:: Tales Of The Resistance ::Part Seventeen The parade wasn’t as bad as he expected. The state police who had backed up the military had readily accepted General Parker’s command, but had remained in their respective communities watching for the first sign of infection, vowing to get word back to the General. There were hand-held ham radios in most of the cars. "Found us a Radio Shack up near Simpson. Y’all need one?" Frohike had gratefully accepted it and ran back to the truck. That was the last Webb had seen of any of them. The six remaining Jeeps and Humvees headed back to the outskirts of Atlanta where General Parker had surrounded the CDC research facility with what was left of his men. Vega, sitting in the front seat of a Humvee, offered to fill him in. But Webb, who was in back, looked over at Marita and shook his head. He had cuffed Marita to his wrist. He didn’t trust her. Mulder warned him about her and the feral look in her eyes, eyes that never rested for a minute, confirmed all he needed to know. "Wait. How long will it take us to get there?" "Well it’s only a little over a hundred miles, but we got to get to the highway first. That’ll take some time. But if we don’t run into trouble, it’s only about a two hours drive." He turned around and grinned. "So figure four or five hours." Webb laughed tiredly. "You’re expecting trouble." "Oh, yeah. Might as well." Marita purred. "You know we could all just head north. They don’t like the cold. Oh the real ones like Smith and the bounty hunters can stand it if they have to, but the ‘newborns’ don’t like it at all. Don’t like fire and don’t like the cold at all." Vega shared an interested look with Webb, then picked up his radio. Marita studied the man next to her. He intrigued her. He didn’t know, but she knew who he was. He had been deemed important enough to be targeted for assassination, but once Spender found out about Webb’s cancer he had shrugged and ordered him left alone. She wondered at his strength to carry on. "So Mr. Webb? How are you feeling? How are those headaches? Got enough aspirins?" She whispered just loud enough so only he could hear. Webb gazed at her and tried to figure out the best way to handle it. He wondered how she knew. Wondered if his name was on a list somewhere? Or, had they underestimated his threat to them. Of course, maybe she knew about the cancer, but didn’t know about the attempt on his life. Jerking the handcuffs hard enough so that she fell against him, he whispered back. "Haven’t had a problem since that bounty hunter killed me, sweetheart." Her hiss of surprise was quite gratifying. Very gratifying indeed. He sneered as she tried to regain her seating and composure. He ran his finger down her cheek. "You know, precious, once you’ve been dead, not a lot scares you. I’d be just a little careful about pissing me off." Her eyes widened. His laugh was bitter. "I know all about you, Marita. Mulder filled me in. You’re a real piece of work, but don’t try your act with me. I just don’t give a shit. All I care about now is finding your friends and making sure that we get the information to the right people so that maybe, just maybe, when all the dust settles and the fucking snow melts, the only things left on this planet are humans." "You don’t know anything about me." She snarled as she sat back up. "Mulder is…" He sighed. "Whatever. Just do me a favor. Shut up." They were almost there before trouble hit. They were speeding down I-85, passing some, but not a lot of traffic, when suddenly, everything stopped. They could see people running back through the traffic waving and batting at a black cloud that seemed to hover over them. "Oh God." Marita whispered. "Get us out of here. Now! If you want to live!" Webb heard the terror and truth in her voice. "Do it! Call the others." "What is it?" Vega snarled. His gun was suddenly at her head. "Tell me now or Webb will have to do it without your help. Tell me." "They’re bees. Damn you! Bees infected with a virus." "The oil?" Webb and Vega cried. "No, something else. It’s like the plague, only worse. You’re dead in hours. There’s little hope. Not that there will be any doctors left to fight it." "Grayhall, Alvarez, Cody!" Vega yelled into the radio. "Front and center, bring your toys." "Are you nuts!" Webb yelled. "No, Webb. But if they are bees, we can handle them." Vegas proclaimed. "Stay here. Keep the bitch with you or throw her to the bees, but keep her out of our way." The first of the people started to pass their car. The cloud was maybe twenty car-lengths away. Webb waited. He even rolled down the window. "For God’s sake, Webb." Marita whimpered and tried to curl into a ball. "Do you think you’re invincible? What if you die here? You think Jeremiah Smith is going to suddenly transport next to you and cure you again?" "Shut up and listen, Marita. Listen to what you and your kind have done." They couldn’t hear it at first, but the frantic screams finally reached them. Screams of terror so strong that even in their dying, the sound seemed to float up them. Then they heard the loud angry buzzing. People weren’t staying on the highway; many of them were making for the small stream that ran parallel to the highway about forty yards away. Many fell as they ran and the surprising thing was that the bees just kept coming down the highway, leaving the people in the grassy areas pretty much alone. Webb gulped and then he saw what Vega and his men had planned. "Damn, I hope it works." Three men, who didn’t have time to put on their protective clothing, stood two car lengths in front of them, three flame throwers at the ready. "Now!" Webb heard Vega cry. Even from back here he thought he could feel the heat of it. Knew the men would not walk away unscathed or even alive. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the key and quickly recuffed her to the metal support of the seat in front of her. "Pray I make it back, sweetheart." "No!" She screamed as he left her. Left to her to die in agony if they weren’t successful. Webb had been right. The men holding the throwers couldn’t maintain their stance. The heat was too much. But other men came running up to take their place. Webb grabbed one finally and aimed it in the air. He heard, ‘over there’, turned and began to spray the area where the others were laying down the orange glow of death. By the time he heard ‘that’s enough,’ he wondered if he had any eyebrows left. He face felt like he had been lying at the beach in St. Thomas for six hours in July. His hands felt like they were melted to the handholds. Wearily, they walked back to the vehicles. People, the few that had stayed to witness the assault, burst into applause and whistles. A medic was applying salve to burns. That’s when Webb saw him. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He snarled. Melvin Frohike looked up from where he was helping to dress a badly burned hand. He shrugged. "Hey man, chill. The President said Parker needed help with his communications. You any good at that?" Webb knew he was lying, but he just glared and stomped to the jeep. He was almost surprised to see her still there. "Gee, couldn’t gnaw off your arm to escape?" He rather expected an obscene retort and when all she did was close her eyes and whisper. "Please, would you take this off the brace. It hurts." He was taken aback. He glanced at his watch and was surprised that the whole ‘operation’ had taken less than twenty minutes. He was as sore and tired as if he had run the length of Baghdad. Still, he couldn’t just do as she asked. "Sure, no problem." He yanked at her arm and reached for the key. Reaching down to unlock it, he stabbed her with his eyes. "You won’t try anything, will you sweetheart?" He painfully gripped her wrist before releasing her. In a second, she was firmly cuffed to him again. "Good girl." Vega climbed back into the front seat and studied him. "Here." He tossed a jar of salve at him. "Damn, you’re lucky; just a spot under one eye. Even kept your eyebrows." Webb dabbed at the spot. "Clean living, I guess." He smirked at Marita. "I’m quite sure. It’s easy when you know who the good guys are." she whispered. Somewhat taken aback by her statement, a statement she had made sound almost like an accusation, he settled back and turned his attention to Vega. "We’re only about a half-hour from downtown Atlanta, if we can get there with all these cars in our way." "Hang on. We’re going over land." :: :: ::
AJ woke with a start. "Where are we?" He demanded, angry with himself that he had fallen asleep. "About an hour away, sir." Antonelli held out a steaming cup of coffee. "Mary sent this with us." "Thanks." He sipped the coffee and stared ahead. "Have we heard anything." "Yeah. Skinner called. They heard from the base again. Things are getting hinky over there. We're trying to pick up some speed, but the wind is starting to pick up. That’s a real bitch." "I had almost gotten used to just the snow. It hasn’t even been that cold really." Instinctively, AJ pulled his coat tighter around him. "What’s it like now?" "Oh, it’s cold now. We got a reading from one of the other trucks. It’s in the teens and dropping. Skinner says it's getting worse the closer we get. The Secretary of the Air Force talked to him. They’ve got 250 men squeezed into a cellblock meant to hold 50. That doesn’t include the women and children who were on base when this shit went down. They were having some kind of base party. They’ve run out of food and everyone is cold. We have to get them out and tonight." AJ sighed. It wasn’t the plan. The base would be hard enough to traverse during the day with all the snow. They had hoped to blend in and enter the base at various points. But that was shot to hell now. He sighed. "Look, we can’t do this without some kind of reconnoiter. We’re going to have to send someone in." "I know that, sir." Antonelli stared at him. "It’s not going to be you, Captain." "Sir, I know that base. I was Army liaison for two years there." "Son, I know that base as well as any base in the area. Besides, they know you left to help the President." "Sir, begging your pardon, but they don’t KNOW that. Not for a fact." They glared at each other, but AJ was adamant. "It’s my mission, Captain Antonelli." "It’s my ass if I let you get killed or worse, sir. I mean it’s going to be bad enough to face Skinner and Fielding and Mr. Toblin. But, what the hell do I say to your daughter, sir?" "Probably the same thing I would say to your wife. Both of us can’t go; one of us has to be in charge. I’m going. I’ll take a radio with me and try and get some intel. When I tell you to go, hopefully, you can go through the front gate." Antonelli glared at the stubborn man before him and tried one last time. "Sir, I’m a trained Ranger. You’re a lawyer. I’m younger than you are." He said the last below his breath, but AJ still heard it." "Captain, SEALs have Rangers for lunch. I was doing worse than this when you were still a gleam in your daddy’s eye. As for being older than you, that’s just makes me smarter." They didn’t speak for the rest of the trip. Even from a mile away, the base, brightly lit, seemed to shine in the blowing snow. "This is going to be impossible, sir." Antonelli groaned. "I thought you knew this base?" AJ grinned. "Private." "Yes, sir." The driver never took his eyes off the road. "Turn at the next street." He saw the grin of approval. "Begging your pardon, sir," Private Jones glanced quickly at him. "You remember the way in?" "And how does a Army private know about the ‘back door’ to Quantico?" AJ growled. "Why do you think I’m a private, sir? Dated me a Navy nurse for a while. Got my stripes taken away. She went back to her husband I hear." AJ sighed. "I supposed you want to come with me." "Sir, I sure as hell don’t want to come with you, but I figure if I don’t, you’ll just do something to get yourself killed." "Son, fraternization wasn’t the only thing to cost you your stripes, was it?" Jones laughed. "Heck no, sir. Been in this man’s army for twenty years. Made Master Sergeant once, mostly been a corporal or a private." Antonelli called in and told them what was going on. Skinner started to yell, but AJ cut him off. "Don’t worry, Walter, I’ve got a body guard." He signed off before Skinner could continue. "Okay, Captain, here’s the signal." Turning the walkie-talkie to Channel 28 he quickly pressed out a signal. Antonelli snorted. "Cute, Admiral. ‘Go Navy’." AJ grinned. "So few of our officers know Morse Code anymore." He got out of the truck and nearly froze in place. "Damn." "Here, sir." A man ran up and offered him a knit cap. "Thanks." He pulled his gloves out of his pocket, but knew they wouldn’t be enough if he were outside too long. The temperature was dropping as fast as the wind was rising. Before the stuff had been almost feather-light, but he could feel the bone-chilling dampness seep into his joints. "Let’s go Jones." Quietly, they made their way through the residential neighborhood. Not even a dog barked. There were no lights and they spotted no movement at all. It was slow going and the snow was so deep that his boots didn’t do much. "Here, sir." Jones mouthed at his ear. Carefully, they made their way through the back yard of the Episcopal Church, around the back of a service shed. They found the ancient drainage ditch slanting upward, a grill neatly covered it, the lock was new. "Damn." AJ muttered. "What, sir? It didn’t have lock in your day?" Jones smirked and pulled out a small multi-tool. Only this multi-tool was a little different from the ones AJ had seen before. "A pick? You carry a pick with you?" He hissed. "Never know when you’re going to get locked out of your house, sir." Jones muttered as he worked. It didn’t take long and they pried the grid away. The squeal of metal against metal seemed to scream louder than any alarm, but they didn’t wait. Quickly getting out of the cold, AJ shined his light upward. "Damn, looks like they block it off at the top again." "How do you know that, sir?" AJ shined the light at Jones and sighed. "You cold? You see a lot of snow down here?" "Oh. Got it." They crawled upward and found the plywood covering. AJ breathed a sigh of relief and let Jones ahead of him. "Can you pick it?" "Well, it will take a little time but, yeah. I just have to work backwards, so to speak." It took him nearly twenty minutes but finally he handed the chain and the lock to AJ. "Ready?" "Go." The found themselves inside a shed. "Shit!" They breathed in unison. But they got lucky. It had been a good idea, but someone had left the shed, mostly filled with lawn maintenance equipment, unlocked. They stepped out into the empty service road and listened. Screams of agony floated on the air. And, in the bright lights that shined down on everything, even through the snow, AJ saw the smirk finally die on Jones’ face. "Oh sweet, Jesus." "Steady, Jones. Follow me." "Yes sir." They kept to the back streets of the base. Barracks doors hung open. Windows were broken out. Signs of struggle and signs of death were everywhere. They made their way carefully until AJ held up his hand. He pointed to a truck and using signs, indicated what they needed to do. The shouts and screams were closer now and the hair on the backs of their necks were standing straight out. What he saw sickened him. Bodies were piled to one side of the prison block, some still twitching. He saw and heard the base commander on top of a truck shouting into a bullhorn. "Mr. Secretary, I must insist that you give up now. Don’t make me fire the cell block." "Son of a bitch, sir. Look!" Jones pointed to the base of the building. Several Marines, a few looking like they didn’t like what was going on, were piling explosives against the walls. AJ pulled the rifle off of his shoulder. He hadn’t wanted to take it, but Antonelli had pushed it on him at the last moment. The sight was standard issue but it would have to do. He put it to his shoulder and sighted on the commander. He hadn’t known General Hendricks well. He had only been at the base for a little over two months, but he had never liked the man. He started to pull the trigger when he noticed the man standing just next to the C.O. "I’ll be damned. Doggett was right." The bounty hunter seemed to know AJ was there. He turned and stared over the crowd of mostly silent men. "Jones?" "S-s-sir." It was starting to get to him. "You got a lighter on you?" "Sir?" Jones’ surprise was complete, but he managed to pull out a Zippo and show it to AJ, who barely saw it as he kept his sight trained on the man sternly, coldly searching for him. "You see anything that looks like black oil…" "I’ll set it on fire, sir. That I can do." "Good man." He saw the look of recognition on the bounty hunter’s face. Saw the face shimmer, but by the time he was jumping off the truck the bullet had already left the barrel and struck him in the head. It wasn’t a clean shot and it only slowed him down, but the green acid was already choking men around him and AJ waited patiently. "Come on, you bastard." The man kept coming and this time AJ got a better aim. He hit the man in the shoulder, spun him around and then fired three rapid shots. One hit the bounty hunter at the base of the neck and the head finally exploded, quickly taking out a dozen or so men around the dead alien, including Hendricks. The panic was complete and people were scattering in all directions. He didn’t have time to sort the good from the bad. Hell, he wasn’t sure how many were bad and how many were just following orders. He spoke into the radio. "Antonelli, come in with guns blazing. Go Navy!" He yelled. They stood and began running around the mist that had begun to settle and kill more people running blindly. They came upon one man who refused to move, AJ saw the black swimming in his eyes and whispering ‘God forgive me,’ blew his head off. "Wait for it, Jones." The black oil seemed to seep from the body. Jones knelt down and flicked the lighter and waited until it started to coalesce into one spot. "Don’t move, or I will kill you, Admiral Chegwidden." AJ spun at the voice. "Singer? Is that you?" The Lieutenant walked forward, her gun pointing right at his head. "Drop it, traitor." "Traitor! Are you insane?" Lauren Singer started to squeeze the trigger at the same moment Jones dropped the lighter into the black mass. If the screams from the building behind them had been agonized, now they were unearthly and momentarily, Singer looked away in surprise. That was all the time AJ needed. He dove for her and sent her flying. His right cross knocked her out. "First female JAG my ass, Lieutenant." He stood as he heard the gunfire coming from the front of the gate. Running to the main door of the prison block he yelled. "Wilhelm! It’s AJ Chegwidden, Micah Toblin sent us. Let’s get a move on, Mr. Secretary." They waited. The gunfire was getting closer and men and women were running around with no discipline at all, spurred on by the death screams coming from a large building across the way. A surprisingly strong voice finally shouted back. "If you’re from Toblin and Fielding, then you best have the password." AJ slapped his hand against the locked door. "Wilhelm, don’t make me. Damn it. The password is Tally-ho." The cheers and laughter he heard were worth it. The door slowly opened and the smell was enough to drive him back, but he stood firm. Wilhelm Deichmann led his wife, Rice, out into the snow. She looked awful, but she clutched two little boys to her. The people behind her looked equally bad or worse. He could hear, even over the noise outside, the crying of a bunch of kids. A shot rang out and hit the door just behind him. Everyone stopped, falling back into the building or onto the ground. Private Jones swung around and hit a major standing a dozen feet away. He got him in the arm and the green mist started to rise. "Son of a bitch, Jones." AJ raised his gun and aimed for the throat. The caliber strong enough that the bullet hit wherever it was supposed to hit and the head exploded. The fumes overtook several more of the fleeing Marines. The people from the prison block stood in fear and shock. "What the hell are those things? I didn’t believe Toblin when he told me. I almost sided with Winslow when he told me." The Secretary of the Air Force whispered. "No you didn’t, Wilhelm." AJ admonished. "Here comes the cavalry." "Not that we needed them, sir." Jones had regained some of his natural cockiness. AJ thought briefly that the man reminded him a little of Webb. The trucks pulled up and Antonelli jumped down. He took one look at the people streaming out of the prison and blanched. "What are we going to do with them all?" "Well, Captain, I suggest we find some trucks and move them out." "Can’t we clean off and get something to eat." Someone from the back of the crowd called out. "We’ve got little kids here that haven’t eaten in days." Deichmann glared at the crowd. "Quiet." He met AJ's gaze. "Can we see if there’s any food to take with us?" AJ prayed that Doggett was right about the effect of burning one of the blobs of oil. If the screams were any indication, then he was right, but no one knew how far apart it was and there was something else that was interesting. He snapped. "Captain, I need that ham and now." :: :: ::
Skinner almost wept when he heard his old friend’s voice. He shouted at Roberts. "Go find MacKenzie!" before he even picked up the phone. "AJ, you son-of-a-gun you did it." "Well I’m not so sure we're home free. I don’t know if there will be any more blockades, but we’re finding transport now and trying to scrounge some food. Tell Dr. Kennedy he will have some business as soon as we get back. Have you heard from Webb or the away team?" Walter flopped into the chair Reyes had brought down for him. "Oh, for goodness sake Walter, you spend 18 hours a day down here. At least, be a little comfortable." A couple of the soldiers dragged an old roll top desk up from the village for Toblin. Fielding had just snorted. The Army General seldom sat and was always pacing back and forth. Skinner ran his hand over his face. "We haven’t heard from Webb or Frohike yet. Doggett called in about an hour ago. They had a run-in with some locals at a gas station. He had to get tough but they got the gas and he told me they hadn’t killed anyone, but had given them some unwanted advice about the black oil." He sighed. "He didn’t seem to think they were real worried." "Well, they should be. Listen, Walter. I’ve got some intel for you. Something that goes against what we thought after hearing from Webb and the rest." Skinner stood immediately. "What?" "We got in down here pretty damn easy. Everyone was concentrating on the front gate and the prison block. One of those bounty hunters was standing next to Hendricks, the C.O." Skinner saw MacKenzie, followed closely by Fielding come in. They stopped and listened. "I got him and he exploded just like Doggett said he would." Then in the general confusion, we ran into one of those black-oil zombies." He paused and Mac could hear the pain in his voice. "I killed it and Private Jones set the oil on fire. It worked just like you said it would. I’ve never heard sounds like that, Walter. Not even in Nam. Nowhere." They all heard the effort he was making to stay calm. "We got Deichmann and the rest of them out, but someone fired a shot and Jones shot him. Only it was another bounty hunter." "Shit. You mean burning the black oil didn’t affect him?" "No, but the slug to the neck sure did." There was a pause and they heard a shout of ‘we’ve found some trucks, let’s blow this joint.’ AJ's voice came over the speaker again. "Listen, Walter. Could you find Colonel MacKenzie for me?" "I’m right here…Admiral. We’ll keep the light on." He said, "Over and Out." She heard. "I’m comin’ home, darlin’." ~ ~ ~ Part 18 – Hearts and Souls The pain was a memory. A memory that wouldn’t release him, wouldn’t fade. Even as he lay there trying to wake up, he felt its presence. He remembered everything, every millisecond. His fear for Webb, his terror as he tried to escape the approaching oil, the agony of the first invasion of his body and soul. There was nothing he could do; he hated it. It was rape; it was the worst kind of perversion. It was beautiful. The pain touched every nerve ending of his body, he felt the beginning of the transformation and he understood the meaning of his life - the unity of the whole. There was an urge to go and find more so he could share this feeling. He thought of all the people he loved. He wanted Webb. He wanted Scully who had intrigued him since her insistence that he not call her ma’am. He wanted Gunny and Doggett. He wanted to share this marvelous, but hideous new life. He had tried to fight the hands that held him firmly. He didn’t want them. They couldn’t share. He had to share this joy and pain. The need was so great that even the cloud that kept him from completely focusing, kept his muscles from working the way he had trained them and honed them. He couldn’t turn off the yearning to join with others. He tried to reach for Galindez, but his own kind tied his hands down. He strained against the bounds, tried to throw off the hated touch of the other. Rabb felt Mulder’s vile touch and knew that he held the key to his salvation and damnation. He tried to struggle, but Smith clamped down on his motor skills if not his pain. The blessed pain, the horrible need. Then the pain reached a crescendo and he waited to die. As the evil transfusion coursed through his veins he felt his death, felt the sense of life flee, felt his nerve endings deaden, felt the most inconsolable loss of his life. What mattered his long-dead father or his still unborn son - nothing mattered except the loss. Only one tiny micron remained. He had held on to it, cherished it, and when the rest of him died in a fiery blaze of white hot heat, he sent out his cry of death along the only path he had and felt the rigid control of Smith jerk away and release him. With the release, the pain and memory of loss was too great and he passed out. He could barely stand the gentle touch of her hands on his skin. Her salty tears burned his face, her pleas of ‘oh God, Harm, what have you done?’ tore at his eardrums. The sweet gentle kiss on his lips tasted too much of her. He tried to jerk away, tried to remain in his cocoon. Tried to ignore everything but his loss. But it was too great and he screamed and sat up and found he was staring into gentle, almost amused hazel eyes. Fox Mulder knew exactly what Harmon Rabb was going through. He had gone through the same transformation in Russia. Felt the same pain and joy of belonging, felt the rape as it was taken from him. He hadn’t had to face the feeling of death of his self, but he knew the suffering and would do for Rabb what Smith had tried to do for him. Only Smith, in all his goodness and all his guilt-ridden need to help could never understand the joining. Could never understand the pain of loss and the guilt of that sorrow. How could he? He had been joined his whole life, it was his norm. It wasn’t holy to him. It just was. Mulder looked from Rabb over to Smith who they had placed in the ‘hospital’ cot next to Rabb and thought ‘well, maybe he does now.’ "Rabb, listen to me. It’s going to be all right. It’s going to take some time, but I’ve been there and I survived." His bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Well, after a fashion." "What did it do to me?" Rabb croaked out. At the spasm of pain, Mulder stood up and went to the closed door. "Mrs. Rabb, could you get some water, please?" Mulder turned and waited. Renee hesitantly entered the room. Tears streaked her face. She vowed never to tell him what he had said to her, the hurt he had inflicted. She knew he wasn’t himself. At least he hadn’t called for Sarah MacKenzie. At least Sarah had stayed away, allowing her to go to HER husband. She wondered if he would have said those terrible things to Mac? She sat on the bed, smiled weakly and helped him sip the water. She saw the tears in his eyes. "Renee? Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I glad I’m back, I’m glad you love me. I’m sorry." She sighed and studied him. "I know you are, Harm." She rose and looked at Mulder. "Make him better if you can, Mulder. Please." She shuddered and looked back at her husband. "I need him. We need him." She touched her belly and left the room. "Oh Jesus, I’m such an asshole." Harm breathed. Mulder cocked a small smile. "Probably. But not because of what you said to her. To me. Not even what you did to Smith." Rabb closed his eyes in intense pain. A different pain now - the pain of guilt of what he had done. "I did that to him. I didn’t mean to, only I did. You understand, don’t you." It wasn’t a question. Mulder sighed, took a wash cloth and sat on the cot next to him. It was a tight fit, but he forced himself to touch the lawyer. Forced his touch onto the man who didn’t want it. Would never really want to be touched again. Scully hadn’t understood for a long while. She had wanted him to sleep with her; to enter her and help her make her son the old fashioned way. But he couldn’t. Would never be able to do that again, he thought. Of course he had never been one for touchy-feely in the first place. His sexual exploits were few for a reason. His love of pornography had allowed him what he needed, release without commitment or rejection. After his own joining, even after Smith’s attempt to fully heal him, the mild obsession had become a necessity. He couldn’t bear the warm gentle touch of another human, not after the intensity of the other, though he had forced himself to allow it from Scully, because in his own way, he did love her. To hold her son was almost too much. He smoothed the forehead before him and whispered. "You will get better, Rabb. You will come to deal with it, deal with the loss of it, deal with the shame of feeling the loss. Hold on to her love, Rabb. Even if you don’t love her as deeply as you should. Hold on, because it really is the only thing you have now. That and the need to win against the bastards." Rabb listened to the gentle words and knew Mulder, even if no one else did, understood. The tears ran freely down his face, the embarrassment of that act just one more nail in his soul. "Will it ever go away?" Mulder sighed. He wasn’t above lying when it was called for, but he also knew that this time the lie would hurt worse than the truth. "No, Rabb, not really, at least not for me. Not for Alex either. But who knows? Maybe you’re different." He stood up then. "Accept whatever love and help they offer, Rabb. I saw their faces, they all love and respect you." Rabb sighed and looked at the wall. "What about Smith?" "What about me, Mr. Rabb." They both turned to the other cot and saw that Smith was staring over at them. "I understand the pain you suffered, Mr. Rabb. I felt it as you felt it. We were so closely connected I couldn’t help but feel it. You suffered worse than Mulder did. The virus that infected him died an almost peaceful death compared to the fiery death of your symbiont. Perhaps, that pain will serve you well. If you’ll let me, I’ll help in anyway I can." :: :: ::
From the sixth-floor hotel room that Parker had assigned him, Clayton Webb stood staring at the burning skyline, his descent into hell nearly complete. He had refused to allow himself to consider that there could be anything worse than being unable to save those three women. He was wrong. The loss of Atlanta was somehow worse. They knew how the fires started. Several men had even confessed that once they had been told to burn the black oil after it left its dead host, they had not paid careful attention to their surroundings as they did so. There was little to be done now. Little to be done except bear witness to the second burning of Atlanta. The cries of terror from the last of the fleeing inhabitants joined with the screams of death from the afflicted hosts to float in the night sky. The stench, even though he had scrubbed himself raw and tossed his original uniform out the window, still clung to him. Rage consumed him, blotted out everything sane and decent; warred with the icy cold that froze his heart and feelings. He needed to feel something - anything. He had thought he wanted oblivion. The scotch that Frohike had pushed on him as they parted ways at the elevator had seemed like the solution. He had carefully chained her to the bed frame, then tore off the belt he was wearing, and fighting the urge to beat her with it, roughly lashed her feet together before going into the shower. After what had almost happened downstairs, he was taking no chances. After he had dressed and poured a healthy measure into the plastic glass from the bathroom, he began his vigil. The scotch hadn’t helped. "Shit! Webb, close the damn window. It’s not like you can do anything." she snarled. He turned, left the door open, and stalked over to the bed. Grabbing her hair, he ran his finger along the red whelp on her cheek. "You just don’t learn do you, sweetheart?" She wriggled under his grasp. He watched as her breasts strained the buttons on her blouse. Watched in fascination as she licked her lips. "I can learn, Webb. You can teach me." she purred. He reached down and released her legs. She arched up, offering herself to him. He wrinkled his nose. Reaching down, he unlocked the cuff holding her to the bed. Taking a firm hold on her hair, he dragged her into the bathroom. "Strip." he growled. "Sure, Webb." She pulled her soiled clothes from her body and lazily dropped them to the floor. "You want to do it in the shower, baby?" "Get in; wash off. Wash off real good." He waited. "No, leave the shower curtain open. Christ, how stupid do you think I am?" He thought back over the day. They had met Parker in the conference suite that he had set up as his situation room. They had brought each other up to date on the events that had occurred. Parker took note of the new threat of swarming bees. Webb and Frohike groaned when they heard that the CDC was completely shut down and the only way in would be to breach their security system. So engrossed with sharing intel, he had ignored Marita. He had cuffed her to a chair that allowed her to sit, or even move a little around the room, dragging the damn thing with her. She had dutifully asked permission to eat some of the food that had been set out on a table against the wall and after making sure that a guard kept watch on her, Webb had agreed. He had just finished filling Parker in on everything they had from the Mountain City research site when his stomach grumbled. "Eat something, Webb." Parker had ordered. He and Frohike had gone to the table. Frohike had been the one to uncover her ploy. Not that he did it on purpose or through any skill. Melvin had tripped, bumped into her and the two-pronged meat fork had clattered to the floor. She had grinned and shrugged. "A girl’s gotta try." Webb had hit her so hard that she knocked a three-person conference table over as she fell. Marita had stayed chained to him after that, even when they heard the latest disaster to befall the beautiful southern city. They got as close as they could to the fire, but there was little to be done. "Jesus. Half the city was dead or dying anyway. Most of the rest of the citizens have been packing up trying to get away, but hell and damnation." Parker snarled before ordering his men to help and protect the fleeing citizens as best they could. They found some zombies unaffected by the burning of the oil and that anomaly was noted and Frohike suggested that perhaps the oil broke off from a bigger blob and when you burned one part of it, only the other parts of that blob were affected. It sounded as good an explanation as anything did, though it didn’t explain Smith’s reaction and Webb ordered Melvin to pass the information on to Skinner. Now he watched as she washed her hair. He allowed his eyes to rake over her still firm body. That’s when he noticed the scars - tiny lines of circles on either side of her torso, precise incisions along her abdomen and breasts. She saw his gaze and touched them reverently. "Scully and Mulder think they are the only ones. What fools they are. Mulder thinks that only his father betrayed him. Saint Fucking Mulder." Webb shook his head and tried to clear it. "What are you talking about?" She smiled and trailed her hand down to her blond tuft of curls. "You don’t care, you know what you want." He reached for her and pulled her from the tub. He tried to maintain the anger. Tried to continue, but even now he couldn’t bring himself to finish what he had started. He let go of her, grabbed a towel and tossed it to her. Pointing his gun toward the bedroom, he sighed. "Go. Get in there." She stood by the bed and began to rub the towel over her body, trying to entice him, but the urge had subsided and now curiosity took its place. "Why?" "Why what?" She snapped, realizing that her chance was fading. "Who did that to you, Marita? Why did they do that to you?" She sighed and flopped on the bed, completely unabashed by her nakedness. "Oh fuck. Why the hell do you want to know anyway? You think it’s going to help? It won’t. You want to know? Ask Mulder. Hell, ask Scully. Mulder remembers, I’ll bet. Scully? Who knows, who cares?" She yawned and stretched like a cat in the sun. "Come on, Clay," she whispered. "Come play with Marita." "Is that what all the men in your life do, Marita?" "Fuck you, you fucking bastard." She screeched. There was an insistent knock at the door. "Mr. Webb? You okay in there?" "I’m fine." He walked over to the door and opened it. "Do me a favor though. I made Miss Covarrubias take a shower and she needs something clean to wear. Would you have another set of fatigues sent up?" The guard at the door shook his head in wonder; it was nearly 0400 hours. Of course, he didn’t know a lot of people who could sleep after today. "Sure thing, Mr. Webb." Clay closed the door and took off his fatigue jacket. "Put this on." "Don’t want to." She tossed it onto the floor and rubbed her breasts. "Marita, sweetheart…" He growled ominously. "Don’t call me that." She snarled and started to get up. The gun in her face stopped her movement, but not her tongue. "Don’t call me that. Call me bitch or whore or cunt, because that’s what you mean when you call me sweetheart." "Fair enough, Marita. Put it on." He picked up the jacket and threw it to her. "Now, Marita, answer me. Who did that to you and why did you stay with them after they did it?" "You really don’t understand, do you? How could you?" She eyed him for a long moment and he thought she was calculating her odds. He was greatly surprised. "Clayton Neville Webb, 42 years old, son of Porter Webb and Neville Webb, both highly respected members of the intelligence community. Neville Webb disappeared in 1969, never heard from again. No trace of his body ever found. Those must have been 9 good years, Mr. Webb. Your mother must be one hell of a lady. What was that like?" "What the hell does that have to do with anything?" he snapped. He wouldn’t allow her to play him. Wouldn’t let her use his parents to get to him. But again, she surprised him. She buttoned the jacket up. It nearly reached her knees. "I’m serious. What was it like to grow up with loving parents? I studied you, you know. You might have been a threat. If we hadn’t received the report on your brain tumor, you would have been killed two months ago in Sweden. How is that, by the way?" He searched her face looking for signs of glee, but she seemed serious. "It’s gone." "You’re lying." "Sure, why not." "Smith?" He didn’t answer. She sighed. "Of course. I wonder how he knew? Son of bitch is an empath, but damn!" "Marita." He allowed some of his earlier harshness to return. "Oh fuck. What do you want to know? Who did this? My father of course." At his shocked look, the snide grin she had worn when she wanted to mock him returned for a moment, but it faded and she whispered. "No not my mother’s husband. He loved me in his own way I guess, but he didn’t stop daddy. Didn’t stop daddy from seducing my mother. Didn’t stop daddy when he came for me. Helped him actually." "Marita." Webb saw the far-away look in her eye, the slight rocking motion. "Focus." "Huh? Oh. What? Ask Mulder. Mulder knows. Poor Jeffrey. Jeffrey, the one true son. Killed by his... our father." "Marita. Who? A name." "Spender, of course. CGB, Fucking, Spender. Mulder’s daddy, my daddy, Jeffrey’s daddy. Spender who knew everything. Claimed to have killed every important figure in the last fifty years. Kennedy, King, Ghandi. Did the Consortium’s dirty work and sacrificed his true wife and kids to the altar of survival. What a laugh. Alex finally killed him." "Tell me about him. Tell me about Alex." Maybe he could finally gain some real insight into the betrayal of the human race. She shrugged and snuggled down on the bed, making sure he saw the apex of her legs. "Doesn’t matter now. Come here, Webb. Chain me to the bed and fuck me until you can forget. Forget that you don’t have to die to see hell." He sighed and turned away for a moment. Keeping alert to any whisper of movement from the bed behind him, he fought to regain some of his control. He tried to summon the anger that had sustained him, but he was suddenly too tired. "Go to sleep, Marita." He sighed. "What? I’m not good enough for you? You think you’re better than I am? You think I’m just a slut that everybody uses? You think I don’t get my own back?" He turned to see her chest was heaving and tears welling in her eyes. "He thought that too. They all thought that. But every once in a while, Marita gets a bit of her own back." He wanted her to shut up and leave him alone. He wanted to know more. He pointed at her tortured body and viciously spat out, "What have you ever done to get back at the men who did that to you?" Her eyes grew crafty for a moment. "I’ll tell you something that I did to get even. Even with them all. Spender, Mulder, Scully, Skinner." She hugged herself with glee and Webb wondered at her sanity. "Scully wanted a baby. She asked Mulder to be the father of the baby. That’s when they learned. Learned not just eggs were stolen. He couldn’t father the child. Daddy dearest wanted it to be his. So he had me take a vial of his sperm to the bank to switch it out with the anonymous donor she had settled on. Only I decided to have some fun. I followed Skinner one night. He was always going to a bar after really tough days and I always knew when the days were tough for him. Slipped him some Ecstasy and slipped on a red wig. Oh baby, come here, let's compare, I’m sure you’ll…uhm…stack up nicely." At his resigned sigh, she shrugged and continued. "Pity I had to have him wear a condom. Would have like to feel him right, the way it's supposed to be. Would like to feel you right, Webb." "So Skinner is the father of baby Scully? That’s nice Marita, but it doesn’t really mean anything, does it?" The anger flared. The information was basically useless. In the long run, who really cared? "What the hell do you want from me, Webb?" The resignation was complete. He walked over to the bed, made sure she saw the gun and recuffed her to the bed frame. "I want you to shut up and go to sleep. Tomorrow, I want you to get me inside the CDC and find the cure to the alien infection." "There is no cure, Webb." "There better be Marita, because there’s no reason for either of us to live if there’s not." A soft knock interrupted him and he accepted the bundle of clothes from the harassed looking guard. "Thanks." "Sure, sir. You know the General wants everyone at the meeting by 0900 hours, sir." Clay turned and looked at the red LCD readout on the clock radio by the bed. "Hell, corporal, that almost four whole hours. Thanks again." He turned to toss them to her but found she was sound asleep. He pulled the cover over her, checked both cuffs before going to lie down on his bed. Sleep finally stole over him and he was surprised to see dark brown eyes considering him. He was sure Marita had blue eyes. :: :: ::
Dana let the water wash over her. The hot water in the shower was a precious gift that she would contemplate later. They had returned to Clews Haven a little before 3:00 am. They had called in two hours before that and so she wasn’t surprised to see most of Rabb’s friends surrounding and protecting his wife. Renee had pushed through to him and as two Rangers gently lowered his stretcher to the ground, she had embraced him. Scully closed her eyes at the pain Renee must have felt when he screamed at her not to touch him. ‘Don’t ever touch me again.’ They had transferred him to the huge pickup truck that was the one sure vehicle to make it up the hill in the ever-falling snow. They had somehow jury-rigged a troop-transport covering over the back and she had ridden with him and Mulder and Smith up to the top. Renee rode in the back with Doggett who would make the official report. She had noticed Galindez looking around for someone and saw Francesca Paretti walk up to him and take his hand. She thought the look Paretti gave him was one of sadness and understanding. But she could have been mistaken. There was little she could do, but try to make them comfortable. Once she had gotten Smith and Rabb settled, she had tried to force Mulder to go lie down but he had shaken his head sadly. "I’ll wait. I’m okay, Scully. Don’t mother me." She would have retorted, but she felt rough, heavy, wonderful hands on her shoulders. "Dr. Scully, you’re exhausted. We’ll handle it from here. Why don’t you go upstairs and use my shower? I know you want to see William, but he’s asleep and you know what he’s like if you wake him up." "I know." She turned and hugged him properly, but keeping in mind the crowd around them, released him and whispered, "you won’t be long?" He closed his eyes and whispered back. "Get up there, Dana. Shower and rest, I’ll see if I can break away. I need to hear what Doggett has to say." She arched her back and then felt the cold as the door to the large shower stall opened. She recognized her scent immediately. "Where were you? I didn’t see you down the hill or up here." Monica gazed lovingly at Dana. "We had a problem at the ‘boys home’. Sarah and I took care of it." Dana finally turned and met the other woman’s eye. "Boys home? Sarah?" Monica quickly stripped out of her clothes and entered the shower stall. Kissing Dana sweetly, running her hands over her body, she breathed, "The last house on the hill, we’re shoving every damn single male in there. The cubicles around the control room are being used on a rotating basis for the men and women assigned to guard duty, but the barracks is in the main house and some of the soldiers aren’t getting along with some of the single male civilians. There still aren’t enough cots to go around. As for Sarah? Colonel Sarah MacKenzie is Fielding’s new aide-de-camp, Admiral AJ Chegwidden’s lover and our house mate, along with Chegwidden." They kissed again and Monica rubbed her nipples against Dana’s, eliciting a lush groan of pleasure from them both. "Why, Agent Scully, you jealous?" "No." Dana breathed heavily as she began her own delicious exploration of her lover. She trailed kisses down Monica’s neck and teased the taut nipples with her lips. Kissing Monica the way she had always wanted to be kissed, but that no man, not even Skinner, ever got quite right. Not that she had any complaints about Skinner at all and wondered briefly where he was. As if reading her mind, Monica whispered. "He’s wrapping up downstairs. He and Doggett are going over the new information that is pouring in." She leaned back and let Dana continue to torment her. Whispering encouragement, letting the water course over them. "Nice, oh yes." She ran her fingers through Dana’s hair and brought her lips back to hers. "Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so hot and sexy. You two are a dream come to life." They broke their kiss and smiled up at Skinner who just stood there, his mouth slightly agape, staring at the sight before him. "A dream, Walter?" Dana giggled and looked at Monica. "You think we ought to make his dream come true?" "Oh yes." Monica breathed huskily. "But first let's torment him just a little. Let me get you all nice and cleaned up for him, Dana." Skinner didn’t know if he would survive this. He stood there and watched as Monica turned Dana to face him before reaching for the soap. She smoothed the bar over Dana's neck, across and then under her heavy breasts. "You’ve way too many clothes on, Walter. Take them off, but do it sexy, we want something to watch, too." Monica commanded. She was in control for a moment and wasn’t about to let it go, not until she was ready. He removed his wire rims and put them on the shelf above the sink. Turning back to them, he rubbed his hands over his chest before slowly freeing each button until the shirt hung from his shoulders. "D-d-damn, Walter." Dana managed to get out even though Monica’s lips were buried in her neck and the bar of soap was beginning its assault on her triangle. "You’re wasting perfectly good clothing. Why do you need to wear an undershirt? Ohhhhhh yessssssss, Mon. Feels so good. Make him take it off, Mon." "You heard her, Mister." The faux growl still sent chills down his spine. "Yes ma’am." He grinned and pulled undershirt and oxford off in one fluid motion and flung them out the door. He bent each leg to remove shoes and socks. He slowly undid his belt, but before he could pull it through the loops of his jeans, Monica groaned. "Stop for a moment. Come and hold her, I want to wash her back." "You need me to hold you, Dana." He whispered into her hair. "You want me to touch you, baby?" "Oh yes, please." She cried as both her lovers rubbed her abused skin. Skinner breathed, "Hold on, lover." He reached back and found a bottle of lotion that Monica had left on the shelf. "Let me rub this in." Small shuddering tremors shook her. She had never experienced this before. Not even that night. Both of them were concerned only for what she was feeling and she vowed to pay them both back for such lovely torture. The soap slid down her crack and across her mound. "Oh yes, harder, Mon." "Mmmmmm, not yet. Come back to me." She turned off the water and watched as Walter finished rubbing the crème into Dana’s skin. He lifted each leg and resting it on his thigh, smoothed the moisturizer up and tantalizingly close to her sex, but never quite touching her there. "You’re a tease, Mr. Skinner." Monica admonished before bestowing a searing kiss on Dana’s upturned face. "You’ll find out, Miss Reyes." His growl went straight to her groin and Monica squeezed Dana’s breasts at the thought of it. He stood back and admired them both. "May I finish this now?" He started to undo the snap but Dana stood away from Mon and looked at her for a moment. "Let’s finish it for him." "Mmmmm. I like the way you think." They backed him into the bedroom until his calves came in contact with the bed and they pushed him back. They waited and clutched each other giggling, as the frame screamed in protest for a moment before accepting his weight. Together, they freed his throbbing cock, one unzipping, the other tugging until the three of them were naked. By unspoken agreement they knelt next to him and began kissing all over, making sure to share passionate kisses with him and each other. Skinner thought he was losing his mind. He needed to come and soon. The last several days had been hectic and he had seldom seen Mon outside the morning meetings. So concerned with Mulder’s team and Chegwidden’s team, he had taken to snatching a few hours of sleep in one of the cubicles whenever he could. Once, he woke in his comfortable chair and found someone had covered him with a Kentucky State stadium blanket. "Please I need…" "What do you need, lover?" Dana, still damp from the shower, crawled up to him and bestowed a searing kiss on his mouth. "Need you. Need you both." He sat up and grabbed them both behind their heads and dragged them down to him. "Monica. I want to eat you, baby. Dana, sit on my cock." The very coarseness of his words made them gasp. He lay down and Monica carefully straddled his head, bracing her knees on his shoulders. "Hold me up, Dana." She pleaded as she lowered herself down and felt his tongue shoot into her. "Oh please, Dana." Dana shuddered at the sight and held and stroked Monica until she found her balance. Never letting go, Dana swung her leg over Walter and inched down until his cock nudged her ass. "Lean back, Mon, grab the headboard behind you. Yes, that’s right." Dana positioned herself over Walter's huge cock and stretched herself over him. "Yes, oh yes, oh yes." She chanted as he filled her. Walter bucked up into her. He licked and bit and thrust up, but they were in control and he nearly passed out from the thought of it. He wished he could see this happening but instead, closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations. Finding Monica’s swollen clit, his bit down, ever so softly, until her groans turned into screams. He felt Dana’s walls close around him and heard her keen her release. Monica moved off of him and he was able to throw Scully to the bed and pound into her until he felt his own release well up inside. He started to roar only to find that Monica had captured his mouth in hers. He fell forward and bracing himself on his hands on either side of her face, he grinned down at her. "Welcome home, Dana." "Welcome home, Dana." Monica bent over and kissed her, then arched her back and kissed Skinner again. "Lay down and rest. I want some of that and soon. Watch." Skinner leaned back and gazed down as Monica began to trail kisses down Dana’s body. Dana lay there, almost too weak to moan, but not quite. He began to caress his cock as he watched Monica part the red-head’s legs and plant kisses on her sex, licking both their essences from her labia before plunging her tongue into Dana’s core. As she slowly, gently, steadily brought Dana to climax again, Walter knelt behind Monica and entered her in one smooth thrust. Monica buried her head in the valley of Dana’s breasts occasionally kissing them, but mostly, just letting the sweet tightening take her again. He could work her like a finely tuned car, revving her to a point where she thought she would explode only to wind her back down. Dana caressed and kissed the top of her head. "Do you know how sexy this looks, Mon? His cock almost comes all the way out before plunging back into you. Ohhhh. Can you feel his fingers at your ass, Mon? Do you want him to? Kiss me if you want him to." Monica stretched and offered her lips to Dana and wiggled her ass at Skinner. The invasion was pure heaven and she came hard, but kept thrusting back until he, too, came again. They rested a moment before stumbling back into the shower to clean up. After straightening the bedclothes, Walter lay in the middle and they cuddled next to him, one on each side. Not one of them spoke. They were all asleep within moments. Home :: cross-overs Index :: e-mail |