:: Tales Of The Resistance ::Part Twenty One "Well, Mr. Tiner?" "Three feet, eight inches, Mr. President." "In just three days? With the snow still falling?" "I double-checked it, sir." "I told you it’s an X-File. I think we should…ow! Damn, Reyes, that’s gonna leave a bruise." "Shut up, Mulder." Jack Williams cleared his throat. He was so very new to the dynamic of the group that he hesitated to add anything to the rather odd conversation that started out the morning meeting. Though he had spent most of his career as a diplomat before accepting the top post at State, he had a secret love of all things geological. "Actually there may be a somewhat logical explanation. The snow has given enough cover that near the ground it is actually warmer than on top of the snow. Because this snow is so unseasonable, the ground didn’t have a chance to freeze. So…it could be the run off is saturating the water table and because of the vast amounts of limestone in the area, it is seeping into the ground. At least we won’t run out of fresh water." Toblin shrugged. "For now, it makes as much sense as anything, baring Mr. Mulder’s sure-to-be-more creative explanation, of course." He looked around the table. "Ah, Lieutenant Sims, glad you could make it today." Harriet blushed a bright red. "Sorry, sir. Its just Little AJ, Gracie Antonelli and Kelly Edwards all decided to come down with Chicken Pox. It seems that Lisa Antonelli was just getting over them when they escaped. Dr. Kennedy decided to get it over with all at one time and now there are twelve little kids sharing the loft." She sighed. "You ever been around twelve sick little kids?" She realized who she had just said that to and covered her mouth in horror. She turned to glare at Mulder who had snickered like one of the twelve little kids she had spent the last 36 hours around. "Just my cabinet during flu season, Lieutenant." Toblin deadpanned. Jack Williams began coughing into his hand, which did little to conceal his grin. Toblin took pity on the highly embarrassed Lieutenant and asked softly, "How goes the housing arrangements, Harriet?" "Well, I worked on them when I could, but I understand that with Mr. Skinner’s approval of Allenberry, I’ll need to start from scratch." All eyes turned to Skinner who was stretched out in his chair, his arms folded, his chin forward on his chest and his eyes closed. "Walter?" "I’m sorry, Mr. President." Skinner sat up, more from the pressure of Scully’s hand on his thigh than the soft tone of Toblin’s call. "Are you prepared to report, Walter, or do you…?" "I’m fine, sir." Skinner stood and stretched before beginning to pace in an effort to stay awake. He hadn’t gotten any sleep since they had left 48 hours before. "Allenberry is perfect for expansion. Better set up than Clews Haven actually. There are 28 homes or mobile homes. Most in excellent condition though only ten show signs of recent habitation." He waited for the outburst he knew was coming. "God damn it!" Fielding exploded. Sparing an abashed glance at Reverend Harper, he muttered. "Sorry." Harper waved away the oath and the apology, but asked the question. "Is there any sign of the former inhabitants?" Skinner rubbed his hand over his stubble. He had returned a mere 20 minutes ago and he hadn’t had time to do more than change his shirt and splash water on his face before coming into the meeting. "No, sir." He shook his head at Fielding. "I don’t know what to tell you, Bob. Though, Sergeant Tydal might have a partial explanation." The tiny brunette exchanged a quick look with Byers before standing up from the settee they had been sharing. "When we figured out how to finally get into the town, Mr. Skinner had us post sentries and then check each house. Teams of civilians paired with Rangers or Marines went from door to door. We found no one. But I found a brochure for a company specializing in bus tours to ‘family destinations.’" She looked down at John Byers who gravely continued. "In another house, I found a calendar with the week of the invasion circled and the word ‘Dollywood’ in red ink." "Oh dear." Samantha Fielding sighed. With the attention of the room now focused on he,r she smiled ruefully at her father. "Well, Dollywood is in Tennessee. Back when we first started getting responses to our Ham signals, we were in contact with a man in Knoxville. He reported that he was getting very bad reports from people escaping from Manchester. The last report he sent in was that the Air Force was rounding up people and holding them at Arnold. He also says the black oil is rampant there and that he heard from his brother-in-law in Arkansas and it's bad there, too. I’ve been trying to reach the brother-in-law directly, but he hasn’t answered our hail." Before Fielding could continue with his pet fear, that the conveniently empty villages were some kind of alien plot, Micah Toblin firmly stated, "So, the likelihood of any of them returning are slim?" "Skinner sighed but it was Monica who offered the best solution. "Sir, if I might suggest, we have plenty of family units and more coming in. We’re going to need a titular head there, perhaps Mr. Williams and his family? Mrs. Edwards has been making discrete noises about the crowded conditions, but seems to be a real go-getter otherwise." Toblin tried to hide his grin. "So, you’re saying keep the ‘young bucks fighting for position in the herd’ away from the decent housing?" Monica met his look. "Well, sir, I would never have put it quite so bluntly, but since you did – yes. The layout over there lends itself to small groups of eight to ten men per house. There’s a Knights of Columbus hall, not really very big, but it has a very nice kitchen that we could use for a communal mess hall. Plus, there are several storefronts that we can set up as workspaces." Her enthusiasm reasserted itself. "One of the garages has a full woodworking shop. Mr. Banister, who followed a group of Rangers into Clews Haven went with us and he says he can work all the power tools and it has its own generator. Banister says if we can get him the lumber and a couple of helpers, he can make whatever we need from wooden plates to chairs and bed frames." She looked over at Lora Tydal. "Go on Sergeant. Tell them about Gomer’s Garage." Skinner snorted and Fielding let his paranoia subside to bark. "You’re kidding me, right?" Lora Tydal, who Skinner judged to be, maybe 32, just looked bewildered. "About what, sir?" But she didn’t wait for an explanation of the irony of the name. Instead, she waxed poetic on the full service garage that would allow her to keep Fort Clews’ vehicles in working order. "All we have to do is keep finding gasoline. Surely, we should be able to find a tanker that got stuck." Doggett and Galindez exchanged resigned looks and mentally prepared to leave relative safety yet again. However, Toblin broke into her litany with, "What else does Allenberry have to offer, Walter?" Skinner poured another cup of coffee knowing full well that caffeine shot directly into his veins wouldn’t keep him awake the second his head hit the pillow. "Well, besides the store fronts, a couple of them in disrepair, there’s this rather large movie theater at the end of the street. It’s a real mess though. All the chairs are gone and it will need a lot of work, but I think that a whole lot of our more idle hands can be put to good work there." Russell Harper had sat quietly through most of the morning meetings. Toblin had asked him to say a brief prayer before each one and he had gladly complied. However, except for the one ‘sermon’ he had made over ‘Radio Free America’ as they had taken to calling their pirate broadcasts, he hadn’t been able to do much more than walk among the refugees, offering words of comfort. "What about a church, Mr. Skinner?" Walter Skinner grinned; he had been saving the news. Skinner had been raised Catholic, but long ago fell away from the church. When he had walked down the quiet dusty chapel he had felt a sense of peace that he had denied himself for years. "Oh, you mean that big old white building with the spire and the red door?" He laughed at the exasperated look. "Yes, Father Harper, there is a very nice church in excellent repair. It’s in need of a good dusting, but I’m sure that you can find volunteers." "An Episcopal Church? Here in the foothills?" Harper racked his brain, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing even a mission church on the rolls under Allenberry. Of course, the curate usually handled such things. "Actually the marquee says its called St. Beatrice Anglican Church. Plus, there’s a rather small Baptist Church at the other end of town, but that’s in pretty bad condition." Skinner settled back in his chair. "Thank goodness we have that snowplow though." Toblin sat quietly before looking at his Secretary of State, who had to be feeling as useless as a tit on a bull right now. "So Jack, you prepared to be Andy of Allenberry?" Williams smiled happily. "I’ll do my best, Mr. President." "Tydal." "Yes, Mr. President." "Make sure that those snowmobiles are kept working. Jack, I still want you here for the morning meetings." "Yes, sir." Two voices answered in unison. "Colonel MacKenzie?" He gave her a glare, daring her to continue with the Mr. President round that threatened to become parody. "Yes, sir." She smiled sweetly. "Security for Allenberry?" Mac looked from Skinner to Fielding and then at Reyes. They each gave her a nod or a smile of approval. "Well I didn’t get to do a survey until yesterday, but I’ve got some ideas. The fact that the main entrance into the town passes through a tunnel that just happened to have collapsed recently, while suspicious…" she smiled wanly at Fielding, "actually makes Allenberry more secure than we are here. If Mr. Olsen hadn’t pointed out the ‘back way’ and if we hadn’t had the snowplow, we would never have gotten to it at all, even though we knew it had to be there. It’s nestled in a valley and it’s pretty as a picture. A couple of the houses are in very good strategic positions. We can put sentries there and they have a view of the entire valley. The snow there isn’t as heavy or as deep as it is here either. Of course, we have to be careful who we put ‘back there’ simply because, unless you’re on a snowmobile, it takes a good hour to traverse the ten miles and I’m not sure of the composition of the road underneath the snow. I suppose we can ask Mr. Olsen." Toblin nodded as she sat back down. "Very well, then I suggest we start moving some of the families into the habitable houses, get teams up there to start cleaning and overhauling and have that Mr…Mr….?" He looked at Harriet for help. "Banister, sir?" "Thank you. Have Mr. Banister start firing up the wood shop." He sighed. "It’s still not enough room though, is it?" The table grew silent. They were expecting Chegwidden’s group any hour now. They could barely make room for them. Where were they going to put General Parker and his men? And of course, what were they going to do about ‘the problem?’ When Webb had reported in to say that he was returning with Marita Covarrubias, the reaction from Skinner, Mulder and Scully had been instantaneous. "Is he insane?" "What the hell is going on?" "She steps one foot into this camp, I’ll kill her myself." Doggett had kept quiet. It was Galindez who had cleared his throat and pressed the obvious. "If she was that involved in the conspiracy, wouldn’t it be good to hear what she had to say? Might she not be able to give us good information to fight against Lee and Winslow?" Mulder had snarled viciously, "And just how are we supposed to tell if she is telling the truth?" Fielding had interrupted with, "What about Smith? Can’t he tell?" Smith, who spent every waking hour by Rabb’s side, when Rabb would allow it, had merely shrugged. "Miss Covarrubias’ problem has always been who and what she believed in at the moment. We shall see." Mulder had been adamant though. "Damn it, NO! You can’t bring her anywhere near the camp." Skinner figured he had at least another 48-hours to make up his mind. :: :: ::
The trucks crunched heavily through the snow. AJ had noticed on the way north that traffic south out of DC had dwindled to the occasional SUV or large truck. After leaving the base, AJ ordered men in Humvees to stop and check each stalled vehicle. They found some people, a few still alive and they, too, were found places in the transports. They didn’t stop for anything but that and switched drivers as needed. The sun blinded him awake and AJ smiled down on the head of mussed black hair resting against his chest. Susan had been everywhere at the base, driving trucks from various locations, hoisting boxes of supplies, even helping to disassemble bunk beds from the closest housing. She had acquitted herself well, as had everyone under his command; he was damn proud of them. He was amazed at the resilience of the men and women they had rescued, too. Even after the five-day ordeal, many of the Marines and SEALs had thrown themselves into their own rescue and evacuation. He added the pain of losing so many of them to his already burdened soul. Burning down Quantico, unsure whether or not the humans innocents and traitors like Lauren Singer, had escaped the inferno would weigh on him until he died. He would hear the unearthly screams as the alien hybrids died and he wondered briefly if Deichmann and Antonelli weren’t right and that they had put the hideous monsters out of their misery. He tried to use his hand to shield her face from the bright sunlight. It took him a moment to understand the import of the warmth shining in. "Son-of-a-bitch." he breathed. "Yes, Sir!" As much as Charlie Jones had been surprised at his field promotion, he wasted no time in finding stripes to pin to his sleeve. "Stopped about twenty minutes ago, right at dawn. Lord, I never thought I would see the sun again." "Well, I hope it stays stopped for awhile." AJ sighed. Susan Ling rubbed her nose into the warm, hard chest and her dream of Victor Galindez suddenly took on a very real presence. She stiffened, trying to think where she was, why she was so warm and why she felt so safe. Carefully, she lifted her head and she knew immediately that the bright pink that covered her face would not fade soon. "Oh my. Oh dear. Excuse me, Admiral Chegwidden. I’m so sorry." She sat up and moved as far away from him as she could only to bump into Jones. AJ grinned, but gravely replied. "Nonsense, Miss Ling. It was my fault entirely. I needed to stretch my arm." Ling turned her eyes forward and started to continue to apologize when she too, noticed the glare off the snow on either side of the highway. "Hey! It’s not snowing!" When AJ and Jones stopped chuckling, she peered through the glare at a snow covered highway sign. "Any idea where we are and how far we still have to go?" Jones answered. "About another twenty minutes or so. You gonna make it?" She turned her steely glare on the cocky man. "I can if you can, Sergeant Jones." A radio crackled and AJ reached behind her to the small space between the seats and the back of the truck. "Go ahead." "Admiral, it's Antonelli, sir. We’ve heard from base camp. They’re sending escort vehicles to lead us in. We’ll stop and let you and Ms. Ling and Secretary Deichmann off as well as any wounded or sick, but they want us to follow them through town and go on to a little town called Allenberry." "Why don’t we just go directly there? It’s the next stop off the highway." "That’s what I suggested, Admiral, but it seems that there was a problem. The gas station is at the highway exit, but the town proper is in a valley between two hills. I was told that when they went to investigate, they found a cave-in at the tunnel." AJ stared at the radio. "That’s pretty damn convenient. What about the people living there?" The silence stretched and while AJ had only been privy to one of Fielding’s "What the hell is going on here" speeches, he suddenly got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Antonelli finally confirmed, "Sir, they say that the town is deserted." Susan spotted him right away and a wave of desire washed over her. Galindez was sitting in the passenger seat of the first Humvee waiting for them just off the highway. His answering grin reheated her face and she vowed to stay in the truck all the way to hell if he led them there. However, as they pulled into the town square, he hopped out of the vehicle and ran up to the truck to help her down. Before she could say a word, he engulfed her in a mighty bear hug and covered her mouth with his. Neither acknowledged AJ’s amused "Carry-on, Gunny." AJ ran to the back of the truck and helped Rice Deichmann down. Wilhelm took the head of a stretcher and AJ hoisted the tail onto his shoulders. The soldier had been wounded by one of the fleeing traitors as they fired the base. He wasn’t in bad shape, but he had lost some blood, much of it on Mrs. Deichmann’s slacks and coat. "Sir." Mac’s soft welcoming voice calmed the anxiety he hadn’t even realized he was feeling. "We have trucks here to take the wounded up top." Mac forced herself not to even touch him. She wanted nothing more than to repeat Galindez’s greeting, but she knew he would be embarrassed by it. Instead, she reverted to the same easy rapport they had shared before they became lovers. "Okay people, let's see what we’ve got here." a gruff voice called. AJ found a diminutive man with captain’s bars pinned to his fatigues checking each casualty. AJ looked around but didn’t see the alien healer anywhere. Mac caught his look and whispered. "Mr. Smith is in the café. Evidently, he is very weak and the cold weakens him even more. Skinner said that he was only to heal anyone close to death. Doggett and Mulder are with him to make sure he doesn’t disobey orders." "Why is he so sick?" AJ let a soldier take the stretcher from him. Mac finally touched him and pulled him behind the vehicle. They were out of the way but still in full view of everyone. AJ thought for a moment that she was going to follow Galindez’s greeting of Susan and was somewhat disappointed and concerned when she took his hand and bit her lower lip. He saw the tears form in her eyes. "Sarah? What’s happened?" He looked around wildly trying to find his daughter. "Who’s hurt? Is it Francesca?" "No, AJ. Fran’s fine. She’s at Allenberry. She’s helping…oh you don’t know that either." She took a deep breath and touched his lips with the tip of her finger when he started to say something else. "Let me tell this, okay? First the wonderful news. The Secretary of State, Mr. Williams escaped from D.C. and evidently, he’s a neighbor of the Harpers. He and his aide got Russell and Pris out. They’re both in Allenberry getting the church there ready for services. Francesca is helping them." Her face turned grave. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her face up to look at him. "What, Mac?" She sighed. He had already left before they had heard about Harm. Frohike finally reported the entire story, Webb grudgingly filled in the details. Gently, she told him. Watching the grief and fear in his eyes was like reliving the awful moment all over again. He listened carefully, not bothering to ask any questions. She was good at reporting, better than Rabb ever had been. When she was finished, he took a deep breath. "How’s Renee taking it?" Mac smiled. "Like a trooper, sir. She moved into the cubicle with him. Smith said it was best. Smith is working with Rabb as is Agent Mulder who went through the same thing." She sighed. "I don’t know. It seems to me like the cure is worse than the disease." AJ gripped her shoulders tightly. "No, it’s not, Mac. Don’t ever say that. I’ve seen the final result. Ask Deichmann, ask Antonelli. Come on, I’ve got to report." "Yes, sir." She gave him an evil grin. "Come on. I’ll get you up there in time to take a quick shower and shave. Toblin will want to meet with the wounded before he talks to you and the Secretary of the Air Force." She took him by the hand and led him over to a snowmobile parked by the café. "It’s my perk. I get around to all the sentry stations this way." Just as she was getting on, a civilian rushed up. She glared at the man who might have been 5’, touched the bruise under her eye and snapped. "What?" AJ cast a startled glance between the two. The man squeaked. "Colonel MacKenzie, m-m-ma’am. I’m done with compost heap. Please, may I go and help Mrs. Scully in the greenhouse now?" Mac’s sigh was deep and long. "You ever gonna…" "Oh God NO! Colonel, ma’am. I’m really sorry, I promise I’ll never play three-card Monte again in my life." His voice dropped and he cast a furtive glance at the rough looking soldier with the three-day growth of beard standing just behind her. "I’m really sorry about the shiner, Colonel." "Go on Manetti, when you're done helping Mrs. Scully, grab a ride over to Allenberry. They need help with cleaning out the movie theater." "Yes, ma’am, thank you, ma’am." AJ settled behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her neck, scraping her tender skin with his beard. "You okay?" She snorted. "Hold on, Admiral." She gunned the snowmobile and took off down the road. She nodded to Jack Williams’ aide who was just coming around the side of the café. :: :: ::
Victor led Susan to the small house. Renee had insisted that he take over their room. "Francesca can’t be alone. If you can stand the whining, then it’s better than being crammed into ‘the boys’ home’ or catching your sleep where you can find it. I don’t know for how long. Harriet is playing musical houses like a psychotic children’s party hostess, but I guess its necessary with all these new arrivals." He kissed Susan on the nose. "Go. The shower is down the hall. I found you some clothes I think will fit." He blushed. "Francesca won’t be home until late this afternoon, if then. She might decide to stay and help Mrs. Edwards move into the little house over in Allenberry." She whispered huskily, "Well then, I’ll save the clothes for later." He started to pull her to him, but she danced out of his grasp. "Oh no. I stink. I need to at least gargle." "I nabbed you a toothbrush." "I think I may be in love with you." She sighed as she walked down the hall. "I don’t suppose there’s any soup or anything?" "Coming right up." He locked the door and drew the curtains. He wasn’t sure if anyone might barge in or not, but he hoped the locked door would warn most people off. He heated the can of chicken noodle soup, poured it into a large mug and met her in the bedroom – he on one side of the bed, she on the other. She took his breath away. Wrapped in a towel, her short black hair, still damp, framed her face. She looked wanton and demur all at the same time. "That looks really hot," she whispered. "Maybe, I should wait a little bit before eating it?" She let the towel fall and he groaned. "Oh God, Susan." He nervously unbuttoned the fatigue jacket he wore, the olive green tee-shirt was flung across the room. She waited anxiously for Victor to shed the rest of his clothes. She had dreamed about this early this morning. And while Admiral Chegwidden’s arm had held her safely and his very presence was one of comfort, she craved the man before her like she had never craved anyone else. She echoed his groan as his toned and perfect body appeared from under each layer of clothes. She gasped with delight at the size of him. They met in the center of the bed and he pulled her into a warm, passionate embrace. Kissing the world of aliens and traitors away for just a moment at least, his lips trailed down her throat. His hands tracked down her back. She ground her lithe body into his firm muscular one and let the feel of him block out all the bad that she had seen these past three days. Lightly, her hands played over his body until they were both panting heavily. He laid her back against the pillow and reclined beside her, resting his weight on his elbow. "I want to know every inch of you, Susan," he demanded hoarsely. "Yes. Oh please, Victor," she prayed. His fingers lightly followed the curve of her neck down over her arm till his hand cupped her breast. He squeezed it gently, briefly before continuing its journey to her stomach and her belly button. She closed her eyes at the delicious feelings his touch was drawing out of her. She stretched and sighed her approval as his mouth began its own explorations. "Mmmmmmmm." She sighed as he engulfed her breast." "Perfect." He muttered before resuming his talented assault on her nipples and then, his hand roamed closer to her sex. She arched up, demanding, needing his touch. When his finger just grazed across her clit she let out a long shuddering breath. "Oh yes, right there, please don’t stop." He had no intention of stopping. He moved his thumb to continue his sweet torture to free his fingers to begin parting her folds and explore her intimately. Even though she was so close that she was focused on the tightening in her core, she still made sure to run her fingers through his hair and whisper encouragement. "Just like that, Victor. Yes, so close, so close, ohhhhhhh yesssssssssss, Victor!" She screamed his name as her release hit her with surprising force. Still grasping for breath, she pushed him over and straddled him before he had even pulled his hand from her. She grabbed his hand, locking their fingers together and positioned herself over his straining shaft. She seated herself forcefully and he bucked up to meet her. As she knelt over him, she began to ride him, holding his hands tightly in hers. "God, Susan. So tight. So good. Ride me, just like that." He finally broke their grasp and with one powerful effort, sat up and embraced her. He held her to his broad strong chest, demanding a penetrating kiss. The hot embrace of his cock by her moist core was too much and he felt his orgasm overtake him. He fell back, holding her tightly, keeping himself embedded deep within her. Small tremors continued to streak through her, but she suddenly let out a huge yawn. His laughter dislodged her from him and he lowered her to lie next to him. "That’s some seal of approval, Agent Ling." He gently teased her. "I hope you can reheat that soup later." She sighed as her eyes closed. For the first time since that night in the Walmart, she didn’t see black oil-filled eyes staring at her. :: Part 22 ::Betrayal A malaise of utter exhaustion seemed to permeate the room. AJ gazed around at the vacant chairs available and chose the one that looked the most uncomfortable, the one most likely to keep him awake. Wilhelm Deichmann saw the coffee urn and muttered. "Want coffee?" "Yeah, thanks." One or two other late comers eased around him and took their accustomed seats. He eased down and found that as uncomfortable as the chair was, he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes. "Welcome back, Admiral Chegwidden." "Thank you, Mr. President." "Wilhelm, I won’t keep you long. I know you both need to get some sleep." "I’m fine, Mr. President. But, I want to check on my wounded, sir." No one argued the right of the Secretary of the Air Force who had taken command of a ragtag group of Marines and sailors, to call them ‘mine.’ Toblin nodded. "Of course, but I want to make sure that you and your wife find a place to sleep." Russell Harper spoke up. "Pris and I have way too much room in that house." Toblin gazed at the lowered head of Harriet Sims. "Well, Lieutenant?" Harriet sighed to herself, scanned the small chart in front of her, erased a name and wrote in the Deichmanns before lifting her head and smiling. "No problem, sir." Toblin crossed his hands in front of him, took a deep breath and then met the young Petty Officer’s eye. "Report, Mr. Tiner." "Sir, we’ve had another four inches of melt-off, but I found where it’s going." He grinned excitedly, waiting for someone to ask. AJ straightened in his chair. He wanted to stand under a shower, preferably with Sarah MacKenzie and then sleep for a month, not deal with Tiner. "I assume this is important, Tiner, so tell us." Tiner gulped. "Sorry. Uhm…there’s a regular waterfall off the edge of the cliff." He blushed. "Danny Williams and Tommy Fielding found it." Bob Fielding grunted "Well, as long as they didn’t fall off the damn thing. Right, Jack?" Jack Williams jerked his head up. "What? Oh yes. Yes, of course." Toblin chided the obviously pre-occupied man. "Jack, you’re killing yourself. Use your people to your best advantage." "I’m fine." Williams ground out. "We’re just trying to make room for everybody." Toblin raised an eyebrow at the harsh response. AJ’s eyes started to close and the whole room seemed to shimmer, and for one brief moment, he was sure he was surrounded by alien bounty hunters. That thought alone was enough to wake him. Toblin saw him jerk awake and quickly continued. "Bob, where is Colonel MacKenzie? I saw her drop off the Admiral." AJ answered. "She got a call over her radio. Some kind of commotion over at Allenberry." He finally asked the question that had been bothering him. "Mr. President, where’s Walter Skinner?" Micah Toblin glanced around the room. For once, everyone had a chair at the table itself. "Well, AJ. Mr. Skinner has taken it upon himself to go and look Mr. Webb’s gift horse in the mouth." :: :: ::
Walter Skinner paced the length of the diner. They had found it just off the deserted expressway and had been surprised to find anyone running it. The indolent owner hadn’t said much, just put on another pot of coffee and waited for their orders. "Bread’s kind of stale, but there ain’t no mold on it. Eggs comed from my own coop. Got no meat and you don’t want the milk or the juice." They declined everything but the coffee and when they put money on the counter, the man just started laughing and walked back into the kitchen. Fox Mulder lounged in one of the booths. He hadn’t wanted to leave Rabb, but Renee had looked rather relieved when he came to tell the lawyer he had to go. Rabb had just shrugged and turned to face the wall. He wasn’t doing well, and Mulder wondered if Smith could do anything. Though from the haggard look of the man, he had tried every alien trick he knew. Smith had stayed behind. There was little he could do here. Marita was an unknown element to him except as a name of one of the Consortium. Scully hadn’t come either. She was hold up in the make shift lab they had thrown together in the little one bedroom house. She and Dr. Osgood were trying to decipher the anti-virus serum that Frohike had uploaded to them. Doggett had taken a vehicle down the highway to wait for the approaching convoy. Skinner couldn’t believe he was doing this. But he wanted to face Webb himself. See what weird magic Marita had woven around the former CIA agent. Frankly, he was surprised that Webb, with his experience, would fall for any line. Of course, Frohike had spoken to him privately and filled him in on some of the horrors they had all experienced. It was Frohike who had told him about the effect of fire extinguishers on the aliens. That, combined with what Chegwidden was bringing back about seeing the alien hybrids was the first solid intel they had that they could use to their advantage Anthony Grace, Jack Williams’ aide, stuck his head in the door. "They’re coming." Skinner rubbed his hands over his jeans. Skinner hadn’t said more than a few words to Marita Covarrubias in all the years that he had been aware of her existence. She somehow disturbed him more than Alex Krycek ever had. She would just stand there in the background taking everything in. He knew she used to report back directly to that cigarette-smoking bastard. What the hell had she done to Webb? He didn’t know the spy well, but his reputation had been impeccable. "Show time, Skinner." Mulder sourly glared at his still full coffee cup. All the years that Marita had jerked him around. Given him lousy information. Never coming through for him the way Deep Throat or even "X" had. :: :: ::
It had taken them two full days to go the 400 miles between Atlanta and southeastern Virginia. They had been long hard miles. Twice the convoy had been attacked. The first time a band of marauders had set up a roadblock, just 100 miles outside of Atlanta, demanding a toll. Their soldiers had overwhelmed them, but not before Thomas Parker had taken a bullet to the head in the ensuing firefight. After the bandits had been driven off, Mrs. Parker had stared down at her fallen husband, keened her loss in a curse at Marita. "This is all your fault." And then wandered off. They hadn’t even realized that she had left the safety of the group until after they had lit the funeral pyre – they didn’t have time to bury the ten men they had lost and just leaving them didn’t seem right either. Twenty-year old Tina Parker had refused to leave without her mother, even though finding the woman seemed a pretty hopeless task. Vega allowed two men who had served with Parker since Granada, to stay with the young woman with orders to ‘throw her over your shoulder and head north if you don’t find Mrs. Parker in a day.’ That had left Julie Carstairs with sole responsibility for the eight children. She hadn’t seemed to mind when Marita had climbed into the back of the truck to help. Webb had been glad that Marita left the Humvee. It had been almost painful to sit next to her. They had nothing to say to each other and when their eyes would accidentally meet, the embarrassment at what they had done together had pretty much overpowered them both. What the hell had he been thinking? Why the hell had she offered to help with the resistance? That had been a fun report to make to Skinner. He heard Mulder shouting in the background. Skinner had been unmoved by her offer to help. Webb knew he should have made sure she had transport, food, clothing and even a weapon before sending her on her way, but then she hadn’t made the offer to him. Still, he been surprised that she hadn’t walked away. He drove the transport truck carrying the seven remaining orphans. Frohike sat next to him, sound asleep, an expensive fawn-colored Stetson shielded his face from the bright sunlight. Webb had no idea where he had found it. The last attack, early last night, had nearly wiped them out. They ran into a raiding party from Norfolk and the beefy captain in charge hadn’t even bothered to assume any face, but his own. They were outgunned in that fight, but blind dumb luck had shown them an effective strategy. Fire at will. Anyone spouting green acid was targeted for the neck. The green acid did the rest, killing anyone nearby. They had lost another 30 men but had driven off their attackers. After the last of the shots were fired at their retreating enemy, he finally heard Julie wailing and ran to the truck. A stray bullet had instantly killed one of the older boys. He looked around and found Marita gently rocking Tracy and her brother. Crooning soothing nonsense songs, the tears flowing freely down her face. He tensed when he saw the Jeeps in the road ahead, but he spotted Doggett and a man who looked familiar waiting with him. "Show time, Frohike." :: :: ::
The scene at the diner was tense. The anger so thick it lent an almost physical halo to the people gathered around the table. Only Marita seemed to be calm. But Frohike, from his seat by the window, thought she looked more distracted than anything. Later, he would remember thinking she was concerned about the two children she had taken under her protection – she kept looking out the window at the truck and the squad protecting it. The last time Doggett had seen Skinner this tense was when they were trying to get the very pregnant Scully to safety before the baby was born. Skinner’s jaw was clinched so tight that his lips were white. Of course, the rest of his face was blood red with suppressed anger. Doggett considered Mulder who sat there, a look of righteous indignation on his face, as if this were still about him and HIS myriad of losses, HIS search for the truth, HIS holy quest; as if no one else had suffered or lost anything in the past ten years. A round Formica-topped table in the center of the diner was their summit. The owner had disappeared as soon as the trucks pulled up outside his heretofore mostly deserted establishment. Skinner sat in the twelve o’clock position, with Mulder at two o’clock. Micah Toblin had insisted that an impartial observer at least be there. "Skinner, if she has information that can help us, we need to at least hear what she has to say." That morning, Anthony Grace had shown up and Skinner had nodded none too graciously at the back of the Humvee. The man hadn’t said much that Doggett had heard – ever. Now, he sat across the table from him, between Marita and Mulder. Webb rounded out the six, sitting between Doggett and Marita. Doggett kept glancing at the spy, thinking that he had aged considerably since they parted company only four days ago. He looked haggard and thoroughly disgusted with life in general and himself, in particular. All the way down, Mulder had muttered dark warnings about Marita getting her clutches into Webb. Well if she had, the effect had been disastrous. "Why, Marita?" Skinner started with growl. Marita tore her eyes away from the truck and gazed into Skinner’s angry eyes. "You and Webb rehearse this, Walter? He wanted to know why, too." Her grin turned evil. "You two have a lot in common, you know that?" Webb gripped her arm, digging his nails into her skin. She grimaced and met his tortured look. "Don’t. Please. Just tell him and get this over with." "Fine." She turned her suspiciously bright eyes back to Skinner. "I assume you don’t give a shit why I worked with the Consortium, only why I’m willing to sell them out? "That’s right, Marita." Mulder spat out. He started to sit forward, as if to get up, but Skinner reached out his hand. He didn’t even bother to look at Mulder. "Talk to me, Marita. Tell me why I should take you back to our base of operations? Tell me why, after all the years of betrayal, we should trust you." She leaned back and looked around the table. She knew it was hopeless, knew they wouldn’t believe her. She was too tired to go on. Too beaten to care anymore. "You know what Skinner, you shouldn’t." She smiled and leveled the gun at his head. "You really, really shouldn’t." :: :: ::
Sarah MacKenzie and Monica Reyes stared down at the two bodies and then at each other. Both were having a hard time catching their breath, both understood the import immediately. "Oh Jesus, Mac. What do we do? How do we handle this?" Monica turned to look at the tight knot of people standing at the mouth of the little grotto. It had been a fluke that the bodies had been found. Or, maybe not. Two boys, one ten, the other thirteen, cooped up in their Alexandria house for five days, then cooped up in the family Jeep with their parents, both so scared they couldn’t even contemplate the coming years, couldn’t be expected to stay near their new home. They needed to check out their territory and they had stumbled upon something so gruesome that they had been able to stumble only as far as the back of the old stone and clapboard church. Francesca Paretti had been out back shaking out dust rags when they came running up, breathless in their panic. Now, she stood off to one side, clutching them both to her. Mac saw fear and panic in Francesca’s eyes, but also a certain pride in knowing that she had acted correctly. Francesca had no idea what she was looking at, but as soon as she recognized the bodies, she had suspected that she had the opportunity to cause either widespread panic or perhaps, regain a little respect among people whose regard she wanted. Before returning to the grotto with the boys, she had gone inside the church and grabbed up a walkie-talkie from the altar where Harper had left it. When she had seen who was lying there, she remembered exactly who she had seen that morning and pushed the boys out of the grotto and dialed the security channel. When Mac had answered breathlessly, she had calmly told her they had a problem and that Mac was needed immediately. Monica had been checking out the storefront shops when Mac came roaring down the street on her snowmobile. "What’s up?" Mac had asked. When Monica just shrugged, Mac signaled her to hop on back, and together they made their way past the church toward the hill rising above the town. By that time, they had little trouble finding the grotto, several people had seen the children leading Francesca back up the hill, gesturing as they went. They followed Francesca, but the young woman would have done her father proud. She stood like some avenging harpy in front of the grotto entrance snarling at anyone, including several soldiers, who wanted to see what the hell the commotion was all about. Sarah and Monica pushed their way through. Now, they looked up at each and then over at Chegwidden’s daughter. "Fran." Mac was having trouble getting the words out. "Fran, who’s out there that we know and trust?" Francesca scanned the crowd and recognized John Byers and Lora Tydal coming up the trail. She wasn’t sure who the guy with long blond hair was, but he and Byers seemed to be old friends. She also saw Joe Rossi talking to some of his friends as they, too, approached the scene. Mac had the three men stand guard, shooed everyone away from the grotto and then walked off to the side. Monica went with her. "Who can we call?" Mac shook her head. "I should call Fielding, but if he’s there with him, then what?" Monica took the radio, dialed it to a private channel and called. "Dana? You there?" It took a moment, but finally Scully answered. "Mon? What’s up?" "Dana, can anyone hear us?" :: :: ::
He should have known. What the hell had the thought? That one night of passion could have changed her? Had it changed him at all? Had he thought that because she had snatched a child away from an alien bounty hunter, that years of conditioning would be wiped away? The tears he had seen in the back of the truck had been tension, nerves or a sham. Nothing more. Webb felt the bile of his hatred threaten to gush out of him. But there was little he could do. He only wished he had been as impotent two nights ago. "Don’t even think about it, lover." Marita purred. "I’m a sigh away from killing your fearless leader here. That wouldn’t look very good on the old resume, now would it? Just step a little further away. That’s a good boy." "You really are a piece of work, Marita." Mulder spat out. "Oh, bite me, you whiny little shit." Her gun never wavered from Skinner’s heart. "Okay, gentlemen. Out." Webb stared at her. "Out? As in go in peace? All of us? Why the hell? You want to go? Go for God’s sake!" He put his hands on his hips. "You’re the one that went to Parker! You’re the one who said you had all this great intel about Winslow and Lee and wanted to share! You’re the Goddamn bitch who could have left…" His almost hysterical tirade was cut short by the blast of the gun. The force of it spun him around into Doggett’s startled embrace. Blood flowed down his arm, staining his arm, his hand clutching the wound and Doggett’s fatigues. "Shut up, Webb or the next bullet WILL be in Skinner’s head." Marita smiled sweetly. "Agent Doggett, you and Mr. Frohike get him out of my sight. Now." Frohike came and tried to help, but Webb jerked away and stumbled toward the door, Doggett at his side making sure that he didn’t fall over. Frohike got the door open but Webb turned back to face her, dared her to look at him, but she only had eyes for Skinner. "Come on, boss." Frohike urged and Webb let them lead him outside to face the men waiting there. "So, Marita. Is this where you wreak your revenge? You want to kill me because of Krycek? Fine, but let Mulder and Grace go." Skinner requested gently. He thought of Dana and Monica. He really had been very lucky in finding them, loving them even for a few days. He waited, not even bothering to meet Marita’s hate-filled gaze. "I was there, you know. I saw you kill him." She whispered. "I went home that night and drank a toast to you." The bitter grin returned for a moment. "Second time I’d done that. First time was for more pleasant reasons." Skinner looked bewildered, but Mulder ignored her bait. "You want to kill me, don’t you? You’ve always wanted to kill me. Stop me from…." "…. finding the truth." She finished for him. "Why the hell do I need to kill you, Saint Fox, poor dear? You were more of a Cassandra than dear Jeffrey’s momma. Shouting from the rooftops about the conspiracy. As if anyone ever believed you. Tell me dear brother, did you never wonder why they didn’t kill you? Was it because daddy loved you best? Or did he just use you like he used all his children?" She saw the look of stunned surprise on his face. "Oh. You never knew? Spender got around. I wonder how many other children he fathered by his co-conspirator’s wives? No Foxy, I’m not going to kill you, either. Don’t need to kill anyone if this goes my way." "Then just go, Marita. We won’t stop you." Skinner sighed wearily. "Yeah, right. I’ll get ten feet, maybe. Hell, Webb will kill me just to ease his conscience for…well never mind. He wasn’t all that good. Not nearly as good as you were, Walter." "What the fuck?" He did meet her eyes then and saw the truth, but didn’t understand it. "You said it, lover. Now enough of this. I want a jeep, filled with gas. I want food, a change of clothes." She tugged at the fatigue jacket she had worn as a coat ever since they had passed back into snow-covered Virginia. Leaving her hand in her pocket she continued. "Don’t forget water. I want it in ten minutes and then me and…I think Mr. Grace here will do fine…will head north. If you don’t follow us, I’ll let him off by the side of the road and you can pick him up. It’s not that cold and you don’t have to worry about the zombies up here, do you?" "I’ll give you the jeep, the clothes, the food and water. You’ve got a gun. Leave Grace here." Skinner countered. "No." She put the barrel of the gun under the chin of the very frightened young man. "Lower those blinds and angle them so I can see out, but you can’t see in. Do it Skinner or I’ll change my mind about my dear brother and kill him just to make a point. That’s a good boy, not get out you two, while Mr. Grace and I get better acquainted." :: :: ::
Scully ran down the tunnel from the house that had been so many things, love nest, Presidential quarters, now a lab where they were trying to beat the aliens. She burst into the control room, looked around and called out. "Listen up people. We are on full alert. I want guards at every door leading up. I want men to go to the ‘boys home’ and find any soldiers, tell them to stand ready. Leave guards to protect any civilians. NO!" She stood in front of the door leading up to where the President was meeting with Chegwidden and the others. "I need a volunteer." Her eyes finally lit upon what she was looking for and she stalked up to it and pulled the fire extinguisher off the wall. She read it and sighed. "Good." "Oh God!" Samantha Fielding gasped. She had been on duty when Frohike had reported in about the effects of CO2 on aliens. "What’s happened?" Scully ignored her and waited. Bud Roberts stepped forward. "It’s one of them? How do you know?" "I don’t have time, I know. Now who is going to volunteer?" "I will, of course." Bud buttoned his shirt and rolled down his shirtsleeves. "Lead the way and tell me what you want me to do." "Oh please, Bud." Fiona Morris stood up and came around the console. "You put everything you know and feel on your face. You’ll blow it for sure. I’ll go. I can tell them I have a report." Bud reached out and took her arm. "Begging your pardon, Dr. Morris, but that is my wife upstairs. I’ll go." His look made Morris blush. "Sorry, Bud. Good luck." She stood there watching the two enter the corridor leading up to the house that Scully shared with Skinner and Reyes, two armed guards taking their place in front of the door. Morris sighed and reached across the console. "Okay, folks. Let’s hope this works, cause I don’t want to be stuck down here with you all." She threw the switch that would supposedly keep anyone out until she threw it open again. Bud and Scully hurried up the long tunnel. Scully breathlessly told him exactly what to do and who to look for. He gulped, and nodded and repeated. "But are you sure, ma’am?" "Lieutenant, Reyes called me. They found their bodies an hour ago." "I see. Of course, I won’t let you down, ma’am." :: :: ::
AJ had had enough. He had reported everything they had found. He had taken little delight in reporting that the hybrids appeared unsuited for their new environment. All he wanted was to wash the stench of death off of him. He was preparing to stand and politely make his excuses for both himself and Deichmann when they heard the back door open. He saw Bud Roberts hurry through the kitchen into the living room, glance around and then, taking the hard way around, approach Toblin with "Sir, we’ve heard from the away team." "Okay, Mr. Roberts, but why is Dr. Scully right behind you?" Toblin’s surprise was complete. Bud was so agitated that Toblin was the only one who had noticed the petite redhead as she followed Bud, almost on his heels. Before anyone could react, she pushed Bud away, aimed a fire extinguisher at Jack Williams and pulled the lever. The man seemed to freeze, but then a howl of anguish and pain seemed to shake the windows of the room. The transformation was barely noted by them before he burst into a thousand green sparkling ice cubes. Russell Harper recovered first. "Dear God. He couldn’t have been an alien. I’ve known the man for twenty years. I know him as well as I have known you AJ! Who else?" Just then the front door burst open and Sarah MacKenzie flew into the room, Monica Reyes hot on her heels. None of them had noticed the roar of the snowmobile, but AJ saw it just outside the window. "Jesus, we were right." Mac gasped. Dana met the cleric’s eye. "The man you knew for twenty years is dead, Father Harper. MacKenzie and Reyes found his body as well as the body of his wife." "Jesus." Bob Fielding stood up. "What about Danny?" Harriet, who had been clutching at Bud, disentangled herself. "He spent the night with Tommy up in the loft, sir. The boys were helping with the younger ones. Who’s going to tell him?" Fielding took a deep breath. "I will. But someone tell me this. How does this effect our security." "Pretty bad, sir." Bud looked at the pile of green alien and forced himself to report the bad news. "He came down this morning, just before the meeting and said he wanted to try and contact a friend. Everyone who has clearance has tried. He got through, gave them the coordinates and everything, sir." "Son of a bitch. This isn’t a drill folks." Fielding shouted. AJ’s fatigue was forgotten and they ran from the house, Mac shouting orders into the radio as they ran. :: :: ::
Skinner stalked up to Webb who was sitting on the back of one of the trucks, allowing a medic to wrap his arm. "What the hell were you thinking? You didn’t search her? You let her walk into that meeting with a gun?" Webb stood up, and through shear force of will, stayed on his feet. "Excuse me? I did check her and if I’m not mistaken, so did Doggett!" Skinner glared at the agent, demanding an answer, but before Doggett could say anything they heard a voice coming from Webb’s pocket. Webb looked down and then up at Skinner and then between Skinner and Mulder at the window of the diner. Skinner had done an excellent job. They couldn’t see a thing. He reached into his fatigue jacket pocket and pulled out the radio he had used to communicate with the remainder of his force. He couldn’t remember when he had given one to Marita and couldn’t understand why they were hearing her now. "Well, you did that nicely." A gruff unfamiliar voice filtered through the small speaker. Webb held it out and they all strained to hear. "It’s what I’m good at. Thanks for handing me your gun. What do I call you? I assume that the real Grace is dead." Five pairs of eyes widened. "There was no ‘real’ Grace. I’ve been William’s aide for nearly three years. Lee introduced us right before Winslow talked that idiot Toblin into taking Lee on. "How do you maintain the illusion?" Her voice was so soft that they had to lean forward and closer to the radio. "I’m very old, Marita. I’ve been doing this since I arrived in that God forsaken desert fifty years ago." "God forsaken? The Race believes in God?" "I’ve been here a long time, like I said. Now tell me. Why did you do it? Why didn’t you let that fool Webb protect you and get you inside Clews Haven?" "What? And let all your trouble making get blamed on me? That’s why I backed off. There’s no win for me there. Nothing for me to report that you already haven’t. How are you managing that, by the way?" "I’m not. My superior is handling that. It’s just as well that you took the opportunity that I offered you. Clews Haven will be destroyed by tonight. We have already called in the coordinates." Skinner growled and started to turn away, but Mulder held his arm. "Listen. He may tell us more." "Tell me, how did you know I was an alien?" The voice was very clear and Webb knew that Grace had to be standing very close to the radio. "I didn’t. I just knew your name and your connection with Lee’s Consortium. I thought you were supposed to kill Williams." "I did. This morning. He and his wife. No one will find them until it is too late though." "Really, how do you know?" "Because I hid the bodies. By the time the attack forces arrive, no one will notice that Williams isn’t there. When it is all over, everyone will be dead and we will rule this planet." A soft snort floated in the air. "Yeah, right. What are you going to do, send in planes?" "Planes? No. We thought of it. But we know the pilots won’t fly against Toblin. In fact, we have to strike now with the troops that we have. There are too many mutinies across the country. Too many ships at sea have set themselves on fire instead of allowing the virus to run its course. Too many people hear Toblin’s speeches and now that he has that preacher, too..." "What?" "Nothing. How do you plan on getting out of here?" "Tell me why you looked so upset when you mentioned the virus." "It’s nothing I tell you. We have to go. How long do you think that Skinner will hold off? He will try and save Grace if he can. He’s a fool. He should sacrifice the one for the many." Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "You’re right, he should. He would if he thought he could save the world. He did once, you know." "You’re like the rest of your kind - sentimental. If we are going to go, we better get out the back, while we can." "You’re right. We should go. There through the back, I’m sure there’s a way out that way." "What? You don’t know? You are stupid. I don’t know why Lee wants you protected. Of course, Lee has illusions of grandeur, now that Winslow is dead." "Well, I have no illusions, lead the way." "Stupid humans." "That's us. Stupid to the bitter end." The timbre of her voice changed and it rang clear in the cold morning air. "Webb, we’re even." They heard three shots in rapid succession. Webb had already dropped the radio and run toward the door to the diner. Skinner shouted for everyone to pull back and started after him, but it was Melvin Frohike who tackled the spy at the knees bringing him down before he could open the door to the green acid. Acid that was already seeping out from cracks and crevices in the frame. Home :: cross-overs Index :: e-mail |