::  Tales Of The Resistance  ::

Epilogue

Part 26 C  Anniversary

Dana walked along the edge of the drop off. It was a beautiful fall afternoon. She had tried to supervise the kitchen but Mary Kate had kicked her out. She had tried to help clean up the four houses that would soon be overflowing with family members and old friends, but Walter, William and two of his grandsons had chased her out. "Mother, there’s plenty you will be doing once everyone gets here, go, rest." William had admonished as he pulled the heavy covers off the furniture.

As she watched the sun lower in the cloudless sky she thought back on those weeks so very long ago. It was remarkable how clearly the events played out in her head. She started keeping a journal that first winter when they had been socked in by weather so bad that it made the pre-attack snows look mild. Faces darted across her memory. Faces of people long dead. Fiona Morris and Melvin Frohike had finally gotten together and had their own brood of children. Wilhelm and Rice Deichmann had helped to form the new government. The Harpers, Russell and Priscilla never left Allenberry but they had seemed happy in the little church. Russell had preached over the radio until a week before he died in 2031. Priscilla’s MS went in and out of remission several times over the years. She had died just three years before her husband. Many faces she didn’t need to see in her mind’s eye. Jason Tiner had finally gotten the courage to ask Carmel Fielding to marry him. They had both lived into their nineties. Their grandchildren and their families would be here and she would see the young Petty Officer’s face in Peter Anderson’s, just back from the DPS Academy. She would see bits of Carmel’s face in several of the girls. Bud and Harriet would be easy to spot in any number of the Roberts' clan. John Doggett? His grandson, born just thirty years ago was the spitting image of the man she had called ‘partner’ for such a short time and friend for a lifetime.

She saw the sun reflect off the hover-car far off into the distance. She wondered which of her grandchildren it would be. She marveled at the very concept. That she had William had been a miracle. That she and Walter had three more was amazing. That they had lived to see forty great grand children was beyond comprehension. Donna Marie, the oldest of a generation that had begun marrying in the 90’s was pregnant with their first great-great grandchild. It boggled the mind.

Gently, the car settled and she ran up to help the passengers down. When the door swung up she clapped her hands in joy. "Mac! AJ! I wondered when you would get here. Let’s go find Walter."

"There he is!" Mac pointed toward the house they used to call the ‘boys home’. The four old friends hugged and Walter bent to pick up Mac’s bag.

"Come on. You’ll stay with us. It will be like old times." They passed the house that they had shared and Walter led them to the hover track that crossed the ravine between the two ridges.

"Oh I hate this." Mac shivered and clutched AJ’s hand tightly as they stepped off into what appeared to be nothingness. "I wished to hell I understood the principle."

"No, you don’t." Dana snorted. "Melvin tried to explain it to me once. My head hurt for a week."

They led them across the lawn and into the large comfortable great room. "We’ll have a light supper tonight. Everyone else will be coming down later tonight and tomorrow. The Roberts’ clan is staying at the family compound in Allenberry but they'll be dropping in early tomorrow to start the fire pits for the wild boar and turkeys." Dana picked up AJ’s suitcase. "You guys fix drinks, I’ll show Mac the guest room." She led her oldest friend up the staircase that seemed to float above the room. "I think you’ll like it, it has a better view than the living room."

"Oh, Dana, it’s marvelous." Mac sighed as she sank into the comfortable bed and gazed out the window. The whole valley spread out before her. "So, have you heard from Webb?"

Dana cocked an eyebrow. "No. I haven’t spoken to Clay in about three months." She shrugged. "He’ll be here or he won’t. He’s as stubborn as all of the men in our lives, Sarah. He can be more secretive than Mulder ever was." She sighed guiltily. She hadn’t thought of Fox Mulder in months. At times it hurt too much. At others, the memories made her laugh.

"Well he was a spy – before." Sarah lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.

"You okay?"

"Just tired."

"Why?"

Mac sighed. "I’ve been fighting something for about two months now. I’m tired all the time and I get violently ill in the morning."

Dana snorted. "Sounds to me like¼" She turned away to study the valley.

"It’s okay, Dana. We both know I’m not. I saw a doctor about four months ago and she said I was in perfect health."

"Who?"

"Oh some new woman, who set up practice in the old senate office building. She’s really popular."

"Why did you go see her? I’m your physician. Something you’re not telling me?"

Mac thought for a long while. She couldn’t remember why she had gone to Dr. Rathbone. "If I remember correctly, you were off looking at that new research being done in New Chicago." She shook her head. "Anyway, it was time for my annual check up. I had her send the blood work ups to your lab for testing. Didn’t you get the report?"

Dana walked to the wall, punched a button and called. "Joananne?"

The voice floated in the air. "Yes, Dr. Scully?"

"Check the data base. Did we get a blood work up on Commissioner Chegwidden about four months ago?"

There was a moment of silence before the woman answered. "Yes, Doctor. It’s right here. Everything appears to be normal. No warning bells."

"Well, expect a sample in two hours. I want a complete work up done again."

"No problem, Doctor." Dana closed the connection.

"Oh, come on, Dana. There’s no need. I’m just a little tired."

"Come on, Mac. You know I always get my way in things like this. Come down stairs, I’ll take the blood and transmit it to the lab." Mac sighed and followed her down the stairs. AJ held out a glass of iced tea but Dana waived him off and stalked into the small office she kept in the back of the house. Neither woman saw the anxious look that passed between the two men.

They returned within minutes and both put on their ‘everything is just fine and even if it isn’t we’ll talk about it later’ faces. Walter and AJ both inwardly sighed and brought their ladies drinks. "So?" AJ countered. "How goes the search for the perfect vaccine, Dana?" It was a safe subject, one that offered no real information – if there were any real breakthroughs both men would have already known about it – but provided a beginning for discussion of the lives and loves of their far-flung friends. They talked for hours, standing, sitting, moving around the room as the whim took them. Dana and Walter brought out the cold supper she had prepared earlier and they snacked and talked some more. They all noticed, but didn’t comment on the frequency that each of them kept looking toward the office where the melodic tone would soon announce the answer to Dana’s tests on Mac.

Just before midnight it was Skinner’s PDA that squawked. He barked, "Skinner."

"Sir, this is Jetco flight out of the West Coast, we have a passenger that wishes to debark by you."

"West Coast? Who?"

"Not sure of the name, sir. He’s a ‘Red’ though."

"A ‘Red’?" AJ repeated. "Webb?" He looked at Mac questioningly.

She shrugged. "Like I said, he didn’t say anything to me."

"Jetco, permission granted."

They grabbed their jackets and started to go out the door when a quiet ‘ding’ sounded from the back office. "I’ll meet you outside." Dana turned. Mac started to go back with her but the Doctor’s glare changed her mind. "That’s not how this works, Mac. I’ll tell you as soon as I study what they give me."

A bright spotlight illuminated the whole area. They could see people across the ridge standing outside looking upward too. The jet landed and they saw the red suited body jump down from the portal. Dana came out of the house and stood between Skinner and Mac, linking her arm through Mac’s. Mac saw the huge grin on Dana’s face, relaxed instantly and turned her attention back to the figure approaching them. As the jetcopter lifted off, the area was plunged back into darkness. They assumed that the dark silhouette making its way toward them was Clayton Webb making a grand entrance. Only Scully, who had known both men so intimately, recognized the difference immediately. She clutched at Skinner and whispered, "Mulder?"

::  ::  ::

It had taken Webb nearly four hours to reach the mountain retreat that had been the last haven of Olsen’s group of Monitors. When he reached the clearing where the house was nestled he stood for a very long time wondering if he could do this. He wasn’t sure he could handle one more thrust to his heart. Taking a deep breath, he found a large rock near the edge of the forest and sat down to consider the tiny circle of log cabins. There was no doubt which one was his target; only one cabin had smoke curling up into the steel gray sky. They were high enough and far enough away from the sea that snow was inevitable.

He ran over in his mind one more time what Mulder had told him as they were trading clothes so Mulder could catch the outbound jetcopter. "After Olsen left, we all took a vote and decided the best way to integrate into the population was to just do it individually or in pairs. Find a niche and settle. You have any idea how hard that was for most of them? I’m the only one that knows anyone to return to. Even if one of the others knew of ancestors that they could go to, most of them were hesitant about inflicting that kind of emotional upheaval on anyone. Can you imagine going up to a door, knocking and saying, ‘Hi! I’m your great-great-grandpa. I was born hundreds of years before you were, I will be alive long after your kids are dead and oh, can I stay with you?’ No, most of them are just picking places they always wanted to live in or going ‘home’ and finding a new life. Hannah went to Washington. She wanted to ‘fix’ Mac."

"You keep saying that. Fix her how?" Webb had interrupted as he tucked in the soft green sweater.

Mulder had sighed and stared at him. "Duh! Kids? She doesn’t have any."

Anger tried to surface, but he had been too tired. "Another Olsen fuck-up?"

"Yeah, that you can blame on Olsen, though Hannah blamed herself for not insisting that she be allowed to adjust the problem sooner. Anyway six months ago she set up practice and gently ‘suggested’ to someone that Mac’s physical was overdue and then suggested to her assistant that it couldn’t wait and that this new doctor was ‘aces’. Mac thought they were just doing routine blood work up. Not." He grinned. "Chegwidden’s been home a couple of times since then, right? Any day now she’ll probably start with the morning sickness."

"You bastards. You just couldn’t go to her and say, ‘Gee Mac, we fucked up. You want kids?’ What if they’ve adjusted? What if they don’t want kids?"

"Yeah right." Mulder patted several pockets in the overall uniform. "Hey where’s the cap?"

"I hate the cap."

"Oh man! The cap makes the outfit." Mulder whined. "It makes you look like one of those astronauts in ‘Forbidden Planet’."

Webb sighed. "Mulder are you going to finish this story and explain to me why I don’t just take you back in cuffs. That would get us both on the jetcopter."

Mulder had gotten very grave then. "Listen, there’s a reason why I’m doing it this way. One, I really want to get back and see them all. See the kids; start getting to know people. You know, I never liked people that much before, but after a century of having to stay away from most all of them, well let's just say it changes your perspective."

"And the other reason?"

"The other reason is I don’t want you to kill me."

That’s when he started to suspect what this was really all about. A pit opened in his stomach and the acid began to gush. He was suddenly very glad he hadn’t eaten anything all day. "What are you talking about?" He felt the blood leave his face.

"Oh hell, Webb. There is no doubt that Olsen lied to you. He thought it was for the best. Not just for you but for everyone. He figured you would live happily ever after with Francesca, die in your 50’s, 60’s or 70’s and leave a bunch of grandkids. He figured it was best for Francesca because there was never any doubt that she loved you till the day she died. And, he felt it was best for Constance."

"Constance? Who the hell¼oh shit." Webb swayed and Mulder caught him and sat him on a fallen tree trunk. "Constance is Marita?"

"Yeah."

"You fucking son of a¼" He tried to rise, but the effort was too much.

"Hey! I didn’t know, okay. I didn’t know until days later when we left. They didn’t tell me about Marita/Constance until we were halfway to Kansas, damn it. You know, I could say, ‘What about me and the way I felt,’ but I’ve been working on those issues." He muttered to himself.

"What about her? Is she even still alive, or did you get her killed too!" Webb struck out.

"No. She’s still alive, if you want to call it that."

Webb couldn’t ask. He buried his face in his hands and waited.

"She never really recovered, you know. Oh, not from you. At least, I never thought it was about you. It was the magnitude of how Olsen and the others on the council had used her. It wasn’t like she did anything overt to help the invasion. She just didn’t do anything to stop it. To this day no one will admit that it was the council that kept her from doing so. She was under for nearly five years. To tell you the truth, had it been me, I would have been damn mad. She didn’t get mad; she didn’t get ‘anything’. She would just sit there until someone would tell her to do something."

Webb stood then and got into Mulder’s face. He didn’t yell, he didn’t grab or even touch him, he asked simply. "So all that stuff that she told me about Spender and her father and Krycek was all lies?"

"Not to her and not to Spender. As for Alex? From what I found in the records, old Alex worked her over pretty good. I don’t get it. The whole thing makes me crazy. I tried to talk to her. Told her I didn’t blame her for anything. Even told her you would understand. – Sorry if that was a lie. – But nothing did any good. You know, I looked up her personal records. She’s the oldest of us all – 450 years. She and Olsen used to be close. She wouldn’t go near him afterward. She came with us on observations and when I broke the rules and helped people when I wasn’t supposed to, she always backed me up. But her heart, man, it just wasn’t in it. She wants to die and she will."

"What do you want from me, Mulder? Go to her and declare undying love. Lie to her some more. I – I’ve moved on." Even when he said it, he hadn’t believed it completely. He hadn’t pined for her. That was certainly the truth. She was all tied up in the beginning, in the pain and hurt. Francesca, even with the few rough spots they went through, before and after their marriage, had always been the light in his life. Did that make Marita the dark? "What is she going to do? Kill herself?"

"Sort of." Mulder shrugged at the glare. "Hey, all I know is what I read. Monitors can die a lot of ways. In the Dark Ages a few were beheaded or burned as witches. Not a lot you can do about that. Plus, for whatever reason we weren’t immune to the plague back then. Actually, that was a resurgence time for us, too. From what I’ve read the Monitors have gone through periods of growth and decline. That was Olsen’s argument. He though we were getting ready for a new spurt that would carry us way beyond the people we were here to study. But with the Coming¼"

"What Coming? The Second Coming?" Webb asked incredulously.

"No." Mulder snorted. "Forget about that for a minute. A well-placed bullet or a fall from a 100-foot cliff or shit like that, where the trauma is too great, will kill us just like anyone else. It’s the normal stuff, organs wearing out, immune system diseases, Alzheimer’s, dementia. All that stuff our bodies combat. But there’s a back door. We can just give up and ‘think’ ourselves to death, not depression, conscious suicide. Constance doesn’t give a shit anymore. And with everyone gone, there’s nothing left for her. But man, with the Eridani coming, it could be a whole new beginning. She deserves it, Webb. Maybe you do, too." He looked to the south. "Look, the jetcopter’s going to be here in twenty minutes. Let me tell you how to get there. You can ask Constance about ‘our parent race’. She’s actually met them once. Maybe it will get her talking."

The snow began. Flurries really, but he could feel the cold through the leather jacket Mulder had left him. He made up his mind, stood and walked to the door of the cabin. He started to raise his fist to knock but instead reached down and twisted the knob. The door swung open and he found himself in a comfortable but small room. It reminded him of a nice hotel room. The fireplace glowed warm. The one open door off to his side showed a modern ‘sonic’ bathroom. A small kitchenette resided in one corner. He walked into the room and gazed down at her. She was wearing jeans and a cable-knit sweater and lay on the wide overstuffed couch, there was no bed, staring into the fire. She didn’t look up at him. She looked like he felt. All used up. "Get up." He demanded sourly.

She didn’t even bother to answer him. Crouching down, he peered into her eyes. "You just going to lay there and die?" Still no answer. He had hiked all this way up the hill and she was ignoring him. A wave of anger washed over him and he reached for her, yanking her up until she was sitting. "Look at me, damn you."

"Just like old times, isn’t it Webb?" Her voice was so faint he had to strain to hear it over the crackling of the fire.

"We have no old times, Constance. Remember, it was all a lie." He snarled, trying to get the spark back in her eye; the haughty sneer she had worn a century ago in Georgia.

She finally focused on him. "Constance? No you don’t know Constance. You know Marita. You hated Marita, didn’t you Webb."

He sighed and sat next to her and stared into the fire. "No, I didn’t. That was the problem. I wanted to. But Mulder told me¼"

"Bull. Mulder told you that I was a dupe. Right. A pawn! Hah. Mulder didn’t know, Webb. I agreed to go under. I accepted the possibility."

"Oh for God’s sake. Let it go. I told you then you had a lot to answer for. Well, maybe you did and maybe you do. But it’s over."

"I’m sorry." She sighed.

"For what?"

"For everything. For what you lost. For what everyone lost. Go away, Clay. I’m tired."

"I’m tired too, but I don’t know how to think myself to death and I’m too much of a coward to step off a cliff."

"Sorry. Can’t help you there. You got to live a lot of years to figure that one out. Trust me, stepping off a cliff is easier."

"So you think that’s what I should do. You want to come and watch? Maybe it will add enough guilt to push you over the edge. Or. Hey! You want easy?" He stood and grabbed her by the hand. "Come on. We’ll go find a cliff and jump together. Maybe on the way down we can figure out how really pathetic we are."

She tried to tug away from him, but he held tight and pulled back until she rested against his chest. He was truly surprised at the way her chest against his made him feel.

"Please, Clay. Let me go." There was a note of panic in her voice and he knew she felt it, too.

"No. I want someone to suffer with." He whispered. "Someone that understands." He let go of her and walked to the window that looked out over the compound. "I thought that Dana understood, and maybe she did a little. I never wanted Francesca to understand."

"Okay, Webb. You want to end it. Let’s go. Let’s go find us a cliff." She sighed.

"Sounds good, but I’ve got some questions first."

"What? You want the answers to the universe?" She laughed. "I’ve only been around 450 years, Webb. Those were pretty fucked up years, too."

"Oh, I don’t know. Tell me what it was like?"

"What is this? Junior Psychology? You’re not that good at it Clay."

"Maybe not. Or maybe I just want to know something else about the person who pissed me off so damn bad a hundred years ago I can’t forget her. Something that’s not so ugly."

"All of it’s ugly."

"Where were you born? Or do you even know?"

"Streets of London, Webb. I was a whore with a mind. I was never destined to be a Monitor. One of my customers was."

"Monitors fuck?" He asked snidely.

"Yeah, if I remember correctly you fucked one." She snapped back.

"Nah, the one I fucked didn’t know she was one. Doesn’t count."

"By whose rules?" She protested.

"You were saying?"

"What?"

"London? John? Never meant to be a Monitor?"

"Screw you. I stumbled upon their haven. It was nothing like we had later. Josiah’s powers were very limited. He could cloud a person’s perception. He could make people see him as someone he wasn’t or he could even walk unnoticed by everyone. Everyone but me."

"You have that power?" His voice was calmer, more neutral.

"Yeah, I’m pretty good at it."

"Why didn’t you use it in Mountain City?"

She sighed. "Deep cover plants don’t know anything about their powers. They are completely at the mercy of their handler. They go where they need to go and do what they’re told to do."

"Who was your handler?"

"I know what you’re trying, Clay." She whispered to the fire.

"Who was your handler? Olsen?"

"Yes. But¼"

He turned then and faced her. The flames danced in hair no longer bottle-blond, but a soft honey gold. "Olsen gave you those memories. Olsen pushed you to do what HE wanted you to do. Olsen allowed Krycek to abuse you." He closed his eyes and threw back his head. "I was in the game for a lot of years Mar¼Constance¼"

She finally looked at him. "It doesn’t matter. Marita is a nice enough name."

"Maybe, but it's not who you are."

She held his gaze. "Yes it is, Clay. I’m no saint. Never have been. Marita is a big part of me. It never bothered me to sit and watch and form theories. I’m not a good person, Clay."

He snorted softly. "You lived for more than 400 years and you never once did anything nice? Never saved a person’s life?"

"No. Yes. Once. Twice. Damn you."

"When? Tell me. Tell me one good thing about you so I don’t hate you all the way down the side of the cliff." He urged quietly.

She closed her eyes. He could see her remembering. "It was shortly after Josiah decided we had to go to the ‘New World’ and set up a Haven here. It was in the late sixteen hundreds and he had just brought in a young scholar to join our group. Josiah always regretted not killing me outright, I think. But I was smart. I had taught myself to read, even before I made him let me join. I read all the books. I learned everything Josiah learned and had written down. He was a stickler about that. He sent me ahead as an indentured servant to a real bastard who already had one servant who he beat for each little transgression. I could make Barrett ignore me, I wasn’t good enough yet to make him ignore Anna." She sighed as she remembered. "Anna broke a really expensive crystal vase. I knew he would kill her. I think he was fighting urges no Puritan was supposed to get. Anyway, I told him I did it. He beat me badly. But I healed too quickly, unfortunately. He mentioned how fast I healed to someone and the next thing I knew I was hearing whispers of ‘Witch’ and looks out of the corner of peoples’ eyes." She shrugged "Goes to show you. No good deed goes unpunished. I had to run away and hide and work as a whore until Josiah came over."

"You really have had crummy breaks." He whispered.

"Oh, not all of it was always bad. I liked the research. I was good at setting up the Havens. And then, when Olsen joined us, I found someone who would talk to me and not down to me. Of course, I knew more than he did about a lot of things. There was a small outbreak of bubonic plague that year out in Indian Country. We weren’t immune to the Plague like we were Small Pox and such. Josiah died. I was the head of the Haven for years, until Olsen finally just took over."

Webb turned from the window. "So, are you starving yourself during this process of mental suicide?"

"What?" She snapped. "You want a last meal? Sorry, Webb there’s no chateaubriand, no lobster. Hell, no rabbit. I think there’s some soup." She waved toward the tiny kitchen. "Of course, you could do the whole macho thing and go out and kill a big old deer for the two of us. They’re plentiful, even with all the wolves."

"Soup’s fine." He glared at her trying to get a rise. "No, no. Don’t get up, I’ll get it."

"Damn straight you will. You’re the one who wants it." She said with no little asperity.

He found the covered bowl, sniffed it and looked over his shoulder. "Mushrooms?"

"And herbs and cream. There’s a herd of wild cows that we would harvest from."

"Doesn’t sound like a bad life." He muttered softly. He heated the bowl in the small, ancient microwave. They were still finding stashes of all sorts of 20th century goodies in warehouses and even trucks along deserted stretches of road. He had noticed the solar panels on the roofs of all the houses. It was a self contained little community just like hundreds, even thousands of such communities that kept in touch through radios and computers. When the soup was hot, he poured some into two large mugs and brought her one. "Here."

"No, that’s okay." She sighed wearily.

"Eat!"

She glared at him angrily and started to push it away when he sighed. "Please."

"What the hell do you really want, Webb?"

::  Part 26 D  ::

Anniversary

He sat next to her and sipped at the rich spicy broth. "Damned if I know. Maybe to understand it all. Maybe just to talk to someone who understands."

She drank from the cup, a sigh of appreciation escaped.

"When was the last time you ate?" He demanded softly.

She shrugged. "I can’t explain anything that you don’t already know. I can’t explain to you the mentality of the Monitors before Mulder." She sighed deeply. "Before Mulder it had made sense. After?"

"Did you ever stop to think that it wasn’t Mulder? Oh, he might have been the catalyst, but don’t you think you would have come to the same conclusions on your own?"

"I don’t know. I do remember the resolve to stay out of ‘normal’ peoples’ lives. But now it makes no sense." She drank more of the soup.

"Would you tell me one thing?" Webb whispered.

"Sure, but just one." A small smile hinted at her lips.

"What happened between us? And why did you let me think you were dead?"

"That’s two. All bets are off." She stood and walked to the window.

"Tell me." He asked softly as he followed right behind her.

"I don’t know and Olsen¼"

He spun her around and she saw pain and anger and something else. "Is the bastard still alive? I want to¼"

"To what? Kill him?" She demanded as her hand gripped his arm.

"No. I’ve killed too much." He shuddered at the renewed contact. "No, I want to hear his justification."

"His justification was based on everything he knew. He was the perfect Monitor. He only made two mistakes that I can remember."

Webb’s eyebrow cocked. Her hand caressed up his arm, seemingly of its own volition.

"He thought that Mulder, because of his background and inquisitive mind, would make a good addition to the group. He never before made that bad a mistake. If he would have waited, I would have told him, but he should have known, just by the information he got from me. He really screwed it up. Once I got back, during one of my really hateful spells, I double-checked all the data. AJ Chegwidden was the perfect choice. I called Olsen on it and he told me AJ had been eliminated because he would never leave MacKenzie. Chegwidden has the ability, you see. With proper training he could have been become a true telepath. He bonded with MacKenzie in the same way that Monitors bond with each other – after years of training."

"Why didn’t Olsen just ask them both, then?" Webb silently gulped as he found his hand resting on her hip, his thumb tracing small circles through the heavy denim.

She snorted and tried to back away only to find her back was against the window. "Because Olsen didn’t believe in bringing in couples. Thought it weakened the group. Stubborn bastard."

"What was the other mistake he made?" His breath kissed her cheek.

"That he didn’t let me die there in the diner."

The mood was broken. Webb moved away from her. "You wanted it that bad? You still want it that bad?" His snarl affected her like nothing had in a century.

"What’s left for me, Webb?" Her pain touched his soul.

"What about these Eridani Mulder was telling me about?"

"Screw them. They’re supposed to be from the Epsilon system. I don’t know. They look like we do. At least they did in 1920 when I went with the Council to meet with them. After all we saw, I guess they could have been Doridians in disguise, but why?" She shook her head. "We heard we were still a good 500 years away from getting into space. Heard about the Doridians for the first time. Oh who cares? They were wrong too, weren’t they."

"And now you and Mulder and the rest of the so-called Monitors are sure this ‘parent’ race is coming back to help?" The sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"If they’re not, I don’t think we could fight them."

"Back in the twenties, why didn’t you ask them for help?"

"You think we didn’t?" She retorted.

"And they said ‘No.’ Why?"

"They didn’t explain, they just said no."

He put his hands on his hips. "Well there you go. There’s the reason why we can’t jump off that damn cliff."

She waited patiently.

"I want to hear why they hung us out to dry. Then I want to hit one of them really hard."

She flopped down on the couch, laying her head against the cushion. "Mulder used the exact same argument. I didn’t listen to him. Why am I listening to you."

"Perhaps, because you know as well as I do that Mulder is more interested in meeting ET than he is in trying to find out why any race would let one of their colonies sustain nearly 75% loss of life to an attack by another race?"

"It hurts so bad, Webb." She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged herself.

"Yeah. Sometimes so bad that the cliff sounds really inviting." He plopped down next to her.

"So why haven’t you?" She breathed.

He thought about his friends and his children and all the children that sprang from his union with Francesca. "I suppose there are people who need me and people that I need."

She tried to rise from the sofa, but he caught her hand in his. "Nobody needs me." She hissed.

"I need you."

"Bullshit!" She cried and tried again to stand but he held tight. "You don’t need me. You never needed me. You didn’t even try to touch me when I lay there ‘dead’. Dead as far as you knew, anyway."

"You’re right." He agreed even as he pulled her until her face was buried in the soft green wool covering his chest. "I should have insisted that we bury you or brought your body back to Clews Haven."

She raised her head to look at him. "Oh hell, don’t add that guilt to your list. Skinner wouldn’t have let you."

A tiny, bitter laugh escaped his lips. "You and Skinner are going to have a lot to work through."

"Well, yeah. But that’s not what I meant." A yawn overtook her and she completely missed the implications of what he had said.

"What?" He stretched back his neck to look down at her. "Olsen stopped him? Your powers stretch that far?"

"No, he was there. He got me out. Healed my burns and got me back about two hours after the attack started. Even then he didn’t lift a hand to help, though if the camp would have been overrun, all the suggestions in the world wouldn’t have kept them from finding us."

She tried to fight the urge to bury her nose deeper in the inviting warmth and smell. He smelled different than she remembered and it took her a moment to realize that she had always associated the smell of smoke with him. Even after the exertion he must have gone through to reach her, he still smelled clean and a little of the sea. She sighed when his hand came to rest on her head. No one had touched her - no one had dared - since she got back. It felt good. As she closed her eyes to sleep, the tiniest spark of hope began to grow in her tired old heart.

He stared into the fire for a long time going over the events of the day. It was ridiculous and impossible but it still felt good. After all these years. His chest heaved and she mewed in protest. When he had married Francesca he had convinced himself that he did so because she needed him. But the truth was that he had needed her. Needed her light and laughter. As his eyes closed, he knew for certain that this woman, even in sleep, caressing her hand over his chest, truly, perhaps even desperately, needed him. She would deny vehemently at times and he knew the fights they would have would be monumental, but it would be nice to have someone he could show his dark fearful soul to.

::  ::  ::

"Pregnant!" Mac stared at Dana, suddenly wishing she hadn’t insisted on receiving the news in front of everyone. Seeing the grin on Dana’s face as they waited for the jetcopter to disgorge its passenger had led her to believe that the news was at least benign. Taking a deep breath she turned her look to AJ who was sitting next to her on the settee across from the one Dana and Skinner shared. Mulder flopped in the large chair that formed the ‘U’ seating arrangement in front of the fireplace. She saw pleasure, happiness and love – but no real surprise. "You knew." She accused him in a hoarse whisper.

They had never discussed their bond. She knew he was expert at sensing her moods, better than she was at reading him. She had questioned it only once, when she had gotten into trouble years ago in the region that encompassed Louisiana, Mississippi and a little bit of the Florida panhandle. She and Galindez had gone to investigate a report that a former Marine General had set up a little kingdom all his own and was using orphans as his slaves. The reports had not painted a dark enough picture. She came close to dying that trip, Galindez too. AJ had admitted that even in Colorado, he had immediately known when the mission had gone to hell. "I can’t explain it, darlin’. I just sensed when you went from mad as hell at Pratt to scared senseless."

AJ took her hand and said quietly, "I knew that something was going on. I knew you were tired and I knew that worried you. I knew every time you got sick. It occurred to me that if it were anyone else, I would suggest a pregnancy test."

Mac’s eyes were brimming. "So? How do you feel about becoming a daddy again at 156?"

His slow lazy grin melted her insides and relieved any fears she might have had. "Well, if we weren’t in front of our friends, I’d show you." He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed each one.

"Ewwwww."

"Shut up, Mulder." Scully sighed happily.

AJ pulled Mac until she rested against his hip. Wrapping his arm around her, he returned his attention to Dana. "How? After all this time? How?"

Mulder smiled happily as his former partner struggled to find an answer. "Guys, we don’t know." She glanced at Skinner and blushed. She had a natural reticence about discussing anyone’s medical condition around other people. She had suggested that Mac alone, or Mac and AJ receive the news in the privacy of her office, but Mac had insisted.

"I know." Mulder broke into her reverie. He looked like he always had when they were stumped by some X-File. He started to blurt out the story, but a flash of maturity struck him and he paused and studied Mac. "If this is embarrassing to you¼"

"Can I get anymore embarrassed, Mr. Mulder?" Mac sighed.

Mulder shrugged. "Probably." But before she could change her mind he told them everything he had found out. He explained the process, told them when each of the four had been injected with the genetically altered DNA. Skinner, days before he, Scully and Reyes had left for their ill-fated trip to Clews Haven. Dana before that, while she was in the hospital after she had delivered William. AJ had been simple, when Hannah had saved his life. "I don’t know when they would have done it if you hadn’t offered them the unique opportunity by getting shot like that."

"But what about me?" Mac insisted.

"Remember Irving? Remember the brawl?"

"When the little midget decked me!" She cried.

"Why did it affect us differently than it affected Dana and Walter?" AJ asked.

"Sometimes, it just happens that way. It’s the same process that they used on me after I was brought on board. Most of the time the injections work perfectly, the first time. But they didn’t on Mac. The process affected her entire reproductive system." He blushed a deep red. "You never had a period all those years, did you?"

Mac was saved the embarrassment of answering by the security lights flooding the lawn. Skinner stood up and then smiled down at Dana. "Can’t say I’m surprised."

AJ twisted around to see who it was and sighed. "She probably saw the red uniform and it took her a whole hour to come up with a reason, even at this late hour."

Skinner didn’t wait for her to knock but met Vickie Galindez at the door. "Kinda of late, isn’t it Vic?"

"Hi, Uncle Walt, I just wanted to talk to¼" Her voice trailed off as she saw who was sitting in the chair. It wasn’t Clayton Webb. As Commissioner Chegwidden’s chief of staff, Vickie knew every single Xeno-investigator. She looked at her boss in bewilderment. "¼Mac. I¼"

Mac motioned her in. "Vickie Galindez, meet Fox Mulder, an old, very old, friend of ours and Clay’s."

Vickie’s eyes grew wide. "You’re dead! You died at the Battle of Clews Haven. Your name is first on the monument."

"Vickie, grab something to drink, sit down and we’ll explain all that in a minute." Skinner urged his goddaughter. "Unless, of course, you really didn’t need to see Mac." He grinned and watched as awe consumed her. Vickie had become the unofficial historian for their little group and of all the grandchildren had interrogated each of them for details of the 'before time.' And, even though she was over forty chronologically, she reminded him of a tongue-tied groupie.

Vickie blushed, but ignored him. Tearing her eyes away from the new object of her fascination, she sniffed the air and squealed. "Coffee! You got coffee in and didn’t tell me!"

Skinner laughed. "Your Uncle Phil brought it back from Central America. Five pounds, we were going to share tomorrow. Go, get a cup." It was his one vice and everyone knew it. After the invasion, they were surprised that there was much of a population south of Mexico at all, but while the alien virus had hit the human population hard, no viable hybrid lived past a few days, a week at the most. Vast piles of alien hybrid carcasses rotted in the sun, their limbs and lungs ill equipped to stand the gravity. That the Doridians had planned so poorly stumped Dana and all the scientists who survived. Rabb had spent a lot of time in the air when he wasn’t helping kill nests of the things. It was Rabb who had found Carlos Ruglio in Costa Rica. Rabb who had gotten the man and his family the supplies they needed to survive and Rabb who had brought back that first glorious pound of fresh coffee to Skinner. It had been nearly 15 years since they had exhausted the last stale pounds that the scavengers could find. Not much ‘international’ trading went on, but coffee was still craved even by people who had no concept of what a latte or expresso was and had never heard of Starbucks. Entire villages in Costa Rica and Mexico stayed alive because of it.

With Vickie occupied for a moment, Mulder shook his head and watching the pretty brunette through the pass-through, continued his story. "The altered DNA affected all of your organs including your ovaries. They were just too young. We kept an eye on you guys for years."

"How? You put in another deep cover spy." AJ spat out.

"No. Nothing that intense. You forget the Internet is a dangerous thing. It was nothing for us to tap in¼." His voice trailed off as he saw anger spark in all their eyes. "Anyway," he quickly continued, "it took about ten years before Hannah realized what must have happened. She kept angling to come back to rectify the situation, but Olsen kept coming up with reasons why she couldn’t. Nobody listened to me."

"Hannah Rathbone." Mac breathed. "I remember now. I should have remembered four months ago. Oh my God! Why the hell didn’t she just come to me and tell me what happened. Did she think that I would have said no? Wait a damn minute! What if I didn’t want kids after all these years? You bastards! You’re still playing GOD!"

"Mac. I’m sorry. Really I am. I guess old habits die hard. You know Webb said the same thing." Mulder watched as Vickie, stunned at the news, walked back into the room without her precious cup of coffee.

"Where is Clay, Mr. Mulder?"

"Very good question, Vickie." Mac reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand. "Where is he, Mulder?"

"He’s fine. Hey, you know it’s really late and I’ll be happy to walk Miss Galindez back to her house. I can tell her all about her grandfather."

"Vickie knows all about Victor, Mulder?" AJ’s growl left no room for argument. "What happened to Webb?"

::  ::  ::

Cold gray light brightened the room. Sometime in the night he had stretched them out to lay nestled on the deep couch but the fire had died down to pale orange embers by then and it started to get cold. She had turned in his embrace, reached up and pulled the crocheted afghan off the back of the couch to cover them. Then, she snuggled deeper into his embrace as they both drifted back to sleep. Now, his nose was nestled in her honey-blond hair. His legs held one of hers and her arm was flung over his chest, held in place by his arm that held her close. He groaned softly, the evidence of his arousal evident against her mound.

He wasn’t even sure she was awake until she snuggled tighter, grinding herself against him. "Tease." He whispered.

"Stop me." She moaned softly as her lips sought his. Her tongue demanded that he open to her and she teased him, thrusting and grinding at the same time. He trailed his hand down her back to find and squeeze her ass, holding her tightly against him as he began to buck into her in response. He pulled away and gazed down into her passion filled eyes. "Please, Clay. It’s been so long." He lowered his lips to her throat, biting and nipping as she kissed and bit at his ear and whatever other piece of skin he allowed.

He pushed off of her. "This couch open up?"

"We’re fine." She began tugging the sweater from his jeans. He nuzzled her through the heavy sweater but stopped to kneel between her legs as she scooted under him. As he pulled at her sweater, she arched up to help. He had known last night she wasn’t wearing a bra but still the sight of her still firm breasts left him panting. Before he could lower himself to minister to them, she reached up and undid his belt and lowered his zipper. She reached inside to caress him and that drove him off the couch to complete taking off his jeans, underwear and socks.

She started to do the same, but he stopped her. Kneeling on the floor next to her, he kissed her again. His teeth worried her lower lip and his fingers rolled and pinched her nipples to hard points. One hand splayed over her stomach kneading and soothing her flesh until he reached her jeans. He bypassed the buttons and began to caress and rub her through the material. She arched up pleading with him, cursing him. "Please, please, please. Damn you, Webb." But when she tried to undo the buttons herself, he grabbed her hands and held them tight. Her orgasm took her by surprise and she cried out. "Oh Yesssssss." Even as she was calming, he finally unzipped the jeans. Pulling them from her body, he sat back on his heels to just look at her.

Breathing hard she sat up, took his face in her hands and leaned forward to claim his mouth. "I want you inside me, Clay." She reached down to caress his cock causing him to groan in pleasure. Lying back on the couch, her head resting on the thick armrest, she beckoned to him. "Please Clay." He stood and knelt between her legs. Lowering his body to cover hers, he still didn’t enter her at first. Instead he kissed her long and hard, then slowly began to move lower. Trailing his tongue along her collarbone. Her nails drew circles on his back, her hands reached down to caress his ass, trying to pull him back to where she wanted him. Finally, when she had thrown her leg over the back of the couch and begged him again, he moved to position himself over her opening. Her eyes fluttered as he caressed the head of his cock up and down her slit gradually deepening the sensation until he parted her labia and slid home, stretching her. "So tight, feels so good, baby." He paused, realizing just how tight she was. "God, am I hurting you?"

"No." She hissed in pleasure. She gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin, pulling him down into her embrace, driving him deeper still. He kissed her gently as they stared into each other’s battered souls.

She sighed as she began to move under him. He groaned at the heady sensations. It had been a long time for him, but he feared longer for her. He held himself off of her so he could capture a nipple between his teeth. He ran his hands down her side reaching under her to pull her tighter to him. Squeezing and kneading her hips, he would thrust into her hard then pull almost all the way out. Her breathing became ragged and he saw the flush rise from her chest, up her neck and then he felt her walls, already so tight, milk him. It was more than he could stand and his rhythm changed until he was pounding into her, almost animalistic in his own need for release as she shuddered and cried out once again. He couldn’t remember the last time it had felt this good. He was completely out of control as he came deep within her.

He fell against the back of the couch, covering part of her with his body. "Damn," she whispered. "That was definitely worth a century’s wait."

"Tell me you’re kidding." He demanded. "You haven’t¼with anyone else?"

She kissed his shoulder and met his gaze. "I didn’t feel like it for a long time after. I felt used and cheated and hurt and guilty. None of which is conducive to making love. Olsen approached me a couple of times, tried to make me see his side of the story. But it didn’t matter. I really didn’t blame him, Webb. I wish I could make him the villain but he did what he thought was right. After that, who? Irving? Irving never swung that way. Which was fine. Hannah? Nah, I never swung ‘that’ way. Mulder and Monica got together for a while but he and I had too many issues. Besides, he whines way too much."

Webb laughed and then shivered. Carefully he sat up, moving her legs out of his way. He stood, found the afghan on floor, covered her and then went to put more wood into the fireplace. He had a fire going in no time and then turned and looked down at her. "I’d ask you to shower with me, but it’s just not the same in a sonic shower."

She grinned wickedly, "Well there’s a waterfall not too far from here. The water comes down from the mountains. It’s probably about 34 degrees."

"You’re a sadistic woman¼" He sighed. "Look, what the hell do you want me to call you? It's up to you and I can’t promise I won’t slip, but¼"

She stood, wrapping the afghan around her. "Call me Marita. I need to like that name again." She kissed him and then pointed him to the bathroom. Go. I’ll make some herbal tea and some oatmeal." She laughed at his look. "Hey, we lived simply here."

There was one thing about a sonic shower, you had no reason to linger. He opened his kit and shaved and brushed his teeth. He would have to wear the same clothes he wore yesterday, but he had been in worse shape a lot of times. "All yours." He said as he opened the door. He picked his clothes off the floor and dressed. Going to the stove he dished out the thick porridge and set the small round table with spoons and cups he found in one deep drawer. Looking around, he found a small ceramic pot that contained wild honey with a faint scent of clover.

They ate in comfortable silence, both lost in their own memories and plans for the future. He wondered how Skinner and Scully would react to her. He wondered if she would really return with him. He sighed deeply and knew that if she didn’t return, he wouldn’t either.

Even with her head lowered, she could watch him through her long eyelashes. She felt each thought as it flickered across his mind. She shut her eyes when she realized that he would forsake every thing to follow her wherever she went. She didn’t want to do that to him, but she was sure that Skinner would have nothing to do with her. She sighed and picked up the bowls. The sonic cleaner made quick work of leftovers. "So, how do we do this, Clay?"

"How do you what¼?"

"Webb!" His PDA erupted.

He pulled the appliance from his pack. "Skinner?"

"Everything okay?"

Webb met Marita’s eye. "Yeah. Everything is fine."

"Good. There’ll be a Jetcopter there in an hour." They could hear the sigh. "Mulder told us a lot last night." They barely caught the grumbled, "Some things never change, the boy never could shut up." Then his voice grew firmer. "I-we need a clearer picture from someone perhaps a little more – level headed. Bring her home, Webb."

Marita shuddered but Clay reached for her hand, his eyebrow asked the question, his look said ‘it's up to you.’ She asked weakly, "You sure you want me, Skinner? After everything I did."

The voice was firm and true. "I’ve got no stomach to hold a grudge after 100 years, Marita. Come home."

"Okay." She whispered and suddenly, she was crying.

"We’ll catch the copter and be there for lunch, Skinner." Webb quickly signed off and took her into his arms. "Hey." He lifted her chin. "Hey. Are you sure?" He asked softly.

She hugged him tightly. "Yeah. It’s a long time coming, but yeah. I really want to go home. With you."

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