 for violence.

Disclaimer:  See chapter one for disclaimer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIGHT Y2K (4/6)

It was a dark Sedan with opaque windows.  Scully tried to steal a look over her
shoulder, but there was no way to do it and not let on that she was aware of
their presence.  She prayed it was Mulder, but mentally prepared herself for a
confrontation.  She removed her gloves, stuffed them into her left coat pocket
and reached into the right pocket and wrapped her hand around the cold steel
assurance of her gun.

As she was coming up on an alley, she could hear the car pick up speed.  She
moved to change direction, but the car anticipated her move.  It zoomed up
beside her then swerved into the alley, cutting her off.  She could  turn and
run, but that might invite a bullet in her back.

Scully pulled her gun from her pocket and trained it on the car.

"FBI!  GET OUT OF THE CAR!" she cried, asserting her authority over the
situation.

The back seat door opened and a thick veil of smoke streamed out of it.

"I should kill you, you sunnova - -"

"For what reason, Agent Scully?"  The Cigarette Smoking Man asked, pulling the
spent cigarette from his lips and tossing it to the ground.  "I come with the
purest of intentions, I assure you.  Your life is in danger."

"Not if I blow you away first."

"Pull the trigger, Agent Scully.  Go on.  Your partner tried several times.  He
didn't have

the guts.  Maybe you do.  Go on, kill me, and risk putting both your lives in
greater jeopardy.

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"You made a deal with THEM.  Your life for all of ours.  You betrayed us all."

"Do yourself a favor, Agent Scully, and put the gun away," the CSM said
quickly, as if he was on a deadline.  He looked around, then back to Scully.
"There's very little time.  An order has been issued.  You're to be picked up
before morning.  I'm here to circumvent that order."

"I don't believe you."

The CSM pulled the passenger door open wider and stepped out of the way.  "Get
in the car."

"Forget it!"

"Do you know where Mulder is?"

"No."

"Well, I do.  I can take you to him.  We can save him, get to him before they
do."

"You're lying.  Everything you say is a lie!"

"Not everything.  Agent Scully, we are running out of precious time.  I know I
am no hero in your eyes, but I'm asking you in the interest of this project to
accept my olive branch.  The deal you refer to was made to forestall the
inevitable. Surely you've figured it out by now.  Our cooperation gave us the
means to come up with a vaccine, which, may I remind you, still courses through
your veins. Our deal with the devil meant some of us may survive."

"How do you choose?"

"There are always casualties in war, Agent Scully.  Don't needlessly become a
casualty yourself.  Get in the car, now, before we both catch our death."

"No."

Another car came careening around the corner, tires screeching.  It was heading
right for them.

"GET IN THE CAR NOW!"

Scully turned and aimed at the oncoming car.  She fired directly at the
driver's side.  The bullet shattered the windshield like a huge, spidery web.
The car suddenly careened to the left and smashed into a fire hydrant.  Water
shot up in a high arc, filling the street, some of it freezing on contact with
the cold asphalt.

"Agent Scully!  There will be more where he came from!"

Scully still refused to trust the CSM enough to follow his instructions.  Until
she saw the driver of the car, now covered in ice and water, climb out.  It was
Mulder.   A small black hole from the bullet was right between his eyes.

"MULDER!"  What had she done?  She'd shot her partner.  But why was he still
alive?  The bullet clearly hit its mark.  And then she saw it.  Noxious green,
bubbling fluid beginning to ooze out of the wound and down his face.   Not his
face anymore, for it was beginning to change, along with his height and weight.
 Mulder's dark, deep set hazel eyes, pronounced nose and full lips became a
face that could have been chiseled out of the side of a mountain.  Scully had
seen this face before.

The Shape Shifter began to run towards them.

Scully knew to avoid the alien's blood at all costs, remembering the retrovirus
and how it had almost killed Mulder.   The real Mulder.   She jumped into the
back of the sedan, followed by the CSM.  She heard him grunt loudly on the way
in, but he lost no time slamming the door shut.

"DRIVE!" he yelled at the man behind the wheel.

The Driver backed out of the alley, slamming into the Shape Shifter and
throwing him several feet into the air.  He hit the ground with a sickening
crunch.  They thought they were safe, until they saw him pull himself up and
continue toward them.  The Shape Shifter ran, ran faster than any human could
have, and leaped onto the hood of the car.  Scully shot through the windshield,
realizing the bullet would come dangerously close to hitting the driver but
there was no time to be courteous and warn him.  Another bullet drove through
the Shape Shifter's skull, throwing him off the car and sending him rolling
behind them.  Scully turned to look out of the back windshield and saw his body
lying still on the pavement.

She turned back to the CSM.  It was in her heart to thank him, even though she
still didn't  trust him.  And then she saw the pinched look on his face, saw
how pale he had become.  Sweat had broken out on his forehead, and his
breathing was ragged.

"I'm hit," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?"  Scully didn't know why the information didn't click at first.  Not
until the CSM raised a hand and Scully saw in the semi-darkness that it was
coated in blood.  She immediately went into doctor mode, forcing the wounded
man to lie back, pulling his clothes out of the way and trying to get a look at
the wound.

"I need light back here!" she cried.  The driver turned on the interior light.
It was dull, but not too dull to see that the man's chest wound was severe,
that it was only a matter of time.

Scully did what she could to apply pressure to the wound.  "Get us to a
hospital!"

"No time," the CSM said, grabbing onto Scully's coat.  "Don't go back to your
house.  Don't go anywhere you've been before. "

"What about Mulder?  Where is he?"

"He's a good boy."

"WHERE IS HE?"

The Smoking Man's grip loosened on Scully's coat.  His eyes lost what little
light they had.

Suddenly the car began to pick up speed.

"What's happening?"  Scully demanded.

"We're being followed," the Driver said.

Scully turned to look out of the opaque rear window and saw a car gaining on
them quickly.

She pulled out her gun and checked the clip.  She moved to roll down the
window, but before she could lean out to shoot, shots were fired from the
pursuing car.  Scully ducked down low.

"Get us out of here!" she cried.

The Driver twisted the wheel hard, too hard.  Scully's stomach turned as she
felt the car tip to the side as the tires screamed.  She peered out the window
and saw the pursuing car still coming, quickly closing the gap between them.

The Driver turned again, plunging them into an alley.  When Scully noticed
another car coming right at them, it was too late to scream.

The Sedan slammed into the on-coming car.  A split second later, the pursuing
car, tires screeching, slammed into the back of the sedan.

She could have been out for a minute or an hour.  She couldn't tell.  All she
knew was her head hurt.  She touched the left side of her face, where it was
tender.  Blood trickled down the side of her mouth where she had bitten her lip
at impact.  Her entire body felt as if it were one big bruise.

She squeezed her way through the twisted interior to the front seat.  She
reached out to find a pulse on the throat of the Driver.  Nothing.

Scully kicked the car door open and pushed her way out into the ice-slicked
alley.  She peered into the front seat of the vehicle that started this lethal
chain reaction, and saw that the driver's head had smashed halfway through the
windshield.  The car that hit them from behind was in worse shape than the one
she was in in the middle.  Both occupants were also dead.

Scully pocketed her gun and limped out of the alley in search of a safe place.

*      *     *

She found a twenty-four hour diner.  It was bright and old, and smelled of old
grease and older coffee.  She found a booth in the back near the kitchen, away
from doors and windows, and sat down.  It felt good to be warm and to be off
her feet, but she knew that the pain from the accident had only barely made
it's presence known.  Once the adrenaline wore off, she was going to be one
sore individual.  She closed her eyes, hoping her sudden need to sleep was
fatigue and not a concussion.  'My name is Dana Katharine Scully', she repeated
to herself.  'My badge number is. . .'

"You know what you want?"

She looked up to find a waitress standing over her, her pink uniform stained by
condiments, chili and colas.  She had a plastic cup of water in her hand and
practically slammed it down on the table after getting a better look at Scully.

"Just coffee, please," said Scully.

The waitress snorted indignantly and walked away.  Scully watched as she went
to a woman who appeared to be the manager and pulled her aside.

Scully picked up the metal napkin dispenser and peered into it.  Her distorted
reflection revealed the source of the waitress' distress.  She pulled out a
napkin and dipped it into the cup of water, and wiped dried blood from her head
and fingers.

"Excuse me."

Scully looked up to find the Manager standing there.  She was a black woman,
about forty, with a pleasant but weary smile.

"I'm leaving," Scully said, scooting painfully to the edge of the booth seat to
exit.

"No," said the Manager, reaching out.  "Let me apologize for my waitress.  We
get a lot of homeless individuals, and while I never refuse them service, they
can't stay all night.  It's just restaurant policy."

"I understand," said Scully.  "But I'm not homeless."  Although, she thought,
we all will be in about 24 hours.

"I know.  I didn't mean to imply. . . .  Can I give you a little piece of
advice?  If you're having trouble with your boyfriend or your husband, you
should tell the police.  File a report to protect yourself."

Scully didn't understand at first, then realized her banged up condition
obviously made her look as if she'd been the victim of domestic abuse.

"I can say that," the Manager continued, "because I've been there before.  Do
you think he'll come looking for you here?"

Scully wanted to explain, to tell this woman everything, to save her from what
was coming, but she knew she'd probably sound like a psycho and would end up
being asked to leave.

"No," said Scully.

"Good.  I'm gonna go get you that cup of coffee."

Scully realized she didn't have any money on her.

"Don't worry about it," the Manager said, as if reading Scully's mind.  "I'm
buying.  One survivor to another.  And you can stay until my shift is over at
seven a.m.  After that, you're on your own.  We square?"

"Yes.  Thank you."

"By the way, Happy New Year."

Scully felt herself tremble.  Where was Mulder?

*     *     *

December 31
8:04 AM

It was warmer than it had been in weeks.  The sun was out.  The sidewalks were
wet from melting ice and shoveled piles of dirty snow.  Scully had begun
sweating in her heavy down coat.  She grabbed the zipper and yanked it down.
The bees could survive this, she could not help thinking.  They could certainly
survive.

Suddenly there was the scream of rubber against asphalt followed by the.
sickening crunch of metal.  Two cars had met in the middle of the intersection,
to fatal result.  Hadn't they seen the stoplight?   Scully looked up, anxious
to see which of them had had the right of way, when she saw that both
stoplights were out.  As a crowd gathered around the car to view the wreckage
and help the survivors from the twisted vehicles, Scully took the time to
notice what was happening all around.  Every stop light was dark.  The digital
clock above the bank was dark.  Floor to ceiling windows in shops and business
were dark.

And overhead a helicopter had begun circling.

Scully was about to step off the curb when she heard another screeching halt.
A District police car, on its way to the accident, no doubt, Scully thought.
She hopped back to allow the vehicle a wider berth, but it did not move.  The
door on the driver's side opened, and a Police Officer stepped out.

He was the meanest looking man Scully had ever seen.  Pock marks along his
cheeks and jawbones.  Eyes hidden behind black shades.

"What's the hurry?" he asked.

"No hurry, officer."

The Officer unsnapped the safety strap on his holster and placed a thick beefy
hand on the handle of his gun.

"What's the problem?"

"See some I.D., please?"  asked the officer.  Scully pulled out her badge.  The
Officer took it, and looked it over quickly.  "FBI?  Are you carrying your
weapon, Agent Scully?"

"Yes," she said.

The Officer removed his own gun and aimed it at Scully.  "Hands in the air."

Scully raised her hands.  "What's going on?"

The Officer pushed her against the hood of the vehicle and quickly found and
removed her gun.   "Has your weapon been discharged in the last 24 hours?"

"Yes," she said nervously.  "But no one has been shot."  No one human, she
mumbled to herself.

"I'm going to ask you to step inside the vehicle."

"Am I under arrest?  What's the charge?"

The officer opened the back door and reached for Scully's arm.  He pulled her
forward.  She stumbled and felt to one knee.

"My ankle.  I hurt it earlier.  It just gave out on me.  I'm okay."

Scully pretended to rub her ankle as she reached under her pants leg for the
alien stiletto.

"Get up!" the officer demanded.

The metal was like an icicle in her hand.  She stood up with the weapon hidden
from view and moved to the door. "Looks like someone got sick on your seat."
she said.

The Officer bent down to peer inside the vehicle, exposing the back of his neck
to her perfectly.

*SNICK*   She raised her arm and jabbed down, burying the stiletto in the
Officers flesh.  He let loose a muffled scream and hit the ground hard.  Green
bubbling blood welled up around the weapon.

Scully looked for witnesses, and saw that every eye on the street was locked on
the accident.  She quickly dragged the officer out of the way, into an alley.
It wasn't easy, but she managed.  She took back her gun, took his, then removed
the stiletto and cleaned it against his jacket.

She closed the back passenger door and made her way to the front.  The car was
still running, and had more than a half tank of gas.  She sighed.  She couldn't
have asked for better.   She drove off, in search of Mulder.

*     *     *

Watergate Parking Garage
7:01 PM

There were no cars in the parking garage that night.  No sounds but the beat of
her own heart and her own nervous breathing.   No light but the dull, failing
light of a large flashlight she'd found in the police car she had abandoned
earlier.

Scully sat on the cold concrete floor, flashlight in her lap, her back against
a pylon, hoping against hope, praying, that Mulder would find her here.  In
less than five hours, the invasion would begin, although she imagined it had
already started in some parts of the world.  Satellite transmission had been
knocked out only a few short hours ago, with hundreds of communications
satellites no doubt whirling through space out of orbit.  In time they would
all make their way back to earth, plunging back into the atmosphere in a fiery
crash.  If there was anything left of earth so that it would matter. . .

The rioting began earlier than she expected.  Looters hit the stores with a
vengeance.  Grocery stores were the hardest hit.  People with bags of food and
water were beaten to death in the streets, their bags taken from them.  Men and
women in business suits abandoned their brief cases and useless cell phones and
gave in to survival of the fittest.  The military were out in force.  The smell
of tear gas still hung in the air.  The only constants were the sound of
helicopters and sirens.  Radios and televisions were silent.  There was only
word of mouth, and enforced curfews would keep people in ignorance until the
last moment.

When the ships arrive.

Or would the bees come first?

Scully, able to recall with chilling clarity Alvin Kurtzweil's words from
earlier interviews, found the facts now scrambled as the ordeal played itself
out before her.  She hugged herself, felt another chill stretch from her cold
legs and buttocks through her entire body. She shined her flashlight on her
watch.  Four and one half hours to Armageddon.

She leaned against the pylon.  And thought of Mulder.

"No matter what happens," he had said, "if things go bad, I'll find you."

Only death could completely separate them, she found herself thinking.  And
then her head dropped as sleep found its way to her.

*     *     *

SCREACH.

She woke with a start, and leaped to her feet.  Her legs felt stiff under her,
but she forced them to work.  The flashlight had burned out long ago.   There
was not the tiniest spec of light.  Just the sound of a car getting closer and
closer, tires screeching each time it took a curve.  Scully pulled out her
weapon, then flattened her back against the pylon.  Light invaded the dark;
twin beams heading down the ramp to her level.  She twisted to the other side
of the pylon, so that the light would not hit her.  Had they found her again?
Would this night never end?

The SUV came bounding onto the parking structure level and came to a screaming
halt.  The door opened.

"SCULLY!"

MULDER.   It was Mulder!  Scully almost leaped from her hiding place, but felt
the cold of the stiletto against her ankle.  She remembered the last time she
saw Mulder.  It wasn't him at all.  This could be another trick, another
attempt at thwarting her and Mulder's endeavor to resist.  Scully began to
tremble.

"SCULLY!  WHERE ARE YOU!"

She reached down and removed the stiletto.  *SNICK*  She took a deep breath and
came out from behind the pylon.  "Mulder, is that you?"

It was.  There in the headlights she saw him.  A huge smile claimed his face,
then gave up as the need to hurry took over.  "Let's go!"

"No, not yet."

"Why, Scully?  What's wrong? "

"Is it really you?"

"Of course it's me.  Why would you. . ."  Mulder stopped as if he knew the
answer to his own question.  He covered his hand with the sleeve of his jacket,
then smashed the side view mirror with a fist.  He bent down and picked up a
jagged piece of glass from the floor and held it up.  He then held out his palm
and dragged the pointed edge down the middle of his flesh.  He winced, dropping
the glass to the floor.  He held his hand out so that Scully could see.  His
blood was red.

"Mulder."

Scully ran to him as best as she could.  He caught and held her as if letting
go would mean mutual extinction.

"I was afraid you were dead," she confessed.

"We have to go now."

She didn't wait to be told a second time.  Scully climbed into the passenger's
side and strapped in.  She didn't take her eyes off Mulder as he climbed in and
put the car in gear.

"Ready?"

Scully nodded.  She placed a hand upon Mulder's on the gearshift, and squeezed.
 

And then it hit her.  The sensation that someone or something was calling her
name. . .

"Mulder. . .?"

. . .the sensation that she was being beckoned, pulled, something yanking her
away as if she were on a leash. . .

"MULDER. . .?"

It wanted her attention. It wanted her.

"Scully, what is it?  What?"

"Mulder. . . ?"

She reached for the door and unlocked it, fighting with the seatbelt, trying to
get out of the car.

"SCULLY, NO!"

Mulder reached for her, tried to keep her in the car.  He hit the accelerator
and the car lurched forward.  Scully managed to get the car door open.  Only
the seatbelt kept her from flying out of the vehicle.  In short order she
managed to disengage it and rolled out of the vehicle onto the hard concrete.

Mulder slammed the breaks and climbed out.  "Scully!"

He was going to stop her.  She could not let that happen.  She pulled her gun.

"Scully, what are you. . . ?"

He didn't have time to duck.

She did what she had to do, what the implant in her neck instructed her to do.
What the forces that suddenly controlled her demanded she do.

"NO SCULLY!"

She shot him.
 
 

End Chapter 4
Lacadiva @ aol.com

FIGHT:  Y2K (5/6)

By

Lacadiva (Lacadiva @ aol.com)

March 5, 1999

Category:  Flickfic/MSR/MSS Friendship/X-File/Holiday Challenge/Scullyangst/
Skinnerangst/Muldertorture

Rating:  PG13 for violence.

Disclaimer:  See chapter one for disclaimer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIGHT: Y2K (5/6)

Whatever wanted her kept calling.  She had to go.  Scully felt pain, knew that
her knee  was hurt badly where it had scraped hard along the concrete, leaving
it raw and bleeding, but she could not let that stop her.   She looked at
Mulder lying on the ground a few feet away, fighting to remain conscious, blood
spilling between his fingers where he held his side.   She shot him.
Somewhere she wanted to feel something for this man.  She wanted to help him.
But she was being called.   She had to go.

*       *       *

She made her way back to the street.  At first she thought she had gone blind.
The street lights were out, and blackness surrounded her.  She reached out.
There was no need to see.  She knew where she needed to be, which way to go.

There were others joining her, all following the call in the darkness.  She
felt them brushing up against her, bumping into her, but she didn't mind.  All
that mattered was answering the call.

Suddenly there was light.  So bright it made Scully and the others cover their
faces.  Above was the ship.  It sat miles and miles away from where they all
stood with arms outstretched, but it was so big, it looked as if she could
brush it with the tips of her fingers.  She reached for it, rising slightly on
her toes as if it would get her closer.

And then, like before, all hell broke loose.  The Men Without Faces, their
cylindrical weapons in hand, converged on them.  Scully froze.  There were no
instructions.  No command from the voices that had brought them all here
telling them what to do now.  She could run, but where?

Someone in the front of the crowd that had gathered was screaming.  She could
smell burning flesh.  Another scream.  Then another.  It was only a matter of
time before they made their way to her, before she too would feel the burning.

Someone in the crowd grabbed her.

"Scully!"  The voice was weak, but insistent.

Mulder tried to pull her into his arms, without using his blood-wet hands.
She barely pushed him, and he fell to the ground, his face twisted in agony,
his hands immediately reaching for his side.  His blood-drenched clothes clung
to him.  He reached out with a red right hand, pleading with her.

Scully looked at him, her face showing her confusion.  What did he want?  She
watched as he pulled a gun from an ankle strap and aimed it at her.

"Move, Scully!"

She didn't.  He fired.

She felt no pain.  She turned to see that Mulder had actually fired on one of
the faceless men.  She saw him hit the ground.  She turned back to Mulder and
saw him double over and begin to tremble.  All around her people were
screaming.  Some were beginning to scatter, running as fast as they could
before the faceless men could destroy them.

Suddenly the connection was broken.  What had held her nailed to that spot
released her.  She fell to her knees reaching out to Mulder, the realization of
what she had done to him hitting her full force.

"MULDER!"

He wasn't moving anymore.

"MULDER!"

She reached for his throat to find a pulse.  She could not find it.

"Mulder. . .?"

She found it.  He was still alive.  She tried to pick him up, but he was too
heavy, dead weight.  She tried to stand, and screamed, noticing for the first
time just how badly her knee was hurt.  She could not see but placed a hand on
the wound and felt wet open flesh.

Suddenly the light from above disappeared.  She could only hear the chaos, and
the only bit of light was provided by bodies on the ground that were still
burning.  She groped for Mulder in the darkness and found him, but something
was pulling her away.  Hands latched onto her arms and pulled her up.

"NO!"

She fought as much as she could, tried to see her assailants, but could only
see their uniforms.  U.S. Army.  They were *us*.  Their faces were
indistinguishable in the darkness.  She could hear them yelling at her, calling
her by name as they dragged her to an army truck and threw her in the back.
She felt more hands latch onto her.  She swung out and hit whoever it was
square in the chin.  Whoever it was hit back.

The blackness was complete.

*      *       *

She awoke to a dank, musty smell, a deep reverberating rumble, and to jostling
movement.  She tried to rise, but her body was hard-pressed to cooperate.

*I shot him.*  The realization made her nauseous.  Heat behind her eyes
activated her tears.  She felt her bottom lip begin to quiver.   Her stomach
turned, and she felt the acid in it rising and threatening . . .

Scully rose and screamed out, reaching for her knee.  It had been rapped
heavily  in gauze, though she could feel that the wound had begun to bleed
through.

A beam of light blinded her.  She covered her eyes.  It quickly became clear
that she was on a vehicle that had to be moving in excess of 60 miles per hour
over very rough road.

The beam moved, shining on the ceiling, allowing light to disperse out and
illuminate her immediate area just enough to see that she was not alone.  She
blinked until her vision cleared, and saw a big man in a khaki uniform sitting
near the front of the truck.

It was Skinner.

He rose, and, holding onto the ceiling of the truck against the jostling, he
made his way to the tiny cot where Scully sat.

Scully couldn't hold back; she threw her arms around him.

He let the flashlight fall and wrapped his own arms around her.   He was
embarrassed that when he tried to say her name he heard his own voice crack,
felt his eyes burn behind his glasses.  He sighed very deep and did what six
years of protocol and professionalism never allowed him to do: he held her
tightly.

Scully easily let go of professional behavior and for the first time allowed
her boss to know that she could cry.  She let loose with wracking sobs that she
would only allow in private; doors closed, curtains drawn, lights out.  Even in
secret, in the darkness, such emotional displays made Scully cringe with shame.
 But now, with the balance of life so delicately tipped in the favor of their
enemies, Scully would not hold back.  She felt Skinner's hand reach up to the
back of her head, to stroke her hair to comfort her.  It seemed most unreal,
almost ridiculous, that this man could ever be a source of comfort.  She knew
her face would be a mess -- red and puffy, eyes swollen, face streaked, nose
running like a two year old with a cold.  She pulled away from him and tried to
hide her face, but Skinner shined the flashlight on her as if he needed to see
her.

"Scully, it's okay.  We made it."

"Where are we?" she asked hoarsely.

"The hills of West Virginia for a short time.  We'll rendezvous with a group
that will escort us to a safe place."

"Then what?"

"Whatever has to be done, we'll do it.  Sorry about the sucker punch to the
jaw."

"That was you?" she asked, rubbing her chin.

He nodded.  "You were less than cooperative at the time."

Scully reached and felt for the implant in the back of her neck.  "It was
calling me.  I didn't know what - -"

"I know.  I cut mine out."

"But, sir! You --"

"I know what it means, Scully.  I doesn't matter right now."

There was a noise from the front of the cabin.  Skinner shined the flashlight
forward and saw as Byers was making his way towards them.

"Welcome back, Scully," he said.  He was surprised when Scully reached out and
gave him a quick hug.  "Let me check your knee," he asked.

"In a minute," she promised.  "Did Frohike and Langly make it with you?"

"They're up front.  Langly's driving.  I apologize for the wild ride.  But time
is of the essence."

Scully looked down at her hands.  They were still stained with blood.  Mulder's
blood.

"I shot Mulder,"  she said, her voice breaking.  "I remember.  God help me.  I
shot Mulder."

"You didn't know what you were doing," Skinner offered.

"It doesn't change the fact."

"Do you feel strong enough to take a look at him?"

"What?  Mulder's  alive?"

Skinner turned the flashlight to a body lying covered on the floor, hitching
with every bump of the truck.  It was Mulder.

Scully practically crawled over Skinner and Byers to Mulder's side.  She
reached to find his pulse.  It was weak, but he was still alive.

"He's alive," she said out loud, to cheer herself.   Even in the half-light she
could see how pale Mulder looked.  She immediately pulled back the covers and
pushed his clothing away.  His wound had been bandaged, but was still bleeding
through.

"Help me turn him over," she called out.  Skinner and Byers were immediately at
her side.  "I need to see if there's an exit wound."

"There isn't," Skinner said.  "I checked."

"Oh, God."  Scully sat back and closed her eyes.  "I did this."

"You can save him, Scully!"

"We need to get him to a hospital."

"There are no more hospitals!"

"I need bandages, sterile instruments, sutures. . ."

"Listen to me, Scully.   Mulder is going to die unless you can remove the
bullet.  I know you're bad shape, but he needs you.  Otherwise, he won't make
it through the night.  I can't do it.  I can help you, but I can't do it."

Scully reached out and stroked Mulder's hair from his forehead.  He was burning
with fever.  He moaned at her touch and began to shiver.

The doctor in Scully emerged.  She sat back and assessed the situation.  Ten
seconds later, she had a plan.

"I put that bullet in you, Mulder, " she said, stroking his forehead again.
"I'm going to get it out of you."    She turned to Skinner, and with
determination, said, "Find a place to pull over.  If I try to operate on Mulder
doing sixty, we'll lose him for sure."

*     *     *

Langly pulled off a road and found a place hidden deep within the trees.
Fortunately there was no moon to give away their location.

Scully scrubbed down as best she could with bottled water and a tiny bottle of
hand sanitizer.

"I'll need hot water and towels.  Bandages, lots.  I'll take tee shirts if
that's all you've got.   Tear them into long strips."

Byers immediately dug into a bag and pulled out a few cotton shirts and began
ripping them, per Scully's instructions.

"I'll need more light.  Bring me every flashlight you've got."

"I'm on it," said Langly, and hopped off the back of the truck.

"I need tweezers or needle nose pliers," Scully continued.  "And a sharp knife,
preferably small.  A Swiss Army knife will do."

Skinner dug down into a pocket and produced the knife.

Scully opened it and ran her thumb over the blade.  Not as precision sharp as a
scalpel, but it would have to do.  "We have to sterilize them.  Boil them in
water.  We'll need a fire."

"We can't start a fire," Frohike offered.  Someone might see it."

"We have to clean Mulder's wound and the instruments somehow."  She held up the
empty bottle of hand sanitizer.  "Is there any more of this?"

"No, but. . ."

"What, Frohike?"

"Dang."  Frohike reached into a large bag and pulled out a bottle of Jack
Daniels.  "I was saving this for D day or C day."

"C day?"

"Colonization."

*       *     *

Scully uncapped the bottle of Jack and poured it over the pliers and Swiss Army
knife.

"Skinner, can you open his mouth a bit?"

Skinner gently pried Mulder's lips apart.  Scully poured a thin river of Jack
into his mouth then massaged his throat, encouraging him to swallow.   He
coughed a bit, but eventually the Jack went down.  She kept pouring, hoping
that the alcohol would help dull at least a bit of the pain.  There was going
to be quite a bit of it.

"Okay, Frohike, Langly, I'll need you to hold Mulder's legs down.  He's going
to kick a lot.  Skinner, if you could get behind Mulder and hold him still. . .
   He's going to be in a lot of pain, and we have no way to properly
anesthetize him.  He'll fight us.   We have to keep him as still as possible
while I probe for the bullet, or we could do even more damage.  Got it?"

The men nodded.   Frohike and Langly took their position, each grabbing hold of
one of Mulder's legs.  Skinner positioned himself behind Mulder, as if the two
of them were about to ride a slalom.  He locked his arms around Mulder's chest,
 immobilizing his arms as well.

"What about me?"  Byers asked.

"You're my nurse.  You get to hold the light, pass the instruments and swab the
blood."

"Blood?"
 

*      *      *

It was a tedious operation.  From the first touch of the knife to Mulder's
wound, he was in agony.  After the first scream, Skinner ripped off a piece of
is own tee shirt and stuffed it into Mulder's mouth to muffle the sounds,  in
case someone lurked nearby.

"Hold the lamp closer," she said to Byers.   He complied.  Again she placed the
knife against the wound to cut, to pull away flesh and skin to probe for the
bullet.  Rarely had she ever felt raw flesh like this against her skin; there
had always been the blessed protection of sterile rubber gloves.  The knowledge
that this was Mulder she was cutting into did not help any.

Again he screamed, but this time the sound was quashed by the gag.  His face
turned beet red, and his face was streaked with tears.   He tried to kick out,
to rise.

"HOLD HIM!" Scully cried.  Frohike lost his grip on Mulder's left leg, and flew
back before it connected with his chin.  Frohike latched on to Mulder's leg
again with all his might and wrestled the flailing limb down.

Skinner fought to keep a grip on Mulder, closing his own eyes as he redoubled
his effort to hold Mulder tightly against him, and keep him still for Scully.

"How's it looking?" Skinner asked, wishing this could be over with.

"I think I feel something.  SWAB!"

Byers quickly dabbed away the excess blood.

Scully dug a little more until one of her fingers touched what felt
convincingly like metal.

"GOT IT."

The Lone Gunmen all looked at each other, relieved that the ordeal was almost
over.  Not just for them, but for their friend Mulder.

Mulder tried valiantly to fight them off one more time.  And then he gave up,
breaking down into tears, his body shivering from pain, from cold, from
exhaustion.

"Almost there, Mulder," Scully told him, then picked up the pliers.  She looked
them first, the stuck her finger back inside the gaping wound to locate the
bullet once again.  Mulder jumped.  She looked up at Skinner.  "Hold him
tight."

Skinner nodded.  Byers quickly grabbed a gauze pad and wiped the sweat from
Scully's forehead.  She inched the pliers into the wound.

Mulder nearly leaped out of Skinner's arms, but Skinner fought back, holding
the agent down and whispering in his ears, "Easy, easy, it's almost over.  You
can do it, Mulder."

Scully withdrew the pliers.  Stuck between it's pointed tips was the bullet,
covered in Mulder's blood.  Byers held out a paper cup.  She dropped the shell
into the cup.

"He okay?"  Frohike asked.  He didn't like the way Mulder looked - -
half-conscious, mumbling inside the gag, his face a ghostly pale, almost gray.

"He will be."  Scully said.  "Who's got a match?"

Byers produced a small lighter.  He flicked the flame to life.  Scully wiped
off the Swiss Army knife and held it to the flame.  "I need to cauterize the
wound, to stop the bleeding.  Hold him one more time, please."

She didn't want to do this any more than Skinner or the Gunmen wanted to
witness this.  When she knew the knife was hot enough, she nodded to Byers,
then placed the hot blade to the open wound.

Mulder's head bashed Skinner in the chin.  Langly was kicked in the chest and
knocked to the floor.  Frohike barely escaped a foot to his jaw.  And then
Mulder passed out.

Skinner lay Mulder down on the cot easily, carefully arranging his arms.  He
turned to Scully and put a hand on her shoulder.

"I just need to bandage him up," she said.  She looked as if she were dead on
her feet.

"I can do that.  Take a rest."

"It's okay.  I'm fine."

Skinner took the gauze pads and shirt strips from her hand.  "That's an order."

She bent over Mulder one more time, placing her cheek to his forehead like her
mother used to do to her when checking her for fever.  Her hands were still
covered in Mulder's blood.  His temperature was quite high.  She did not plan
to, but she placed her dry lips upon his forehead in a soft kiss.  "You have to
make it, Mulder," she said.

*       *       *

West Virginia Hills
3:24 am

Scully sat outside the truck, her back against a wheel, huddled in a blanket
over her blood stained down coat, listening to the frigid breeze in the bare
trees.  She'd spent over an hour praying a litany to God for Mulder.  She heard
dried leaves crunch and a twig snap.  Automatically she reached for her weapon.
 Skinner came from around the back of the truck.

"Time to hit the road.  We want to make the rendezvous before daybreak."

"How's Mulder?"

"In and out of consciousness.  Don't torture yourself over this, Dana."

There he goes again, she thought.  *Dana*.

"If he dies. . ."

"That won't happen.  But if it does, we go on.  We finish the work Mulder
started.  That's what he would want."

"Finish the work. . .what does that mean?" she asked as she rose and stood
before him.

"I think you're going to be surprised."  Skinner smiled at her for the first
time.  His big hand held her cheek.  "Let Byers change that dressing on your
leg.  And then, I want you to get some sleep."

*      *     *

Daylight was less than an hour away.  Langly drove, with Frohike in the middle
and Skinner riding shotgun.  In the back, Scully felt every bump and jostle
from the rough terrain they were traveling.  She sat on the floor next to
Mulder's cot, holding his hand, monitoring his every move and breath when she
should have been sleeping.  Byers, sitting with his back against the truck
wall, somehow managed to relax enough to actually sleep.

What had Skinner meant when he said Scully would be surprised?  How could this
tiny, rag-tag group of men - - three paranoid conspiracy yahoos and three
former FBI agents who had long ago lost all credibility with the powers that be
- - possibly be an opposing force against the enemies that no longer simply
threatened to overcome them?

Mulder stirred.  He was sweating profusely, and his temperature had risen.  He
yelled out something unintelligible but loud enough to wake Byers.

"What did he say?" the Gunman asked.

"He's delirious.  His fever's up.   Hand me that bottle of water, would you?"

Byers reached across the floor for a half liter bottle and gave it to Scully.
She poured most of it onto a balled up undershirt, then placed it against
Mulder's face.  He jumped, shuddered.

"Scully!   Get away from her.  Scully's dead.  They took her. . . ."  He began
to cry.

"I'm here, Mulder!  I'm right here!  I'm not dead.  Mulder, can you hear me?"

"THEY TOOK HER!"

"No, I'm here, right here with you!"

"Scully. . .they took her from me. . . .  Why'd they take. . .?  What. . .what
did. . .that thing. . .tube. . .the alien . . . s'got claws . . . it'll kill. .
. . the bee, it's. . . . I'm sorry, I just want. . .I just wanted to kiss you.
. . .I just. . . . I killed her. . . ."

"No Mulder, you saved me, remember?"

". . . s'cold."

She pulled the blanket around his chin and held onto him.

The truck stopped, breaks squealing, throwing her and Byers forward.

"What is it, why are we stopping?"  Scully demanded.

*      *       *

"Tuck your hair!" Frohike yelled at Langly.  "You trying to get us killed?"

Langly quickly stuffed the long blond strands under his army cap, hoping the
half dozen heavily armed soldiers that stood blocking the road would believe
they were who they pretended to be.

As soon as Langly brought the truck to a halt the soldiers immediately
surrounded them, ready to fire.  One of the soldiers walked right up to the
cab.  Unlike the others, he was smiling.  He held an assault weapon in one
hand, while the other remained unmoving at his side.

"Holy guacamole!" Frohike cried.  "We're toast."

"Calm down, Frohike," Skinner warned.  "They're ours."

"Skinner," said the smiling soldier,  "we were getting a little worried."

"We ran into a bit of trouble along the way.  Mulder's in the back.  He's hurt
bad."

The soldier closed his eyes.  "How bad?"

"Bad enough.  We're running out of time, Krycek.   Let's get this show on the
road."

Alex Krycek nodded and stood back as Skinner climbed down from the truck.
"Let's move, people, let's act like we got a purpose!" he shouted to his men,
loving the feel of being in authority.
 
 

End Chapter 5
Lacadiva @ aol.com

FIGHT:  Y2K (6/6)

By

Lacadiva (Lacadiva @ aol.com)

March 5, 1999

Category:  Flickfic/MSR/MSS Friendship/X-File/Holiday Challenge/Scullyangst/
Skinnerangst/Muldertorture

Rating:  PG13 for violence.

Disclaimer:  See chapter one for disclaimer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Love never fails."
1 Corinthians 13:8

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIGHT: Y2K (6/6)

Daybreak

At Krycek's instructions, the Gunmen ditched the truck, letting it roll freely
down a steep hill until it crashed several hundred feet below in a profusion of
trees and foliage.  It would be nearly impossible to find it.

They continued on foot.  Two of the soldiers carried Mulder on a makeshift
litter while Scully walked along side him to monitor his condition.  She could
barely take her eyes off Krycek, despite Skinner's insistence that the turncoat
had changed sides once again, and could for the moment at least, be trusted.
At the first sign of Krycek's trademark treachery, Skinner promised to "put him
down like a dog gone bad, no matter the cost."

"Cost?  What cost?"  Scully asked.

"Another time," Skinner grunted, then took point for the rest of their trek
through the woods.

Krycek kept looking back at Scully, too, as if he wanted to say something to
her, but didn't know how.  He fell back in the line several times to cast a
look at Mulder.  He even made the entire party stop so he could personally soak
a rag with water and squeeze it into Mulder's mouth.

"How's Mulder holding up?" he asked Scully.

"Not good.  We need to get him to wherever we're going and soon."

"It's not much farther.  It's good to see you again, Agent Scully," the former
agent said.  "I know you probably don't believe that.  I know there's some bad
blood between us.  I don't blame you at all.  I hope you'll give me a chance to
make up for it."

"Sure, Krycek.  I'm sure there's something you can do."

"Whatever it is, you tell me.  I'll do it for you.  I'm your man."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  Ask me, I'll do it."

"Bring my sister back."

A sour look came over Krycek's face.  He stood and tossed the wet rag at
Scully, which she caught with one hand without blinking.

"Let's move!" Krycek shouted, and they resumed their march through the woods.

*         *        *

When Mulder said he wanted Scully to go underground with him, she had no idea
he meant literally.  In the distance stood the opening of a natural cavern that
had decades ago been open to the public for caving, even private parties and
weddings.  Fifteen years ago a small seismic event prompted the closing of the
cavern to the public.  But not to the Syndicate.

"For years," Krycek explained, "the Syndicate kept this spot set aside as their
bunker for when the end came.  Things changed, and they abandoned it.  We got
squatter's rights."

"Be careful though," warned Skinner.  "The floor and walls are still shifting.
Holes in the ground are a lot deeper than they look.  They deliberately left
the first half mile of the cavern like that to encourage squatters like us to
move on."

Scully moved to Skinner's side.  "I don't like this," she whispered.

"Relax, Scully.  I've been here.  Even if it was against my will at the time."

"It's Krycek.  I don't trust him."

"Neither do I."

"Mulder trusts him?"

"No more than you do.  But - -"

"Aaah!"  One of the soldiers slapped his cheek.  All eyes turned to him.   He
looked down at his gloved hand and found a dying bee.  It didn't occur to him
the significance of the moment until he could no longer breathe.

Scully knew.  She raced to the falling soldier's side and helped him to the
ground.  Krycek grabbed Scully by the back of her coat and pulled her out of
his way.  He then lowered his weapon to shoot the soldier point blank between
the eyes.

"KRYCEK!" Scully screamed.  Skinner was on him immediately, throwing the
turncoat to the ground, ready to pummel him into mush.

"BACK OFF, SKINNER!"

"What do you think you're doing?"

"He's infected!"

"What?"

"It's a BEE you idiot!  Where there's one there's . . ."

And then they all heard it.  A low level humming from on high.   All eyes
looked up to the winter gray sky.  What appeared at first to be a dark cloud
was in fact their darkest nightmare.  And it was slowly descending toward them
in a spiraling formation that resembled a demonic tornado.  Bees, hundred of
thousands of them.

"RUN!" Scully yelled.

Skinner reached down and pulled Krycek to his feet.  They all began to run.
The soldiers carrying Mulder discarded the litter and carried Mulder
sedan-style toward the cavern opening.  Frohike tripped over a huge stone.
Both Langly an Byers returned for him, helping the man along.

Scully could feel her lungs beginning the burn from the exertion.  All she
could think of was the chip in her neck, marking her as a target to the bees.
She considered breaking off from the group, to spare them.  But being a martyr
wouldn't ensure their survival.  Besides, the cavern was no longer so far off.
. .

Once they reached the opening, Skinner pushed Krycek forward.  "You first," he
insisted.  He then relieved the soldiers carrying Mulder, and with the Gunmen's
help, took Mulder and entered the cave.

*      *      *

They traveled in darkness for several hundred feet, at Krycek's insistence.  No
sense in attracting the bees to light.  Once they were deeper into the cavern,
Krycek and one of his men turned on high beam flashlights.

This would have been beautiful, Scully thought, under normal circumstances.
The stalactites and stalagmites glistened with moisture.  The rock formations
were awe-inspiring.  The cavern was more than 20 degrees warmer, and became
warmer still the deeper they explored.  She remembered reading somewhere that
caverns such as these could remain at a constant 50 degrees or so year round.
She unzipped her down coat and removed her gloves.

"How much farther?" Scully called out.

"We should start descending in a moment and -- UH!"  Krycek shined his
flashlight down.  His foot had found a huge hole.  "Watch your step, people."

The cave floor began to dip down.  Scully could feel her ears pop as their
elevation changed.  Deeper into the cave they travel.  Suddenly the walls grew
tighter and the ceiling lower.  If she were claustrophobic, she'd be screaming
like a banshee right now, she thought.

After a while, the cavern began to expand out a bit more, and the floor became
less treacherous.

"Everybody freeze," Krycek said, with a smile.  He reached down behind a huge
rock formation, straining, stretching, until he found what he was looking form.
 There was a click, then the muffled sound of a generator kicking to life.  A
long string of electric lights suddenly came on, illuminating the cavern.  It
was breathtakingly gorgeous.

"This way," Krycek called out, leading them to a giant lead door.  Krycek
banged his weapon against the door three times, then waited a beat, and hit it
two more times.  The door opened.

Krycek was the first in, followed by Skinner, who was ready to blow away anyone
who posed a threat to them.  Scully followed, pulling her own weapon, just in
case.  What she found made her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, and her jaw
drop.

It could have been Cape Canaveral.  It could have been a military missile
installation.  There were computer terminals crammed into natural room, and
personnel to work them.  There were weapons storage cases filled with every
type of firearm imaginable.  There were also weapons she neither recognized nor
could name.

The people wore paramilitary uniforms, some wore white lab coats.  There was
much activity afoot, with people racing back and forth between computer,
comparing data, marking charts.

"Holy Smokes!" cried Frohike.

"My God," Scully said.

At the sound of her voice, several eyes turned her way and the work stopped.
They stared, Scully thought, undoubtedly because they were all in pretty
horrible condition; dirty, bloody, exhausted.  Some, however, stared directly
at her seemingly in awe, as if they knew who she was.  As if she were some sort
of myth come to life.   She wanted to duck behind Skinner as she heard them
begin to whisper to persons nearby,  "It's her."

Four men rushed forward and took Mulder from Skinner and the Gunmen, carrying
him down the aisle past the computers.  Scully wanted to follow, but Skinner
held her back.

"He'll be fine," he assured her.
 
 

"Who are all these people?" Scully asked.

"Former military, former FBI, MUFON and NICAP," he said.  "Doctors, authors,
programmers, bikers.  You name it, Mulder's responsible for each and everyone
of them."

"What do you mean?"

"He made them believe they could fight."

A man in a lab coat stepped forward.  Scully had seen him somewhere before.
Suddenly his name popped into her head.  "Kurt Crawford?"

"One of them.  Actually, I'm the last.  I'm honored to meet you, Dr. Scully.
The mother of the revolution."

Scully stared at the Crawford clone as if he had lost his mind. "I don't
understand."

"Your blood will save the world.  What's left of it.  Without you, there'd be
no use in fighting.  Come this way, please."  Kurt gestured to a room across
the way.

"Where are they taking Mulder?"

Kurt placed a hand on her shoulder.   "He'll be taken good care of, I promise
you.  Please, this way."

*      *      *

She awoke to find herself alone in a windowless room that looked like a
hospital, smelled like a hospital.  She sat up and remembered.  A tiny
glow-in-dark travel clock on the stand near her bed showed that she had slept
uninterrupted for over seven hours.  Before lying down she had eaten her first
meal in two days, showered and submitted to an examination by the Kurt Crawford
clone.  Before that, she had insisted on changing Mulder's bandages and
administering drugs to combat pain and infection.

She crawled out of bed on stiff, sore and slowly moving legs, her reflexes
barely able to keep her from tumbling to the cold floor.  *Mother of the
Revolution*, she thought disdainfully.   She found a set of khaki pants and tee
shirt folded neatly on a chair near the bed, and dressed quickly.  She needed
to find Mulder, to know that in the hours she had slept he had not expired.

She stepped out of the room and into the main computer area.  There was as much
activity as before.  She moved to one of the consoles, peering over.

Kurt Crawford came up behind her, giving Scully that weird awe-struck stare
that was making her increasingly uncomfortable.

"Where's Mulder?"

"In the back, still sleeping.  His temperature's down.  The antibiotics are
starting to work."

"What are they doing?" she inquired, gesturing at the people sitting at
computer terminals.

"Keeping track of the invasion.  Each of these red blips indicates a ship three
times the size of RFK Stadium in circumference."  There were several red blips.
 "You'll be working over here," he said, ushering her to a small private
laboratory that made the FBI lab look like a high school science room.
"Anything you don't have and need, let me know.  We'll find it for you
somehow."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Find the cure.  One that works."

"Why are you doing this?  I mean, you're one of them.  Why help us?"

"We were created as a race of slaves.  To serve them.  What they didn't count
on was our affinity for freedom, something we have in common with your race."

Crawford handed Scully a syringe for drawing blood.

"How much blood will you need?"

"No more than a pint for now.  We'll take it from there."

"That's all?"

"Not much to save the world, is it?  I figure you've sacrificed enough already.
 You and Mulder."

"Let's get started," Scully said as she rolled up her sleeve.

*       *       *

Thirty-six Hours Later
 

"Hey."

Scully almost did not look up from her microscope when she heard the voice.
Until she recognized it as Mulder.

"Hey yourself!  What are you doing up?  It's only been two days!"  She went to
Mulder and guided him to a chair to sit.  She crouched on the floor beside him
and pulled his tee shirt up to check his bandages.

"I missed the end of the world.  How was it?" Mulder asked.

"I missed the first act myself.  But the show's not over, the fat lady has yet
to sing.  And if things keep moving the way they're moving so far, we may
actually be able to preserve a small piece of our world."

"I knew you could."

"You know, Mulder, this is incredible," she said as she peeled back the
bandage.  "All these people, the equipment, the chain of command, the team
work.  When did you have time to put all this together?  HOW did you put all
this together?  And why didn't you tell me?  I could have helped you!"

"But you did help me, Scully.  You did.  Every step of the way.   I would have
given up on trying long ago if it wasn't for you.  You showed me how.  You gave
me the tools, you gave me the science.  I didn't tell you not because I didn't
want you involved, but if the plans fell through, I wanted you safe.  I was
sick of watching you suffer for my obsession."

"But, Mulder, it wasn't an obsession.  You were right.  All along you were
right."

"Scary, isn't it?"
 
Scully laughed.  "The wound looks good," she told him.   She pulled his shirt
back down and touched Mulder's forehead.   "You've still got a bit of a fever,
though.  You need to be in bed.   The leader of the revolution can't be seen
puking his guts out in front of his men and women."

"I'm okay.  I feel pretty good, actually."

"And while I'm on the subject, what's with this 'mother of the revolution'
stuff?"

"I was quoted completely out of context."

"People are treating me like I'm some sort of mythical hero come to life."

"To them you are.  To me, too."

"Tell them to cut it out.  I'm not a myth.  I'm just me."

"I refuse to debunk you, unless you really want me to."

Scully laughed again, but it didn't last long.

"What is it, Scully?"

"I almost lost you again, Mulder."

"Me?  Nah.  I'm here for the long haul."

She touched his face again, then wrapped her arms around him where he sat,
pulling his still fevered head close to her, until her chin touched his crown.
His arms encircled her waist and pulled her close.  Scully heard Mulder sighed
deeply.

"I have to say, though," she said, "that I'm not entirely convinced you had to
bring Alex Krycek in on this."

"Hey, he found this place.  I think he deserves a hand.  No pun intended."

"I still think we should exercise caution."
 

*      *      *

Surgical Theatre
Forty-six hours later

"We're ready to try the vaccine," Scully announced for the video camera that
was making a record of the procedure.

Scully and Mulder stood waiting, both dressed in full environment suits, each
with independent oxygen supplies.  Mulder was armed with an assault rifle.
Scully was armed with nothing more than a large hypodermic needle filled with
amber liquid, the vaccine synthesized from her blood.  She looked up to Mulder,
still not convinced that he was strong enough to be on his feet, much less
there in case something went wrong.

"I'm fine, Scully," Mulder said, looking a bit perturbed behind his face mask.
To prove his point he held the assault weapon a little higher.

"Okay then, Rambo," said Scully.  "Bring in the test subject."

Kurt Crawford, immune to the bee-sting vectored virus, volunteer to wander
outside the cave and retrieve the soldier felled by the bee sting days ago.
Luckily the icy air and freshly fallen snow kept the activity of the gestating
creature at a slow moving pace, even though cellular breakdown had certainly
begun.  Crawford now rolled the body in on a gurney.

The soldier/host was beginning to thaw out.   Scully stepped close and could
see the creature beginning to revive and move around inside the nearly
translucent body of the soldier.  She remembered. . .

"Dr. Scully?"  Crawford said, touching Scully's elbow.

"I'm fine," she said too harshly, and regretted it.  She gave him a weak smile,
then got right to work.

"Thirty two year old white male, approximately one hundred and seventy five
pounds prior to infection.  Subject shows signs of massive cellular breakdown
and infestation.  We are about to administer the vaccine.  Should the vaccine
fail to work and the creature emerge, Mulder will have to make his first shot
count."

As Scully wiped away slime and neared the needle to the chest of the soldier,
they heard the hiss of the airlock, and the door opening.   Krycek entered.  He
wore no protective gear, but he was carrying a weapon.  He aimed it at Scully.
Mulder aimed his at Krycek head.

"Krycek, what are you doing?  Get out of here!" Mulder demanded.

"I want the vaccine, said Krycek.

"Are you out of your mind?" Scully cried.

"No, actually, I'm out of ideas.  And I'm out of patience.  I stuck with this
little mom and pop organization as long as I could.  You can't fight THEM.  You
can't make enough to save yourselves, how are you gonna make enough to save the
world?"

"Krycek, we haven't even tested it yet," pleaded Scully.  "Put the gun down and
let us - -"

"No!  Forget it!  There's no time!" he shouted.  "We both know it will work.
The cure is in you.  Those ships are going to detect our little hideaway any
day now.  I want to be as far away from here as possible.  So hand it over and
I'm gone."

"What's the matter, comrade," said Mulder, "being a good guy too much work?
Not enough praise and glory?"

"You think your little green blooded friend here is on your side?  He wants the
vaccine as badly as you do, but not to dole out to humans.  Y'see, they've got
plans for their own little take-over, isn't that right, Kurt?"

"Don't believe him, Dr. Scully," Kurt practically pleaded.  "I have no stake in
this beyond finding a way to rid the earth of the colonizing force.  We want to
live in peace - -"

"Oh, PLEASE!" Krycek whined.  "You're all so pathetic!  Everyone pretending
they want what's good for everybody else.  I'm the only one who knows the truth
here!"

"And what is the truth?" asked Mulder.

There was a wet, slithering sound.  All eyes fell to the body of the soldier.
The warmth of the operating theatre was beginning to enliven the creature.

"THAT is the truth," said Krycek, gesturing to the body on the table.  "IT,
terror from beyond space, is taking over whether you like it or not.  If you
can't beat it, join it.  Or run.  Now. . . give. . .me. . .the vaccine."

"I'm gonna kill you, Krycek," said Mulder.

Scully looked, blinking uncontrollably as the creature began slithering again.
It wanted out.  Now.  "Krycek. . .this is INSANE.  Let me inject the --"

"GIVE ME THE VACCINE!"

Scully held the needle out to Krycek.  Krycek inched forward slowly, his face
drenched in nervous sweat.   And then the creature's head burst from the
soldier's chest.

It came out with a grating scream, it's mouth wide open, it's baby teeth sharp
as razors.  It snapped at Scully's forearm.  Scully recoiled, dropping the
hypo.  It fell on the table and rolled somewhere hidden under an equipment
cabinet.

Mulder turned and immediately fired, his heart racing, terrified that he would
hit Scully in his attempt to save her life.  The creature let go, but it was
barely injured by the bullets.

Krycek tried to fire on the creature.  His weapon jammed.

"KILL IT!" he shouted to Mulder.

Before Mulder could aim and fire again, the creature leaped from the bloody
cavity of the soldier and landed on Krycek.  Krycek's screams were high-pitched
and ear-shattering as the creature tore into his flesh with silvery talons.

Mulder fired on the creature.  It turned and snarled at the agent.

Kurt Crawford dove to the floor and saw the hypo under the cabinet.  He reached
out with trembling fingers for it.  It was just out of his reach.  He strained,
feeling the muscles in his back tearing, until his fingers could roll the hypo
closer.  He grabbed it and rose quickly.

"DR. SCULLY!" he cried.  She turned to him immediate.  Crawford threw the hypo
in a high arc toward Scully.  She reached up, praying to catch it, and not by
the business end.
Her prayer was answered.

Mulder fired again.  The creature jumped off of Krycek and turned, prepared to
leap on Mulder.

Kurt saw and knew Mulder was dead meat unless he acted fast.   "HA!" he yelled,
waving his arms frantically.  The creature turned and leaped him instead.

"DR. SCULLY!"  Kurt cried between screams.  "NOW!"

Mulder shoved his gun in Scully's arms, then grabbed the hypo from her and
lunged for the creature.  He stabbed the hypo into the thing like a knife, then
slammed the plunger down with the heel of his hand.  The creature screamed.

Mulder fell back, crab-walking to where Scully stood poised to fire.

The creature continued screaming as the vaccine hit him.  It began to desiccate
before their eyes, until it collapsed into a dry, lifeless carcass.

Crawford passed out, bleeding out bubbling green blood.

Scully slid down the wall and sat beside Mulder.  Both were safe from
Crawford's blood inside the protection of the environment suit.  Both looked to
where Krycek lay, ripped open like a piata, obviously dead.

Mulder turned to Scully and smiled.  "It works.   Congratulations, Dr. Scully."
 

*     *     *

Scully lay unable to sleep.   She slipped into her khakis and went out in
search of Mulder.

Mulder wasn't sleeping either.  He tossed and turned; the healing wound, which
was a dull ache on top of an irritating itch kept him far from dreamland.
There was a light rapping on the door.   He smile; he knew it would be Scully.

"Come in."

Scully stuck her head in.  "Want some company?"

"Yeah."

She eased in and sat on the side of the bed.   "We did good, huh?"

"Yeah," Mulder said with a smile, "we did good.  How's Kurt?"

"Not bad.  He's in some pain, but he'll pull through."

"Are you okay?"  Mulder asked softly.

Scully nodded. "I was just thinking about my family.   I just want to know that
they're okay."

"Did you have a nice Christmas?"

"Define nice, when you're staring Armageddon in the face."

"You'll see them soon.  I promise."

"So, we start fighting back.  Don't laugh, but when you first asked me to go
'underground' with you, to fight the 'alien horde',  I sort of imagined it
would be more like in the movies.  You know, scurrying through dark allies,
shooting at everything that moved.  Real 'Terminator' stuff."

"You can do that if you want," Mulder laughed.  "I thought we'd let Skinner
handle the military and tactical end.  You'll see to the distribution of the
vaccine, and quality control over the manufacture."

"And what about you?"

 "I'll handle the press."  Mulder laughed.

"Just another pretty face."

"Yeah, Mr. Media, that's me."

"Do you think we'll win?"

Mulder's smile faded.  He was quiet for a moment.   "I think. . .we have to
make a leap of faith.  Hope for the best.  Prepare for the worst.  Maybe pray a
little."

"You're really starting to sound like a believer."

He reached out and caressed her face, ran his hand through her hair.  "Maybe a
little."  He took her hand now, squeezing it.  "Scully. . .I do love you, you
know that, don't you?"

"I suspected as much."

"And. . . ?"

"And what, Mulder?"

Mulder waited for her to figure out what he wanted to her to say.  She didn't.
She just smiled that beautiful smile of hers, and kissed her partner on the
forehead.  "Get some sleep."

"'Night, Scully."

"'Night, Che."

Mulder laughed.

*      *       *

Scully stepped out and closed the door.  She lay her forehead against the
doorframe, and whispered, "I love you too, Mulder.  And if we make it through
this war alive, I'll tell you."
 
 

THE END

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