:: Tales Of The Resistance ::Part Twenty Five A Monica knew that six pairs of eyes rested upon her, though she only saw Dana and Walter standing there, the hurt and betrayal in their eyes. How could they understand? How could they ever believe that until that second when she saw Skinner follow Sarah MacKenzie into the house, all that mattered was the three of them? Until that second when the blocks on her memory were lifted and her true identity re-emerged, all that she was, all that she did, was based upon 33 years of life that never really existed except in a computer construct and careful implant of the false memories. Her pervious 200 years of existence carefully hidden and controlled. Dana didn’t know what to say. She was definitely having trouble breathing. Thankfully, Mulder saved the day, by just being Mulder. "You were spying on me." He whined. "Why didn’t you help me?" The mood was broken and Dana took a deep breath, but it was Skinner who whispered to his former agent and cause of his addiction to Tums™. "And this is what you want to do?" "Please stop." Dana cut off any further bickering. "She didn’t know. You heard what they said. Please, just don’t." Picking up the jacket she had worn down the hill, she carefully walked around Monica. "Dana?" Monica reached out. Scully saw the tears in the other woman’s eyes, felt the grainy pain behind her own. "Are you coming back with us?" Dana whispered. "No. I can’t. I…." Dana placed her finger on Monica’s lips. "Then there’s nothing to say except goodbye." Dana turned her gaze on Walter and sighed. "I’ll meet you outside?" Skinner nodded, looked at Mulder. "Are you sure this is what you want?" The younger man looked thoroughly bewildered, but finally nodded. "Okay." He walked up to Monica, trailed his finger down her cheek. "I guess we can’t offer you…" "Please don’t say that. Oh, God." Monica wailed and ran from the room. A look of intense pain settled on Hannah’s features, but it was Irving who stood and followed Monica. Skinner didn’t say anything but quickly left through the archway. AJ and Mac, holding hands, followed him, leaving Mulder and Webb alone with Hannah and Olsen. Mulder stared after them, the indecision still on his face. "So, Webb, you thinking about joining too?" "No. I want to talk to Olsen. Alone." Mulder raised an eyebrow, started to say something but stopped when Hannah put a hand on his arm. "Come along Fox, we have to prepare you for your journey." Mulder nodded and followed her out the room plaintively demanding. "I don’t like people calling me Fox." "Of course not, Fox, now come along." "What journey? Does he even realize what you’re doing to him?" Webb ground out. "Of course he understands, but is it not natural to regret losing the very people who have kept you alive and sane for such a long time? This is best for Fox. It will be good for Monica, too. Even though she is so very much older than he, they will become friends, much like Hannah and I have depended upon each other all these years. As to the journey, we cannot stay here, any of us. The risk of discovery is too great." "Yeah, we’ll go right out and tell everyone." A hint of the gentle sarcasm that had been buried since before he had been shot peeked out from his battered spirit. "When you leave, will the barriers still exist?" "Yes." "So will you fix it so that we will forget?" "We don’t need to, Mr. Webb. A suggestion perhaps, that it is unwise to talk about it, but you will always remember. Is this what you wanted to talk about?" Webb was silent. Longingly, he gazed at the bar, but knew that another would just lead to another and another. "Who were the two that died?" "Ah…how very perceptive of you, Mr. Webb. Are you fishing or do you really suspect?" "Damn you, was she or wasn’t she?" "Yes, Mr. Webb, the woman you knew as Marita Covarrubias was one of our deep cover agents." "Was her death worth it?" "No, Mr. Webb, it wasn’t. We had no indication that she was going to do that." "Did she know? Before she died, I mean." The whisper barely left his throat. The silence stretched. "We don’t know, Mr. Webb. As I said, we were caught off guard by her actions." Webb took a deep breath, walked to the bar and poured a drink. Knocking it back, he let the liquid burn his throat. "You are all fucking bastards, you know that?" "Sometimes we are, yes, Mr. Webb." Olsen solemnly agreed. "So it was all for nothing? What you said about the Doridians not being adapted for life on this plant. All the deaths, trying to get the anti-virus, was it just so much posturing on our part?" "No, I’m afraid the anti-virus will be needed. Even though the Doridians know that it is useless and the colonization ship will leave, taking with it all the bounty hunters, you will still have the virus here. You will still have the zombies who are taken and fed off of and in turn, used to spawn the horrible monsters that can’t live on this planet. If it is not stopped, a mutation might occur." "Enough, Olsen. I’m tired." Webb looked around the room and sighed. "You sure I can’t just stay right here. It’s quiet here." "Yes it is, now. But later, you will regret not fighting along side your friends. Besides, what of Miss Paretti?" "What about her, Olsen? She has someone younger, better able to be there for her. She made her decision." Webb sighed and started walking to the door. "Yes she did, Webb. Days ago. That’s why she’s still waiting outside the front door of this house, even though fighting the barrier is making her physically ill. When her father and Colonel MacKenzie left, she told them both that she would wait for you." "It’s no use, you know." Webb wearily insisted. "Perhaps, Mr. Webb, but you should give it a chance." Webb walked out into the passageway. Olsen closed his eyes and followed his progress until Webb exited the house. In his mind he saw Webb study Francesca a long while before holding out his hand to her to lead her away from their haven. "You really are a very good liar, Michael." "Am I, Constance?" He turned to face the blond, her blue eyes swimming with tears. "Would you have preferred that I told him that you were able to protect yourself from the alien’s gas? He would never have left and you know he would have been no good at this." "I know Michael. It’s just…" "You did what was best for him, Con. Now come on, lets go finish shocking Mr. Mulder." "Oh, hell. This is going to be a rough hundred years." :: :: ::
He lay in bed waiting for her. As soon as Francesca had told them that she would wait for Webb and they stepped off the porch, it was almost like they were stepping back into their lives. Noises that had been muffled were suddenly crystal clear. Fielding yelled at them to do this and that and before he realized it, AJ was on a truck heading back ‘up top’ and Sarah was off inspecting checkpoints, reassigning guards at the burned out schoolhouse and calling for a burial detail. He met with Toblin, and try as he might, he couldn’t tell the man about what they had seen or heard. But he also knew that in knowing the truth, he and Skinner would be better able to advise the President on future courses of action. Fielding had pulled three volunteers to drive up the interstate to reconnoiter. They would drive as far as the burned ruins of Quantico if they could and report on any additional troop movement. He was glad that none of his people had volunteered to go. Even Rabb, who normally would have jumped at the chance to get his ass into danger, stayed to help with the burial detail. "Tell Renee I’m fine. She’s probably worried." After sitting with the wounded Andy Kelly for a moment, he had finally succumbed to his intense fatigue and left the ‘hospital’. He spoke with Bud Roberts. Watched as Renee and Harriet led the children back to the house they called home. Listened with pain at the final death toll – over three hundred men and women on both sides. He suggested that a memorial service would be appropriate and promised to find Russell Harper to discuss it with him. When AJ finally reached their room he had quickly showered, shaved and crawled to the bed to wait for her. Her gentle step woke him. So lost in her eyes, it took him a moment to notice that her hair was damp and that instead of the grimy fatigues he had last seen her in, she was standing there with a very small towel wrapped around her. ‘I must need more than reading glasses to have not noticed that immediately.’ He thought as he arched up and deftly pulled the towel from her. She pulled back the sheet and flung it to the foot of the bed. As she sat next to him, tears began to track down her cheeks. "Oh, Sarah, honey, don’t. It’s okay. I’m very much alive and we’re together." He tried to pull her to him, but she resisted. Carefully choosing her words, she told him how, upon seeing him die, she had gone a little insane for a bit. He listened gravely, holding back his own tears to let her finish. "So you see, AJ, if it hadn’t been for Clay, you and I wouldn’t be here now." "Shhh, Sarah." He kissed away the tears. "It’s just that we came so close to losing each other," she sobbed. He pulled her tight against him and then rolled them over until he could stare down into her sad eyes. "Then we better make each second count, love." He lowered his lips to hers, silencing any further protest. His tongue danced across her parted lips, gently mapping once again their contour, their taste. Her tongue snaked out to play with his. He pulled back and studied her. "I love you, Sarah MacKenzie and tomorrow, I would like to ask Russell Harper to marry us. It won’t be the ceremony I would have liked to have given you…." This time her lips stop him. When he pulled back to catch his breath, she whispered. "Yes! Yes! Yes! For as long as we have, I will cherish being your wife, Albert Jethro Chegwidden." The next kiss was soft and gentle. They lay facing each other. Her fingers traced defined abs. His hands cupped firm breasts. Their lips parted to explore the curve and shape of chin, cheek and ear only to return to join together. When she urged him on top of her, he slid home in one fluid stroke. Slowly, they moved together, thrust on thrust, each stroke bringing them closer, each kiss delved deeper into each other until their orgasms took them, joined them. And, for one brief moment, they unknowingly proved Jeremiah Smith wrong, yet again. She held him to her until the blissful feeling of completion finally faded away. "Oh Wow!" He laughed softly as he fell away from her. Lying back on the pillow he snuggled her to his chest so his lips could kiss her ear. "Oh yeah!" Even now she tried to catch her breath. "AJ, it’s never been like that before. As good as it was the first time, this was something truly special." "I know, Sarah. It was…intense." As he held her, he felt her calm to sleep. He felt the worries leave her, but sensed the sadness of the day’s events join all the other sorrows she had suffered in her life. He reveled in the love that she felt for him. It wasn’t until twilight sleep stole over him that he fully understood and accepted these impossibilities. He knew that no matter how far apart they were he would always know if she was happy or sad, scared or elated, in pain or in danger. And in that almost-sleep he accepted those feelings as now being his norm and held her tighter. :: :: ::
Blood rushed to his ears and the memory of sounds seemed to consume him. As he walked along the corridor out of the house, all the images of the past week seemed to ebb and flow around him. Flashes of insight came and went so fast that he thought he was losing his mind. The knowledge that he had killed those women out of a sense of decency did little to ease the guilt, but he would have to live with it. Others had made the decision to blow up the CDC lab, killing not only all the aliens, zombies and traitors, but also the innocent victims, but he had help to carry out the mission. How many people had died? How many people had died today? Not just the defenders of Fort Clews, but the human attackers who had no clue until the very end that they were fighting with the aliens against their own kind. All the thoughts were overlaid by images of Marita. He desperately wanted to believe that Olsen had tricked him and that she had tricked him. But for what reason? Marita had been tied up with everything he had done – the good and that which he would have to live with. He took a deep breath as he entered the empty room and forced himself to continue outside. He hoped that Olsen had been lying. Prayed that Francesca had left with Mac and her father. But as he pushed open the door, she looked up at him anxiously. It almost looked like she expected him to hit her. Her brow was furrowed in pain. He would have to remember to ask her someday what the barrier felt like and wondered why he wasn’t affected. Whatever was he to do with her? Why was she here waiting for his poor battered soul? After studying her for a long moment, and watching her anxiety grow, he finally reached out and took her hand and stepped off the porch and back into life. Surveying the chaotic scene before him he realized the task that had to be done immediately. "Francesca, go back and wait for me at the house." He released her hand and waded through the mud to take the feet of a corpse that Rabb had just lifted by the shoulders. "We keeping track of them?" He asked the man whom he would now have to watch carefully. Rabb grunted and looked behind him. Jason Tiner, his arm in a sling, stood there trying to write and read the wallet of the dead man that they hoisted into the truck. Webb groaned as Francesca came up to Tiner and took the clipboard from him, defiantly lifting her chin at Webb. Thus set the pattern. Webb and Rabb, Galindez and Doggett, and Antonelli and Jones would wade through the muck to find a body. Francesca would wait until they handed her dog tags or a wallet of the fallen man or woman. Then they would gently lay the body onto a truck. They refused to pile the bodies so the drivers, including Susan Ling, would pull away quickly to take the bodies the ten miles into Allenberry where other men were digging a mass grave. Russell Harper had advised that the cemetery on the hill behind the church had room enough for such a grave. It was nearly midnight before they were done. Fortunately, the ground was still soft and the digging, even though done by hand, went smoothly and quickly. Harper said a brief prayer and advised the crowd that a memorial service would be held the following afternoon. Webb stood to one side and thought wearily, ‘thank God no one suggested that they burn the bodies.’ When he heard someone mention that it was a real loss that Monica Reyes had died, he started to correct him, only to find he couldn’t form the words and discovered that he wasn’t completely immune to Olsen’s influence. In the crisp November moonlight he felt her hand join his. "Come, Clayton. We can stay over here." She started to lead him to a small dark house. "Francesca, I should go back…" "No. You are very tired. Whatever it is, can wait." Her voice was soft, but firm and he was suddenly too tired to fight her. "Okay. Lead the way, Francesca." The house was very small, consisting of a small sitting room, kitchen, bathroom and one tiny bedroom, barely large enough for the double bed and ancient dresser. "Uhm… Francesca…it’s awfully small. You sure you don’t want to hitch a ride back down to Clews Haven and the house we were in before." The sitting room didn’t look as small as it was, simply because the only piece of furniture in was one overstuffed chair facing a wood burning stove. The kitchen had an icebox, 30" stove and one wall of cabinets over the old fashioned sink that sat on a homemade open frame. A rickety table, barely big enough for two, sat in the middle of the room." "We can’t. All the windows were shot out in the attack. It is getting very cold." She shivered. "I’m sorry, Clay. But it seemed very nice when Harriet told me about in the village." She smiled ruefully. "Of course, Harriet didn’t realize that you would be here, too." She sighed. "If you wish you can…" "It fine, Francesca. Really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean." Francesca met his frustrated gaze squarely. "I understand, Clayton. For tonight though we are both too tired. You will be safe from me." She sighed bitterly and left him standing alone. "Fuck!" he swore. "This is every bit as bad as I knew it would be." Staring at the cold stove, he pushed open the door to the bedroom and called. "Francesca, is there firewood somewhere?" "Si." Her muffled, teary voice sounded from behind the bathroom door. "Out the back door, there is a small porch. Harriet told me there was some there." He started to say something else, but turned away. Carefully he built the fire. It was a fairly large wood stove. Of course, it needed to be. As far as he could tell it was the only heat source for the entire house. When the fire was banked to give off more heat that flame, he went into the kitchen and checked the icebox. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything and he knew that Francesca hadn’t either. He was surprised to see a covered bowl and a plastic bag inside. There was even a couple of cans of soda. Pulling out the bowl, he studied the contents for a moment, shrugged and turned to find her standing in the archway between the kitchen and front room. "I finally convinced Mrs. Scully to make a big pot of papa’s spaghetti sauce." She dramatically wrinkled her nose. "Go and take a bath. I will make dinner." The bathroom was as compact as the rest of the house. The claw foot tub overwhelmed the room; the pedestal sink and toilet took up what little space was left. Webb calculated that there was exactly four square feet of open floor space. First, turning on the faucets, he returned to the small bedroom to discard his clothing. He wondered if more would appear magically or if he would have to wear the same clothes tomorrow. They were covered in mud and death and he suddenly didn’t care. Wadding them up, he threw them into the small wastebasket in the corner and re-entered the bathroom. He eased down into the steaming water. Carefully, he leaned back against the cold porcelain and promptly went to sleep. She watched him from the doorway. She wanted to let him sleep but the water and the food would get cold if she did. Even in sleep he looked tense and she longed to ease away his pain. She longed to hold him like she had in the back of the Roberts’ van – was it just two weeks ago? Most of all, she wanted to wake up next to him and see the same incredulous look on his face. But, she suspected that too much had happened to them both for that same almost innocent gaze to be repeated. "Clayton." She whispered softly. "Clayton, wake up now." He groaned and stirred. She could see the nightmares taking hold as water splashed over the side of the tub. Fearfully, she came closer. He was whispering something. She was almost afraid to listen. She had overheard some of the men who had come back with him talk about the hold that ‘the blond bitch’ had over him and it was a good thing that she had died. Francesca had always known she was pretty, knew she could hold her own against most living foes. But, how do you fight a memory? She heard him curse. "Damn you, damn you straight to hell, Marita." "Clay." She snapped sharply. He jerked awake and in doing so, splashed the small room, including Francesca, with water. Sputtering, she stood there in the long white cotton shirt she had found. The water soaked the front and plastered the material to her shapely form; her nipples were in stark outline. He ran his hands over his face. "Jesus. Sorry…I…uhm." He gulped at the sight of her. Her eyes blazed in what he thought was anger. "Really Francesca. I’m sorry. I fell asleep. I…uhm…" "You need to wash now, Clayton. The food is almost ready," she admonished. "Oh…yeah. Sure. Uhm…where’s the soap?" She sighed and leaned across the tub to grab a bottle of liquid soap from the windowsill over the tub. He couldn’t help but notice the panties she wore. He already knew she wore no bra. "Here." She handed the bottle to him, but he just stared at it. "Oh, for heavens sake." She stomped out of the bathroom and returned shortly with a washcloth. Throwing it at him she left him to quickly clean up. He pulled a towel off the bar and went into the bedroom. Hoping that a little luck was on his side, he opened drawers at random. She had planned well, he thought. He knew now that she had planned this for them. One drawer held underwear that would fit and another held a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and a camouflage uniform. Returning to the bathroom, he found a toothbrush, razor and shaving cream, and deodorant in the medicine cabinet. She had done this all for him. He wondered if the house in Clews Haven really was in bad shape or if she just wanted a chance to be completely alone with him. He found her in the front room across from the wood-burning stove staring into the glowing embers, huddled in the large chair. She wore the same shirt, but her knees were pulled up under it. "Francesca? I’m really sorry." He stood next to her, glad that he had opted for the jeans and undershirt. While the bedroom was chilly, the front room was almost uncomfortably warm; her shirt that had been soaked to outline her assets was now bone dry. "You said the food was ready." "Did you love her very much, Clayton?" Francesca whispered softly. Sinking to his knees before her, he took her hands in his. "No, Francesca." He wanted to explain. Tell her that it was just two tortured souls who had come together one night. But he found that even that was denied him. He couldn’t talk about her at all; couldn’t even say the lie. And he wasn’t even sure if it was because of Olsen’s block or not. Instead, he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. She lowered her legs so that he was between them. Bending forward, she ran her hands over his cheeks and through his damp hair. "Did you even think of me, while you were off saving the world?" She stared into his eyes. "Quite often, actually." He tried to grin, but she tilted her head to one side to consider him. "Was if very, very bad?" He tried for one of his smart-assed comebacks but suddenly, the thin veneer was gone and he found he was crying. Painful, racking sobs shook his body and she pulled him into a comforting embrace. "Là, là, il mio amore. Lasciarlo confortarlo." She rocked him as he clung to her. Buried her lips in his hair. "Sarà tutto il di destra. Non li lascerò mai, il più caro." She whispered as she rained kisses over his eyes and cheeks. He stilled after awhile and she thought perhaps, that he had fallen asleep, but he raised his head from her breast and gazed up at her. "Whatever possessed you to fall in love with me, Francesca?" "Do we really choose, Clayton Webb? She nudged him away slightly. "Come. I will put the sauce away. You will be very hungry tomorrow morning though." She smiled gently. "Go to bed, mio amore." He stumbled to the bedroom, took off the jeans and undershirt and crawled naked under a heavy down comforter. It wasn’t long before she entered the bedroom. "I hope you don’t mind, but I’m throwing the clothes you wore today outside the back door. I don’t think all the washing in the world will remove the smell." When she returned, he held out his hand to her. "Francesca, come to bed." He didn’t think he had ever seen a lovelier smile. Quickly, she pulled the shirt over her head, not even bothering to unbutton it. The panties followed and she climbed in next to him. He had meant the kiss to be a gentle goodnight. But need won out and as she molded herself against him, he felt an urgency to possess her, to give her want she wanted. He deepened the kiss and she opened her lips to him, drawing his tongue to play in her moist mouth. His hands roamed down her back to knead her bottom, grinding her sex against his already stiffening cock. She groaned in pleasure and arched away from him offering him her breasts. He suckled at them greedily, as she held him against her, whispering encouragement in Italian. But, when he sought to go lower she pushed him back against the pillow and straddled him. "Let me, mio amore. With no preparation, she lowered her hot, ready sex onto his shaft. She was so tight that as he stretched her, he thought he might come, but she stilled, gasping for breath. "Meraviglioso. Così Buono, Clayton." She lowered her lips to his for a searing kiss before she began to rock on him. Rising and falling, each time a little faster, a little harder, until she rode him with abandon. He held her hips and watched in amazement as this demur daughter of AJ Chegwidden turned into a wildcat, her head thrown back, her very face ablaze with desire. She took his hands and moved them from her hips to her breasts and he pinched and tormented them until he felt her vaginal walls tighten around him. Moving one hand down, he placed it between them where they were joined, offering one more bit of stimulus. When she came, one tiny part of him was very glad they were alone in this house. "Yes, Clayyyyyyyyy." She screamed her release and he wasn’t sure that the neighboring houses didn’t hear her. Suddenly, he didn’t care as his own release was triggered and he began to thrust his hips up until he pumped his seed into her. When he was done, he pulled her down to lay against his chest, wanting, needing the contact to last as long as it could. As they fell asleep, he thought, ‘This was good. This was clean and untainted.’ Author’s notes: I’m often yelled at because I don’t provide translations. So here you go Là, là, il mio amore. Lasciarlo confortarlo. There, there my love. Let me comfort you. Sarà tutto il di destra. Non li lascerò mai, il più caro. It will be all right. I will never leave you, dearest. Meraviglioso. Così Buono, Clayton. Wonderful. So Good. :: Part 25 B ::Aftermath The hours after the final shot was fired were hectic to say the least. Skinner barely had a chance to even see Dana in passing, let alone talk to her. There was so much that had to be said that neither wanted to do it on the run. During the memorial service at the little church, they sat with William between them, in a pew near the front. AJ and Mac sat next them, Harm and Renee across the aisle with the Roberts. Webb and Francesca sat with John Doggett and Samantha Fielding and her father directly behind them. Everyone was there, those that could walk anyway. Frohike and Morris, Byers and Tydal, Galindez and Ling were seated throughout the small church. Carmel Fielding sat between her brother and Jason Tiner. Micah and Sylvia Toblin sat in the first pew in front of Skinner. Priscilla Harper sat with the Deichmanns across the aisle. People lined the sides of the chapel, two deep. Older children sat down the aisle. Others sat in the small choir section off to the side of the altar. More stood in the bright November sun. Frohike and Langley had managed to put together a makeshift sound system so everyone could hear. Russell Harper stood before them in a pair of slacks, shirt buttoned to the neck and the one stole he had managed to fold into the small case he had packed when they had fled with the Williams. He said service from the bible Pris had given AJ. His sermon asked for forgiveness for their attackers – those who had died and those who still lived. "My friends, they didn’t know, and will have to live with the guilt until they die." He spoke of the need for resolve in the coming months and years. "We cannot stay hidden here. We must bring the word to the country and to the world." He nodded to Toblin who took the microphone. With tears in his eyes, the President looked at each person sitting before him. "I have never been so proud to be an American as I am at this moment. I do not know what lies ahead for us all, but you are all truly heroes in my eyes. May God bless each and every one of you, now and in the struggle ahead." He stepped down from behind the pulpit. Walking up to Skinner, he handed him the microphone. Skinner looked like he was going to refuse it, but Dana’s touch on his arm gave him the strength to stand up and take his place behind the simple structure. It took him several attempts to clear his voice. He too, looked around at the people who had struggled so hard these past weeks. "Many of you know that there were some of us who suspected this invasion might happen. That we couldn’t prevent it, couldn’t even figure out how to warn everyone, will trouble our spirits until we die. Some of us have paid the ultimate price for that inability." He closed his eyes, formed the lie in his head and, staring deep into Dana’s eyes, began. "Fox Mulder and Monica Reyes." He stepped down and returned to his seat. AJ stood and sadly intoned. "Andrew Kelly." Robert Fielding was next. Looking around to find Danny, he sighed. "Jack and Leslie Michaels." And so it went. Men and women stood and said the names of buddies and loved ones who had died in the battle. Even Renee, much to the surprise of her husband, stood and clearly said, "Jeremiah Smith." No one heard Webb’s whispered, "Marita Covarrubias." Harper, who had returned to the pulpit, finished. "And all who have died here and across the nation. Grant us oh Lord, the strength to continue." He led them in a prayer for the dead and finished with the 23rd Psalm. Finally, he removed his one article of vestment, laid it across the pulpit, folded his arms across his chest and stepped to the rail. "If this were a ‘normal’ church in normal times, I would read the news of the church and then invite you for coffee and cake in the recreation room downstairs. Well, this isn’t normal times, but by God, I still have announcements to make. And Mrs. Scully, Mrs. Rabb, Mrs. Antonelli and Mrs. Roberts have informed me that they have made cakes and found coffee and tea and have set them up in the K of C hall down the street. We will adjourn there after an announcement of a happier sort." He smiled at the shocked looked on his old friend’s face. "Admiral Chegwidden has finally gotten some sense and asked Colonel MacKenzie to marry him. He wanted a small private ceremony, but I nixed it immediately. We need things to celebrate and this is as good an excuse as any. So, tomorrow at 3:00 PM, I ask that you return and bear witness to the joining of these two souls." After the applause died down, Harper nodded to the First Lady who stood and taking the microphone, turned to face the assembly. "I’m not sure how long we will stay here. However, I feel that it is important that we give our children as much structure and normalcy as possible. Several parents have come to me and I have decided that the former "Farm Bureau" storefront will make an excellent school. Carmel Fielding and I will try to put together a lesson plan for all ages and with the help of Fiona Morris and Melvin Frohike, will open school promptly on December 1st." Groans of twenty or so children around the room joined the satisfied sighs of relief from the parents. "I am sure that there are many adults here with areas of expertise that will benefit both children and adults alike. Mr. Banister has agreed to teach anyone interested in how to use the tools in the workshop that they found. Master Sergeant Lora Tydal will be happy to teach auto mechanics to all comers." She smiled back at Maggie Scully. "And, I am assured by both Mrs. Scully and her daughter that she knows how to cook other things than stew and will be happy to teach what she knows." "Go in Peace, my friends." Harper intoned, his hands held up in benediction. :: :: ::
"I’ll drive you and William back, Dana." Skinner lifted the boy to his shoulder to carry him out of the Knights of Columbus hall where most everyone had come after the memorial service. She pointed out the men carrying plates and thermoses to the men on guard duty, the team who had manned the control center and for Doctor Kennedy and his daughter who stayed with the wounded. "I should get back and relieve him." "No." He growled as he handed William down to her after she had gotten into the Jeep he had commandeered. "We’ve both done enough, for a few hours anyway." As he maneuvered the vehicle down the black-topped street, she kept her eyes on her son. The past days had been stressful on all the children who were very receptive to the moods of the adults around them. Soon William was dozing in Dana’s arms. "We need to find him a car seat." Skinner said to the windshield. "Among so many other things, Walter." She sighed. He didn’t know how to begin. He wanted to tell her. Needed to let her know and make her believe. He took several breaths in several attempts to start until Dana finally looked up from William and demanded. "What is it, Walter? Is it something I need to know? About Monica?" "Monica? No. Oh God. We have so much to talk about, Dana and we will, but this is really important. Important to me and I hope to you." "Then pull off the road and tell me. Face-to-face, Walter." There was fear in her voice and he knew he had somehow put it there. There were several turnoffs between Allenberry and Clews Haven. All had been explored, all had been found to lead to deserted farms or homes. He picked one and drove along the graveled road until they reached a farmhouse overlooking a sloping field, long fallow. Shutting off the engine, he turned to face her. Her eyebrow was quirked, but he noticed she was gripping William more tightly than she needed to. "Dana. There is no way to make this easy and no way to prove it, not now, maybe not ever. But I believed him when he told me what she said." "Walter you’re really scaring me. Who told you what who said?" "Webb. Marita told him one night. Evidently even before she slept with him. She was bragging about getting back at Spender." "Walter please, just tell me." A tear tracked down her face. "William. Your son…" "No. Please don’t tell me he’s a hybrid or …." Skinner’s face went white. "Oh God, NO! Oh Dana, baby, I’m sorry. It never occurred to me that you would think that. Jesus I’m an idiot." He fell back against the seat, covering his face with his hands until he heard her demand. "Then what is it? Damn it, Skinner. Just tell me." "I’m William’s father." He watched a falcon soar through the air, a leaf fall to the ground and still all he heard was her ragged breathing. Finally, she managed a tiny voice. "How? Trust me, I would have remembered." He related everything that Webb said Marita told him. Admitted that the year before Mulder had been lost to them was the worst in his life. The pressure of loving her all those years and not having her know. The fear that the nanocytes would finally kill him, leaving her unprotected. Just the day-to-day fear that Mulder was right and the end was near got to him on an elemental level and he had drunk too much and slept too little. "I thought I had it under control until one night, after chewing Mulder out and not punching Kersh out yet again, I left the building and drove straight to a little bar I was frequenting. This redhead sat down next to me. And before you cock that eyebrow at me, I knew it wasn’t you. I-I-I just didn’t care and wanted to pretend." "Oh, Walter." The tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, dropping on her, and on their son. "I remember leaving the bar with her, but everything after that is hazy and open to speculation. Webb said Marita told him she gave me Ecstasy. Told him that, that, that…" "That you fucked her." Dana ground out bitterly. "Jesus." He saw the hardness settle on her face. "Said she took the condom and replaced the sperm you were going to use with mine." She leaned back against her seat and stared out the window. "Dana?" "It never occurred to me. Not once. I should have asked you." She sighed and handed William to his father and before he could protest, stepped out of the car. He wrapped the blanket tightly around William and followed her to the crest of the hill and stared down at the valley with her. "I guess I was always afraid of what I would become if I loved you." "What do you mean, ‘what you would become?" The shock in his voice made William mutter in his sleep. "Less strong than I had to be, more dependent on you. I’ve always known we attracted each other. Long before Bermuda and that pathetic kiss in the elevator." "Hey, I had wonderful dreams off of that kiss for a year or more." He hissed. "Yeah, me too. How pathetic is that?" Her hiss turned into a sigh. "But then it was always about Mulder wasn’t it? We had to protect him – from the Consortium, Spender, then Kersh and finally, his own damn inability to see things clearly. I needed to be there for him, Walter, and I knew that if I let myself love you, I couldn’t be. Not because you wouldn’t allow it, but because I wouldn’t allow it. Then I got my chance. I got a chance at having a baby and even then, I made it about Mulder. I even told him I had named the baby after his father! AND the bastard never…" He turned and took her in his arms until William was nestled between them. "Don’t. It’s done now. Mulder has made his decision and I only hope he finds some measure of peace. To tell you the truth, Dana, if you had asked I don’t know if I would have said yes. I don’t know that I would have allowed you to continue to watch his back. I’m not noble, Dana. But I do know this. I love you. I have loved you since the day you first walked into my office. I loved your son long before Webb told me. You know that, Dana." "Yes." She raised her tear-streaked face to him. "So? Who do we tell? Do we have one of Harper’s celebrations?" He threw back his head and laughed to the falcon still soaring overhead. William woke and started to cry, but Skinner lifted him over his head. "William Scully Skinner you are my son." He folded the boy back into his arms and stared in wonder at the vivid blue eyes that stared back at him. "You are my son and your birthday is in two days and we are going to have a celebration." Tucking him in the crook of his arm, he reached out for Dana and pulled her into a kiss. "Whatever you want, Dana. Hell, if they’ll have us, shall we make it a double wedding? Or do you want one of your own? Or don’t you want to? I’ll do whatever you want for the rest of my life." She elbowed him gently. "Yeah, right." She led him back to the car, took William from him and settled back for the ride back to camp. "I like this house. Why isn’t anyone here?" "Too far way from anything. As more people move in, if they do now, then someone will take it. I wish we could, but you’re needed at the hospital now and I need to be close to Toblin." She nodded and they drove the rest of the way in comfortable silence each lost in their own thoughts. When they came back to the hill he ran inside the house where Dana and William were staying with her Mother and he found the small sleeping bag William was using. Then he parked the jeep outside the three-bedroom house he was sharing with Chegwidden and MacKenzie and carried William inside. The room that Monica had claimed but never used, had bunk beds. The uppermost one had rails on either side of it. It took him no time to take the beds apart and position the one-year old into the center of the makeshift crib. "It won’t keep him in, but then nothing has for weeks." Dana sighed. "That's okay. The last thing I heard, he hasn’t figured out how to open doors yet." He put the chair in front of the closed door." "Walter, now we can’t get out." He motioned her to the back of the room and opened a closet door. "Look." "Well!" She stepped between the few clothes hanging there into his bedroom. "Neat trick." She smiled back at him. He followed her into the room and pulled the door to the other bedroom almost shut. "There, with your ‘mother’s ears’ you should hear any noise he makes." "With William, a deaf man could hear the noise he makes." She laughed lightly. She walked over to the window that looked out the back of the house, her mood serious again. "Will we miss her terribly, Walter?" "Yes, but it was her choice to make, just like it was Mulder’s. And, once we knew, it would have changed everything anyway." He stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "I don’t know." She sighed. "But it was wonderful." He turned her around and reached down to kiss her. Just before their lips touched, he promised, "We will make it wonderful again." His kiss was demanding and she groaned at his passion. His tongue invaded her mouth and she tugged at the jacket he wore. Never breaking the kiss he stripped the jacket away and attempted to unbutton the shirt he wore. Slapping his hands away, she broke the kiss. "I’ll do it. I’m the one who will have to sew the buttons back on if you rip them off in your eagerness." He harumped. "I’ll have you know, Agent Scully, that I have sewn my own buttons on for years. But, please." He held out his arms. She smiled evilly and slowly eased each button from its hole. Walking behind him, she pulled the shirt off and hung it over a chair – he would need to wear it later. "Take your tee-shirt off, please." She whispered, still standing behind him. She licked her lips as his muscles rippled from the effort. Reaching out, she rubbed her hands up his back before hugging her arms around his waist. With little effort she managed unbuckle his belt and unzip the one pair of slacks he had brought with him on the wild goose chase that had started it all. Kissing and nipping his skin, she was pleased with what she felt as she lowered his pants to the floor. "Step out of your shoes, Walter." He stepped away from her and stood before her. Reaching down, he lifted each foot in turn to remove his socks. "My turn." He growled. She wore a pale blue sweater and blue jeans. She looked adorable in his eyes. Pulling the sweater off, he buried his lips in her shoulder, trailing his tongue along her neck; he first unclasped her bra before deftly unzipping her jeans. Instead of pulling them down though, he pulled back and lifted her up, swinging her around until he could drop her on the bed. A tiny squeal of surprise escaped her lips. "Walter! What…" "Lie back, Dana." She pulled a pillow under her head and watched as he neatly pulled her jeans, panties, shoes and socks off in what appeared to be one fluid motion. She raised herself up on her elbows when he sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, lifted one foot and began to trail kisses up her leg. "Oh Walter." She sighed as he nibbled and nipped. He ran his tongue along the inside of her knee and she arched off the bed, collapsing back against the pillow. She closed her eyes to each new stimulation his mouth brought her. Walter placed one of her legs over his shoulder and began his torment on her other leg, moving slowing to her triangle. "Please Walter." She whimpered as his hot breath caressed her labia. His tongue parted her lips and delved into her core. His large hand rubbed up her hips, over her ribcage, to toy with her nipples. She thrashed in her need and he flicked his tongue over her clit, sending shock waves of release through her. He lapped at her juices until she tugged at his shoulders. "In me, now." She whimpered. He scooted her back up the bed until he could kneel before her. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her forward. He ran his fingers through her hair holding her face so he could gaze into her eyes. "God, how I love you, Dana Katherine Scully." He whispered before kissing her again and lowering them both to the bed. As he entered her, he felt his soul swell and intertwine with hers. As he pounded into her, each stroke brought her little tremors of renewed release. When he felt his own orgasm build, he had to bury his lips into her shoulder to muffle his roar. Falling over onto the bed, he pulled her with him. "Damn, woman," he sighed. "I will never get tired of making love to you." "You better not, Walter Skinner." She sat back, his cock still buried within her and sighed. "However, you are going to have to move if we are going to get under the covers." "Later." He pulled her back to him and tried to roll over to cover her. But, by then even he was too soft to stay inside of her and they groaned together. "Okay, covers. No. Shower first, then covers." She stumbled from the bed and he followed her into the shower. "So, what time do you have to go back to the sick bay?" he asked resignedly as she turned on the hot water. "I told Kennedy I would be back by 3:30." She smiled as she reached for the soap. "Hmmmm. That’s two hours from now, isn’t it?" He reached for the shampoo and proceeded to wash her hair as she rubbed the bar over his body. "I got at least three hours sleep last night." "Skinner! You’re insatiable – I like that in a lover." "Good." :: :: ::
The after-church crowd was slowly breaking up. Maggie Scully huddled with Mary Antonelli and planned on combining a late lunch at the hall with a small reception for AJ and Mac. Robert Fielding stepped up and shyly suggested that they had found a pallet of spirits in the first truck that had been found on the road nearly two weeks ago. "We put it all in one of the cubicles in the control center. Didn’t need a bunch of drunks running around, but I think we could spare a bottle of Asti to toast the bride and groom." Maggie Scully blushed and nodded. "That would be very nice, General Fielding." "Ma’am, I’d take it an honor if you would call me Bob." Mary Antonelli exchanged amused glances with Samantha Fielding who had come up, pulling John Doggett along with her. Maggie blushed even redder. "Well, only if you call me Maggie." "Tomorrow morning, then, Maggie." He turned to his daughter and spared an appraising glare for Doggett. "Can I give you a ride back, Sammy?" "No Dad, John will in a bit. I go on duty at 3:30 – we’ve finally worked out a schedule." "Very well." Fielding growled - more at Doggett than his daughter. John just sighed and waited patiently while Samantha demanded to know what she could do to help tomorrow. Across the room, AJ and Mac accepted congratulations from old and new friends. Mac accepted a kiss on the cheek from Francesca who whispered. "You are very good for my Papa, Sarah." Webb stood off to one side watching, his hands in his jeans pockets. It had felt strange to enter a church dressed so casually. Whenever he escorted his mother to services he had always dressed – just like he always dressed. He would miss his three piece suits, but he would deal with that too." "Somethin’ else isn’t it, Webb?" "What is, Rabb?" "Oh come on. Two weeks ago, would you ever have suspected Mac and the Admiral? Man, I really missed a lot because of that stupid fall." Webb snorted. "Yes you did, Commander." Francesca came up to them and put her arm through Webb’s. "It will be very simple tomorrow, but nice I think." Webb smiled and put his arm around her shoulder. "So what are you planning? A couple of bridesmaids? Who’s going to be AJ’s best man? Ring bearer." She gently slapped at him. "No. None of that. They are going to stand up and take their vows. Mac told Papa she didn’t even need a ring, that everyone important would know that they were married." She pouted prettily. "I think it is very sweet." "I think it is very sweet, too." Renee joined them. Webb saw the look of relief on Rabb’s face and realized that the former flyer had been nervous all the while Renee had been talking with several women he didn’t know across the room. When Rabb went to put his arm around her she allowed it, but Webb saw the look of pain skitter across her face. "I hear you guys found a small little house of your own." Renee smiled a little too brightly. "Kind of lonely without you, Fran." Just then Galindez called from across the room. "Commander Rabb! You got a moment?" Rabb sighed and crossed the room. Webb kissed Francesca on the hair. "Hey, do me a favor?" "Anything, Clay." "Could you snag me a cup of coffee, we didn’t have time this morning and I really could use a cup." Francesca looked from her lover to Renee and nodded. "Of course, Clayton." "Getting her trained well, I see." Renee remarked with no little sarcasm. "No, she just knew I wanted to talk to you alone." Webb smiled brightly. "About what?" Renee spat out. "About how you were doing? About how he’s doing? About what I can do to help." "Oh shit. What is there to do? It’s just…" "Its just everything you ever wanted, isn’t it Renee? He married you over a year ago because he loved you. If Smith's meddling increased that love, what is the problem?" She looked like she was going to cry. "I’m a real bitch aren’t I, Clay?" "No, Renee. I know it’s hard and all I want to do is help – I owe him that much. Tell me what to do." "You know, Galindez told me what happened. He said he was there when it did. It’s not your fault, Clay." "Okay. But, I still want to help." "Oh damn, here he comes back. Can’t you take him on a mission, something that won’t get him killed?" "Sure, Renee. I can do that. Maybe take him north with me when I go look for Mother. We should only be going a week or two." Renee thought about his offer and then sighed dejectedly. "Never mind. That’s too long." He laughed softly, pleased to hear that Rabb was just getting on her nerves with his newly discovered loving side and not that she was falling out of love with him. "I'll make sure he’s kept busy Renee. Promise." :: :: ::
Fiona and Bud Roberts rode back to the control room together. Harriet was checking on a housing dispute – Galindez had promised to go with her – before helping Carmel in rounding up the children for the return trip. The men that Fiona affectionately called The Lone Gunmen for some reason, were trying to work a bug out of the sound system before tomorrow’s wedding. As they entered the control room they saw one of the soldiers sitting up straight in his seat. Holding the earphones tightly to his head. "What is it, Sergeant?" Bud demanded. "Oh my God. Sir, come and listen." "What is it, gentlemen?" Micah Toblin entered through another door with AJ at his side. Instead of answering the soldier flipped a switch and they heard over the speakers, "…Repeat, this is Senator Colin Fitzpatrick, if President Micah Toblin can hear this message, please come in." Toblin looked at the soldier with a bemused look and mouthed "What?" "Sir he just started broadcasting, but he says Lee and Winslow are dead and they want you to know that, sir." Colin Fitzpatrick was a member of the opposition party and had never seen eye to eye with Toblin in the past, but Toblin picked up the microphone. "This is Micah Toblin, come in Senator." "Oh thank God we’ve reached you. We finally figured out how to shut down the damn jamming device. Mr. President, we need you back here. The country needs you back here." :: :: ::
No one paid much attention to the six hippies that got into the old VW Minivan. Victor Galindez and Susan Ling were just walking into the house they would now share with the Rabb’s, at least until the baby was born – if they were here that long. Victor paused only a moment to watch as they pulled away, but Susan tugged gently on his hand. "Come on Victor, its getting cold out. The soldier at the checkpoint outside the burned out schoolhouse walked up to the driver’s window and looked in. "You folks heading out this late?" Irving smiled and nodded. "Oh, we aren’t going very far, just to visit some friend by the shore." "Oh, well have a safe drive." The soldier responded almost dreamily. Mulder watched in awe as the corporal looked right at him and nodded with no recognition at all. The corporal had driven the truck on that first mission to the pharmaceutical warehouse. They had sat side by side for nearly twelve hours and still the man didn’t even notice him sitting there. "Cool." Hannah sat with Monica in the seat directly behind Irving and Mulder. Monica had been very quiet ever since she had returned. Hannah understood. It had happened to her once nearly sixty years ago. Had happened to all of them except Mulder. It would be several decades before they could put Mulder into such a situation. Perhaps even longer, now that Olsen had done what he had. Hannah turned to study her old friend who sat in the rear carefully keeping an eye on Constance. "It’s for the best, Con." "You keep telling me that, Michael." The soft voice sighed. "You’ve been through this before." She kept her eyes glued to the back window, willing him to suddenly come out of a doorway, or drive up in a jeep. But, of course, he didn’t. Michael would never have allowed it. Hell, she wouldn’t have allowed it if she were at full strength. "It’s never hurt this badly before, Michael. What did he do to me?" "I don’t know, Con." Michael Olsen lied. "Why did you do it, Michael?" She whispered and only Hannah and he heard. "We had no choice. They will be needed. The next hundred years are crucial. If the alien spore takes hold anywhere and flourishes, the Doridians will win this planet after all. We have to stop them and only people who know first hand can maintain the level of determination; can instill that determination into their children. The rest of the world will try and get back to normal as soon as it can. Soon, they will receive reports from the observatories in the far north that the mother ship is leaving. The military, where it can, is maintaining order and only need word from a recognized leader, like Toblin, not to turn their spheres of influence into fiefdoms. He gently pulled her to face them. "Constance, the cells of resistance that formed all over the country are dealing with their own Jeremiahs. The unaligned resistance that sprang up in D.C. is already trying to reach Toblin. Our help is no longer needed here, but we are needed further north. Fox needs training and discipline desperately. Our plate is full." "I’m growing tired of it all, Michael." "Don’t say that, Con. We still need you." Hannah whispered desperately. "It’s too soon, you’re still too young." Constance sighed and turned back to stare out the window. She hoped he would be happy with Francesca. Hoped that when he figured it all out that he could find it in his heart to forgive them all. Home :: cross-overs Index :: e-mail |