X-Files 1. Author's Notes

_Author's Notes:_

_Welcome to Book #4 of the post IWTB series I've written! If you haven't caught up on what happened in "Clandestine", "Jabberwocky", or "Fire", I suggest you read those books prior to this one, as it will make the most sense that way._

_A few orders of business to bring some clarity to your adventure:_

_1\. The history (both real and X-Files-specific) and the places I include in this series are 99% real, with only extremely minor artistic liberties taken. I strive to keep the stories in this series as relatable as possible, using real places to host the events written. I also strive to bridge these stories to the past using a rich sampling of X-Files series history to provide continuity._

_2\. What this means, essentially, is I don't own a damn thing about the X-Files, only what I write and any additional characters that have not appeared on the show previously, including my adult interpretation of William (as well as the original cover artwork). You can bet your boots that if I owned the X-Files, there would be more movies, a new series and anything else I could dream up._

_3\. I display real people in my cover images for this series because when I dreamt up these tales, they are the faces that inspired the characters. Personally, this helps me to eliminate the guessing game of what a "new" person looks like while reading, allowing me to enjoy their personality attributes that come alive through the dialogue. The people I've modeled the characters I've introduced after physically, and maybe even some personality traits, are as follows:_

_**Brendan Fehr** (Will/William Van De Kamp/Mulder)  
__**Jennifer Lawrence** (Cara English/Mulder)  
__**Megan Fox** (Joy LaHaye)_

_Again, I don't own them. We'd all be in trouble if I did._

_4\. I believe in Mulder/Scully, and Doggett/Reyes. Never shall they be otherwise to me - no other romantic combinations exist in my world. Ye have now been warned._

_5\. This story's rating hovers between a T and an M. I think it's more T than M, so I listed it as such. There are four letter (and five letter) words used thoughtfully to match the characters, setting, violence and implied scenarios. Don't want any of that? Then go no further than these notes. Again, ye have now been warned._

_6\. When reading, please have fun. Reading is such a beautiful and personal adventure. I was inspired to write these pieces because I lost too much sleep after thinking about them for so long, but mainly because it allows both the people I love and perfect strangers to go on an adventure together and to forget the world even if just for a moment. Get lost in this story - or any story you read. I guarantee you that if you sit back and let the story steer, you'll end up having the ride of your life._

_7\. Always and forever, I will gladly take ALL feedbacks and criticisms you feel inclined to give. I believe that one can only be continually sharpened by allowing their blade to be ground._

_Thank you so very much for your support, love and energy - have an amazing adventure!_


	2. Chapter 1

for everyone who still wants to believe that the truth is out there

* * *

**HOPE**

\ˈhōp\

noun

desire accompanied by belief

* * *

_"The passage of time imprisons us not in a cell of brick and mortar, but in one of hopes dashed and tragedies unaverted. How precious then, the chance to go back, only to discover that in facing the past you must face up to yourself. And exiting the prison of time doesn't free you from the prison of your own character, one from which there is no escape."_

_\- Martin Wells, "Redrum"_

* * *

CHAPTER 1

Saturday, September 14, 2002  
Hoboken, NJ  
06:58 PM EST

The air smelled of sugar and yeast, purposefully pulsated through the bakery by a large white fan above to lure in customers with the intoxicating and irresistible scent of sweets. Few who entered would be able to fight the powerful high the atmosphere possessed, thanks to the blades that whipped the olfactory drugs with steady ease. This was part of their plan for world domination, or at the very least, for domination of Hoboken, New Jersey.

The home of the fondant-covered tiered cake masterpieces, endless colorful Italian pastries and giant chocolate-dipped strawberries was a well-adored secret. Carlo's was a place that certainly attracted many tourists, but the people who called it home in Hoboken knew it was really theirs - that the New Yorkers or other Jerseyans who trekked up to the little bake shop weren't allowed to claim it despite its geographical location. It was as much hers as her next-door neighbor's. After all, that was her exclusive privilege for being trapped in her own personal hell for now, officially, the last fifteen years.

Fifteen. No one cared about fifteen. Sixteen, eighteen, and twenty-one were all birthdays to aspire to. Fifteen was just shy of glory, yet too old for anyone to fuss anymore. Gone were the days of brightly-colored wrapping paper with princesses or fairies that were adorned with curly bows. These days, at fifteen you rarely got an actual wrapped gift. People opted for the easy way out, the quick and convenient gift bag with tissue that most likely had been recycled from their own closet - that's if you were lucky. The fall back, should the gift bag present itself to be too much of a challenge, was to tuck a plastic gift card into an overpriced greeting card, though it remained the cheapest of all options. Nothing that would take more than sixty seconds to assemble. No thought required.

She would have been thrilled to find such a quick and hasty gift on the kitchen table this morning. Instead, she found a note sloppily scratched on the back of a grocery store receipt:

**Here is cash for milk.  
****Buy yourself some dinner for tonight.  
****And buy me a new lighter.**

**Working a double. Don't stay up late.  
You have counseling tomorrow.**

There was no need for a signature - she knew its author, a woman who remained so distant from her that at times she questioned their shared genetics. _Working a double my ass, _she thought with anger. The author of the note never went above and beyond in any aspect of her life - why would work be any different?

She knew the double entendre of the excuse. She was fifteen, she wasn't stupid. She knew how it all worked, though she was proud that she hadn't yet tried it. She refused to be like the author of the note, the woman who gave so much yet offered so little. Besides her alcoholic father who she avoided like the plague, there was only her withdrawn and selfish mother who used men behind her father's back to make her feel better about herself. She wasn't like her. She didn't need anyone to make her feel worth something. She didn't need anyone, period.

Hence why she now stared at the giant sugar-dusted cannolis in front of her with a small smile. She fished around in her pocket, pulling out the small wad of cash she earned from her after-school jobs around her complex that went unnoticed by her parents. She would buy the milk and the lighter with her mother's money, but the rest she would take care of herself.

"Can I help you, young lady?" the older gentleman behind the counter asked softly, his rounded face grooved with wrinkles that stretched as he smiled.

"I'll take one cannoli, please," she replied, handing him a faded ten dollar bill.

"Just one?" the older gentleman chuckled. "Don't you think your mom and dad would want some?"

She knew he had absolutely no idea who she was, and probably still assumed that everyone lived like the Beavers from the 1950s - Stepford Wives who cooked every meal consumed by their family, cleaned in high heels and were perfect examples of society while dashing husbands earned respectable livings in steel gray suits and skinny ties, their mutual children dutifulling aspiring to be like one or the other, depending on gender. She shifted her feet that were covered in sneakers she had taken from a friend who no longer wanted them because of a small scuff on the toe, though they cost well over seventy dollars brand new. Mustering a polite smile - because after all, it wasn't grandpa's fault - she replied, "They're allergic to sweets."

"Oh," the old man said, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "People these days …" he muttered, pulling the tray of cannolis from the case as she watched. "Everyone's allergic to everything. Back when I was your age, we drank from the garden hose and ate peanuts in public. Now … now everyone's afraid of bacteria and baked goods are segregated for fear of lawsuits." He stopped, realizing he had been carrying on to a teenager who most likely didn't care to hear his soapbox speech. "Anyway, here you go, young lady. And here's your change." He handed her the small white paper bag with the red logo plastered on the front.

"Thank you," she said softly, grabbing both and leaving through the main entrance before she could let him see her tears forming.

* * *

10:22 PM EST

She was glad to see the station wagon wasn't near the complex when she returned home, knowing the hour would likely spark an argument between her and her mother that would end in tears for her mother and her having to console her, as if the roles were reversed in their relationship. She had spent the day how she pleased, first riding the bus that morning to Washington Street where she window-shopped casually, lingering over the delicate floral print tops and the sparkle of the jewelry as the sun caught it through the storefront. Though she labeled herself as more of a jeans and sneakers kind of girl, she had to admit that the feminine wares being peddled that weekend drew her in instinctively, as if to remind her that obtaining strength didn't mean sacrificing softness. The whimsical outfits and fanciful accessories didn't know of her life, though. Strength was all she had - there wasn't any room for being soft. At least, not so that people would know.

She found herself in Pier A Park later, basking in the September sun as the preview of autumn's breeze danced through her blonde hair. The blades of green grass tickled her skin as she pressed her back to the earth, her well-loved book in hand that she had lugged with her in her small backpack that her head now rested on. _Alice In Wonderland _was her selection for the day, though it was a lengthy read and she knew she wouldn't be able to conquer much of it. It didn't matter, though - she knew the story better than perhaps she knew herself, so she expertly skipped through the pages, reading the sections she favored as she lost herself in the fantasy.

When her stomach growled viciously two hours later for lunch, she found her way to a hot dog stand, loading up her purchase with "the works" as they called it. Despite her taste for junk food, she was slim, fit and agile - not to mention she had a killer arm for softball, though she didn't play for her high school team. She was too busy earning money so she could support herself; her only pleasure in life was knowing she didn't depend on money from abusers or neglectors.

It was that day when her eyes fell on a police officer in the distance, patrolling the park on foot. She was just about her height, five foot nine inches, with chemically processed hair that looked natural on her, it rolled into a tight bun. She wore her uniform with pride, her duty belt resting on her hips and swaying with her steps. She was strong. She was powerful. She was everything she wanted to be. It was that day that she decided she would become her in three years. She would be the powerful woman who no one could ever hurt again. No one.

Now, as she slid her key into the lock of the back door, she sighed. Whenever she returned to this God-forsaken place which she dare not call home, the strength she armed herself with outside of these walls seemed to vanish into thin air, all of her weaknesses rising to the surface with each moment spent inside. She had dreaded seeing her father's blue sedan parked nearby, knowing he was most likely holed up in his office with his best friend, Jim Bean. Her father and Jim spent a considerable amount of time together - too much, in her opinion, and she had the scars to prove it. She set the milk in the fridge and tossed the lighter on the table near the note she read earlier that day, dropping the cash and change from her shopping trip near it without concern as to appearances. She did her duty, and that was enough. After all, it was her fucking birthday.

As she swiftly made her way to the stairs leading up to her bedroom, she paused, gripping the white bag she retrieved from Carlo's Bakery as she listened to the murmuring sounds coming from her father's office. Two men, her father and another, discussing something in darkened tones. It was unusual for her father to invite anyone into their home. No one came over, not even the few people she called friends, let alone a strange man who she had never heard his voice before.

She was curious by nature, which often got her into trouble. She set the bag down on the stairs, inching closer to the closed door of the office to better understand the conversation that had continued without missing a beat despite her return.

"Doctor English," the man said, his voice calm and cool, "I would like to have some kind of assurance of the success of your preventative measures taken." She heard the sound of a finger gliding over a lighter to spark a flame, knowing the sound all too well from her mother. The man inhaled and exhaled approvingly on his cigarette - at least that's what she imagined.

"I can assure you, the Project is protected," her father's voice replied, a waiver to it that she confusingly associated with fear as she listened. "There is no possibility that-"

"There are always possibilities," the man interrupted, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Nothing disappears without a trace."

"You have nothing to worry about," her father insisted softly, pleadingly.

"Well," the man said, "should I ever come to the point of worry, believe me - you'll be the first to know." He inhaled on the cigarette again; she heard him press the smoke from his lips. "Until then, I'll be monitoring things very closely. The Shield is my property, after all. I retain the rights to it."

"You … you can't …"

"I can't what?"

"It's not-"

"Doctor, I trust you understand the agreement you made years ago." The man crushed the cigarette into an ash tray. "You handed it over entirely to me."

"Yes, but-"

"Don't complicate things for yourself, Doctor. After all, middlemen can always be replaced."

With that, the knob to the door opened, and she bolted for the stairs, praying she didn't make as much sound as she thought she did so she wouldn't be found out. She scaled them quickly, perching at the top over the railing as she held her breath and waited out of sight to listen to the man's parting words. "Say hello to Caraline for me," he said in the doorway as her father's shoulders drooped, clearly inferior to the smoking man. The small smile she managed to see on the scowling face from her obscured angle chilled her.

_Who is he, and how does he know my name?_

* * *

As she locked the bedroom door behind herself without being seen by her father, she took a deep breath and sighed. What a birthday. She tossed the white bag down on her bed, the covers in the same rumpled position she had left them in that morning. She didn't make it a habit of being sloppy, but today she allowed herself the luxury of foregoing one responsibility. Just one.

She changed into her favorite set of pajamas and threw open the curtains, letting the soft moon light fill her room. She perched on her window sill, now holding the sweet pastry she treated herself to, gazing at the stars as she took a bite. Delicious. She savored each moment of silence, peace and calm, pretending that the sweet treat was a gift from a doting father who had taken his precious princess on a fantastic day to celebrate her birth, her mother showering her with hugs and kisses upon their return, a warm meal she had managed to either make or obtain herself filling her belly and satisfying her soul.

Reality hit her quickly when the sound of a nearby horn blasted, an angry driver signalling impatiently to another which woke her from her reverie. No, that wasn't her life. Her life was eating a cannoli alone in her room on her birthday while her drunk father became more intoxicated and her neglectful mother poured her attention on the latest man of the week behind closed doors. Was it her? Did they regret having her? Was she a terrible mistake made by two young people in college like she assumed she was? Her mother was only thirty-five now; she knew she was twenty when she had her, a nursing student. Her father was a brilliant scientist, or so the degrees on his office wall proclaimed, touting Magna Cum Laude status in every university he attended from undergraduate to doctorate. Maybe they couldn't be parents - maybe despite their adept in science and education, they lacked the proper skills for parenting.

It was just like her, to defend the defenseless on a day she was meant to be celebrated.

She chewed on the last bite of pastry, remembering the police officer from the park. _One day, a little girl will see me like that. I won't let this beat me. _She was too headstrong to allow circumstances to dictate her future. She was in control of her destiny. She, alone, was responsible for her future.

The slam of the door startled her, an instant wave of sickening fear crawling up her skin. She knew the angry tones being used in the lower half of the condo, hearing her father's slurred speech, breaking glass and her mother's angry tears that she shed through profanities. He had finally done it. He had caught her. Yet, her father was too much of a coward to ever confront her sober, though she suspected he knew of her mother's indiscretions long before tonight. She had witnessed this dance before, but tonight was eerily different. Tonight, there was fear where anger usually resided. Tonight, there was sheer terror.

She didn't think, she just acted. She grabbed her clothes she had worn that day that she tossed on the floor, quickly changing back into them. She knew better - she wouldn't stick around for another round of her father's drunken rage. The times before when she had were painful enough, let alone the severity of the fighting going on below her. She needed to leave and never look back. When she slipped on her sneakers, she began tossing only what was critical to her from her room, though there wasn't much to begin with. She had spent four years in boarding school, and the rest of her belongings from before were children's toys that her mother donated one day before she came home from school. It was easy to pack what she cared about in her backpack, now throwing open the sash of the window as she heard her father's heavy footsteps approaching from the stairs. _No, not this time, Dad. _

The fire escape waited patiently for her, as if it was designed exclusively for this very moment. The cool metal hit her hands as she slipped out of the window and fell the distance to the landing, bracing herself upon impact. She had imagined this happening at some point in her life, but never figured it would happen so soon, and even worse on her birthday. Yet, despite the surprise it took her by, the exit from the hellish place seemed so fluid and natural, as if staying there were the unnatural thing versus running away. She released the ladder to the escape, hearing her father's pounding on her door and his muffled tone as she quickly climbed down. Those sneakers her classmate didn't want because of a scuff became her new best friend as they swiftly carried her down the city sidewalk into a new life - one which she never had to hear, see or feel them ever again.

* * *

August 23, 2012  
02:25 PM EST  
Hoboken, NJ

Cara Mulder's hand rested on her rounded stomach, a wave of illness flooding over her as if she were in her first trimester instead of the end of her third. The oxygen seemed to be scarce in the atmosphere around her, as she found it difficult to breathe when she passed it on foot to pick up the bus. The condo complex she had grown up in stood quietly, as if to explain that it wasn't at fault for the haunting memories it contained. She never did make that counseling appointment - not that it would have mattered. It was nearly ten years ago, yet it felt like yesterday. She protectively clutched her womb, shifting her focus to the bus she knew she needed to pick up to get to her mother's house. There was no sense in renting a car in the city when she knew the public transportation system so well. After all, the less places she put her name at, the better.

A middle-aged man with quiet gray eyes respectfully relinquished his seat to her in the standing room only bus that she boarded, to which she gratefully obliged. Her two ever-active children were beginning to weigh more than she had imagined they would while still inside of her, though she knew she still had weeks to go until they would be ready to make their debut in the world. Her mother in law had said her last ultrasound showed them growing at a wonderfully healthy rate, and that's all that mattered to her.

She clutched her duffel bag in her hands, not having yet found a motel room to stash her belongings in. She felt naked without her phone - she left it in New Mexico next to the person she loved most in the world. Cara allowed herself to briefly close her eyes and see his handsome face, taking comfort in the depths of his eyes and the memory of his warmth. She had only been apart from him for just over twelve hours now, but it felt like an eternity. She knew this most likely had to do with the circumstances under which she left, being as they weren't truly in anyone's favor.

It would be a rough ten minutes of city stop-and-go traffic as the bus continued to pick more people up who replaced the ones who left at different stops. The rhythm of the city soothed her; it was what she knew. The desert had become her home merely in the sense that he was there with her. Beyond that, she had no home. The story had always been the same. She was the girl without a family, the girl without a home. Now, at a point in which she had both, she willingly gave it up to return to the one person who was able to but never helped her escape.

Of course, Cara couldn't forget the point of her memories being tainted, that the night she left her home for good, it was her father's intention to keep her safe from the threat of evil rather than to beat her. She would come to realize that the man who her father had been with that night in the office was the same man who observed her while she was in a chamber being tortured by an alien lifeforce injected into her body as he puffed on a cigarette. Still, her mother had no such excuse for her cold and distant behavior, other than she removed herself to avoid the pain of it all, which wasn't good enough for Cara. She was fifteen. She was a child. She had once been carried in her mother's womb like she now carried her own children - she could never imagine abandoning them as her mother did to her. Yet, here she was, granting her mother's literal dying wish to see her when she had no earthly reason to.

Her stop came, and Cara stood with a hand supporting her lower back, feeling the ache radiate through her lower spine. It was a pain she had become accustomed to, much like her emotional pain she hid for a decade after her disappearance from her parents' home. Her mother left her father shortly after she ran away, taking residence with a boyfriend across town. Her father sold the house, and she didn't care. Cara begged friends to let her sleep on their couches, pretending she had a decent home life with their parents so they wouldn't ask questions. She knew they weren't stupid, but perhaps they, too, didn't want to get too close. No one ever seemed to want to be close to her - not until William Mulder came into her life.

Cara shut her blue eyes, trying to summon the courage to face the fear of seeing her mother in person after nearly three years now, having only briefly chatted with her when she ran into her at the grocery store, handling the situation like she had seen an old neighbor. Her mother had attempted a relationship after, but it fell on deaf ears. Cara wasn't interested. She wasn't any longer the girl who ran errands for her mother so she could busy herself sleeping around. Cara was now the strong, powerful woman she once saw in the park, her duty belt gracing her hips as she strode with importance and authority. She was untouchable.

Now, as she approached the house, the fear touched her very deeply, consuming her. Her mother was dying. Soon, she wouldn't have any biological family left. Her father had died a very tragic death eight months earlier, as did her uncle - both died under the hands of Colonists who showed no mercy. Cara was now asked to show mercy on her ill mother, who had but weeks to live, and it scared her that she found it difficult to distinguish herself from the same monsters who killed her father and uncle. Was she that cold? Was she still unable to release the burden of her past, despite the dire circumstances that surrounded her?

Cara climbed the short set of stairs to the door marked 9376, hesitating as her fist hovered above the wood. She moistened her lips, letting her knuckles collide with the wood gently, hoping it was enough for her to notice. This was it. There was no turning back.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she waited, hoping the self-inflicted pain would somehow distract her from the somersaults her stomach was conducting in response to her worries. She held her breath when she heard the security chain slide slowly across the inside of the door, the deadbolt releasing itself and the knob twisting.

Somehow, it was like looking in a mirror when Cara saw her mother, the same worries she knew she felt displayed on her mother's face. Maryann English sighed, letting a smile lift her spirits. Her daughter was here.


	3. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"Cara," Maryann breathed, taking in how radiant her daughter looked both from maturity and the glow her pregnancy bestowed on her. "Please, come in."

Cara swallowed hard as she stepped in, avoiding physical contact with Maryann. Her heart stopped as she examined her mother's body. "You're not doing chemo," Cara said softly, taking note of her mother's hair still intact and the relative color to her face.

"No," Maryann replied gently, locking the door behind her. "There's not much point with stage four cancer."

"So you're just giving up, then?"

"Cara, you make it sound as though there's a victory to be had."

"Well, what if there was, Mom?" Cara asked, her tone sharp. "Would you even care to win, or would you rather have the attention that a slow, imminent death brings?" She hadn't meant her words to be so cruel, but the unresolved conflict of their relationship pushed through, rearing its ugly head before she could decapitate it with wise maturity.

"Cara," Maryann said, sighing, "I … I was hoping we could just talk." The fights they had for what seemed like forever exhausted both of them. They never gained any solid ground from the verbal battles that ensued, and at this point in her life, Maryann wanted peace.

"So talk," Cara said, realizing a moment later how she had demanded the same thing of her father shortly before his tragic end.

"How are you?" Maryann asked hesitantly.

"Fine."

"You look wonderful. Motherhood suits you."

There were plenty of negative retorts available in the selection of her mind, but Cara bit her tongue. "Thank you."

"Do you know the genders?"

"No."

"You're waiting to be surprised?"

Cara couldn't find more than one-word answers at the moment. "Yes."

"Oh. I admire that. I … well, I wanted to know straight away."

"Why?" Cara asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I was excited to know who you were," Maryann whispered.

"Could've fooled me."

"Cara-"

"Why am I here, Mom?" Cara asked, feeling the surge of emotions flow through her. "What do you want from me?"

"Cara … I wanted to talk to you." Maryann was careful, knowing her daughter was a ticking time bomb that could explode fully at any second. "So much has happened for you and-"

"Where were you, Mom?" Her voice was strained and she hated herself for it.

Maryann cleared her throat. "When I saw … what was on the news and couldn't get ahold of you … I … I thought William was … I thought William had taken you, like your father always feared they would." She eyed her daughter. "I didn't know what to do, Cara. So I went to the police. They were overruled by the FBI, and after I told them, the FBI never gave me any information on you." She paused, seeing her daughter was still listening. "I was terrified for you, Cara. I knew what your father had done to protect you, and I never forgave him for it."

"You told them Will kidnapped me?" Cara asked softly in disbelief.

"I didn't know better, Cara!" Maryann argued. "How could I?"

"He was my best friend and partner for seven years!" Cara yelled. "And you just decided he wasn't to be trusted?!"

"You're my daughter, Cara! What did you want me to think? I barely knew him!"

"Will has never, and would never hurt me, Mom," Cara growled. "I can't believe it was you who fed into the lie!"

"Cara-"

"He's the only thing I have in this world and you … you tried to convict him?"

"See it from my perspective, Caraline!" Maryann snapped. "My only child disappears, last seen with a man who nearly killed her. Do you think I honestly could have rationalized that William was innocent at that point?"

"You could've asked me!" Cara snapped back.

"I … I know," Maryann whispered. She was surprised Cara didn't immediately lash out again. "Cara, I know I wasn't a very good mother to you. I know … I know I made so many mistakes. It killed me what your father did to you. I couldn't stand the sight of him. I couldn't be there with him in that house."

"What was done to me wasn't my fault, Mom," Cara said, her tone dark.

"I know, sweetheart. I made … a terrible mistake." Maryann sniffed, wiping the escaping tears from her eyes. "I never wanted to lose you, Cara. I distanced myself from you because I knew you would leave. I knew what your father made you remember would drive you far away. I just couldn't bear the pain of it all. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you, Cara." Maryann stroked more tears from her cheeks. "I am so sorry."

Cara wanted to continue down the darkened road she had chosen, devouring her mother in the years of anger and hatred she had lived in over her absence. She wanted to raise her voice, to scream her utter rage that boiled in her heart. It was the sound of one of her children speaking to her that made her stop and reconsider. _She's going to die. Isn't that enough?_

The embrace she initiated with her mother was the first time she had touched her in now five years, only having felt her physical contact when she last visited her at Christmas in 2007. After, though they lived in the same city, she made it a point to keep her distance. She felt her mother's tears under her, as she was slightly taller than her, and Cara knew she stiffened when Maryann's arms around around her back. The intimacy of the moment scared Cara - it made her tense and rigid inside, her heart racing in fear as she allowed her mother to sink into her.

A few moments later, her mother pulled away from her, her cheeks red from the sadness she expressed. She scanned her daughter's eyes, seeing Timothy's so clearly as she examined them. "I'm so proud of you," Maryann said softly, stroking Cara's cheek. "Please know I am."

That was all it took. Cara unraveled at the seams, her sobs releasing from her with force as she found herself the one being embraced, her head stroked lovingly by her mother as her tears dampened her mother's shoulder. "Shh," Maryann whispered, clutching onto her, stroking her back. Cara couldn't close the floodgates once they opened - she clung onto her mother's shirt, letting the last decade seep from her, flowing through her like a raging current. For the first time in ages, she felt vulnerable and weak - she was the frightened girl with a wad of cash in her pocket, no place to call home. She was the girl who was bullied at school for having a slut for a mother and a psycho for a father. She was the girl who clawed her way to the top of the academy, bearing such a tough exterior so she wouldn't be hurt, all while hanging on to the mental image of a stranger in a park. She was the girl who so desperately sought the unexplainable because fantasy was far easier to embrace than her reality.

* * *

It was a long while later when Cara finally found the strength to part from her mother, not realizing that Maryann had led them to the couch and guided her to sit during her weeping. Cara breathed deeply, feeling the last of the pain she had clung onto slip away from her as she felt her mother's hand over hers. "I love you, Caraline," Maryann whispered, tenderly stroking her daughter's face. "We were never good for you, your father and I. But look at you now. You're so incredibly strong and have achieved so much." She smiled gently. "You have a wonderful husband who loves you, and two beautiful children to call your own."

"Mom …" Cara found it hard to breathe, her inhales accompanied with shudders as she thought of Will. "Mom, I betrayed Will," she whispered. "I left him behind. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me …"

"Of course he will," Maryann insisted. "It would have beeen far too dangerous for him to have come here with you to see me, and you know that."

"I'm not talking about that, Mom. I'm talking about the risk I'm going to take."

"What do you mean risk, Cara?" Maryann whispered, genuine concern filling her at her daughter's revelation.

"Mom, it's just how Dad said it would be. It's all ending, Mom."

"What is?"

"The world. It's ending."

"Cara-"

"No, Mom! You need to listen to me!" Cara was firm through her tears. "What Dad was working on … what he did with the Project … it was all for this time right now. There are forces that are trying to take over the earth, and I might be the only thing to be able to stop them."

"Caraline, what are you talking about?"

"The Shield, Mom!" Cara said, crying. She paused, seeing the hesitation and confusion in her mother. She was stunned into silence momentarily. "Wait … didn't Dad tell you?"

"What Shield, Cara?" Maryann breathed, panicking.

"Me, Mom. The Shield is me."

Maryann's jaw dropped; she instantly became pale. "Oh God," she whispered, horrified. "That son of a bitch!"

"Mom-"

"He lied to me!"

"What do you mean?"

Maryann trembled as she gripped her daughter's hand. "Your bastard of a father told me you weren't successful … that we had nothing to worry about. That …" Her eyes widened. "Caraline, listen to me. You need to leave immediately."

"What are you talking about, Mom?"

"Leave, Cara!" Maryann yanked her up to stand. "For Christ's sake, leave now! Get as far away from here as you can!"

"Mom!"

Maryann gasped when she heard a car door slam shut. "GO!" she hoarsely whispered, shoving her toward the back door. Cara saw the fear in her mother's eyes and her heart began to race.

"Mom, what's going on?" Maryann's mouth was open, but nothing came out. "Mom!"

"Go, please! Go!" her mother managed through her tears.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on!"

Cara jumped when the front door swung open with force, seeing an older man in a suit with silvered white hair gazing intently at her, smoke escaping from his lips from the cigarette perched between his thumb and middle finger of his right hand. "Howard," she heard her mother whisper in horror, almost hearing her mind rapidly fit the pieces of the puzzle into place. "No, Howard! You wouldn't ..." Maryann gasped, pushing Cara behind her.

Cara was in shock - it was the Smoking Man from her memories, the same man who had terrified her as a child in the complex, now staring at her face-to-face in her reality. Her mom called him Howard - she knew he most likely used a false identity in order to gain access. Whoever he really was, he didn't deserve a name other than perhaps Satan or the Devil.

"I was right, Maryann," the Smoking Man said calmly, still looking into Cara's eyes. "Nothing disappears without a trace." He took a drag of the cigarette, exhaling in Cara's direction.

"Please, Howard! Don't do this!" Maryann breathed, feeling faint with shock.

"Timothy and I had an arrangement," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

"He thought he could trust you!"

"His trust was his first mistake."

Cara gripped her mother and pulled her away from the man. "Step back," she warned, whipping out her pocket knife and holding the blade up to guard them.

The Smoking Man smiled. "A pocket knife? Now that's unexpected. Where's your gun, Caraline?" he taunted, stepping closer.

In this moment, she wished she had her gun, but she would never had made it to New Jersey from New Mexico without a paper trail for it. "I said, step back," Cara warned, shoving her mother deeper into the house as she moved away from the man in front of her.

"You looked shocked, Caraline," the Smoking Man said with a smile. "I bet your father in law told you stories of me being bound to a wheelchair." His smile widened as he inhaled from the stem of the cigarette. "It's amazing what ten years of medical advances can change. It can bring the dead back to life." He paused, stepping closer. "You know Caraline, when I first realized of your tremendous success in the Project, I was quite pleased with the possibilities." The Smoking Man's eyes shifting to Maryann.

"You leave her alone!" Maryann yelled in fear behind Cara, who stood firm with the knife in front of her.

"Then," he continued, "you disappointed me with your resistance. By now, you could have been a very high level player if you had stayed in the game. However, you vanished seemingly into thin air. Of course, you always were quite headstrong - it was something we could never break you of." The Smoking Man smiled as he glanced at Cara's full stomach. "Where's William? I was hoping to finally meet him as well."

"Mom, run!" Cara instructed, shoving her mother away from her.

"No, Cara!" Maryann replied, trembling.

"Where would she go, Caraline?" the Smoking Man asked. "After all, she too will be eliminated, just as I had your father eliminated."

Cara's mouth opened. "You were there."

"Of course," he said, inhaling on the stem of his cigarette. "Did you honestly think the bounty hunter was at the head of this? His singular way of thought alone would never be able to maintain such a delicate balance of force and restraint."

"I would think his intelligence would far surpass yours," Cara sneered, raising her knife slightly.

The Smoking Man exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Your spark intrigues me, Caraline. I can tell you'll still be an interesting pawn in the game."

"No!" Maryann gasped.

The back door flew open, causing Cara to turn toward it, still reaching behind herself to protect her mother. Her eyes went wide when she saw Billy Miles staring at her intently, his eyes focused on her swollen womb. "Stay back," she warned, still gripping her knife tightly, unaware of who he was or that he was a replacement.

"Just in time," the Smoking Man said, smiling.

Cara gasped when she saw Miles aim a gun at her mother. "NO!" she screamed. "Leave her alone!"

"I'm continually surprised at your ability to forgive so easily, Caraline," the Smoking Man commented, his cigarette hovering near his lips. "This situation looks familiar, doesn't it?"

"Don't hurt her! Just … take me if it's me you want," Cara said firmly, looking at the Smoking Man.

"I plan on it."

"No!" Maryann gasped, moving toward the Smoking Man.

"Mom, stay-"

The blast from the round expelled from Billy Miles' gun made Cara gasp in terror. She turned to her mother behind her, seeing her slump to the floor, the bullet lodged deep in her skull killing her instantly. "MOM!" she screamed, leaving herself open as she lowered herself to her mother's side, her hands hovering over her body as she shook with terror. "You bastard!" she screamed at the Smoking Man.

"From what I understood, you held quite a bit of resentment toward your mother," the Smoking Man said calmly, dragging on his lit cigarette.

"Damn you, you low-life son of a bitch!" Cara screamed, her tears clouding her eyes. She stood, holding her knife defensively as Miles closed the gap between them. He grabbed her arm, and she braced against him, driving her knife with force deep into his chest. Her eyes widened in horror when there was no blood and no stopping Miles. She tried to flee, but her arms were gripped in excruciating pain by Miles, who held her as she squirmed. "You bastard!" she screamed at the Smoking Man, who observed the fight while puffing on his cigarette.

"Save your energy, Caraline," the Smoking Man said cooly, exhaling thoughtfully. "You'll need it for when you call William."


	4. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Near Gunnison, Utah  
12:25 PM MST

Agent Harry Klim craned his neck to the side as he stretched, waiting by his dark sedan at the rural location she had selected. She was late, but it didn't cross his mind to be concerned. Why should it? She could more than take care of herself. The show she put on over the last couple months was an amusing one, considering her capabilities.

He saw her approach him in the distance, watching as she walked toward him with confidence. He became lustfully intrigued by the sway of her hips; he knew she could read his thoughts, so he let some travel idly through his mind, just to gauge her reaction. She wasn't phased. "You're a dirty man," she nearly purred when she neared him.

"Does that bother you?" he asked, enjoying the flirtation.

"Not in the least," she replied, smiling. "Because I'm not such an angel myself."

"I bet you aren't."

"Want to know what bad things I've done?" she whispered, her soft laugh nearly making him groan.

"Sure," he said huskily. "It'll make this the best business meeting ever."

Joy LaHaye smiled. "Well let's see … how about we start with the people I've killed."

"Not exactly what I had in mind."

"Of course not," she replied. "But I know it's still turning you on." She smiled, his silence still giving him away. "Do you know why I kill people?" she asked, now circling around him like a cat enclosing on its prey. She knew he was enjoying this. "I kill for two reasons. One is because I'm hired to. Money talks, I listen."

"You _are_ bad."

"You want to know the second reason?" She slid her hand on his arm, stroking it sensually.

"Of course."

Joy let her red lips linger next to Klim's ear, her breath falling softly on his face. "The second reason is because I can."

He felt the long pierce of the blade in his stomach, the breath leaving him as his eyes widened, staring into her blue ones. "I don't like sharing," she whispered, holding on to his shirt as the blood gushed from his wound. He gasped, the air barely filling his mouth. "You take up too much room," she continued, still holding him upright as he slowly bled out. A gasping groan of pain was received in response. "So did all of your agents. I took care of them too. Just like I've taken care of you."

She let him go, watching as his bloodied body dropped to the ground, the knife still protruding from his abdomen. She smiled down at him, seeing the struggle and pain in his eyes. "Never be a middleman," she said softly. "No one likes a middleman."

* * *

2:57 PM MST

Fox Mulder parked the car and threw the door open quickly as they came upon the abandoned building Joy had noted during her phone call with Will earlier that day. Dana Scully and John Doggett followed, each with their guns drawn as the swept the building, dividing into a pyramid to cover more angles.

After kicking the door open, Mulder quickly scanned the interior of the small building, Doggett following him as they braced their guns in their hands. "Clear!" Doggett said from the far left, Mulder hearing him as he searched the right.

"Clear," Mulder said, disappointment in his voice. "She's not here."

"You think they got to her?" Doggett asked, now coming to where Mulder was examining the building.

"I don't know. There's no apparent signs of a struggle, no footprints …"

"Mulder!"

Mulder instantly rose from his crouched position when he heard Scully's voice calling from outside, bolting for the exit. "Scully!" he yelled, trying to see where she was among the tall weeds that surrounded the building.

"Over here!" she called, and Mulder headed east toward her voice, Doggett on his heels. When he reached her, she was bent low to the ground, her index and middle fingers together pressing on the neck of Harry Klim. "He's dead," she said softly, standing as she sighed.

"Damn," Doggett murmured, seeing the large hunting knife jutting out from his chest. "I'll call the locals," he added, turning away from them as he dug out his cell phone.

"Why am I angry I didn't get to stab him, Scully?" Mulder half-heartedly joked, seeing Scully's unique combination of a grimace and a grin form on her face.

"Well, whoever did stab him had both skill and strength," she noted, eyeing the position of the blade.

"Replacement?"

"Maybe."

"Alright, I've got the local sheriff's department coming out in fifteen. I also asked if they saw anyone matching Joy's description. Turns out, they saw someone who might be a match at a local diner about ten miles away."

"Probably took Klim's car," Mulder said, squinting as he examined the area. "Unless whoever did this dumped the body."

"No, Klim died here," Scully said, gesturing to the blood on the ground around him. "There's a considerable amount of blood loss under him, suggesting he was stabbed here. It also wasn't that long ago, judging from his core temperature and skin color."

"So we're looking for a government vehicle?" Doggett asked.

Mulder nodded. "Possibly, since Klim was working out of the FBI."

"Alright, I'll call the sheriff's department back and tell 'em to put an APB on a car with federal plates within a twenty mile radius."

"Better make it thirty, and tell them to proceed with extreme caution" Mulder said, eyeing Klim's body.

"Do you think they have enough manpower to cover that much ground?"

"I don't know, but whoever did this isn't probably going to stick around or want company right now."

* * *

Ruby's Diner  
Gunnison, UT  
5:26 PM MST

After waiting for local authorities to come to the site where Klim was found and answering questions regarding their discovery, they attempted to call her cell phone, but she didn't pick up. Local authorities were working on a trace of the phone, so Mulder, Scully and Doggett headed to the small throw-back style diner that sat in the middle of a small town, where a woman who looked like Joy was last seen.

The three entered, Doggett perhaps the most out of place in his suit, scanning the surrounding area as the local patrons took the sight of them in with curious hesitation. Doggett, having the jurisdiction, approached the counter, taking out his badge. "Hi, I'm Agent Doggett with the FBI," he said, smiling at the middle-aged waitress. "Can you tell me if you've seen this woman?" Doggett held up an enlarged photograph of Joy from a photo ID they found in her belongings that were abandoned at Will and Cara's cabin the day she was kidnapped.

"No, can't say that I have," the waitress replied, shaking her head. "I'm fairly sure she'd stick out like a sore thumb around here with the male population. I'd have heard something by now."

"Can some of the other employees take a look just in case?"

"Sure," the waitress said, waving over the few other people that worked the front of the house. "Have any of y'all seen her?" she asked. They each shook their heads after taking in the image. "Sorry," the waitress offered.

"Thank you for your time," Doggett said, managing a polite smile as he rejoined Mulder and Scully. "No one saw her," he murmured. "I say we canvas the rest of town, see if she was spotted anywhere else."

"Alright," Mulder said, leading Scully out of the diner with his hand on her lower back.

The trio spent nearly another forty minutes combing the town, Joy not seeming familiar to anyone they encountered. As they exited yet another place of business, Scully shook her head. "This is useless," she said, looking at Doggett.

"I agree," Doggett said, sighing. "We're wasting our time."

Mulder scanned the town slowly as his hands rested on his hips. "I say we head back to the station to see what they were able to recover off of Klim's body. Then we'll grab some dinner and get a motel. I think we'll be sticking around at least overnight."

* * *

From a distance, she watched from a vehicle with a soft smile as the three climbed into the SUV, moistening her lips as she observed them. Her eyes focused on Mulder, her lips curling upward in even more of a smile. It was only a matter of time, now. She would let them go, let them eat - after all, she wanted them to have the strength. The hunt wasn't nearly as much fun when the prey was weak.

* * *

En route to Hoboken, NJ  
8:01 PM EST

"Good evening, folks. We are flying in clear summer skies and are now approximately one hour from our destination of Newark International Airport in New Jersey. When we prepare to land in forty minutes, we will ask that you kindly turn off all electronic devices, including cellular phones, tablets, gaming devices, computers and portable music players. Once again, thank you for choosing American Airlines."

She had pretended to still be asleep through the announcement, not sure if it convinced William Mulder or not, given his abilities, but Monica Reyes knew he needed the solace that her being asleep would produce. She had felt the thin, navy blue blanket being carefully spread over her, not realizing she had fallen asleep until she felt Will's kind gesture. Being as she was still worn, she had drifted back to sleep, promising herself she'd thank him later for it when they landed.

Now, as the pilot informed his crew and the passengers of Flight 891 to Newark International of their approaching landing, she took a deep breath, her eyes remaining closed as she felt Will shift next to her in the seat. She couldn't imagine how someone with his large, fit build would be comfortable in the cramped plane, but she hoped he was able to convince himself to rest while he could and to not feel guilty for it.

It had been a silent flight, for the most part, neither knowing what to say to the other. Anything she thought was free range for Will to explore, anyway, which made for light conversation. She had taken in the Sky Mall magazine more than twice, allowing herself the pleasure of selecting the hypothetical things she would purchase for Doggett for Christmas from the colorful pages of infomercial-esque items, despite the looming threat that she didn't have to read Will's mind to know that it was his sole focus.

Reyes had offered him an ear to talk to, receiving a polite, practiced reply of rejection to the exchange. She hadn't figured Will to be itching to talk about his missing, very pregnant wife who left him by surprise in the middle of the night to walk into her potential death, or about how he sent his parents to search for a woman who he wasn't even sure if they could trust. The humanity Will showed through his struggle with each situation made Reyes both proud of his character and worried for his safety. Would the Colonists use his human half against him? Of course they would - it was just a matter of what the severity would be.

She had observed Will with his earbuds in for most of the flight, quickly coming to the conclusion that the thoughts he was privy to of the hundreds of people on the plane with them was far too overwhelming for him. She thought it a bit strange that he had convinced himself that earbuds would cancel out the endless racket of people's minds, but she was happy it seemed to have worked well enough, more than once watching him close his eyes and focus on whatever he was listening to.

Every time she saw him, Reyes couldn't believe how much Will reminded her of his father, both physically and his personality. Yet, there was a doubt that was so clearly his mother's that coursed through him - a doubt in the unexplained, a doubt in himself. She and Doggett knew Will was capable of much more than they had already witnessed, and she wondered if Will could believe enough in himself to access the powers that remained hidden. He could psychically locate most everyone, though it was only tested on his parents. He had strength that was simply unexplainable by science's standards. He could read people's minds, given that they weren't a Shield or a Colonist. He could move anything or destroy around him with his mind, something Reyes thought was simply fascinating. What else could Will possibly be adept in that he and the rest weren't aware? As she kept her eyes closed and drifted slowly back to sleep, Reyes wondered whether Will would ever come to terms with himself in order to find out.

* * *

New York City, NY  
10:20 PM EST

"We've just gotten word that William has landed in Newark," the younger man said as he looked at his associates who gathered in the private suite that evening. "Reyes is with him."

"Klim has been eliminated," the mustache man said as he puffed on his cigar. "Joy is in the process of securing the barter."

"Excellent," the bounty hunter replied with a small smile.

"Our associate and Miles have possession of the Shield. They've eliminated the mother," the dark-skinned man added.

"What condition is the Shield in?" the bounty hunter asked.

"She's uncooperative. She refuses to speak," the dark-skinned man answered.

"I want her handled with care. We need the fetuses in tact," the bounty hunter ordered. He paused. "See to it our associate makes contact with William immediately. We'll give her reason to talk."

* * *

Newark International Airport  
Newark, NJ  
10:39 PM EST

It was only twenty minutes that his phone was turned off after hearing the request from the airline attendants, yet when he powered it back on, Will was faced with a myriad of text messages, all from his parents. Will had sworn them to absolute contact, needing to be apprised of every move they made for his own sake, to know they were alright and that they were safe. He was disappointed, however, when what he read indicated that they had been less than successful in locating Joy or getting in touch with her.

As Reyes walked by his side carrying her own luggage, Will quickly dialed his father's number and pressed his phone to his ear, eager to hear his voice.

"Mulder."

"Dad."

"William, you both made it alright?"

"Yeah, we're here. We just landed twenty minutes ago. We're about to get a car now."

"Try to lay as low as possible. You're still a wanted man."

"Yeah, I highly doubt anyone's forgotten about me."

"She wasn't at the building, William," Mulder said, sighing. "So we're finding a motel in the area and trying to see if we can pick up any leads."

"They got to her," Will murmured, his eyes closing momentarily.

"Not necessarily," Mulder replied. "Maybe she just went underground to protect herself."

"Listen to me," Will said, his voice low. "As much of an asshole as I feel like for saying this, don't stick your neck out too far on this one. You three need to stay safe."

"You just worry about taking care of Reyes and yourself," Mulder assured. "We're fine." He heard Mulder inhale, knowing he was working up the nerve to ask him the question he'd most likely hear the most. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Will said softly. "Listen, tell mom I love her, okay?"

"Of course, but what about your old man?"

Will grinned. "He's alright, too."

"Love you, William."

"Love you, Dad."

Will hung up, rubbing his tired eyes as he approached the rental car counter Reyes was at. "How much?" he asked softly, taking out his wallet.

"It's on the house," Reyes replied, smiling. "We'll call it even for the blanket."

"I think you're losing out on this deal," Will replied, a small grin shared just with her.

"Possibly," she said, her smiling widening.

In a weird combination of being on edge and exhausted, Will was both surprised and dazed by the ringing of his phone in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing the number was once again blocked, and he moved quickly away from the rental car counter to a more secluded space of the airport. "Hello?" he said softly, his mind reeling with the possibilities of who was on the other end.

What he didn't expect, what ripped him apart and once again severed his soul the instant he heard it was her soft, wavering voice:

"Will … I made a terrible mistake."


	5. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Howard Johnson Inn  
Gunnison, UT  
8:53 PM MST

They booked two rooms, but piled into Mulder and Scully's shared one as they snatched pieces of pizza from the cardboard box that laid nearby. "Alright, so no prints on the knife or the building besides Klim's, no witnesses, and preliminary exam shows cause of death to be blood loss from the stabbing," Doggett recapped through chews. "This is as dead of an end as I've ever seen one."

"Still nothing on the satellite trace," Scully added.

"She's still not answering, either," Mulder said, hanging up the phone. "I have a feeling we're looking for someone who won't be found."

"I guess now we just wait to see if they lift any hair or fiber off the body," Scully suggested, receiving a small nod from Mulder.

"It's all we've got at this point."

There was hardly a moment of silence after Mulder spoke when Doggett's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, his eyebrow arching. "Doggett," he said, capturing Scully's and Mulder's attentions.

"Agent Doggett," the young police officer addressed him. "We just received a call that a woman matching Joy LaHaye's description was just admitted to Gunnison Valley Hospital an hour ago. She was shot - she's in critical condition."

"Alright, we're on our way."

Doggett hung up, his face showing the confusion he felt. "Local PD says a woman matching Joy LaHaye's description was brought into Gunnison Valley Hospital for a gunshot wound an hour ago."

"That doesn't make sense," Mulder said, folding his arms. "If Joy is like William, she wouldn't be affected by a bullet."

"Do you think it's another distraction?" Scully asked.

"What if it was a magnetite bullet?" Doggett proposed, which made Mulder hesitate.

"I don't know," Mulder murmured. He sighed, standing. "I guess we need to check it out."

* * *

Will's throat instantly went dry; there would never be enough saliva to coat it or oxygen to fill his lungs that had ceased to function upon hearing her. "Cara," he breathed, his heart now working in overdrive. "Cara, are you alright? Where are you?"

"It's not for me to say," Cara murmured, her breath shallow.

"Cara, are you hurt?" he asked quickly.

"It's not for me to say," she repeated, her voice quivering.

"Tell me anything. Anything you see." He was desperate - he felt like a madman, crazed as his eyes scanned the busy airport, thinking, or perhaps wishing, that somehow she'd be right there.

He heard her shudder. "Will … it's not for me to say."

"Damnit!" he yelled, moistening his lips. "What can you say? Tell me anything, Cara!"

"I ... I made a terrible mistake, Will," Cara whispered; she was clearly crying, her voice shaking.

Will was enraged. "Cara, who has you?" The line was silent, and he panicked. "Cara? CARA?!"

"Perhaps you didn't hear her," came his voice - the smoking black-lunged bastard - instead of his wife's. "It's not for her to say."

"You son of a bitch!" Will growled, storming further away from Reyes. "I swear I'll kill you when I find you, you fucking bastard!"

"I told you this was coming, William," the Smoking Man said cooly, taking a drag from his cigarette. "You didn't listen."

"You're a dead man," Will said in a low, dark tone as he pressed the phone to his ear. "You hear me? You're a dead man!"

"You didn't think it was going to be easy, did you?" the Smoking Man continued, unphased. "Your wife is certainly presenting challenges of her own."

"If you touch her-"

"You'll what?" The Smoking Man was amused.

"If you lay a finger on her, you won't live long enough to know, you scumbag," Will replied, grinding his teeth together.

"I'll let you say goodbye for now, William. After all, I wouldn't want to tie up your line." Will clenched his fist as he heard Cara whimper in the background. "Speak up, Caraline," he goaded her.

Will's heart stopped when he heard Cara's weak voice. "9376," she whispered, hearing how she cried out in pain after.

"Cara-"

The line disconnected and Will hunched over in incredible emotional pain, feeling every bit of him resist the rage that boiled so closely to the surface. He was shaking from containing himself, trying to remain as calm as possible so he didn't hurt the innocent people in the airport with him. Reyes saw his struggle and rushed to him. "William!" she said, looking at him. "William, what happened?"

With his eyes shut and his head hanging, he growled, "He has her."

"Who? The bounty hunter?" she asked.

"The Smoking Man."

Before she could ask any more questions, Will headed through the airport toward the exit, his long, determined strides carrying him quickly as Reyes struggled to keep up. "Where are you going, William?" she asked, now running to catch up to him.

"To find her," he snapped without even looking back at her.

"Do you know where she is?" Reyes asked, searching the profile of Will's face as he burst through the exit. "William!" she yelled, grabbing his arm. He stopped, letting her clamp down on him. "William, stop!" His chest rose and fell quickly, his need for air more apparent than it ever had been before in his life. "Breathe," she said calmly, still gripping his arm. "William, do you know where she is?"

Will sighed deeply, trying to relax his overworked pulse. "No," he murmured.

"How do you know it's Spender who has her?" Reyes asked, examining the young man's face.

"He sent me a message," Will admitted, his head dropping. "In New Mexico."

Reyes' lips parted. "Why didn't you tell your father?"

"I didn't need him worrying about his arch nemesis trying to fuck with my mind."

"Are you positive it's-"

"Yes."

"William, you have to tell him immediately. He might be able to help get a location."

Will looked at Reyes intensely, torn between his desire to listen to her and to irrationally run through the streets of Hoboken searching for her - if she was still even in Hoboken. _Shit!_ He pawed at his pocket, pulling out the phone he tossed in it when he made a bolt for the exit. He quickly sought out his father's number, dialing it as he let his head fall back to his shoulders, impatiently pacing as he waited for him to respond. _Hi, this is Fox Mulder, I'm not available right now_\- The message recording began in his ear, to which he quickly hung up, finding his mother's number and pressing talk as he continued to pace, feeling his pulse quicken even more, if it was possible.

"William?" Dana Scully breathed shakily into her phone across the country as she stood in the woods of Utah.

"Mom!" Will said, now gripping his phone tighter. "Are you alright?"

"William … it's your father."

"What happened?" Will demanded, his eyes growing wide. When there was a moment's hesitation, Will stopped pacing. "MOM!" he yelled, his stomach sinking even further than it already was.

"Hi, Will."

Will held his breath, feeling the blood drain from his face. "Joy," he growled.

"Nice to hear from you," she purred, smiling at Scully as she pressed a gun to Mulder's temple.

"What have you done?!" Will yelled.

"Nothing yet," Joy replied. "Everyone's been cooperating quite nicely."

"You listen to me," Will snapped, "if you hurt them-"

"It's your fault they're in this predicament, Will," Joy continued, unphased by Will's rage. "You should've come yourself. But then again, I guess I always knew I'd be second-best to your precious Caraline. Kinda pisses me off a bit, though."

"What do you want?" Will demanded.

"I want you, William," Joy said, smiling seductively. "I want you for myself."

"Let them go."

"It's not that simple, and you know it."

"What do you want, then?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Joy asked, laughing. "You, William. You in exchange for your father. Since your mother and Agent Doggett will be incapacitated, feel free to reach me on your father's line. You have seventy-two hours to make it _alone_ to 290 Westville Road in Gunnison, Utah. If you fail to show by seventy-three hours from this minute, I kill him. If you send police, feds, SWAT, the military, park rangers or even a fucking boy scout, I kill him." She paused. "And don't think I won't. I'm sure Klim and his men thought I wouldn't, too. But what they didn't know was how much I enjoy the power killing brings."

The phone went silent, and Will remained frozen, his bottom lip quivering as his fist tightened around the phone. "William?" Reyes asked hesitantly. "It's Joy, isn't it?"

Will nodded softly, the ability the speak leaving him. "She has my father," he said softly, still staring blankly ahead of him. "I have seventy-two hours to get to Utah. If not, she kills him."

Reyes chewed her lip. "She has John and Dana too?" Will's nod confirmed her fear. "Alright," she said, knowing she had to take charge of things for Will, who looked like he hovered somewhere between breaking down and breaking everything around him. "I'll go back to Utah and-"

"No," Will said firmly. "She'll kill him if it's anyone but me."

"Do you believe she'd do it?"

"I believe I'd be a fool to put it past her." Will inhaled deeply. "I've got to find Cara in the next forty-eight hours." He paused his eyebrow arching. "And I think I know where to look."

"Where?"

Will turned to Reyes, looking into her dark eyes. "Nowhere I'll let you go," he murmured gently.

"William, I'm not letting you go anywhere alone," Reyes said firmly.

Will shut his eyes, thinking of the four-digit number Cara gave him, surprising himself by knowing the significance despite his mere two times going to Cara's mother's home. He knew he was going to walk into something dangerous, and he didn't want Reyes to follow. "Her old apartment," he lied convincingly, looking at her. "She told me the number 914. It's her birthday. It's also her apartment."

"Alright, let's go."

Will let Reyes lead, feeling terrible for his willing deception. He knew, though, it was for her protection, which he promised Doggett to provide her. Whatever waited at Cara's mother's house wasn't something meant for her. "Why don't you go grab the car, since it's in your name," Will said. "I'll wait here."

"Alright, I'll be back," Reyes said, heading toward the car counter on the outside of the airport in the garage, eventually disappearing out of sight.

Will watched her as she walked away, his stomach sinking as he slowly backed away, quickly flagging down a cab with the wave of his impatient arm. His eyes on the direction Reyes left in, now no longer being able to see her, Will opened the door quickly and climbed into the cab. "9376 Monroe Street," he said, sighing as he glanced at the cabby, who nodded, pulling away from the airport. _Sorry, Monica,_ he thought remorsefully, leaning his head back against the headrest as he felt his silent tears escape from his eyes.

* * *

9376 Monroe Street  
Hoboken, NJ  
11:36 PM EST

After handing the cabby a considerable tip, Will exited the taxi and slung his bag over his shoulder, heading with purpose to Cara's mother's house. He strode up the stairs, pausing at the top. He knocked, looking around him at the neighborhood as he waited, the many lights from the city casting a glow that kept the atmosphere from being dark - not dark like New Mexico got, anyway. "Missus English?" he asked, listening both with his ears for her voice or any sounds, as well as with his mind in case she was in danger. "It's William Mul-Van De Kamp." Silence.

Frowning, he closed his eyes, concentrating on the lock of the door while he held the knob, realizing a moment later it was already unlocked. He reached to his hip instinctively, in that moment operating as the police officer he worked so hard to be. No gun, no knife. He couldn't risk not making the flight, so he came empty-handed. Inhaling softly, he twisted the knob gently and cracked the door. "Missus English?" he repeated, his voice concentrated into the opening he made. More silence. There was nothing - no human thoughts to be read at all. He stiffened, throwing the door open as he readied himself to be confronted with a replacement or something else he couldn't read the mind of. Instead, he was surrounded by emptiness and darkness, the quiet hum of various appliances and electronics the only white noise filling the space.

Will carefully shut the door, resting his bag down on the hallway table. "Missus English?" he called again, his eyes flicking over his surroundings, finding the lightswitch. He turned on the lights, the soft glow illuminating the foyer he had entered into. "Anyone home?" he asked.

He froze as he approached the living room, seeing the blood on the far wall. He turned on the light, examining the scene, his eyes landing on Maryann English's body on the floor, her head covered in blood, a gunshot wound to her skull wound partially disfiguring her. His heart began to race - did Cara witness this? Was that why he was sent here? Or was she afraid for her life, and he was now too late to protect her?

He stooped above the body, his fingers reluctantly checking for a pulse. He knew she wasn't alive, but needed to be sure. He sighed, silently taking in the details around him. The way Cara's mother had fallen after being shot suggested she was hit from the area of the back door. Will's eyes looked immediately in the direction of the back door, scanning for any evidence or clues he could find.

He stopped, his heart lurching when he saw it on the floor. Will stepped near it, squatting as he looked down at the cigarette butt that had been dropped on the floor, seeing the red typeface spelling "Morley" … "Son of a bitch," he murmured, standing as he looked back at Cara's mother.

"Alright, think," he told himself, his eyes falling on the stairs leading up to the bedrooms. He scaled them quickly, determined to find a connection point between Cara's past and her present location. He opened the door to the master bedroom, finding photographs on Maryann's bureau. He examined them, seeing several of Cara when she was a child, both alone and with a younger version of Maryann and a man who he assumed was her father. He felt his heart stop as he saw a baby picture of Cara, his lips parting as he recalled the children from his dreams. Aside from the coloring differences, the one child he dreamt of looked exactly like the picture he now fingered carefully.

Regaining himself, he continued to examine the room, his eyes falling on the spine of a photo album buried on the bookshelf near the bed. He pulled it from its shelf, flipping it open to see a mixture of vintage color and black and white photographs from what looked like Maryann's and Timothy's life together before Cara. He studied the picture of Timothy he saw, him sporting a Yale sweatshirt as he wrapped his arm proudly around Maryann. He examined the background of the photo, coming to the conclusion the photo had been taken on campus. _Smart guy to get into Yale, _he thought.

Will continued to flip through the album, now finding himself further in the journey of the English Family Timeline. He stopped and looked closely at a photo of Timothy and a few other men, all dressed in lab coats. His fingers worked quickly to retrieve the picture from the album, now examining it in the full light without the glare of the plastic cover. He had no idea who the other men were, but he knew it had to signify something. He tucked the photo into his pocket and continued, finding two more photos that peaked his interest, removing them and stowing them in his jeans.

Will's head shot up from the album when he heard the loud sirens approaching. His heart stopped; he slammed the album shut and shoved it back into the bookcase, hearing the sirens continue to approach as the telltale red and blue lights spun outside, casting their motioned light into the windows of the house. "Shit," he murmured, knowing his prints were everywhere in the house. He exited the bedroom, listening carefully as he heard the knock on the front door. Only one knock was given, and Will was a little more than halfway down the stairs when he heard the cock of a gun. "Police!" the officer behind him yelled. "Freeze! Hands in the air!"

Will kept his back to the officer, internally panicking as he slowly raised his hands. "You're making a mistake," Will said calmly.

"Shut up!" the officer yelled. "Hands behind your head!" Will hesitated, and the officer raised his voice. "Hands behind your head!"

Reluctantly, Will complied. "I'm unarmed. Please, I-"

"Save it," the officer said. "Lace your fingers!" The officer watched as Will laced his fingers, hearing voices over the radio on his hip. "Alright, now turn around slowly," the officer ordered.

Will shut his eyes, his head dropping a little as he slowly shifted his weight counter-clockwise toward the officer behind him. He knew it was a Hoboken cop, which meant whoever the guy was that was in the process of arresting him would recognize him more than likely, given his less than stellar reputation he had left behind in the city. Being as he was in Cara's mother's house, where Maryann now lay deceased from an execution-style gunshot, odds were no one was going to think he was innocent. He was screwed.

His head still dropped and his eyes closed, Will now fully faced the officer, not wanting to see who it was. "Look at me," the officer ordered, to which Will complied by reluctantly opening his eyes, still looking downward. "Head up," the officer added. Will didn't move. "I said, head up!" the officer repeated.

As Will lifted his head, his lips parted softly, shocked at who he saw in front of him. His longtime colleague and well-respected officer, Rich Bertolini, was perhaps more shocked though he continued to aim his gun.

"Van De Kamp?" Rich asked with surprise.


	6. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Gunnison, UT  
9:01 PM MST

Mulder sighed deeply, twisting his wrists behind him against the pole they were cuffed around as his jean-covered knees achingly dug into the dirty wood floor, his ankles bound behind him around the pole as well. He had been bruised from the beating he took earlier, his head sporting a small gash and his back still warm from the kick he received to it. He thought of Scully, who had been dragged away by the same men Will described who participated in what they now knew was Joy's fake kidnapping. She had been taken with Doggett to another part of the warehouse they were in, where they were brought to after being intercepted while en route to the hospital to investigate a lead on Joy's disappearance. Mulder rested his head against the pole, knowing in the back of his mind that though Joy wouldn't choose to kill him yet, Scully and Doggett were expendable should Will fail to show sooner rather than later, which frightened him. He was, however, hopeful that Doggett was with Scully to protect her, though he highly doubted it was the case.

When they realized they had been set up after being driven off the road, Mulder, Scully and Doggett were forced into a van by several replacements who easily overpowered them. After arriving at the warehouse, Mulder tried to lead an escape, but traded himself for Scully after Joy threatened her life, despite Scully's pleading for him not to. He quickly found himself cuffed to the large, solid pole he now knelt in front of, having to watch painfully as Scully and Doggett were forcibly removed from the area after Will had inadvertently called.

William. His son was already burdened with the task of trying to find his pregnant wife, let alone having to now be forced to choose should she not be found before seventy-two hours. Mulder had no doubt that Joy was capable of killing him; upon their arrival at the warehouse, Joy confessed to Klim's murder as well as others, and also gleefully informed the trio that Cara had been abducted, and that Will would be hard-pressed to find her - that Cara was now so far gone that Will didn't have a chance. It sickened Mulder to think of his son flying across the country only to find that Cara might not be there.

It had all been designed so carefully, so many lies exchanged to finally arrive at this one truth. This was the culmination of their game, the highlight of the match. This was what the bounty hunter, and possibly CGB Spender, had been waiting for for over eight months, the time taken because of the children Cara bore in her womb. Mulder shut his eyes in disgust as he thought of how they now had possession of not only Cara, but his grandchildren who they most likely were seeking to study and then destroy. How had they all been so blind to the way they each had been arranged on the game board, each fulfilling the necessary spaces without as much as a second thought? Had he really been that gullible to believe that they would be aware if they were being played?

His temples pounded, his throat was dry. He kept his eyes closed as the cool metal pole supported his head, swallowing as he heard her soft footsteps approaching him. "Fox," he heard her say softly. He didn't move, didn't respond. He felt her circling him with feline instinct; there was something so primal, yet so refined in the way she conducted herself. "Not up for chatting, I take it?"

"I'd rather be called Mulder," Mulder murmured, not moving.

"Oh, but your given name is just so nice to say." He felt her breath near his face, but didn't move. "I bet it sounds good screamed."

"Listen," Mulder's tone was dry, his eyes still closed, "I appreciate the flattery. If I wasn't taken, I still wouldn't be interested, though. I don't tend to gravitate toward psychotic women by choice."

Joy's laugh pierced the air. "I'm glad I get to have you stick around for a while, Fox," she said sweetly. "You amuse me."

"Well at least someone's entertained."

"Are you bored?" Joy murmured; he knew she was still close to him, he could smell the sweet notes of her perfume. "I can think of ways to pass the time."

"Actually, I'm just wondering how the hell I got here."

"You're here because you're just like your son. You're a boy scout at heart. You just couldn't let poor little Joy suffer."

"Looks like chivalry doesn't get you anywhere these days."

"Being a gentleman isn't always a bad thing." He felt her breath on his cheek again. "It just leaves you weak."

"Weakness is in the eye of the beholder."

Joy laughed again. "So you don't find your current predicament giving you any weakness?" She paused, he didn't answer. "I bet I know what would make you feel very weak," she whispered suggestively. "I bet hearing Dana screaming in pain would make you sick with weakness."

"What is it that you want, exactly?" Mulder growled, now opening his eyes and lunging against his restraints toward her.

"There it is!" Joy said, a smile on her face as she watched Mulder's anger rise. "There's that spark I've waited for." She paced, keeping her eyes on him. "God, I thought you were dead for a second." She paused, eyeing him. "I wanted to see where the darkness that William has in him comes from."

"If you uncuff me, I'd be more than happy to show you that right now," Mulder replied, his eyes fixed on Joy.

"Dana really makes you weak, doesn't she?" Joy asked, her hands on her hips as she looked down at Mulder.

"Leave her alone," Mulder growled.

"See, that's one of the best parts about being superhuman," Joy continued, ignoring Mulder's crazed glare. "I don't feel pain for people. People come and go. Do you think I'm going to cry over William not choosing me and instead choosing the Shield?"

"So you doubt he'll come, then," Mulder noted.

"I'm hoping he doesn't," Joy replied. "It means I get to do what I do best if he doesn't. Otherwise, I still get to do it, but it's just messier. I prefer cleanliness when I kill."

"Klim wasn't that clean when you left him."

"Au contraire," Joy said, "he was so clean that you didn't have a damn thing to go on."

"So you like the cat and mouse game," Mulder said, his eyes narrowing as he psychoanalyzed her. "Typically, behavior like you're displaying is an attempt to make one feel superior when they otherwise are incredibly inferior and therefore less important than they perceive themselves to be."

"I know my place," Joy said cooly, circling around Mulder.

"I'm figuring it won't be long until you know where you really sit on the totem pole."

He wasn't sure how she seemed to leap across to him so quickly, her reflexes almost as cat-like as her demeanor. He felt her small yet incredibly strong hand wrap around his throat, clamping down on it with ease as he gasped. "The way I see it," she said softly as he choked, "you're the lowest man on the pole right now." She swiftly kicked him in the stomach, releasing his throat and shoving him into the pole. He gasped for air, hunching over against the pain of her boot colliding against his gut. She watched him, her lips pressed together as she observed. "It's been nice chatting with you, Fox," she said, a smile slowly washing over her face. "But now I've got to go catch up with Dana."

Mulder's nostrils flared as he pulled against the pole, yelling at Joy's back as she walked away. "Don't you touch her!"

Joy paused, looking over her shoulder at Mulder. "I'll be sure to leave the door open so you can hear her scream."

Enraged, Mulder wrestled against the handcuffs, feeling the skin of his wrists burning as the chain scraped on the metal pole, not gaining him any advantage as Joy disappeared out of sight.

* * *

With his fingers still laced together behind his head, Will swallowed, looking into Rich's eyes. "Holy shit," Rich whispered, still looking stunned as he continued to aim the gun. "What the hell happened to you, Van De Kamp?"

Will chewed his bottom lip, knowing what Rich was implying. "Rich, I didn't kill her."

"So you just happened to be wandering around Cara's mother's house tonight for no reason?"

"Rich-"

"How'd you get so fucked up, Will?" Rich asked. "First a doctor, then Cara, then you go postal in court and go AWOL, now this?"

"Rich, I can explain-"

"Save it," Rich growled, holding his aim on Will as he lifted his radio to his lips. "This is Bertolini, ten-eighteen requesting immediate backup to 9376 Monroe Street. I've got a one-eight-seven, one body and the suspect in custody. Suspect should be considered extremely dangerous."

"Ten-four, standby," the dispatcher said over the radio.

Will knew he could escape with no problem, being that Rich wasn't aware of his immunity to bullets. Yet, he knew if he was able to convince Rich that he wasn't guilty, he would be able to use the resources at the station for identifying the men in the photographs he took from Maryann's album that were now in his pocket. "Rich, please just listen to me," Will said softly, keeping his hands behind his head. He saw Rich's eyes narrow. "I know … I know you've heard a lot in the last eight months. I know how it looks. But you've got to believe me when I tell you that I'm not guilty."

"You almost shot Cara, Will," Rich said softly, still holding the gun on him. "Then, you strangled a man to death. Then you kidnapped your partner, drug her across the country and decided to beat, rape and torture her. Then when you finally got caught, you kidnapped her again after nearly killing your prosecuting lawyer. When that wasn't enough, you decided to bring her to God knows where and do God knows what to her for seven months … if she's even still alive." Rich's rehashing of the events made Will sick. "Now, you've decided to kill her mother. Am I missing something here?"

Will shut his eyes, trying to calm himself with a deep inhale. "I was set up, Rich," he murmured. "I didn't kill anyone." His voice was rising. "More importantly, I didn't kidnap Cara. And I didn't hurt her or rape her."

"Then where is she, Will?" Rich demanded.

"That's why I'm here," Will said gently. "I'm trying to find her."

"She's wherever you put her, you bastard!"

"Please …" Will was finding it hard to remain calm enough to defend himself. "Rich, I was set up at the Terminal. People have been trying to kill me since January. Cara willingly helped me flee across the country. I never hurt her. She was taken from me because of me. I found her, then gave myself up so she would be protected. I knew if she was found innocent, she would be safe." Will paused, swallowing as he carefully shifted his weight, seeing Rich's immediate lift of his gun on him. "When she came back, she was trying to find evidence of my innocence for my trial. She …" Will closed his eyes, feeling them threatening to swell with tears. "She's pregnant, Rich. She's pregnant with my children. Twins."

"So you did rape her?" Rich asked darkly.

Will shook his head profusely. "No," he interrupted. "No. She … we … it was_ very_ consensual." He took a deep breath. "The children she's carrying … there are people who want to see them destroyed. We tried to keep her pregnancy a secret, but the prosecution … they were leaked the information. Taking her from that courtroom and protecting her myself was the only way she was going to be safe."

"Why would they want your kids destroyed?" Rich asked skeptically.

"Because they're extremely special, Rich," Will answered, his tone serious. "Rich … I need you to do something for me. I need you to look over my right shoulder."

"Yeah and take my eyes off you?"

"I'm not moving, Rich," Will murmured gently.

"And what am I suppose to see over your right shoulder?"

"This."

Having caught sight of it before he went upstairs to Maryann's bedroom, Will now moved the piece of art hanging near the stairs with his mind, lifting it off the hook. As he focused on his task, not moving an inch of his body, he saw Rich's eyes widen in shock. Will dropped the painting to the ground with his mind, swallowing as Rich looked at him. "What the fuck was that?" Rich asked. "You a magician now, Van De Kamp?"

Will shook his head. "No, Rich. It's … it's something I've always been able to do."

Rich's jaw flexed. "Whatever that bullshit was, it still doesn't prove a damn thing."

"Think of something. Anything you want."

"What?"

"I'll tell you word for word what you're thinking. Just think it right now." Will paused. "You're thinking: 'If this mother-fucking idiot thinks I'll believe him, he's got another thing coming.' Am I right?" Will saw Rich's hesitation. "Pick something random." He waited. "'Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.' … 'Last night's lotto numbers: Nine, two, four, nine.' … 'Charlene, Tammy, Jessica-'"

"Holy shit," Rich whispered, feeling completely violated as Will pulled the thoughts from his mind at the exact time he was having them - no delay, just perfect synchronization in silence. His mouth opened, his tongue quickly wetting his lips. "How are you doing that?"

"I've always been able to," Will said gently. "That's what I'm telling you. Cara and my children - the children that are in Cara's womb right now - are in danger." Will sighed, hearing the thoughts Rich was having regarding his belief. "Cara holds power as well - different, yet extremely sought-after. There are men in our government who want to see her and the twins destroyed. I … I'm out here because Cara was trying to protect me. She came out of hiding to destroy the thing that will destroy mankind, because she feels she's the only one who can do it."

"Wait," Rich said. "'Destroy mankind'? What are you talking about?"

"A virus, Rich," Will said with gentle impatience. "There's a virus that is set to be unleashed on the American public soon. Cara has the ability to destroy it, but now they have her and I need to find her before they destroy her and the children."

Rich sighed. "Jesus, Van De Kamp, you're asking me to believe a lot right now."

"Mulder."

"What?"

"Mulder. My real last name is Mulder."

Rich's eyebrow arched. "So what, Van De Kamp was fake?"

"No," Will corrected. "I was adopted. I found my birth parents in January. My last name is Mulder … in fact, so is Cara's now."

"Wait, you … you're both … married?" Will nodded. "Holy shit."

"Rich, listen to me," Will said softly, "I'm going to lower my hands. I'm unarmed. I need to show you one last thing."

"No way," Rich said. "Keep 'em up or I'll shoot."

"Rich-"

"Keep 'em up!"

Will rebelled and put his hands down quickly enough to scare Rich, which he knew it did, feeling the sting of the bullet in his arm. Rich watched in confusion as he saw the blood ooze from the wound for a second, then stop. Will grabbed the hem of his tee shirt sleeve, slowly lifting it. He rotated his arm and showed Rich, who lowered his gun, stunned when there was absolutely no wound visible. "Rich, I have inhuman strength. I heal. Only one thing can kill me," Will explained, "and bullets aren't it."

In the stunned silence Rich was in, Will carefully read his colleague's thoughts. "I believe you," Rich whispered, lowering his gun completely. "I'm … not entirely sure why, but I believe you." He heard Will sigh, watching as he adjusted his sleeve. "So who killed Missus English?" Rich asked softly.

"We think his name is CGB Spender," Will said. "He's the one who has Cara right now. Rich, she's in a hell of a lot of danger. I have forty-eight hours to find her … I could use all the help I can get." He waited, seeing Rich softly nod.

"I've probably got a few newbies coming who don't know you. When you and Cara left, we got even more short-handed than we were before," Rich said, hearing the sirens in the distance. "Do you think you can fake it until we get to the station?"

Will nodded. "Just don't make the cuffs too tight. I'd appreciate wiggle room."

"I thought you were cooperating," Rich said, pausing as he took them out of his pocket.

"I am. It's just that ... I have a tendency to break them when I move," Will replied.

"Oh. Right. Inhuman strength." Will held out his wrists behind his back, letting Rich cuff him. "Now what?" Rich asked, looking at Will.

"Now you get your chance to use your acting chops." Will eyed Rich. "Don't hold back. It needs to be as real as possible."

Rich nodded. "Sorry in advance."

"Don't worry. I'll be fine." Will paused. "You just make sure no one shoots me right now. I'd rather get the Chief on my side before people start talking."

"The Chief is pretty pissed at Cara," Rich murmured.

"So am I," Will said softly.

"So you and her, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Can't say I blame you, though I mean that in the most respectful way possible."

"I'm not going to attack you for noticing her."

Rich sighed, hearing the voices over his radio. "Alright, they're here."

Will nodded. "Showtime."


	7. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

November 16, 2009  
Division of Family Services  
Casper, Wyoming  
08:40 AM EST

_BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG_

"Mulder, I don't think you should-"

_BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG_

"We've waited ten minutes, Scully. Ten minutes. Check your watch. They open at 8:00. Our appointment is at 8:30. I waited ten minutes."

_BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG_

"Mulder-"

_BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-_

Mulder was met with a set of steely eyes belonging to a woman who he figured was in her mid sixties, her hair cropped closely to her neck in the proverbial 'retiree style' he despised and made Scully pledge an oath against succumbing to in the future. The door lock clicked open, the woman eyeing him with coolness as he let Scully in first, then stepped in himself. "Hi," he said quickly, clearly impatient, "George Hale. Katherine Hale. We have an appointment with Sally Brick for 8:30," He attempted a smile to smooth things over, finding the results less than satisfactory.

"She's running late. Have a seat," the woman said, still eyeing Mulder, whose face twisted up at the news, grumbling as he sank into one of the out-of-date chairs in the small waiting area. Scully sank into the chair next to him, sighing.

"Damn state department," he growled under his breath.

They were silent for a long moment. Scully folded, unfolded and refolded her hands in her lap as Mulder fished yet another sunflower seed from his palm, where he had retrieved them from his coat pocket as he sat, slipping it between his teeth. They heard the receptionist clear her throat suggestively, Mulder's eyes traveling up to a sign on the glass in front of the desk that read: NO FOOD OR BEVERAGES ALLOWED IN WAITING ROOM. With a fake smile, Mulder put the seeds back into his pocket, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

"You make friends wherever you go," she whispered.

"I have that effect on people."

His eyes met her with sincere concern at the nervousness in her voice. "Why wouldn't they tell us what they wanted to over the phone?"

"I don't know," Mulder said gently. "Maybe because of privacy laws."

"Maybe." She paused. "I mean, a phone call would've been easier, right? We live so far away ... I just ... I hope ..."

Mulder looked carefully at Scully, whose focus was ahead on a cluster of plastic and wooden toys intended for any children who might be there. When his eyes followed her path of observation, he sighed. "It'll happen," he whispered, seeing her still staring ahead.

"Will it?" she whispered back, unable to move her eyes from the toys.

"I won't rest until it does."

The door opened, a gust of cool autumn air blowing in with the petite heavy-set woman who walked straight through toward the back. Mulder immediately stood up, catching the eyes of the receptionist, who frowned at him. "Have a seat," the receptionist said, watching as Mulder sat with building anger. A few seconds of a staring match ensued, Mulder versus the receptionist, who caved a minute later, saying, "Down the hall. Last door on your right."

"Come on," Mulder said, grabbing Scully's arm, finding her slightly resistant. He knew she was scared what they would hear today, and he tried to remain confident and strong for both of them, though his faith was wavering greatly.

The door was open to the office, their eyes falling on the woman that had just come in through the front door. "You must be Mister and Missus Hale?" she asked, smiling. "I'm Sally Brick. Pleasure to finally meet."

"Likewise," Mulder said, shaking Sally's hand, then watching Scully shake her hand. "We're, uh, very anxious for the news you have for us."

"Yes." Sally sighed; Mulder saw her demeanor change, which worried him. "Well … I didn't want to tell you both this over the phone, but … we did find a match based on the information you provided us." Scully's lips parted; she shifted in her seat. "A seven year old boy named Alexander Michaels. He was just put into the system last week. His adoptive parents died in a car crash, no other known relatives. He's a ward of the state right now, but available to foster."

"Can we see a picture?" Mulder nearly whispered, just as shocked as Scully.

"Sure." Sally turned to the computer in front of her, stroking the keys on the keyboard with fluidity as she pulled up the file. "Everything's paperless these days," she explained. "Alright, here you go." She turned the monitor toward them; their eyes fell on the young boy with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. Mulder chewed on his bottom lip, waiting for Scully's response. He had convinced her she would know, despite the passage of time - that her connection was strong and the ability to identify him residing inside of herself.

Scully cleared her throat softly. "May I see his medical records?" she asked.

Sally said hesitantly, "He's a strong, healthy kid."

"I'm sure," Scully murmured, distracted. "Do you have any immunization records, or any blood test results?"

"For what purpose?" Sally asked, now clearly perplexed.

"My wife …" Mulder smiled, wrapping his arm around Scully. "She's a doctor. She always looks at these kinds of things."

Sally laughed softly, buying Mulder's excuse. "Oh, I did forget, Doctor Hale," she said, clicking over to another tab. "Here's what we know of him. These results are based on a sample taken a few days ago." Sally pushed the computer mouse forward to Scully. "Want to drive?" she asked.

"Thanks," Scully said softly, now scrolling through the results with a carefully observant eye for a particular detail. She paused, sighing deeply. "He is healthy," Scully finally said, her smile forced, which was only obvious to Mulder.

"We wanted to let you both know first," Sally said softly, "since it was quite amazing how well he matched your … unique … criteria."

"I think …" Scully said, looking at Mulder, her eyes silently communicating with him. "I think …"

"I think we're just, um, taken back by the suddenness of things," Mulder finished, his eyes shifting to Sally, who nodded sympathetically.

"It's a big commitment," Sally said softly. "Please, take all the time you need."

"Can we call you to arrange things?" Mulder asked.

"Of course."

"Great." Mulder smiled at Scully, gently pulling her to stand. "Come on, honey. Let's go."

Scully allowed herself to be removed from the office, forgetting the usual exiting formalities as she pondered deeper into her darkened silence. She felt Mulder's hand guiding her at her lower back, as he had done for so many years, then felt the cool air hit her face as they left, climbing into the car.

It was silent as Mulder backed the car from the lot, driving forward toward the motel they had just come from. A few minutes passed, Scully's eyes fixed out the passenger window as Mulder tightened his jaw, hating the way he felt so helpless. So much had led up to this moment, each eager for the possibilities and arranging a special trip to Wyoming, only to be cruelly cut down at the knees. The bloodtype wasn't a match, therefore it wasn't her son. "Dana," he whispered, seeing her stare out the window. "We'll find him. We'll find William."

Scully didn't respond; she let the hot tears slide down her face, feeling her heart being severed yet again from another dead end.

* * *

1:59 PM MST

"Why do we keep doing this to ourselves?"

It was the first time she had spoken since lunch, which wasn't more than a few necessary sentences to communicate with the server who waited on them in the small mom and pop restaurant he took her to. His eyes were focused on the road as he drove them home to Oregon, her words sinking into him with roughness. "I mean," she continued, "what even makes us think he'd be up for adoption? Why wouldn't someone want him?"

"We're just trying to cover all of our bases," Mulder reminded gently, still not looking at her. "Casting a wide net."

Scully sighed deeply. "I just wish I had something solid to hold on to."

"Me too."

"I feel like the last seven months have been in vain, Mulder."

"Don't say that. You don't mean that."

"Mulder, how can we even possibly begin to think that our son would be found after a closed adoption? A _closed_ adoption, Mulder. The kind that's designed to destroy pretty much any chance of birth parents, like us, meddling with kids after they are adopted?"

"We can't give up hope, Scully," Mulder interrupted, his voice both firm and soft. "We can't."

"Mulder-"

"No. Listen to me." He looked at her as long as he safely could while driving. "Your hope is imperative, Scully."

"Why, Mulder?" Scully nearly yelled. "Why does it matter so much?"

"Because it's all we have that they can't take away from us!" Mulder shouted, knowing his tone surprised Scully. "Dana, hope is all we ever have had. Everything else, everything we think is important - tangible evidence, proof, science, facts - _none_ of it ever mattered. Our _hope_ is what has always mattered. Because despite what these mother-fucking bastards have stolen from us, from _you_, they can't take our hope unless we give it to them."

It was a tense silence between them, anger nipping at the heels of empathy, pain consorting with faith. It was a kind of silence that only came when they reached another fruitless return on their search for William. The complexity of the silence bore the years of suffering each held inside, as well as the rage and fear expressed outwardly. Though it said nothing, it spoke of everything, revealing the intimacy of their desire and the vulnerability of their passion.

"How, Mulder?" Scully finally said, her voice barely audible. "How do I keep it?"

Mulder's large hand found her much smaller one, he gravitating to the touch of her skin naturally. "We keep looking," he murmured. "We keep believing."

* * *

August 24, 2012  
Hoboken Police Department  
Hoboken, NJ  
12:20 AM EST

It had been eight months since he had seen the inside of the station - Will never figured his first time back would be in handcuffs under suspicion of murder. He was grateful for the lack of many officers present, the overnight shift sparse due to the continual problem of staffing shortages, and the faces he did encounter were mostly new. No explanations needed. To them, Will was a run of the mill suspect, not the reclusive golden boy he once was for the station.

Rich led him to his desk, having Will sit in a chair across from him. "Rich," Will whispered, "put me in a holding cell before you get in trouble."

"They're full," Rich whispered back. "A lot of D-A-Ds in the tank tonight."

"So lock me in interrogation."

"Will-"

"Do it."

Sighing, Rich stood, guiding Will to the interrogation room away from the bullpen, a path he knew quite well - one that also happened to pass by his and Cara's former desk. Rich saw Will's eyes on the desk, watching how his jaw flexed as he grit his teeth as they passed.

Once inside the interrogation room, Rich reached for Will's cuffs. "No," Will said softly. "Keep them on. Play the role, Rich. I'm a suspect, remember?"

"You're not going anywhere," Rich argued, unlocking the cuffs. "I'll get the Chief in here first thing in the morning," Rich said softly. "You gonna be okay?"

"Believe me, I've been in worse."

"I put your stuff in a locker."

"I need my phone, Rich."

"Will, you know I can't. What can I work on for you?"

Will sighed deeply. "Identifying those people in the photos I gave you."

"Alright. Hang tight, okay? Maybe try to get some sleep."

"Sure."

When the door was shut, Will dropped his head, feeling how tense the muscles of his neck were as he craned it side to side. He felt on edge, the four walls surrounding him reminding of his weeks spent in isolation. There wasn't much besides two folding chairs and a table, so Will took to the floor in the corner of the room. His thoughts were all he had at the moment, both the ones of his wife and the ones of his father. He yearned to speak to Cara at length to make sure she was alright, while begging for a clue as to how his parents and Doggett were doing under Joy's captivity. _Joy,_ he thought with an inward groan.

Cara had been leery of Joy from the get-go, Will now feeling horrible for his lack of faith in her instincts. He was so blinded by his desire to connect back to his past for the sake of saving his future that he lost sight of his common sense. They all did, really, to some degree or another - all but Cara. He remembered in silence his dream containing Joy's face, realizing the implication of her presence in his slumber. She had intended to insert herself into the life he had already carved out with Cara, something Will wasn't about to let happen. Yet, as he sat in helpless silence on the concrete floor of the interrogation room, he wasn't sure if he would be able to resist her offer, knowing the possibility of having to decide between Cara and his father still existed. He would need to somehow find Cara in less than two days, though he had absolutely nothing to go on. Otherwise, he feared what he might have to do should he not.

He let his mind wander as he sat, drifting somewhere between awake and asleep, trying to piece together the larger picture that had slowly been crafted over nearly twenty years, first beginning with only his father and mother at around his and Cara's age, now culminating with him and Cara as well, their children being forced participants.

_My children._ Was this their intention, to take possession of the children? To make it impossible to find Cara so that they could retain the upper hand that no one yet understood? Or did they fully understand what Cara's womb contained? Were the children growing inside of her planted there with purpose, not the product of a passionate union of opposites as they had been thought of as before? Was Cara an incubator, a tool for them to use at whim? Was he a tool as well as a weapon? What if because of his DNA that the children weren't pure? Was the darkness in him stronger than the light?

Will's eyes fluttered shut as the questions poured through his mind, the thoughts like a symphony that soothed him to sleep, his hope the only thing he rested in. He had come to learn how to sleep under dire circumstances, knowing his father would chide him for not taking the opportunity to recharge in preparation for what was to come. He allowed sleep to come, to possess him quietly, his last thought of Cara and hoping she was doing the same.

* * *

Rural West Virginia  
1:49 AM EST

Cara's eyes shot open, the dim lighting around her casting a pale yellow glow on her surroundings. The awareness of where she was and what had transpired flooded her quickly, her hand instinctively stroking her womb as she sat up.

She had fallen asleep on the bed in the cell they had secluded her to. Her isolation reminded her of her capture in January, with the way it all mysteriously existed with no windows to the outside world, people carrying out orders without questions, authority figures lurking in the shadows. There were, though, stark differences - this room was furnished with a relatively comfortable bed, a small table and chairs for what she could only assume meals, a lamp near the bed, a shelf of books and a half-wall-surrounded toilet next to a shower stall. Whoever was kept in this room was intended to be there for quite a length of time, treated with at least a shred of humanity. The juxtaposition frightened her more than when she was bound to a metal table. She was expected to stay here, to live here, and she knew the express reason why - to give birth here.

If she was correct in her assumption of the purpose for such a room she now occupied, it meant the people in charge intended to keep her for weeks. _Weeks. _The prospect frightened her. Would they be able to? Would Will fail to intercept them? Was her destiny to produce her children, then possibly more children against her will? Was she a glorified lab animal?

Her eyes fell to the upper right corner of the wall across from her, seeing a small red dot of light continuously shining far out of her reach. _A security camera,_ she thought with disgust. She _was_ a lab animal, under around-the-clock surveillance with seemingly little reprieve aside from the facilities tucked into the corner of the room, though she had no doubt in her mind they could pan the camera in that direction should they feel the need to. The idea of it all made her sick. She felt violated, perhaps even moreso than when she was barely clothed in the cave without any recollection as to how she came to be that way.

She stood, hearing footsteps approaching her, smelling his presence before seeing it. The door unlocked and he stepped in, his cool eyes roaming over her quickly, as if he was surveying the goods he had recently purchased. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, lighting a cigarette, never taking his eyes off of her.

"I'd be more comfortable with my hands around your neck."

He laughed. "What's stopping you?" he asked.

"Something you wouldn't understand. Morals," Cara replied.

"You don't think I have morals? Then I am to assume you disregard your current surroundings as an example of my morals?"

"I'd rather be in a hole in the ground than here."

"You know," he said slowly, inhaling on his cigarette, "if I didn't know better, I'd swear you were Fox Mulder's daughter."

"I am, actually," Cara said, her eyes narrowing.

"Which I find all quite interesting, given the aspirations your father held in secret for you." He exhaled the smoke toward her. "Tell me, Caraline - what was it that attracted you to William Mulder? Was it his mysterious tendencies? His physical prowess? Or was it simply because you desperately desired the affection of a man to substitute for your father and he was available?"

"What kind of a question is that?" Cara asked angrily.

"The kind you ask when you desire to understand someone," he replied.

"Or maybe it's the kind you ask when you desire to analyze someone's weaknesses."

"You're quite perceptive. I wouldn't expect any less from Timothy's daughter." He smiled at her. "Though, you still are naive."

"And why is that?" Cara challenged.

"Your consistent willingness to believe in your own ability to gain an upper hand in your own life. It's rather perplexing - just as perplexing as it was with Fox Mulder, and even later with Dana Scully. They always touted _belief_ as the ultimate advantage over what they had no control. Belief is nothing but a weakness. People are blinded by belief."

"I still have the upper hand. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so scared of me."

He took a drag of his cigarette. "Fear is only reserved for what isn't understood. And you, Caraline, are far from a mystery."

"Then why lock me up? Why stick me in a box where you can observe me from a safe distance if you know so much about me?" She paused. "Or is it that what you know about me frightens you?"

"I've witnessed far more terrifying things than you can even comprehend, things beyond your wildest fantasies. Yet, here I stand, face to face with you."

"Perhaps it's not me you're frightened of, then."

"Your unborn children don't scare me either, Caraline. Neither does your persistent and determined husband or your passionate in-laws."

"What does scare you then?" Cara asked challengingly.

The Smoking Man smiled. "You're attempting to interrogate _me_ now, are you?" He stepped closer to her. "Perhaps your energy would be best spent elsewhere."

"Why, am I hitting a nerve?"

He eyed her. "I just wouldn't want you to confuse the feeling you have now for actual power. I'd hate to see you retain hope only to falter." He turned, still clutching his cigarette. "Get some rest, Caraline. Perhaps if you're cooperative, I'll let you have a conversation with William later this morning."

As he exited, Cara stepped toward him, feeling the gun aimed at her from outside of the door. "I know what scares you," she stated confidently, seeing him pause. "It's them," she said softly, smiling. "They scare you because you can't control them."

The Smoking Man brought the cigarette to his lips, taking a drag before the door slammed behind him, leaving Cara alone in her cell.

* * *

Outside of the cell, the Smoking Man inhaled on his cigarette, standing in contemplation as a guard and a doctor stood on either side of him. "See to it that she's fully prepped for the morning exam before calling me," he ordered to the doctor, exhaling his smoke. "I want to know how soon we can begin labor induction."

"She still has seven weeks-" the doctor began.

"I want the fetuses delivered as soon as possible," the Smoking Man snapped. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir."


	8. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Gunnison, UT  
5:02 AM MST

The slam of the door belonging to the room next to hers woke her from her tormented sleep. Scully's eyes opened, her breath thready as she straightened her body up against the wall from the curved position it settled into during her sleep. Her watch was her only concept of time, now seeing it was still early morning as she glanced down at the face of it.

She and Doggett had been separated from the get-go when they were taken from Mulder, each forced into individual spaces in the warehouse they now occupied with the replacements and Joy. Scully complied with her captors, knowing that without the aid of the proper resources that her fight was futile and would cause Mulder to panic should word get back to him of any consequences she endured due to her actions. Doggett, on the other hand, had not adopted this strategy, which resulted in a brutal beating Scully was forced to witness in the box they placed her in with no escape. Her cries of mercy in his defense went on deaf ears, and eventually silence befell them, the replacements disappearing into the darkness that surrounded them. She could only assume he had been knocked unconscious, as he failed to respond to her voice earlier after it initially happened. Now, she crept toward the wall that was shared by both rooms, pressing her ear against it to listen for any signs of life.

"John?" Scully whispered. "John, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Doggett groaned; she heard his clear expression of suffering as he attempted to adjust while seated on the floor. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," Scully replied.

"Good," he said genuinely.

"We have to play ball, John," she gently reminded him. "We can't possibly overtake them."

"They rubbed me the wrong way."

"And they'll continue to if they sense it's your weakness."

"I'd rather go down fighting than to sit here and take it."

"John, we've got to try to keep our heads. It's the only way."

Doggett sighed. "I know."

"Have you heard anything about Mulder?"

Scully jumped to her feet when her door flew open, the eyes of a replacement staring at her as Joy walked inside. "Good morning, Dana. You're an early riser," Joy said. Scully didn't respond; she kept her eye on Joy as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Not much of a morning person though, I take it."

"I want to see Mulder," Scully demanded, staring Joy down.

"Sure," Joy said with a smile. "Come on. Let's go." Joy's eyes were trained on Scully as she stepped toward the doorway. "Oh, just one thing, Dana" Joy said, stopping Scully in her tracks as she approached her. "You might not like what you see."

"What have you done to him?" Scully asked, her eyes narrowing at Joy.

"More like what has he done to himself," Joy corrected. "See, Fox wasn't feeling too cooperative last night after you left, so there were consequences."

"What do you want?" Scully demanded, enraged at the possibilities of Mulder's condition.

"I want your son," Joy replied. "He's rightfully mine, anyway. Moreso than he ever was yours."

Scully lunged at Joy but was intercepted by a replacement, who gripped her arms tightly enough to make her cry out in pain. "William would never choose you," Scully sneered as the replacement held her. "So you're wasting your time."

"Even if it saves Daddy's life?" Joy asked, laughing. "Perhaps you don't know the unfortunate tendency toward valor your son has."

"You know what I think?" Scully spat. "I think you're just a scared little girl who lets others do her dirty work. I also think you're very replaceable in the grand scheme of things, and it's just killing you to not have something to truly have the upper hand with."

"Well, you know what I think?" Joy asked, stepping closer to Scully. "I think you just lost your shot at seeing Fox." Joy grabbed Scully's arm, throwing her into the far wall with the ease and strength of her supersoldier ability, smiling as Scully moaned in pain as she slumped to the floor. "You know what else I think?" Joy asked, standing over Scully as she wearily tried to sit up. "I think you also are going to scream for your lover right about … now."

In the distance, Mulder's eyes shot open, his body aching as he was still strung to the pole. He felt his heart start to race as he heard the repeated sound of Scully's cries of pain echoing in the distance, his own voice screaming her name adding to them.

* * *

Hoboken, NJ  
7:13 AM EST

_Gibson Praise._

Will bolted from his sleep against the concrete wall, his eyes wide open as the sudden revelation pulsed through his waking mind. He had lulled himself to sleep by trying to think of connections between what he saw in Cara's mother's house and where she might be now kept, his mind running in endless circles around what little he could go on. It was somewhere in his dream that he realized the significance of the young man with special gifts, knowing he was able to communicate with at least one of his children.

He scrambled to his feet with renewed energy, banging on the door with urgency. "Hey!" he yelled, desperate to get Rich's attention, who had promised to stay past his shift until the Chief came in for the day. His incessant banging was only heard by the burly officer nearby, who Will didn't recognize from the little bit he could see of him. _A new hire, no doubt, _he thought, wondering in silence if his reputation had spread through the department, or whether anyone even cared about him anymore.

"Quiet down in there," the officer said firmly, not moving.

"I need to talk to Officer Bertolini," Will said quickly.

"I said, quiet," the guard repeated.

"Really?" Will argued, growing angry. "Come on!" The officer ignored him. "I guess you'll be listening to me for a while, then," Will taunted, banging on the door.

"What do you want with Bertolini?" the officer asked, still not moving.

"I need to give him information."

"What kind of information?"

"The kind I'll only share with Bertolini."

Will heard the jingle of the officer's keys on his hip as he strode over to the door. "Tell me the information," the officer said, just out of Will's sight.

Will's eyes narrowed. "As the investigating officer, Bertolini is privy to the information I have. You're not," he said in a low tone.

Will quickly examined the officer's mind, his heart stopping when he repeatedly drew blanks from the man's thoughts. His lips parted and he backed away from the door, seeing the officer fully through the glass as he smiled softly at him. The door to the interrogation room blasted open, the officer striding inside toward Will, who was now painfully aware that he was unarmed and facing not a police officer, but a bounty hunter. "I think I am privy," the bounty hunter said. Though he knew their assumed faces were all the same, Will knew it wasn't the one he had failed to kill in Oregon or in the courtroom in Colorado. Yet, the threat was still the same.

"Yeah, you're definitely not privy," Will grumbled, blocking himself as the bounty hunter lunged at him, successfully knocking him into the opposite wall. As Will tried to rush past him, the bounty hunter slammed him backward into the table, the impact from the force his body created cracking the table in half as he sank into the crumbled heap. Will groaned, his back burning as he tried to recover, now feeling the bounty hunter over him, his large hands wrapping skillfully around Will's neck.

Will braced himself against the assault, slowly pushing the bounty hunter off of him, gasping as he was restored the ability to breathe fully while the bounty hunter drew a gun on him. "Really?" Will asked dryly. "You think that will do it?"

"I've come prepared," the bounty hunter replied, knowing Will understood his insinuation of magnetite bullets.

"What's going on?" Rich asked, bursting into the room as he saw Will facing off with the bounty hunter.

"Rich, get back!" Will warned.

"Will-"

"He's not what you think he is!" Will growled, still eyeing the bounty hunter.

"What are you talking about?" Rich demanded.

"He's one of them, Rich! He's one of the things trying to kill me!"

"Things?!"

"Cuff him, Bertolini," the bounty hunter said, still aiming the gun at Will.

"No, Rich!" Will argued.

"He tried to escape," the bounty hunter continued. "He needs to be bound."

"No, I was trying to find you," Will replied. "Come on, Rich. You've got to trust me."

"He's a danger to society," the bounty hunter argued. "Let him have control and pay the price."

Rich inhaled deeply. "Turn around, Will," he instructed.

"Rich-" Will started.

"Do it," Rich ordered.

Will's jaw tightened. "Sorry, Rich," he mumbled as he shoved him out of the room, stealing his weapon from his belt before Rich slid down the hall on the floor. Will turned back to the bounty hunter, blasting him with invisible force into the wall as a magnetite bullet whizzed by him. Wrestling the bounty hunter onto the floor, Will climbed over him and pressed the gun to the bounty hunter's neck, firing three rounds into the base of it. He moved quickly away toward the door, slamming it shut and breathing heavily and holding it tightly closed as Rich fought to enter the room, yelling at Will through the glass. Will felt Rich's attempts to intercede halt, seeing the officer taking in the oozing acid blood of the destroyed bounty hunter with stunned, shocked silence. Will caught his breath, relaxing his grip on the knob as he reviewed Rich's confused thoughts, allowing the acid to completely dissolve before he fully let go of the knob.

Rich slowly walked into the room, astonished at what he witnessed. "What the fuck was that, Van De Kamp?" he whispered, peering over at the fully dissolved area where the bounty hunter was just previously.

"Mulder," Will corrected softly, taking the gun that the bounty hunter left behind. "And that … that is what we're up against." Will paused to catch his breath. "Their blood is acid. It kills humans upon prolonged exposure."

"But … you were …"

"I'm not fully human, Rich," Will said softly as he gave Rich back his gun.

A whole barrage of officers hastily flooded into the area, aiming their weapons at Will, who dropped the bounty hunter's gun and rose his hands to his sides. "Stand down," Rich ordered loudly, waving the officers off. "Will just saved my life," he added softly, swallowing in disbelief as his eyes fell on the acid burns.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Will and Rich immediately turned toward Chief Veltre's voice, Will lowering his hands as the Chief came into his view. "Son of a bitch," the Chief growled, looking at Will. "You've got a big set to come back here, Van De Kamp, I'll give you that." His eyes fell on Rich. "Bertolini, why isn't he bound? And why haven't the Feds been called?" he snapped.

"Sir," Rich began softly, "you need to hear what Will has to say."

"And why the hell do I want to listen to a murder, thief and a rapist?" the Chief asked.

"Because he just saved my life," Rich answered firmly, his eyes falling on Will as he watched with intensity. "He saved all of our lives."

The Chief was clearly angry with the idea of anything besides Will's guilt. "What the hell are you talking about, Bertolini?"

"Sir, I'm asking you to give him ten minutes," Rich said, sighing as he knew it wasn't in his best interest to argue with the Chief. "To just … hear what he has to say. And to hear what I just witnessed."

The Chief eyed Rich; he was surprised by his conviction of Will's innocence. "Ten minutes," the Chief said, staring Will down. He then turned his attention to the other officers standing nearby. "Don't you people have work to do?" he asked, watching as the others scattered quickly away. He looked back at Will. "So talk," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Not out here, sir," Will said softly.

"Where, then?"

"Your office."

"Hmmph," the Chief muttered. "Why, so you can kill me too?"

"No, for privacy, sir," Will explained sincerely, searching the Chief's eyes. "There's a lot I have to say that needs to be protected as much as possible right now."

Will felt the Chief's evaluation of him, reading his negative thoughts of him with ease. "Alright, let's go," the Chief said, watching as Will walked ahead of him with Rich.

* * *

Once inside, the Chief closed the door behind them, Will taking the seat to his right in front of him while Rich took the left. The Chief sat in his chair behind his desk, sighing as he looked into Will's eyes. "Talk, Van De Kamp," he ordered.

"Actually sir, it's Mulder," Will corrected gently. "When all this started in January, I found out I was adopted. My real last name is Mulder."

"Mulder?" the Chief asked softly in surprise, leaning forward.

Will was confused by the sudden shift of his behavior, shocked as he read the Chief's thoughts. "You know my father," Will whispered.

"Fox Mulder is your father?" the Chief said. "This is unbelievable …"

"Sir, how do you know him?"

"I don't know him, Will," the Chief explained. "I know … of him." The Chief sighed, leaning back in his chair. "When I was in the NYPD, I worked as a contact with another former officer named John Doggett, who is an FBI agent. You must be familiar with him, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I became a resource for Doggett as needed, keeping him in the loop of the department. When my wife and I moved, I transferred to here and have been here since."

"So you know of my father's work on the X-Files?" Will asked softly.

The Chief nodded. "I'll admit, I still don't know how I feel about it all." He paused. "But Doggett … he was so convinced sometimes that it was scary. And things just couldn't be proven otherwise. I haven't spoken to Doggett in a long time." He eyed Will. "I suppose he's wrapped up in whatever you're in right now, is that right?"

"Yes, sir," Will answered. "Sir … There is a lot to explain, but I need you to understand something first." Will swallowed. "I never … _never_ … hurt Cara. Nor did I kidnap her. Or … rape her."

"Then how do you explain it all, William?" the Chief asked.

"I was set up, back in the Terminal. I was exposed to something that made me react physically - it was the intention of the people trying to kill me to expose me for who I really am. For _what_ I really am."

"Which is … what?"

"A hybrid, sir."

"A hybrid."

"Yes, sir. An alien-human hybrid."

The Chief laughed, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "You can't be serious right now, Van De Kamp."

"Mulder. And I'm dead serious."

The Chief's eyes narrowed at Will. "An alien-human hybrid," he repeated, shaking his head.

Immediately, the objects scattered on the Chief's desk levitated, hovering before his eyes as Will watched the Chief's shocked reaction. "What the hell is this?" the Chief demanded, stunned as the objects lowered themselves. His eyes fell on Will, whose jaw was clenched as he focused on lowering the items.

"Sir," Rich said softly, "that's not all."

The Chief saw Will's eyes shift to focus on him. As Will rattled off his thoughts word-for-word as he was having them, the Chief grew nervous and agitated. "Alright, no more monkey business," the Chief growled. "What the hell are you trying to prove here, William? That you're a circus sideshow act now?"

"Sir," Will said, "these are things I've always been able to do." Will rested his palm on the desk. "I'm not like you, sir," he said gently, taking the letter opener he saw in the caddy on the desk and shoving it deep into his hand.

"For Christ's sake! What the hell …" The Chief became silent as he watched Will's hand heal itself nearly instantly after Will removed the letter opener from it. "Mother of God," he whispered, looking at Will's eyes. "What are you?" he asked softly.

"A weapon, sir," Will replied, disgust laced in his voice. "That's what I was designed to be, anyway. That's why they want me destroyed. Because I can destroy them."

"Sir," Rich interrupted, "Will's trying to find Cara. She's missing."

"Missing?" the Chief asked.

Will nodded. "She was taken. She has abilities too, sir. Not like mine, but important enough that the same people who want me dead want her dead too." Will inhaled. "Sir, I need you to listen to me. Cara is pregnant. She's pregnant with my children." He saw the Chief's reaction and interrupted him. "It was consensual. None of what has been said about me is true. We're … we're married now, sir."

"Married?"

"Sir," Will said quickly, "I need to find her. Cara and our children are in grave danger. These people will stop at absolutely nothing to see me or them destroyed."

A moment of silence hung in the air; the Chief examined Will carefully. "Then why did you kill an officer just now?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"It wasn't an officer, sir," Will explained. "These _things_ … they can take on any face they choose to. Only I know who they are because of who I am."

"And let me guess," the Chief said, "they're alien too?"

"Yes, sir."

The Chief sighed deeply into his hands, burying his face as he reviewed what Will told him. "Sir," Rich began softly, "I witnessed what he killed in that room. It wasn't … it couldn't have been human, sir. It bled … green acid. It … dissolved."

"Green acid?" the Chief asked.

"Yes, sir. The acid they bleed kills humans with prolonged exposure," Will replied.

"Alright!" the Chief shouted, standing as he eyed Will. "Mulder, I've heard some crazy stories in my career, but this easily takes the cake." He continued to eye Will, straightening up as he paused for a long moment. "William," he said softly, "I never wanted to believe what happened eight months ago. I didn't know how you could be capable of such a drastic turn. I lost two of my best in January. … William, find her," the Chief said softly. "God knows she gave everything she had here to help your ass, which I didn't understand then. Now … now I'm not sure I do either, but I don't know how else to explain it all." Will stood slowly, still locking eyes with the Chief. "Find Cara, William. Find your children."

"I need help, sir," Will nearly whispered.

The Chief nodded. "You've got this entire department," he replied softly. "Including me." He paused. "And you've got our protection."

Will's jaw flexed as he processed the Chief's words. "Thank you, sir," he said humbly, feeling the relief flood him.

The Chief nodded. "Get to work, Mulder," the Chief said with a wave of his hand to usher him out.

As Will and Rich left the office, Rich immediately handed Will a clunky set of keys. "Locker keys," he said softly, urgency in his tone. "I don't know if it was your phone, but I heard one ring quite a few times."

"Shit," Will growled, tearing down the hall for the storage lockers.


	9. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Prospect Street  
Hoboken, NJ  
8:02 AM EST

"Come on, jerk! The gas pedal is on the right! Move it!"

Tonya Nichols' palm abused the horn in the center of her car's steering wheel, her brown eyes narrowing at the large SUV in front of her that was idling by on her morning commute. "I have a presentation today, jerk!" she yelled, though her windows were rolled high to lock in the cool air conditioning that she kept on blast to combat the summer swelter. She groaned, flopping back against the gray fabric seat of her sedan and mumbling to herself as she examined her reflection in the rearview mirror. "Shit," she muttered, wiping some mascara that had bled from her lashes to her cheek, the heat of the day making it nearly impossible to keep her makeup intact. She tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear, the short, cropped length skimming the smart lapel of her Tahari suit jacket she had purchased on a whim that weekend in anticipation for today's main event - her presentation of the latest storyboard she had for the November issue of _Riche Magazine_.

Tonya knew she was painfully close to being late for work, let alone reducing her prep time before the executive staff meeting later that morning. She tapped her hands impatiently on the steering wheel, trying to see around the large SUV to understand what was halting traffic so drastically. As she crept along at a steady five-miles-per-hour, her eyes fell on the accident some distance ahead. "Great!" she shouted. "Just great!"

She sighed, shifting her focus to the uniformed police officers who had dotted the scene, their parked squadron cars shifting red and blue light through the thick summer air as they scribbled notes in pads or directed traffic down a side street to detour the morning rush hour participants. Unconsciously, she found herself looking for _him_, though it had been at least two years since she had even spoken to him. She sighed when she finally realized what her mind had set out to do without her permission, her thoughts of him silencing the rush of impatience that had built inside of her due to the delay. _William Van De Kamp_.

It all depended on the day as far as what she had called him during their relationship - Will or William, but never Willy, Bill or Billy, per his request. He was one person she couldn't figure out, both when she dated him and after she broke things off. Tonya remembered his dull apartment, only having gone there once and regretting it the moment she stepped through the door. She couldn't imagine anyone living in such a dump, but he did, and it was unsettling to her. She preferred her Hudson River view from her luxury loft with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the city across the water. It was a pretty penny she paid for the view, but worth every cent to her.

Tonya met Will through a husband of a friend, another officer at the Hoboken Police Department where Will was stationed. It was a blind date that turned into a relationship lasting just shy of ten months, something she hadn't expected. Will was mysterious - she never felt like she truly knew him, which kept her intrigued. It went without mentioning of his chiseled good looks; Tonya allowed a sideways grin to play on her lips as she recalled the times they made love. She could have stayed with him just for the sex, since it was pretty damn amazing. Yet, there was an emptiness she had felt in their relationship, as if he couldn't give the most important piece of himself over to her like she wanted him to. "You have someone else," she had accused him of, receiving a sincere _no_ in response. She believed him, until the Hoboken Police Department Winter Holiday Party where she attended as Will's date, and saw such an intensity in him as he focused on a tall blonde wearing a cobalt blue dress. They broke up that night; she had to admit it was her most empathetic break-up to date. She knew Will hadn't even realized how much he was pining after the blonde who was on the arm of a tall, dark and handsome man that she clearly wasn't interested in. "Get it together, Will, and ask her out," she remembered saying, surprised at her own willingness to turn him over so easily. Perhaps it was her desire for true love for herself that she didn't want to deny anyone who might be actually able to achieve it. With a kiss on his cheek, she caught a cab and never looked back.

Granted, she had always skimmed through the faces of police officers she had seen in the area, never one to keep up with local news otherwise. She was in too high of a position at _Riche Magazine_ to have time for much else. "And I certainly don't have time for this stupid-" _CRASH._ "SHIT!" Tonya cursed, feeling herself jerk back against her taut seat belt as her front end of her sedan pushed into the SUV in front of her that had laid on the brakes with unexpected urgency. "Damnit! Shit, shit, shit!" Tonya groaned, shaking her head as she pulled the car over on a quiet alley way behind the SUV, whose driver exited the vehicle and approached her window - a large, built man with dark brown hair, a face one couldn't soon forget for its unique presence. _No ring,_ she observed silently, rolling down her window. "Hi, sorry about that," she said. "I'll call the cops."

"No, I'd rather settle this privately," the man said calmly.

_Less time spent,_ she thought. Tonya shrugged, the man's body easily blocking her view from her window with its broad size. "Alright, fine by me. I'll meet you around the other side. I've just got to get my paperwork from the glove compartment."

As she reached over to unlock the compartment, she froze, life escaping her mortal shell instantly as a silencer's swift bullet lodged itself in her head. There were no thoughts any more, no breath to take in, no insurance claims to process. There was no presentation to worry about, or financial responsibility for the Tahari suit that was now stained crimson with her blood. There was no need to concern herself with the past, or the future. There was no longer any opportunity for true love.

There was no hesitation as he boarded his vehicle, nor any remorse for the satisfaction he felt. The message was sent - now it just needed to arrive to its particular destination while others were skillfully arranged.

* * *

Hoboken Police Department  
Hoboken, NJ  
9:38 AM EST

Reyes burst through the front doors of the police department, her eyes narrowed in anger as she stormed to the desk she saw Will occupying. It wasn't possible for a human to sneak up on him given his invasive talent, and she certainly wasn't trying to. Her heavy steps that drove in a direct line toward him echoed the anger she held for Will's actions the night before. "William!" she demanded, closing in on him.

With his back to her, Will closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He had sent a text message to Reyes shortly after retrieving his phone from the locker, though to be honest, he hadn't viewed any of her responses. Simply put, he let her know where he was and then shifted his focus to the database he scoured on the computer he and Cara used to share, attempting to run the faces of the men in the photos he took from Maryann's house through facial recognition software.

He knew his odds were slim, given the photos were older and the faces could have changed significantly with age, so he enlisted the help of one of his fellow officers in forensics who had a knack for using the age estimation tools in the program to create possibilities of what the once young men now looked like. He hadn't had many hits, each not seeming to make sense for the situation, so he kept looking, sipping the sludge the station administrative assistant, Cindy, brewed.

He knew it was most likely his fault the coffee was so terrible this morning, given the shock he saw on Cindy's face when he helped himself to the last of the overnight shift's pot that was brewed as she came into work. She, of course, assaulted him with a hesitant game of Twenty Questions, not fully convinced of Will's innocence until he produced pictures on his phone of a tanned, blonde and very pregnant Cara, smiling. It wasn't the pictures, though, that convinced her of the abridged version of his story Will told. Rather, it was the tears she caught leaking from his eye as he blinked and how he discreetly tried to wipe them away. It was so typical William Van De Kamp, she had thought. So strong all the time, so brave. Never weak, never helpless. Will had opted to keep the other more interesting aspects of himself a secret for now, entrusting Cindy to generate the word to the others of his return and his trustworthiness.

"Hi," Will said gently, not turning around to face Reyes.

"Don't 'hi' me, William," Reyes said sternly, her hands finding her hips as she stared at his back. "You ditched me!"

"Hey, listen," Will interjected softly, turning in his chair, "I was trying to protect you. I swore to Doggett I would, and that's what I did."

"William," Reyes sighed, "I'm here for the same reasons you are. I'm not here to be babysat or protected." Seeing the redness in his eyes and the dark circles that had taken residence under them, she visibly surrendered her anger. In that moment, she realized how casually Will had been operating within the confines of the police department, confused by his access. "How did you get here, anyway?" she asked softly, taking the seat next to him.

"Cara's mother was killed yesterday." Will's voice was tainted with remorse. "Either Cara witnessed it or she feared for her mother's safety. The real number she gave me was Maryann's house number, so I went. I found the body, and I guess people thought I was breaking and entering, so the cops were called." He paused. "I've got full protection, Monica," he said gently. "The Chief is safe-guarding me."

"How did you convince him?" Reyes asked with surprise.

"Show and tell," Will replied dryly, turning back to the computer. "I took these photos from Maryann's house," Will explained, handing her the three originals. "I figured they might have something to do with the Shield Project, so I had Kim in Forensics do an age-modification process on them to give an estimate of what they'd look like now." Will gave the three print-outs to Reyes. "Now I'm running them through the system."

"Any matches?"

"A couple so far, but nothing that ties in with Timothy English, Daniel Riggs or Cara."

Will's attention was still on the screen. "I also called Skinner," he added softly. "I …" Reyes looked up at the profile of Will's face, sensing his struggle. "I didn't want to involve Gibson, but I think it's our only shot."

"The babies," Reyes said in realization.

"Yeah. At least one he's able to communicate with, so I'm hoping he's still able to now." Will sighed. "For now, I'm trying to occupy my time building any other leads."

"I take it you haven't heard from her?"

Will shook his head; he swallowed, pausing as he shut his eyes. "I'm sorry I left you hanging," he offered quietly. "I … I just didn't know what waited for me and I didn't want to risk you." He looked into her eyes. "Were you alright?"

Reyes nodded. "I was fine. Worried, angry, panicked … but fine."

"I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it again," Reyes warned; her gentle smile spoke of forgiveness. When Will turned back to the computer, she spread out the original photos, studying the subjects in them. "William," she said softly, "look."

"What?" Will asked curiously, eyeing where she was pointing.

"It's CGB Spender," she said softly. Will peered down where she pointed, acquainting himself with the face as he tightened his jaw.

"Why didn't I see that?" Will asked, clearly angry at himself.

"How could you have known? You've only ever heard his name and his voice."

"I feel like I should've known it was him." Will paused. "Whatever. So at least we're getting somewhere with the significance of the picture. Do you know anyone else in there?"

"No," Reyes sighed.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind, take a look at the profiles I pulled. I may have missed something." He gestured over near Cindy's desk. "There's coffee, but I will warn you, it's not for the faint of heart today."

Reyes smiled. "I've had the coffee here before. I think I'm acclimated to it," she replied, standing and patting Will on the shoulder. "Want a refill?"

"Awesome. Thanks."

"Cream? Sugar?"

"Black."

After Reyes gathered his mug and left, Will's phone buzzed on the desk, which instantly made him anxious. Will snatched it from the desktop, inhaling deeply as he answered. "Hello?"

"William."

"Dad!" Will clutched the phone tightly. "Dad, are you guys alright?"

"William, you need to listen very carefully to me," Mulder said slowly. "William, you need to find Cara. You do whatever it takes, however long it takes, but you find her."

"Dad-"

"William, listen," Mulder said sternly. "Find Cara. You need to find your children. Me living or dying is of no consequence. Those children are the key. You need to get to them before they do."

"I'm getting you out of there, Dad. I'm getting you all out."

"WILLIAM!" Mulder shouted. "Listen! Listen to what I'm telling you! _Find Caraline,_ William. Do you understand?"

Will shook his head. "I will find her, Dad. _And_ I will get you out."

"You can't do both. I don't want you to come here. I want you to protect your wife and your children."

"Dad, I won't leave you. Or Mom, or Doggett."

"Coming after us will get you killed, William. You NEED to make a choice, and I'm telling you which choice to make."

"Dad-"

"William, if you don't choose your children, there will be nothing left," Mulder snapped. "They'll kill you. Don't think they can't, because they will. Then, they will destroy the only things that could save mankind. They'll keep your wife as an incubator and kill her when they're finished with her. Do you get the picture yet?" Mulder paused, swallowing. "Everyone has a line in the sand, William. I'm drawing yours here."

"I don't accept that," William nearly yelled back. "I won't accept your death, nor will I risk it."

Mulder sighed. "Don't be like me, William. Don't do this."

"I love you, Dad. I love Mom. I respect Doggett. I'm not stopping until you're safe."

"William-"

"Time's up," Will heard Joy say, feeling his heart sink when the line went dead. His fist connected with the desk in rage as he yelled, hearing the wood split under it. As he crouched over his now silent phone, he breathed deeply, trying to regain control of himself. He could hear the hush of the bullpen, the attention focused to him as Reyes neared him.

"William?" she said softly, her eyes widening at the busted desk. "Who was it, William?"

"My father," Will mumbled, still buried down.

"What did he say?"

"He doesn't want me to go to Utah. He doesn't think I can do both." Will's head shot up. "I need Gibson to get here _now_," he growled, pushing up out of his chair. He breathed deeply, feeling himself tremble. "I've got about 36 hours left," he said softly, looking at the braided cord wrapped around his wrist as if it were a watch, twisting it gently.

"William," Reyes said gently, "what if he's right?"

It wasn't that Will couldn't respond, but rather that he chose not to, not willing to face the weighted reality his father presented. To him, there was no other option besides success. His heart simply couldn't process anything but equal triumph; his choice was to prevent having to choose.

* * *

Rural West Virginia  
9:38 AM EST

The scene was familiar - white-cloaked figures posing as doctors, or perhaps legitimately so, their gazes hovering over her in silence, as if they themselves were the unidentified flying objects Mulder had sought after for so long. Their faces were equally as dreary as the surrounding atmosphere; they were, however, beings that bore different faces. Replacements, Cara assumed, given how easily they had managed to lift her into the hospital bed she was now bound to by her hands and feet. She had been gagged nearly as soon as the first restraint snapped around her wrist, her screams of anger and choice words of warning to stay away from her children muffled by the thick fabric that was jammed between her teeth. Upon its entry, her tongue was curled back forcefully, causing her to enact her involuntary vomit reflex. Her stomach was empty; she had refused the food they served her for breakfast, though common sense told her to do otherwise for the sake of her children. She now felt queasy as she was wheeled through the facility she was being held in, indiscriminating white walls and painfully bright lights passing her as she tried to find some clue as to where she was. There was nothing - no smell, no sounds, no geographical anomalies to observe. The stark and blank world she had been thrust into bore no secrets that could be shared, and neither did the faces of those who hovered over her, their surgical masks concealing most of their distinguishing features.

_Why surgical masks?_ Cara asked herself, now panicking against her bindings. She had weeks yet until her children were even considered close to full term. Would they take them early? Would they force her labor to come, creating such danger for her babies? With every ounce of strength she had, she struggled against her cuffs that attached her to the bed, muffled threats losing travel distance against the cloth that was inserted into her mouth.

When they finally entered a room that looked as sterile as any other hospital room she had ever been in, her eyes widened as she smelled his presence. "I see you weren't cooperative," he said, the smoke draining slowly from his mouth as he spoke. He seemed amused by her attempt to respond. "Give her a sedative," he ordered, smiling down at her.

Cara verbally protested, feeling the sharp needle be inserted into her vein as a replacement doctor braced her arm down, holding it perfectly still under his inhuman strength. She watched helplessly as the sedative was pushed through the port, moments later beginning to feel its effect as her muscles relaxed against her will._ No, no, no, no,_ she thought in horror, her eyes wide as the doctors fingered the hem of her maternity tee shirt she had worn on her flight out. She had refused to use the shower or clean clothes provided to her in her cell that morning, though she knew her resistance was futile. She would, at some point, need to succumb to using both the shower and the toilet, much to her anger. She felt her eyes closing, though she tried to fight the sleep she was forced into, slowly coming to complete rest as the replacement doctors continued to work seamlessly around her.

Her well-rounded stomach was fully exposed by the replacement doctors, revealing her protruding navel and her linea negra that recently had darkened. Wordlessly, they covered her stomach in cool gel, one of them pressing the transducer probe against her womb and rolling it over until an image of the children appeared on the CPU the Smoking Man stood near.

"Well?" the Smoking Man asked impatiently of the doctor holding the transducer probe.

"The fetuses appear to be larger than average sized for thirty-three weeks gestation," the doctor said, observing the display on the screen. "There are still many complications with such an early delivery."

"What kinds of complications?"

"The lung development isn't fully matured and could present respiration issues."

The Smoking Man brought the cigarette to his lips. "When would that be resolved?"

"No sooner than thirty-six weeks."

He exhaled the smoke. "William might receive information before then."

"I've already assigned Miles to eliminate the boy."

The Smoking Man turned toward the bounty hunter's voice, eyeing him. "Should Gibson Praise intercept William, our chances at concealing our location will become impossible."

"Miles will handle him," the bounty hunter said confidently, looking at the screen. "Are they what we think they are?" he asked of the doctor.

"They appear to be negatively reacting to us," the doctor holding the probe suggested, seeing the fetuses kick and squirm away from the pressure applied to Cara's womb.

"Well," the Smoking Man said ruefully, "they are the descendants of Fox Mulder."

"The children of William Mulder will have no choice who they serve soon," the bounty hunter calmly said. "After William is eliminated, they will no longer resist. We've known this all along. The father of importance was never Fox Mulder."

"And what of their mother?"

"As I once told William, she will be useful in future population efforts."

"William has proven to be difficult to eliminate in the past."

The bounty hunter eyed the Smoking Man. "Do you doubt my capabilities?"

The Smoking Man drug the stem of his cigarette. "I doubt the capabilities of your current resource."

The bounty hunter looked back at the screen as he watched the children move and kick with fury. "She has her purpose." He paused. "Besides, once the transaction is complete, her stake in the project is erased."

"Turning your back on one of your own?" the Smoking Man asked with an interested grin.

"We do what is most beneficial to the project," the bounty hunter replied. His eyes fell on Cara's lifeless form. "See that she contacts William upon waking. Let her tell him whatever she desires."

"You don't consider that a liability?"

The bounty hunter smiled. "I consider it more torturous for William to have all he needs without having the ability to have _her._"

* * *

Gunnison, UT  
8:01 AM MST

"Dana? Dana, can you hear me?"

Her strawberry blonde hair had become matted and tangled, clumps of it strewn over her face that stuck to her skin by the dried blood that collected on her forehead. Scully heard Doggett's voice near her, her ability to focus hazy as her eyes slowly opened. "Dana?" she heard again, blinking hard as her head throbbed, trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from, her head shifting to the left to find his eyes peering down at her.

"John," she said hoarsely, "what are you doing in here?"

"I convinced them it was in everyone's best interest to let me check on you," he explained gently, brushing her hair carefully away from her eyes. "Easy," he said, feeling her slump back against the floor as she pushed too hard too fast.

"John, you look terrible," Scully murmured, seeing Doggett laugh softly.

"I think we've both got our fair share."

Scully's eyes opened wider as her thoughts drifted. "Mulder," she breathed, trying to sit up.

"Whoa," Doggett said, grabbing onto Scully and stopping her. "No you don't. Easy."

"John, I need to make sure-"

"Shh," Doggett said, pressing her back against the floor delicately. "You need to rest. You were out for a little while."

"I guess I didn't take my own advice, did I?"

"You don't remember?"

"All I remember … is wanting to kill her."

"You put up one hell of a fight, from what I could tell. I tried to stop them …"

"It's okay. I guess we're even now," Scully joked softly.

"I'd gladly have taken your beating for you," Doggett replied in a serious tone.

"Mulder's probably … owww." Scully winced as she sat up, touching her ribcage. "I think I have a couple broken ribs."

"All the more reason you need to rest," Doggett chided, supporting her as she slowly found a comfortable position against the wall.

"I need to see Mulder, John," she whispered. "I need to know he's okay."

Doggett nodded. "When they come back around, I'll see what I can do."

Closing her eyes, Scully breathed shallowly, resting her weight against the cool concrete. "How did we not see all of this, John?" she asked, her eyes still closed. "Were we that blind?"

"I don't think it would've mattered if we were or weren't," Doggett replied. "I'm sure they would've taken whatever they wanted, however they wanted."

"I just … don't want William to feel at fault."

"That's going to be a hard thing to prevent."

"They'll kill him if he comes here."

"They'll try. I don't think they're any match for him."

The cell door opened, Doggett's eyes shooting toward the entry to find two large replacements staring down at them. "Get up," one ordered, his eyes fixed on Scully. Hoping to prevent her from being hurt, Doggett eased Scully to her feet, stabilizing her as she found her balance. "Move. Now."

In silence, they processed behind one replacement while another walked to the rear of them, each unsure of what was coming. When they finally arrived, the sight made Scully gasp, her eyes filling with tears as she rushed to Mulder's side, lifting his head carefully in her hands and gazing at his battered and bruised face.

She couldn't tell if he was dead or alive.


	10. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Hoboken Police Department  
Hoboken, NJ  
10:07 AM EST

"... Ten-four, we're on our way."

Officer James "Iggs" Igby rested the radio on his hip back in its holder, his eyes shifting toward Will's broad form that was occupying a seat in front of his computer, as it had for the last couple hours. "Will," Iggs called softly, seeing Will turn to him. "Do you have a minute?"

Will bolted from his chair immediately, his transmission of Iggs' thoughts clear as day. "When?" he asked once he reached him, his eyes wild.

"The officer who found her thinks it wasn't any more than a couple hours ago," Iggs said softly, his brow wrinkling as he realized he hadn't even shared the terrible news with Will. "Wait, how did you know-"

"How?" Will interrupted.

"... A single round to the head."

"Any witnesses?"

Iggs shook his head, still confused as to how Will knew. "How did you know what I-"

"Are they sure it's her?" Will asked, cutting him off.

"It's what her ID said. When she arrives to Doc's department, you're welcome to confirm identity ... if you're up to it."

Will swallowed, shutting his eyes as he thought of Tonya Nichols. Though he hadn't dated her for a terribly long time, he cared for Tonya, remembering her forgiving and understanding character when she finally made him realize he was in love with Cara. _Who would want her dead?_ he thought, pained by the idea of her being taken so soon from the world in such a dark, troubling way. "Son of a bitch," he whispered, his eyes opening in sudden revelation. Without another word, Will tore back to his desk, Iggs watching as he faced Reyes. "I need you to get Skinner on the phone," Will ordered. "Gibson's life is in danger."

"What happened, William?" Reyes asked.

"Whoever shot Cara's mother just killed an ex-girlfriend of mine in cold blood," Will said, fumbling over some of the words as it fully registered into his mind.

"Oh my God," Reyes whispered.

"They're sending me messages, Reyes," Will continued, tucking the bounty hunter's gun into a holster he attached to his belt. "You need to stay here, get on the phone with Skinner and see where they are. Then call me as soon as you know. I need to get to them before they do."

"Wait," Reyes called after Will as he began to walk away, "where are you going?"

"I need to check on someone," Will said. "Just _stay here_ and get me their location. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before she could object, Will snatched a set of car keys from Cindy's desk, bolting out of the bullpen with urgency. Reyes' lips parted, her mind filling with thoughts of Doggett, Mulder, Scully and Cara, Will's sudden disappearance adding to her compilation of worries.

* * *

Gunnison, UT  
8:29 AM MST

"Mulder?" Scully whispered, gently stroking his face. He remained motionless in her hands, his head and body limp as if he were a lump of clay waiting to be formed by the sculptor who kneeled in front of him. The only thing that reassured Scully of Mulder's existence was his steady pulse she had found on his neck. Wincing as she braced herself against her own pain, she lifted a hand to stroke her fingers through his hair, hoping to ease him awake, though she wasn't even sure if he was asleep. He seemed to be in a deep catatonic state, Scully concluding it was the results of a drug administered to him to keep him calm and quiet, his bicep bearing a small insertion mark to back up her theory. No doubt Mulder had given them a run for their money despite his immobility, but Scully still knew they retained ultimate victory, given the cuts with blood and large bruises he now sported on his face and what she could see of his body.

"Scully," Mulder muttered, his eyes still closed and his head still hanging.

"I'm here, Mulder," she assured softly, still stroking his hair.

"Scully … Scully …" He kept repeating himself under his breath, which became increasingly more shallow, his voice cracking as he stirred. "Scully … … Scully … … SCULLY …"

"Mulder, I'm right here," she whispered into his ear, hoping to snap him out of his stupor.

"SCULLAAAAAY!" he screamed, his head lifting and his neck arching back against her hands, shaking her off of himself with anger. Scully fell away from him, crying out in pain as she landed on her broken ribs. Concerned, Doggett rushed to her side, gently helping her up as they watched Mulder's lividity reach a boiling point. His eyes flashed open; hostile against his restraints, he lurched forward in an attempt to free himself, yanking violently against the pole. "SCULLAAAAAY! I'LL KILL YOU ALL, YOU BASTARDS! SCULLAAAAAY!"

"Mulder! ... Mulder!" Scully assured, pulling herself toward him and taking his face in her hands. "I'm right here! Mulder, I'm right here!" She watched as his eyes lowered to look into hers, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he slowly registered her existence.

"Scully," he breathed, his chest still rising and falling quickly. "Scully ... Scully, are you alright?"

"I'm okay," she replied, still clutching his face. He swallowed, shutting his eyes as he took a few deep breaths, feeling the softness of her hands against his beard-shadowed cheeks.

"What did they do to you?" he whispered.

"I'm fine, Mulder."

"Dana, what did she do?" he asked firmly, looking down at her with pent-up rage.

"It was _her_ fault."

Both of them turned as they heard her voice across the room, seeing Joy stride forward toward them. "I gave her an opportunity to see you earlier, but she wasn't cooperating."

"If you touch her again-" Mulder growled.

"Oh Fox," Joy interrupted, "it's quite admirable, your attempt at threats. Given your current position on the, uh, _totem pole_, I don't think there's much merit to them, though."

"Mulder," Scully whispered, bracing Mulder as he lunged against his cuffs, his nostrils flared as he glared at Joy.

"I'm going to kill you myself," Mulder snapped.

"You make it sound as though you think William is capable of killing me," Joy noted with a smile.

"I might not wait for him to."

"And how do you figure you'll be able to escape, Fox?" Joy circled behind to view the two sets of cuffs Mulder was still bound in, his hands and fingers numb from lack of circulation as he knelt into the wood floor. "Of course, I could always offer a trade," she suggested. "Dana would make a nice decoration as well."

"No." Mulder's eyes narrowing at Joy. "Don't touch her."

"Then I'd stop dreaming of heroics and start assessing the situation like the agent you once were," Joy concluded. "You know, none of you have even bothered to negotiate with me. I'm kind of surprised."

"Now why would we want to negotiate with you?" Doggett asked, eyeing her as he stood across from Scully and Mulder.

"I honestly don't need all three of you," Joy explained. "I could let one of you go."

"Let Scully go," Mulder ordered.

"No," Scully objected, shaking her head.

"Uh-uh, it's not that easy, Fox," Joy said, her hands on her hips. "What's in it for me?" she asked, looking down at Mulder.

"What do I have that you want?" Mulder asked.

"Besides William?" Joy asked, moistening her lips. "Hmm … I guess not much besides yourself."

"Alright," Doggett said, taking a step closer, "let them both go and I'll give you federal access."

"No, Doggett," Mulder objected, seeing Joy's peaked interest.

"Hmm, interesting," Joy commented, now nearing Doggett. "I can't do two parents, but I can do one."

"Let Mulder go," Scully insisted.

"Scully for access," Doggett offered, his eyes focused on Joy's as he heard Scully's objection.

Joy smiled at Doggett. "Oh, John," she said softly, "it's so valiant of you." Joy circled around him, her eyes skimming over him. "You know, it's so painfully obvious your … _appreciation_ of Dana. Did you know he harbored thoughts like that, Fox?" she asked, still smiling at Doggett. "I bet he had a lot more of them when you left Dana for that year. Hmm, I wonder if Monica knows about those _thoughts_ of yours, John." Doggett remained silent, his jaw flexing as Joy stood behind him, leaning into his ear. "But you poor thing … you never had a chance, Johnny Boy," she whispered. "Just like your offer doesn't now."

Doggett quickly grabbed Joy's arm, yanking her into himself as he wrapped his arm around her throat. With a cool laugh, Joy flipped Doggett over herself, her unnatural strength forcing him onto the floor as his back slammed against the wood. He groaned in pain, trying to roll out of her way before her boot landed on his throat, clamping him in place as she closed off his airways.

As Mulder pulled at his cuffs to try to stop her, Scully rushed toward Joy and grabbed her from behind, ripping her off of Doggett. Scully heard him gag and cough as he regained his ability to breathe, clutching onto Joy with every ounce of strength she could. Scully knew she didn't have a shot against Joy, finding her arm quickly twisted behind her as Joy's knee repeatedly slammed into her back. She screamed, the pain searing through her body as she felt her broken ribs be pounded on, hearing Mulder curse and shout at Joy in front of her. When Joy tossed Scully to the floor next to Mulder, she straightened her shirt, seeing both Doggett and Scully incapacitated as they tried to recover. "Well," she said, looking at Mulder, who was fuming in rage, "I think you three just lost your chance at a deal. It's a shame, really."

With a snap of her fingers, two large replacements entered the room, gripping Doggett and Scully and pulling them to their feet. "You're dead, you hear me? I'LL KILL YOU!" Mulder yelled, feeling his head pounding as he yanked against the cuffs, his skin burning as the metal tore his flesh. He groaned as he continually wrestled against the pole, watching as Scully and Doggett were dragged from the room while Joy stepped close to him, smiling down at him just out of his reach.

"I can't wait to see you try," Joy whispered.

* * *

Port Washington, NY  
10:59 AM EST

"My God."

His eyes widened, his head shaking in disbelief as he answered the door. "William," he said softly. "What in the hell-"

"Let me in," Will said softly.

"Son, what happened to you?"

"Jack … they know."

"What? How?"

"Please … just let me in."

Martin Jackson considered himself to be a man with a good sense of judgment, observing and analyzing character one of his many fluencies when he was a working officer for the NYPD. Never would he had imagined the turn he saw William Van De Kamp take over the last eight months, keeping tabs on the case that stunned and shocked him as it unfolded.

The frantic phone call he received only forty-five minutes ago from Will paralyzed Martin, his ability to reason destroyed as soon as he heard the pain and urgency in the young man's voice. He had considered Will as a son, mentoring him since the age of seventeen, guiding him into a career of law enforcement. He also knew he served as a father figure to Will, feeling privileged to be let in on the deepest secrets the young man held - secrets which Martin knew were dangerous and valuable, secrets he forced Will to keep locked deep inside of him for his own safety. Secrets he now knew were exposed in January, resulting in the chaos that quickly became Will's life.

With a deep breath, Martin let Will in, closing the door behind them. "Are you alone?" Will demanded.

"Of course," Martin snapped. "Wouldn't you think I'd know if I wasn't?"

"Sir," Will said softly, "I have reason to believe your life is in danger. I need you to pack a bag and come with me."

"What in the hell are you talking about, William?" Martin demanded.

"Sir, we don't have time to-"

"Oh yes you do," Martin interrupted, eyeing Will. "I'm not going anywhere until I hear an explanation."

"It's what I told you before, Jack," Will whispered. "It's … I was right."

"What are you-"

"ME," Will said firmly. "Me, Jack. Me and all my freakish abilities. Do you remember what I told you eight years ago?"

Martin paused, searching Will's eyes. "Son," he said softly, "what you're saying is that … whoever made you, found you?"

"Yes," Will breathed. "Please. Please get some things quickly and come with me."

"Who is after you, William?" Martin asked gently, protectively.

"I'll explain more on the ride. Please."

With a sigh, Martin turned, disappearing into the corridor leading to his bedroom. A moment later, the silencer gunshot rang softly, Will's eyes wide with terror and heart racing as he sprinted toward the sound he was surprised he heard. "Jack!" he yelled, shoving open the bedroom door to find him on the ground, blood leaking from his chest. "Shit!" Will yelled, bending down and checking his pulse, relieved when he found a faint one. His eyes focused on Martin's face that was wrought with pain. "Hang in there, damnit!" he ordered. Will tore the nearby bedsheet, pressing the ripped cloth into Martin's wound as he shook underneath him.

Will's eyes flicked up, seeing the ground-floor window open, the curtains shoved aside to reveal the escape point of the shooter. "William," he heard Martin say shakily, his focus shifting back to the man under him.

"Shh," Will said, "hang in there, okay? Just hold on. I'll call an ambulance."

"No, William … listen to me … worm eaten hut."

Will shook his head. "What?"

"Worm … eaten … hut."

"Jack-"

"Worm … eaten … hut."

"I don't understand!" Will felt Martin's body relax under him, seeing his lungs collapse as the air ceased to flow through them. "SHIT!" he cursed, still holding the sheet to Martin's wound. "No!" Will pressed his hands to Martin's chest, performing CPR as he tried to revive the lifeless man below his strong hands. Trembling, Will pressed his fingers to Martin's neck, his eyes closing when he wasn't able to locate a rhythm. He collapsed fully on his knees, feeling the quivers of his sorrow run through his body as he wept.

Knowing Martin was dead and that he was still considered a fugitive, Will stood, swallowing hard as he took one last look at Martin's lifeless body. He moved to the window, peering out into the backyard of the home, knowing by now the shooter was long gone. Will's choice to aid Martin had caused him the ability to put a face to the two heinous deaths that occurred in a matter of hours that day, each striking a chord with Will personally.

What had Martin meant by _worm eaten hut_? Will was sure he heard him correctly, the arrangement of words unexpected and confusing. _Worm eaten hut. Worm eaten hut._

As the words rang through his mind, he quietly slipped out of the house, fleeing the scene. Despite his protection from the Chief, he knew when Martin was discovered, his fingerprints would be lifted from the body or the house, which meant he would be the first suspect the Long Island Department would pursue. It also meant the Feds would be notified of his return, which he knew would mean he would have no choice but to be on the run again. If he stayed and reported the shooting, he risked exposing himself as a fraud and risked being drug further away from where he needed to be, which was pursuing Cara.

Thankful for the concealed driveway and home Martin had lived in, Will pulled the squad car out of the neighborhood, his face wet with tears as he wearily drove back to Hoboken.

* * *

Rural West Virginia  
11:10 AM EST

_Hot. So hot in here. So incredibly hot._

Cara's eyes were heavy, the lids slowly lifting to reveal the cell she was trapped in around her. A wave of nausea hit her as she carefully sat up, her eyes falling on the cold food still sitting on the table she had refused earlier. _How did it get so hot in here?_ she thought, wiping the sweat from her brow as her stomach flipped and churned with hunger. With trepidation, Cara took the apple sitting on the tray and bit into it, tasting its sweetness as she chewed it thoughtfully, her head still woozy from the sedative she was given. She finished the apple faster than she thought she would, moving on to the now stale toast that she devoured, realizing just how hungry she was. She ate out of necessity, for the children tucked away in her womb that she was so desperate to protect, sipping juice from the small carton to quench her dry throat from the stifling heat of the room as she felt her illness begin to subside.

Once she felt the strength return to her body, she stood, eyeing the shower with a grimace. She wanted so badly to refresh herself - it was a burning temperature inside of her cell, hotter than she remembered it to be earlier that morning. She felt slick with perspiration and faint from the overwhelming heat. In the corner of the room sat the shower and she looked toward it, wanting to feel human again under its cool, refreshing spray. Yet, she feared the ever-present red dot that shone high above her, knowing it would easily violate any sense of privacy she had, the thought of which made her resist utilizing the stall for a while. The minutes ticked by slowly, the heat seeming to increase to an unbearable level, and Cara moved toward the vents in the ceiling, feeling the hot air quickly being pushed through to the room. As she wrestled in her mind with the actions she now took, she stripped her clothes with haste and closed herself in the shower, twisting the knob and feeling the cool water pour onto her skin with relief.

The thought of people watching her under such intimate circumstances caused her nausea to return, she working quickly inside the tiny stall as she lathered and rinsed, not willing to waste a single second. When she finished, she wrapped herself immediately in a towel, dressing with as much speed as she could in her own clothes that she saw folded nearby that were taken from her travel bag. She grit her teeth as she heard the _whoosh_ of the heating and cooling system groan, feeling it shift gears as the air conditioning pumped through the openings in the ceiling. _Bastards,_ she thought bitterly. They were forcing her to adapt to her surroundings, testing her limits. If she refused to cooperate, she would pay the price. This was their game, their show of control. The more she withheld, the more angry they would become. She hated herself for falling victim to their ploy, unable to see their angle until after the fact.

"Is this your form of entertainment?" she asked sharply, eyeing the red dot in the corner. "You get off on it, maybe? You know, it's pathetic to imagine one needing voyeurism in order to feel superior!"

She sat angrily on the bed, her eyes flicking back to the light as it continued to shine, unmoved by her convicted accusations. Her head snapped to the cell door that opened, the Smoking Man stepping inside, a cell phone in the hand his cigarette wasn't in. "If you so much as look at me funny, I'll kill you, you bastard," she growled, not moving from the bed.

"I see you've opted to indulge yourself," the Smoking Man said calmly.

Cara yelled, "What do you want?"

"I wanted to give you the opportunity to speak with William," he replied, dragging from his cigarette.

"Well, I'm not feeling like being a pawn right now," Cara replied, turning her eyes away from him.

"I'm offering an open conversation, Caraline," he continued, exhaling. "A solid block of time to discuss whatever you wish with William." Though she didn't look at him, he could clearly see the interest in her body language. "Go on," he said, resting the phone on the table. "Someone will be back in five minutes to collect the phone. It's up to you if you want to talk to him." As he headed for the door, he paused. "Oh, and trying any other number is pointless. The phone will only accept his, so it's him or nothing."

Cara continued to look at the wall away from the Smoking Man as the cell door slammed shut, her eyes eventually shifting to the black device that rested on the tabletop. She knew they desired control so much that they would do everything possible to toy with her to expose her weaknesses. Yet, the opportunity to speak to Will at any length clutched at her heart, her soul aching to hear his voice and to take comfort in it.

Closing her eyes, she swiped the phone from the table, holding it in her hands as she carefully pressed the digits she committed to memory, raising it slowly to her ear as she heard the ring of the other line.

"Hello?"


	11. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

She nearly jumped when she heard the depth of his voice, feeling as if it were part of a scenario constructed by her mind in the world of her dreams. "Will," she said softly, relieved to hear him.

"Cara," Will breathed, clutching the squad car's wheel as he drove back to Hoboken. "Cara, are you alright?"

"I'm … I'm okay."

"Are you hurt? Have they touched you?"

She knew her hesitation had made him go wild. "I was forced to go for an ultrasound this morning."

She heard his breathing quicken. "Did they hurt you or the babies?"

"No. At least … I don't think so. I feel normal. They sedated me. I fought them too much."

"Cara," Will said slowly, "listen to me. I need to know anything you can tell me about where you are. _Anything_."

"There's nothing, Will. I tried to see … but there's nothing. It's just white. White rooms like a hospital."

"No photos, plaques-"

"Nothing, Will."

He sighed. "I guess they're letting you talk to me now?"

"It's a show of their power. They're keeping me like a lab rat in a box with a camera viewing me at all times."

"Cara, I'm getting you out of there."

She felt her bottom lip quiver, the tears streaming down her face. "I'm so sorry, Will," she whispered. "My mom … she said she was dying and I … I didn't want to live without closure. And … I thought I could help at the cave … I-"

"Shh," Will said softly. "Don't … don't focus on that right now. You listen to me, alright? I love you. Nothing will ever change that."

"This is all my fault, Will," Cara shuddered.

"No, Cara, it's not," Will pleaded, "it's _their_ fault. I'm getting you out, I swear to you I am."

"Will …" Cara's eyes took in the room. "The cell I'm in … it's furnished … it's like they expect me to live here."

"You're _not_ going to, do you hear me? I'm getting you out."

"Will-"

"Trust in _me_, Cara, alright? Trust me when I tell you that I _will _find you."

"I do. I do trust you."

"How are the babies?"

"I think they're okay."

"I love you so much."

"I love you, Will."

The steel door of her cell swung open, a replacement entering with purpose toward Cara, who backed away from him. "No," she whispered, "please, just let me-"

"CARA!" Will yelled into the phone. "Are you alright? CARA?!" His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, the line disconnecting abruptly. Enraged, he threw his phone onto the passenger's seat, slamming on the accelerator as his escaped tears coated his face.

Glancing at the clock, he realized just how little time he had left and how so very little he had to work with. His thoughts shifted to the pained pleas of his father, begging him to make his focus singular, to pour his energy into finding his wife and children. The lump in his throat increased in size at the prospect of his potential failure, the words he had tried to ease Cara with seeming like deceptive distractions from the truth. Will felt the hot, abrasive line in the sand threatening to swallow him in, wanting to pull him deep under its grains as he brazenly approached it against his better judgment.

* * *

Edenwald Houses  
Bronx, NY  
11:10 AM

The water trickled into the navy blue bucket, the drips punctuating against the stained sink as she removed the pail from the faucet. Her hardest twist of the cracked plastic knob wasn't enough to prevent the continual leak that her landlord had attempted to fix the week prior with less than average skill. The disruption of the leak had occurred just after the new water filtration system was installed in the complex, causing all the residents to have their individual water sources tested by workers from the company who installed it. She, however, wasn't fond of water, so she didn't care what it tested like. She avoided drinking it, opting to stock her fridge with cola and juice for herself instead. She wasn't much of a cook, either, so the water to her was only good for bathing and housework.

She cursed under her breath, tightening the knot of her bandana that she wore as a kerchief to help absorb the sweat that formed from her rigorous routine in the un-air-conditioned unit. Raising the hem of her worn shirt, she dabbed her moist cheeks, her dark skinned flushed from the heat that poured through the dirty windows. There wasn't much to speak of as far as a breeze, and what little air that did push through the screens was thick with humidity. She should have waited for her son's help, but couldn't trust he would actually come home that day when he hadn't shown up for the last three days. She busied herself with cleaning to distract her worried thoughts of her son's well-being; the rebellious, outspoken teen was an expert at getting into trouble and she suspected this time he disappeared was no different. _Probably holed up somewhere with the other boys_, she thought with disgust, knowing the influence the secretive gangs had on her impressionable child.

The police, per usual, didn't take her concern seriously when she reported him missing, though she had waited the standard twenty-four hours they normally required until they began to consider someone missing. It wasn't the first worried phone call she had made on behalf of her seventeen-year-old, his record dotted with more misdemeanors than she cared to admit. Still, the instinctive drive of motherhood pushed her forward, knowing after he still didn't return last night that something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

The water sloshed in the bucket as she dipped the well-used string mop into its depths, pumping it into the soap that bubbled inside. She gripped it with her weathered hand, twisting the excess liquid from the cotton and slapped it onto the permanently stained floor. Her best attempts never resulted in a truly clean floor, at least not as far as appearances. There wasn't much else she could afford on disability besides the tiny apartment she shared with her son, so she was stuck trying to make presentable a space that didn't contribute anything to the cause.

The knock on the door both terrified her and angered her, sinking the mop back into the bucket as she wiped her hands on her pants to dry them. "What you want?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"NYPD, open the door, ma'am," she heard on the other side, her eyes widening in surprise. She unlocked the flimsy door, cracking it to reveal the two uniformed officers who eyed her through the opening. "Chantelle Johnson?" the smaller of the two men asked.

"Yeah, so?" she snapped, taking her recent resentment that had built for the department out on the officer through her tone.

"We're going to have to ask you to come with us," the officer said, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Why?" she nearly shouted. "I ain't done nothin' to you."

"You're not under arrest, ma'am," the other officer explained. "We need you to come down to the station … to identify your son."

"What in the hell did Kareem do now?" she growled.

"Ma'am," the dark-skinned officer said softly, absorbing the shock that emanated from the woman in front of him, "we need you to identify the body."

* * *

She hadn't even thought to change, now fully seeing the extent of the dirt and stains on the outfit she wore as she left in a rush with the officers to the station she now waited in, her eyes welling with tears. She surprised herself with the shock she felt, considering her earlier assumptions of her son's cause for disappearance. Kareem was her only child, and children weren't suppose to go before their parents, regardless of their prior behavioral history.

She was annoyed with the constant flurry of activity around her in hushed whispers, information exchanged just far enough away that she could only catch bits and pieces of the conversation, some of them being her son's name. She was irritatedly aware of their intention to keep her in the dark, and she wasn't standing for it.

"Why ain't I gettin' to see him?" she demanded, now having waited nearly ten minutes in a chair near the officers.

"Ma'am, we-"

"I hear you people talkin' about him and everythin'. You gonna take me to the morgue or whatever it is you keepin' him," she warned. "I am seein' my son _now_."

"Ma'am," the officer interrupted softly. He sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Ma'am, we may have been wrong about his current condition."

"Yous told me he was dead," she snapped.

"Ma'am, we had Kareem transferred to Memorial Hospital," the officer explained. "Ma'am, he's still alive."

"Was he shot at?"

"No … we … we don't know what is wrong with Kareem."

"Then you take me to the hospital, you hear?" she snapped. "I'm walkin' out of here if you don't."

"Ma'am, we need to know where Kareem went before he disappeared three days ago."

"How in the hell should I know? I called your asses to find him!"

"Ma'am, anything you can remember-"

"I said, _I don't know_."

Another officer stepped toward the desk, narrowing his eyes at the woman. "We know Kareem was involved with the sale of narcotics," he said cooly. "Whatever he took … if he sold it to anyone else, there could be serious consequences."

"I ain't knowin' nothin' about it," she replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Kareem is dying, Mrs. Johnson," the dark-skinned officer warned. "Now if we can prevent others from dying as well-"

"Ain't nothin' new, people dyin' 'cause of drugs every day."

"This … this isn't …"

"Isn't what?"

"Ma'am, just-"

"I ain't sayin' nothin' 'til I get some representation from the DA," she interrupted, her tone firm. "Now, I want to see my son!"

The dark-skinned officer glanced up at the other officer, who shook his head in disgust. He pulled aside the dark-skinned officer, sighing. "We've got to figure out the source for this," he whispered. "The doctors have no clue what they're dealing with. Let's get on top of the immigration department and run some checks. This shit has to be from out of the country."

"If she lawyers up, we're gonna have the press running stories at five."

"I'll try to keep them at bay."

"You can try, but I doubt it'll work." The dark-skinned officer sighed. "A black film over their eyes from drugs?" he questioned.

"What else could it be?" the other officer asked. "This kid is essentially alive and dead at the same time. This is the fourth person with these symptoms at Memorial in the last two days. How else do you explain it?"

The dark-skinned officer shook his head. "I don't know. But I don't think it's drugs we're dealing with here."

"Then what the fuck is it?"

"I don't know. But we need to find out."

* * *

Gunnison, UT  
9:59 AM MST

More drugs had been pushed into the built muscle of Mulder's arm against his will, rendering him nearly useless only moments after as the medication coursed through his body, permeating him completely as it gained control of his ability to function. His head hung, weary from the fighting, lack of nourishment and the surrounding darkness, not to mention the unnamed drug that had been pumped inside of him for the second time.

He heard her footsteps approach but chose not to acknowledge her presence, too weak to battle his confines for a chance at tearing her limb from limb. It had been many years, if ever, since he felt the level of darkness he now experienced, the primal desire to kill flooding him at just the thought of her. He swallowed, hearing her gentle laugh as she paused in front of him. "Well, well," Joy said, her smile wide with satisfaction, "looks like William isn't the only one headed down a destructive path." She cocked her head to the side when he was silence, unwilling to respond. "The thoughts you're having … they're not much different than mine. With the exception, of course, of my death."

She squatted down, eyeing Mulder's crown of his head as he kept his eyes focused on the wood floor. "The tides are turning, Fox," she whispered. "The proverbial shit is on its way up to the fan." She licked her lips, tracing his jawline with her finger. "Might want to take the opportunity to live a little before it's too late."

She stood, easily reading his mind. "Oh, I'm hurt, Fox," she said with a feigned expression. "You don't really mean all that, do you?" She laughed. "Oh course you do. You wouldn't be William's father if you didn't." After a pause, she moved to his side, gripping his hair quickly and drawing his head backward as she held him tightly, he no match for her power. "Everything's coming into place, Fox," she breathed; Mulder pressed his lips together, attempting to pull from her grasp. "The old, the young, murderers and nuns, pedophiles and babies will all suffer the same fate. People are already starting to die painful, horrible deaths." She paused, smiling. "In fact," she whispered next to his cheek, "there's a running total of three hundred and twelve deaths just this morning across the country, ninety-seven of which were babies in daycare centers." She felt him tense, giving every ounce of strength he had against her still hand. "The stories are all the same, though. They're all infected with a virus that you've failed to contain. Pretty soon, the _truth_ you always searched for will be everyone's truth. And Dana …" Joy laughed gently, her breath filling Mulder's ear. "Dana will be a fossil in the dirt under the new masters you'll serve. How's that for truth?"

She slammed his head against the pole, hearing him moan in pain as she walked away. The door to the room slammed equally as hard, Mulder left alone with his battered hope and his silent tears.

* * *

Hoboken Police Station  
Hoboken, NJ  
12:06 PM EST

As soon as Will pushed through the entrance to the station, Reyes stood, meeting his eyes as his focused strides carried him to her. "Have you tried them again?" Will asked, his eyes scanning Reyes'.

She nodded. "Still nothing."

"Alright, I'm gonna see if I can get a location myself," Will said, tossing his keys on the desk as he sat. He felt Reyes' stare on him, which made focusing to use his psychic location talent nearly impossible. "What?" he snapped, feeling the pressure of Tonya's and Martin's deaths coupled with Cara's desperation he heard over the phone.

"When did you change your shirt?" Reyes asked softly, looking Will over as she noticed the clean, navy blue top he now wore.

"I went to the locker room and took a shower," Will replied, burying his face in his hands.

"Your bag is here. And you're wearing the same pants."

"What the hell is this, a citation for a wardrobe violation?" Will demanded, his eyes wild as he peered up at Reyes.

"Where were you, William?" Reyes asked firmly.

"It doesn't matter."

Will felt Reyes grab his hands, allowing her to yank them down onto the desk for her to inspect, knowing if he resisted he would most certainly hurt her, which he didn't want to do. His jaw flexed as he watched Reyes' eyes scan the freshly washed skin of his large hands, shutting his eyes as he snuck into her mind. "I didn't do it," he said softly, catching her attention. "I went to check on my mentor. He's dead. I tried to protect him … but someone shot him … so, when I knew I had to leave, I took one of his shirts and changed."

"William-"

"I didn't shoot him," Will insisted in a hushed whisper. "I have my bloody shirt if you want to see it. I … I couldn't report it. I'm still a wanted man. The shooter fled, and I'm brandishing a weapon that isn't registered to me."

"William-"

"What the hell do you want me to say?" Will snapped, feeling Reyes squeezing his hands.

"No, William," Reyes gently corrected. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry." She sighed, seeing the distress on his face. "I'm sorry for your losses."

"Me too," Will said bitterly, withdrawing his hands from Reyes' as he rubbed his temples. Reyes kept her eyes on Will, cautious about his on-edge behavior he was displaying. A few moments of silence passed between them, Will finally grumbling as he shot up from the desk. "I can't focus," he snapped. "It feels like there's a thousand radio stations on in my head right now."

"Why don't you try a photo?" Reyes suggested, pulling up one on the computer. Will sunk down in the chair, his eyes on the image of Gibson, recalling the young man during his trial and his sure, unwavered testimony to the DNA they mutually shared.

"He's close," Will whispered, his eyes narrowing as he focused deeper. "Really close."

"Is he safe?"

"Yes."

"Where, William?"

"Right here," came a voice behind them.

Will and Reyes turned toward the entrance of the station, Will shutting his eyes in exhausted relief when he saw Walter Skinner standing behind Gibson Praise, his hands on the small young man's shoulders as they nodded to Will.

"Oh thank God," Reyes whispered, smiling as the two approached. "Are you both alright?"

"We're fine," Skinner said, guiding Gibson to sit in Will's seat, turning to Will.

"No threat whatsoever?" Will asked, perplexed.

"None," Skinner replied.

"If there wasn't a threat …" Reyes started, sensing a deeper significance.

"... Then there's a reason," Will finished, folding his arms over his chest.

"It's because they're changing course," Gibson said softly. "They're transferring Caraline."

"To where?" Will asked, his eyes locked on Gibson.

"I don't know. But Miles will be here soon. They know I made it to you."

"Leave Miles to me. I need you to tell me where Cara is."

"The child is too frightened to speak," Gibson explained, swallowing. "It's fearful for what is to come."

"What do you mean?" Will breathed; Reyes saw Will's demeanor rapidly shift, much like it had with her a few moments ago.

"Something terrible is going to happen," Gibson murmured. "The baby knows but can't stop it."

"Gibson," Will said, taking the young man's shoulders into his hands, "I _need_ to know where she is!"

"I don't know."

Will's hands shook as he clung onto Gibson. "Where is she?!"

"Owww, you're hurting me!" Gibson cried out.

"William!" Skinner snapped, pulling Will off of Gibson, shoving him away. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I need _answers_!" Will yelled, charging toward Gibson. "Where is she?!"

"I don't know," Gibson said with a wince, fearful of Will.

"Cool down, William," Skinner ordered, intercepting Will and gripping his thick arms tightly.

"I'm fine!" Will shouted.

"Like hell you are!" Skinner replied, fighting against Will.

"I said … _I'm fine_!" Will growled, throwing Skinner with force back against the desk as he flung him off of himself easily.

Regaining his footing, Skinner breathed, his eyes locked on Will, whose hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Reyes' mouth had opened as the scene unfolded, frightened as she remembered how Will had been the first day she met him in January - dangerous, unpredictable, violent and unstoppable. Will felt their focuses shift to him and he shut his eyes, tearing out of the bullpen, slamming the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" Reyes asked Skinner softly.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Skinner mumbled, smoothing his shirt as his eyes remained fixed on the door Will disappeared behind.

"He didn't mean to, Mister Skinner," Gibson defended softly.

Skinner turned to Gibson. "What do you mean?"

"The darkness is gaining control of William," Gibson explained. "It's too strong. He can't stop it."


	12. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

Bright Starts Daycare Center  
Orlando, Florida  
1:27 PM EST

"Michelle! I need you in the Caterpillar Room!"

The young, lithe blonde discretely rolled her eyes, dropping the waterproof marker she held in her hand as the curly-haired boy next to her objected. "I'll be back in a minute, Aiden, okay?" she said sweetly to the boy, whose short attention span allowed him to recover quickly from his teacher's unexpected absence, distracted by the dump-truck he was coloring purple.

_Teacher. Yeah right. _That's what they advertised the position as, anyway. She, a susceptible, new college graduate with a degree in Early Childhood Education was desperate to make her portion of her rent, so she took the job paying just over minimum wage, supplementing the meager income with side jobs as a babysitter. In a downturned job market and economy, she couldn't really complain. Her recent emancipation from the notorious Caterpillar Room of the center was the only thing that kept her sane at this point, her skin crawling at the prospect of even helping rangle the drooling six-month through eighteen-month-old babies. Despite her moonlighting as a nanny, she wasn't fond of infants, making her degree overall an ironic choice, according to her mother. "Babies can be educated, too," she always reminded Michelle in an overly optimistic maternal tone. How to resist biting the kid who just snatched your squeaky toy from your grimy germ-ridden fist was about the only thing Michelle ever educated the children in the Caterpillar Room on.

Michelle paused, her mouth opening as she pushed the door away, stepping hesitantly in the room. "Michelle!" her nervous coworker, Yasmine, said quickly. "I … I don't know what's wrong with them! All of them! They're … just …"

"They're all sleeping," Michelle said quietly, shaking her head in confusion as she looked at the pale-wood cribs lined in a row.

"No, _mira_!" Yasmine insisted, grabbing Michelle's hand and dragging her to the closest crib. "I just found them like this … after Nicole and I put them down for their nap. I left to help Miss Barron and _mira_, they all look like this!"

Cautiously approaching the edge of the crib, Michelle peered down at the quiet child that rested on his back, his skin pale but streaked with dark marks. "Oh my God," she whispered, unable to move or take her eyes off of the baby who lay quietly on the mattress. Both young women jumped when they saw the dark marks underneath the baby's skin move. "Shit!" Michelle whispered. "Call 9-1-1!" she ordered, running to each crib as she checked the other babies, each one with the same strange discoloration and moving dark marks. Alone in the room, Michelle shook, her hands reaching over a mocha-skinned baby girl, her dark curls crowning her head as she lay still, her breathing shallow. With a trembling touch, she gasped when the dark marks moved in response, the baby's eyes opening with sudden urgency.

Michelle's scream pierced the air, her terror vocalized as she watched the black film slosh over the round brown eyes of the baby girl with a blink, the child silent as it peered up at her from its bed.

* * *

New York City, NY  
1:27 PM EST

They met in secret, their thoughts concealed from the bounty hunter who they suspected of betrayal. Their intentions were simple, neat and clean - eliminate the bounty hunter to avoid losing their stake in the project.

Before, it was told to them that the Smoking Man, their associate code-named Howard, was to be eliminated shortly after the Shield's capture. Yet, there he was, working alongside the bounty hunter in West Virginia with more power than they each possessed put together. "He must be stopped," the mustache man growled, slamming the spent cigar in the ashtray.

"He has more power than we can handle alone," the younger man noted.

"Three against one?" the dark-skinned man asked. "We have the advantage."

"Listen to yourselves!" the younger man argued. "We may have ability, but not to his caliber!"

"Do you doubt our positions?" the mustache man asked.

"I don't doubt our strength, but-"

"We have the deferasirox!" the mustache man argued.

"I still doubt our odds against him."

"You should. Your pills have given you a false sense of security."

All three turned to the door, finding a tall figure with dark brown hair standing by the now closed door. "What are you doing here, Miles?" the mustache man nearly shouted.

"I've been asked to do some cleaning," Miles said cooly, lifting his gun at the mustache man.

Three shots were fired from the silencer, the dark room falling silent. Miles tucked the gun loaded with magnetite bullets into his belt, wiping the door knob clean as he left, the residual smoke from the mustache man's cigar filling the air.

* * *

ZNB News  
New York, NY  
4:49 PM EST

"Alright, ten to camera, people, ten to camera."

Journalist George Ackleman sighed as he leaned into the woven back of his embroidered set chair. "Ronnie, touch up my cheek, would you?" he asked the young set makeup artist, who whipped out her foundation and triangular sponge, dabbing it where the middle-aged man directed.

"George!"

"What is it, Larry?" George said impatiently.

"We've got breaking news, it'll lead at the top tonight," Larry the director said quietly, handing a sheet of paper to George, who quietly scanned through the headline.

"Are you serious?" George asked, looking up from the paper.

"Four-hundred and sixty-two identical reported deaths nationwide so far," Larry whispered.

"A contagion?" George said, dumbfounded. "From what?"

"We don't know."

"Holy shit."

"We've got to break on it, though," Larry insisted.

"Wait, you don't have any medical evidence-"

"George," Larry snapped, "ratings are low. We've got to be the first to cut through with this story. I've got a good source. Run with it, alright?" Larry patted George's back, scurrying back into the muddled mess of crew and camera men across from George.

George looked at the paper, his heart sinking as he read the details. One hundred and forty-nine of the four-hundred and sixty-two deaths were infants under the age of two. "My God," he whispered, clutching the paper with a tremble.

* * *

Rural West Virginia  
4:49 PM EST

Cara sighed, tossing yet another book aside as she sat on the floor of her cell, disgusted with the lack of progress she had made on her hunch she had after hanging up with Will. She had spent hours combing through her cell, tearing it apart to see if she could find any identifying items that could potentially reveal the location of where she was. Now, as she sat among the pile of books she had started sifting through, she was beginning to feel her time had been wasted.

She glanced around herself, seeing the mattress she stripped still half-hanging off of the bed, the sheets discarded erratically nearby. The table had been overturned in a search for a manufacturer's mark, as had the lamp and the chairs. She even tried to look at the piping for the toilet to see if it drained to a public sewer, but still found nothing to hold on to. Besides the strange, faint humming sound that consistently came from the far wall, there was nothing to observe. Even the noise she detected she figured wasn't anything unusual - more than likely it was residual sound coming from the network of wires behind the wall. The books were the final frontier, the only thing left to possibly aid Will, but they too had failed to unveil the mystery as much as everything else had.

Her mind shifted to that of a police officer as she held the final book in her hands, her eyes skimming the titles as she tried to develop a pattern of significance. Her hands quickly worked to sort the various titles into categories, her lips parting when she saw the five that she produced. There were books of classic fairytales, books on anger management, children's books, books on physics, and books regarding the unexplained. She shut her eyes, her head drooping as she connected the dots together - each category represented a person. Fairytales was her, anger management was Will, the children's books were their twins, physics was Scully and the unexplained was Mulder.

"And what," Cara yelled, tossing one of the fairytale books at the security camera, "this is suppose to be amusing? Huh?!" With her powerful pitching arm that would have made her popular on a softball team, she chucked another one at the red dot in the corner, hearing it slam against the wall with brutality, the sound of a snap and a crack followed by a thud as the book fell to the floor.

Her lips parted as she slowly stood, examining the corner of the room, seeing the red dot had disappeared but was now replaced with a tiny beam of natural light. Her mind spun in rapid circles, now grabbing for one of the overturned chairs, lifting it with wide eyes as she heaved it into the upper corner of the room with as much strength as she could, missing the area where the camera was by about a foot, the chair colliding with the wall underneath. She breathed quickly when she saw the chair bust upon contact, the sheetrock of the wall splitting cleanly against the assault, allowing a larger sliver of light through.

Quickly stepping into the broken wood mess, Cara's hands found the unusually thin sheetrock and pried it off of the studs, more light immediately pouring into the room with each inch she revealed. She became crazed, tearing the wall as she desperately tried to make sense of what was happening. The cell wasn't as solid as she was led to believe. It had been constructed for her, it didn't already pre-exist. Her heart raced as she continued to tear the walls, seeing the light filter through the partially concealed window she uncovered. Her eyes fell on the sight through the cracks in the sheetrock - she saw a military vehicle and a large generator. She was on a base.

She heard the protest of the wailing sirens that alerted everyone of her rebellion and quickened her pace, tearing as much wall as she could away from the window to get a better look. _Two vehicles. No, three. Virginia plates._ The sirens blared louder and louder, the violent sound only challenged by the thump of her heart as she lifted a snapped-off chair leg to the window, slamming it with all of her might against the pane. She heard voices accompany the sirens, and she pounded the makeshift weapon harder into the glass, feeling her womb ache with the strain of her efforts.

The steel door of the cell flew open, several replacement guards flooding the room as Cara wielded her chair leg at them, trying to beat them away. She screamed as they grabbed her, two large replacements nearly snapping off her arms as they secured her weapon and lifted her from the rubble she created, dragging her out of the cell.

Down the hall they processed, Cara still screaming violently, her legs flailing as she was practically carried by the guards. "Virginia plates!" she screamed, hoping her idea would work, given the right circumstances. She just had to believe that Will had thought of utilizing his resources. "Military vehicles! Virginia plates! Military vehicles!" She kept repeating herself much to the guards' dislike, eventually succumbing to the power of a sedative she was administered, her world turning black as she felt weightless in the arms of her enemy.

* * *

Hoboken Police Department  
Hoboken, NJ  
5:00 PM EST

"Good evening, this is ZNB News at five. I'm Lisa Yates with George Ackleman."

With clear hesitation that was unusual for the seasoned anchor, George's booming voice began with a slight shake over the small television hanging from the ceiling in the station. "We're coming to you live with exclusive breaking news. Nearly five-hundred identical reported deaths occurred today nation-wide from a contagion of unknown origin."

Will's head shot up from the desk, where it had been resting for quite some time, waiting for Gibson to produce a lead as they seamed together the mystery of Cara's potential location. He took over two hours to cool down after Skinner and Gibson initially showed up, fearful of what he had almost done to the young man without realizing, as well as feeling guilty for potentially hurting Skinner. The darkness stayed with him, though, like a shadow that crept around him in silence, its presence known but not removable.

His eyes were glued on the television, along with everyone else's in the room, his heart stopping as the sketchy details were revealed. "The origin of the contagion is unclear, but it is believed to be transmitted through saliva or ingestion. The US Health Department is asking citizens to take all necessary precautions through the proper washing, sterilization and prepation of all foods accordingly. If you are experiencing the following symptoms, please visit your local hospital for immediate medical attention: fever, weakness, shortness of breath, dizziness, vommiting and vertigo."

"Oh my God," Reyes whispered, looking at Skinner. "The virus. It's happening."

"From the water systems?" Skinner asked, seeing Will nod.

"You've got to get the vaccine from DC," Will ordered to Reyes. He then turned to Skinner. "And you've got to go with her."

"We're not dividing now," Skinner said firmly.

"People are going to keep dying if we don't get this vaccine to the hospitals!" Will shouted. "Gibson and I will find Cara." He paused, sensing Gibson's discomfort with the idea. "He'll be safe with me," he added softly.

"William, I don't know if this is a good idea to separate," Reyes said softly.

"What other choice do we have?" Will demanded.

"Virginia plates … military vehicles …" Gibson whispered.

"What?" Will asked, searching Gibson out as Skinner and Reyes looked over to him.

"Caraline … Virginia plates … military vehicles …" Gibson repeated softly, his eyes wide behind his round eyeglasses.

"They're holding her on a base," Will said, bolting from his seat as he snatched the keys from the desk. "Come on, Gibson."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Skinner stopped him, his hand pressing firmly on Will's shoulder. "Do you know how many bases there are in Virginia, William?" he asked.

"Well I can at least start to drive south," Will snapped, pushing Skinner's hand off of him.

"William, he's right," Reyes said, stepping toward him. "Gibson, is there anything else? Anything at all?"

Gibson shook his head. "It's all dark now," he said softly.

"I'm not sticking around here while they beat Cara for what she's given me!" Will yelled, feeling himself caught by Skinner's hands. "Take your hands off of me," he warned; Skinner suppressed a chill that formed in him when he saw the darkness in Will's eyes.

"We're going with you," Skinner said firmly, still holding Will tightly.

"People need that vaccine," Will growled, swinging Skinner's hand off of him.

"William, you can't go alone," Reyes objected.

"Watch me."

As Skinner went to take Will's arm, Will's right fist connected with Skinner's jaw, his knuckles digging into the flesh as he punched him. He knew it was suicide, but Skinner still managed to grab Will and drag him into a choke-hold, his long, fit arm wrapping around Will's neck tightly with military experience and training. "Are you finished, William? Are you finished?!" he asked, feeling Will's tense fight under him. He knew he risked getting clobbered by the man he now held, but still gripped him, trying to calm him as he once did his father so many years ago. Against his better judgment, he continued to hold Will, feeling Will's anger nearly bursting through his skin. "Now," Skinner said softly, still locking his arm around Will, "you're going to keep your head, you understand? Because there's a lot of people who are counting on you right now to do just that." He braced himself, feeling Will's resistance build as he pulled at Skinner. "This is how they want you, William!" Skinner snapped. "Let it go! We're done, William! We're done!"

Everyone in the bullpen had stopped, staring in shock at the violent display that occurred in the back corner of the room. Hushed whispers rose from the onlookers as Skinner flung Will out of his arms, breathing deeply as he and Will faced off. With his nostrils flared and his fists balled up at his sides, Will grit his teeth as he felt the overwhelming power that seeped into him so easily, consuming him with fury and igniting reactions and sensations he never before knew. His eyes searched Skinner's, wondering why the man before him had chosen to risk himself like he had, knowing he was no match for Will on a regular day, let alone when he had such darkness pulsing through his soul.

"Now," Skinner said, watching Will across from him, "we're going to go together. First, we're going to pull up a list of bases. Then we're going to drive down there."

Will was silent and still as his mind purged into the darkness with razor sharp precision and pain, filling his head with abrasive noise. The volume of the voices increased with each millisecond and what he heard shook his skull, rotting all common sense and reason. In sudden weakness that struck like a deadly bolt of lightning, Will collapsed to the floor on his knees, burying his head in his hands as he cried out in excruciating pain.

_The people around him became distance and foggy, their concerned words floating away as the electric noise overtook him, color and light flashing as it beat into his psyche with vengeance. The images disturbed him and intrigued him all at once, flipping through his mind like a series of disjointed animations. Behind the lids of his eyes, the blue and yellow light scorched his vision, highlighting images of a trashed room, books scattered on the floor, wood splinters under his feet as he observed the toppled scene. The images pulsated like heartbeats - a boarded window, a half-eaten tray of food, an overturned mattress, round lights overhead, unforgiving faces, a needle …_

_Screams. Her screams. Screaming for him. He was there but he couldn't speak. He couldn't move. Tears. Her tears. Crying for him. Secretive whispers. Sinister smiles. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. Cigarette smoke. The bounty hunter. Tests. Tubes. Blood. Cameras. Surgical tools. Newborn babies crying._

Will's eyes flashed open, screaming as he bolted upright against Skinner's hands, who steadied him as he knelt beside him on the floor. "William," he said, "William, what happened?" Will clutched his head, the pain reverberating against every bone in his body, feeling more powerless with each second that passed. "William!" Skinner repeated; Will found his eyes and looked blankly into them. "Talk to me, William!"

"I think …" Will began, snapping down as the pain hit him again like a ton of bricks falling from stories above, descending onto his heart and mind with unspeakable burden. "I think …" His voice was strained, his face taut with suffering. "I think I read Cara's mind."

Reyes looked at Skinner in shock, then saw Will clutch at his head again, crying out in pain as he leaned against Skinner, shock-ridden and frail. "I don't understand-" Skinner began, supporting Will's weight as Will crouched in his arms on the floor.

"Cara's mind can't be read," Reyes whispered, stunned. "William," she said, touching Will's arm, feeling how cold he was, "William, you're freezing."

"What the hell is going on?" Skinner asked softly, panicked as he saw Will's condition.

"I don't know," Reyes replied.

"Z … 4 … C … 9 … 0 …M," Will breathed, his eyes squeezed shut.

"What?" Skinner asked.

"Z … 4 … C … 9 … 0 … M," Will repeated while Reyes scribbled the numbers and letters down.

"A license plate number?" she asked.

"I need a plate ran!" Skinner shouted over his shoulder, seeing a few officers scramble toward him. "Virginia plates, possibly a military vehicle," he said as Reyes gave them the paper. "I need all of the info _now_," he growled.

"Yes, sir," the officer who took the paper said, scattering away.

Skinner turned his attention back to Will. "William, listen to me," he said softly, "we're going to get you to a hospital."

"No!" Will shouted, bolting from Skinner's arms. He was still weak, though, and he toppled over, his head slamming onto the floor as he clutched it.

"What do we do?" Reyes begged, her eyes searching Skinner.

Skinner stared down at Will, who curled himself into the fetal position on the floor, still clutching his head in shaking silence. His eyes flicked over to Gibson, who stood quietly by and observed the entire scene, not uttering a word. "Gibson, what do we do?" he asked desperately.

"There's nothing you can do," Gibson said softly, his eyes on Will.

"What do you mean?" Reyes asked, her voice wavering.

"You can't help him," Gibson explained. He looked slowly up to Reyes. "William has powers that are dangerous. He shouldn't have used them. Because he utilized the darkness ..." Gibson paused, looking at Skinner. "Now he's dying."


	13. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Gunnison, UT  
3:26 PM MST

_It was a dream. It had to be. It couldn't have been real. It was a dream._

Scully panted, her eyes now fully open as she leaned against the wall. Exhaustion had overtaken her body, her energy used on trying to plan an escape, seeking weaknesses in the structure she was secluded to. Her ribs still ached from the fractures in them, as well as from the abuse she had endured earlier when she attempted to protect Doggett.

Mulder was now quiet; before, his voice had echoed throughout the halls in the warehouse as he protested against the pole he was bound to. The ache in his voice pierced Scully's heart, tears filling in her eyes as she heard the quick silence that overcame him, hoping he wasn't too badly hurt.

She was tossed back into the room alone that she had occupied before, after which she found herself examining her surroundings with careful observation. She had no idea what she was looking for, but hoped something would become evident. She knew the disadvantage was that each of her captors could read her mind easily, making whatever she did learn difficult to conceal or implement in the execution of a plan. It was quite a while that she searched, finally sitting and leaning against the wall to rest her ribs, not realizing she would soon drift off to sleep.

Her dream that she woke from disturbed her; the images confused her, they didn't seem to make sense. What she saw was viewed from strange angles, as if she were laying on the floor. First she saw the side of a desk, hearing muttering voices around her, her view shifting to pulsing blue and yellow light, the grain of the floor her head rested on magnified. More voices, more sounds, hurting her ears like amplified electrical shocks. The last image frightened her, darkness swirling methodically around a light source, choking the brightness from it, draining the power. Scully's deep fear was that her dream she had wasn't a dream at all, that what she had been exposed to was the depths of her son's current state of mind. The chaos that had only briefly enveloped her was overwhelming at minimum - never before had she been burdened with such a weight as she had during the dream-like vision she encountered then.

Was Will losing a battle that had started eight months ago? Had the recent terrors of the past couple of days ignited a dark flame inside of him that grew with each tragedy added to it? What could stop the evil that consumed him, if not the light? And where was the source of light? In the truth? Or in the womb of the woman he couldn't find?

Scully felt the whispering, delicate brush across her neck, knowing it was the tiny piece of gold that hung faithfully around it that had caused it. With a shaky hand, she fingered the small cross, closing her eyes and repeating what her heart spoke her to - a verse she hadn't reflected on in ages, probably since she was a child in the Catholic church. "'Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good,'" she whispered, clutching onto the cross. "Listen to me, William. Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

* * *

Across the country, Will's eyes blinked open, his hands sliding away from his face. He slowly lifted his head from the cold linoleum floor, his mouth opened as he focused on the desk in front of him. "William?" Reyes whispered, seeing the calm that had washed over him. Skinner watched cautiously, his right arm blocking Gibson from coming any closer. "William?" Reyes repeated carefully.

"Where am I?" Will finally whispered, turning toward Reyes as he swallowed to moisten his dry throat.

"Hoboken Police Station," Skinner said gently.

"No," Will said, shaking his head, "I mean, why am I on the floor?" Will sat up, his palm and fingers massaging his forehead as if he had taken a blow to it.

"You don't remember?" Reyes asked, rising as Will slowly stood.

"No," Will replied. "What happened?"

"You had a seizure-esque episode, William," Skinner explained, seeing Will turn his focus on him, the confusion evident in his eyes. "You don't remember any of what happened?"

Will shook his head. "No," he repeated firmly, growing concerned. "Why? What did I do?"

"What's the last thing you remember, William?" Reyes asked.

"You told me we were going to go together," Will recalled, looking at Skinner. "You were going to get a list of military bases." He licked his lips to wet them, seeing the worried look Reyes and Skinner exchanged. "What happened after that?" Will asked, feeling his pulse rise.

"Easy," Skinner said, holding his hands up in surrender before laying them carefully on Will's shoulders. "Just breathe, William. You've got to stay calm. I think your anger is what brought this all on."

Trying his absolute best to heed the advice Skinner gave him, Will took deep servings of oxygen into his lungs through his nose, feeling his pulse slow. "Please, someone tell me what happened after that," he nearly whispered, his voice desperate.

"You collapsed," Reyes explained. "You … you were in excruciating pain. You held your head … you screamed. You were violent. You threw yourself on the floor … and you gave us a license plate number."

"Z4C90M," Will whispered, blinking slowly.

"You do remember," Reyes said, surprised.

Will nodded softly. "Now I do."

"What happened, William?" Skinner asked.

"I saw …" Will paused as the images returned to him at his mind's suggestion. "I saw what Cara saw. Her cell, where they are keeping her. She destroyed it. She was looking for answers. For me. I felt … what she felt." Will paused, looking over at Gibson. "Can I see the future?" he whispered to the young man, confused.

"Yes," Gibson replied, "but you shouldn't look."

"Why?" Will asked, feeling the shock Skinner and Reyes emitted at the revelation. Reyes knew Will held more power than he even knew, but didn't imagine it included something as remarkable as foreseeing the future.

"Because the future is controlled by darkness," Gibson explained. "If you desire it, it will consume you."

"But I can help if I can see it!" Will argued.

"You cannot have the future without a price," Gibson said, his eyes locked on Will's.

"What is the price?" Reyes asked softly.

"Death," Gibson murmured.

"Whose death?" Skinner asked.

"The person who seeks it," Gibson answered, still looking at Will.

The warning seemed to roll off of his back like a bead of rain cascading down a leaf. "If I can see where Cara is being taken, then I can intercept them."

"William," Skinner said, eyeing Mulder and Scully's son, "you aren't well right now. You're exhibiting the symptoms Caraline spoke of when you were administered magnetite."

"I'm fine," Will insisted firmly, ignoring the overwhelming chill of his skin. "I feel fine."

"You're not achy or-"

"No. I'm fine," Will lied, his eyes flicking to Gibson. _This is my choice, Gibson, _he warned the young man telepathically. _My wife's and children's lives are at stake. Don't interfere. _

_This road won't lead you to them, _Gibson replied silently.

_It's the best I've got right now, _Will insisted, turning his focus back to Skinner and Reyes. "Let's get that list, alright?" he said, gathering his travel bag as he headed toward the locker room. "I'm going to take a shower."

The truth was, Will was freezing cold in the dead of summer, his body aching with a familiar tinge of pain that scared him. He now knew a grim reality - that there were two things that could kill him, magnetite and the darkness that lived inside of him. For now, he had to suffer through the slow, gruesome weakening. It was his only chance at finding Cara in time.

"Gibson," Skinner said softly, watching Will disappear down the hall to the officer's locker room, "is he alright?"

"He's made his choice," Gibson said flatly.

"What does that mean?" Reyes asked.

"It means that neither of you should get in his way," Gibson warned, looking at Reyes. "The path he's chosen isn't meant for you."

"What path is that?" Skinner asked.

Gibson didn't respond.

* * *

Shiprock Territory, NM  
4:17 PM MST

They gathered in the hogan for an unusually early discussion, the elders murmured among themselves as the fire was lit in the center. John entered, his white hair tied behind him in a thin ponytail. He took his place to the rear of the hogan, his eyes fixed on the small flames that licked the kindling at the base of the wood stack. "I am deeply troubled," he said, the others silencing as soon as the words left him. "My vision was of a permanent eclipse, darkness covering the brightest light forever. The sun was gone, the stars and moon no longer lit. I fear …" He paused, closing his eyes. "I fear this path that will soon be chosen comes from a natural place, one of love and desire to protect, which is as natural as the planets circling around one another. However, the person who will chose this path does not understand the damage it will do to all that relies on it."

"Can it be stopped?" one elder questioned softly.

"Darkness will beget more darkness," John replied.

"What of Shima? The children?" another asked.

"Without light," John explained, "nothing can grow. Very little can survive."

* * *

En route to Virginia  
6:39 PM EST

Will wasn't sure how his body had convinced his mind to rest in sleep, though the promise of such peace was far from kept during his slumber. Skinner drove with firm silence as Will rode shotgun, Reyes and Gibson seated to the rear of them in the sedan bound for The Mother State. Virginia had been dubbed the "Mother State" because it was the first state to be colonized. The irony of the nickname wasn't lost on any of them, considering the extreme circumstances they faced as well as who they believed was being held captive there.

In his restless dreams, Will's mind went back to the hogan in New Mexico where John bestowed his prophetic wisdom on him and his father - signs of things that already came to pass, along with things yet to come.

"_I have seen a great famine rush over the land like water down rock, fast and strong with fury. Many suffer in this famine, many die. Children cry to their mothers for food and drink but are left with dust and rocks to consume. Wells will dry up, their waters undrinkable by any living thing on earth. Nothing inhabits the water, for it is darkened with evil. … The fourth sign is lightning that strikes across the skies from east to west, its bolts deadly and unforgiving. Many will suffer death from this. Lives will be lost to the depths of the ocean as the sky's fire consumes them."_

His eyes opened, his forehead resting on the cool glass of the sedan as he stared at the relentless stretch of I-95 South they traveled on. Slashed white paint flickered past rhythmically as a reminder of their option to pass, to speed ahead if necessary, while a yellow line to the right kept them aligned. His heart was more in tune with the slashed white lines, feeling the urge to speed through the journey with his newfound ability. He had no idea what the yellow line was in his being at the moment, what was keeping him in the car, the control in someone else's hands. The very concept seemed unimaginable, and he concluded it was his weakened physical state that kept his desire to rebel at bay.

Will was freezing cold, nearly dying as the air conditioning breezed through the vents to combat the vicious summer heat that boiled around the car. The gooseflesh covered his tanned, bare arms; he feared complaining would only lead to worry from Skinner and Reyes, grateful for Gibson's weary fear of his unpredictability and the young man's choice to keep his secret. He hadn't begun to deteriorate as fast as he had in January, when Cara desperately tried to nurture him, but he knew the path was the same. Cara wasn't around to administer a mysterious vial of liquid to combat the illness he was afflicted with. He knew what waited for him at the end, and his only plan was to arrive at the finish line before fate did, beating destiny to the punch.

They had settled on trying Fort Myer in Arlington for its history as a base known for being a testing ground for new military equipment and techniques, though the license plate number Will quoted didn't return anything to verify their assumption. To them, it made the most sense that they would take Cara there for testing, the resources available to them within its secured confines. The rough draft of the plan was to infiltrate the base after dusk using the cover of darkness to aid them, Skinner and Will taking the lead as Reyes remained behind with Gibson for protection. Will knew first hand what they were up against, and though he knew his power was superior in most aspects to the run-of-the-mill colonist, he was only one man - one man who was now weakening, one man who worried for the safety of three other people, one man whose heart was so clouded with darkness and ache that his internal compass had been completely skewed.

As he laid on the floor in Hoboken after his wrestling match with evil, Will heard his mother speaking to him, quoting what he assumed was a Bible verse to try to fight against what she most likely had received a taste of through her own unexplainable power to communicate with him. _Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. _It made sense; it was explainable and reasonable, just like Dana Scully. It contained a natural, fitting conclusion. In many ways, he was his mother's son - his eyes saw, his ears heard, his heart knew, but at times he refused belief. Yet, he was also Fox Mulder's heir, which meant his hard-headed, passionate and reclusive sides were also active, challenging reason with sheer will and determination. It was a no-win situation, sleeping with danger and logic at the same time. One was bound to get jealous.

The issue with his mother's stance was that he didn't view previewing bits of the future as they came to him as "evil" by definition. Burdensome, exhausting, frightening or overwhelming, but certainly not evil. The evil, as he saw it, was in not being able to change the future he saw. Evil was in passivity, evil was in idol acceptance. There wasn't evil in stopping evil.

_You're cold,_ Will heard Gibson say to him in his mind, his naturally imposing habit of always pointing out the truth getting the better of him.

_I'm fine, _Will replied, not moving an inch from his slouched position against the window.

_No, you're not. You're dying._

_I know, so I'm not in the mood to argue, alright, kid?_

_I'm not that much younger than you._

_What is it you want from me, exactly?!_

_People are counting on you._

_And what, you think I'm not doing enough?!_

_You're doing the wrong things._

_I'm doing what needs to be done._

_This isn't the way to save them._

Will growled out loud, shifting his body against the passenger door and window. Skinner's eyebrow raised and he glanced over at Will. "You alright, William?" he asked softly.

"Fine," Will muttered. _If you know what's best for you, you'll leave me alone, Gibson._

_You asked for my help,_ Gibson replied silently.

_I asked you to tell me where my wife and children are, NOT to lecture me about how I go about finding them._

_Suit yourself._

* * *

6:47 PM EST

The fluidity of the rocking motion stirred her awake, her eyes opening as she connected images with sounds that played in her ears before what she took in visually. The truck she was in encased her in darkness, no light available due to lack of windows. She arched her neck, trying to sit up, but felt her wrists stop her. She became immediately aware of her bindings, knowing she was strapped down to a stretcher that was secured in a vehicle that now was transporting her somewhere. Unlike times before, her mouth was free from restraint, but also unlike times before, she had no words to speak. A strange, uncomfortable silence had befallen her, as if somehow her vocal chords were seized from the inside much like the mermaid's were on the animated movie she had seen at a friend's house once or twice. Could someone really do that? Could someone take away the ability to speak? Or was it her fear that silenced her?

She wasn't alone; she could hear his puffing behind her, near him she smelled the sweat of another man, one that cocked a gun. Again she opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her, making her feel more powerless than the handcuffs that captured her wrists and ankles.

"Rather uncomfortable, isn't it?" she heard _him_ ask - and by him, she meant Lucifer. "I was against this, but I suppose you've created far too much ruckus to be allowed the freedom of speech." She still couldn't see him; he slithered behind her, his arm coiling up to his lips as she heard him drag the cigarette. "You'll regain your ability to speak in a few hours. For now, you'll have to practice your ability to listen."

Her lip quivered, her mind racing as she thought of the children she carried in her womb. She hoped and prayed they were unaffected by the drugs that had been forced on her, fearing their innocent and tiny bodies were being more harmed by _Them_ than she was.

"People are dying, Caraline," the Devil continued, exhaling smoke. "Yet, here you are, so incredibly full with life. Perhaps even more than you realize." He paused. "You see, I was once dying, Caraline. I was unable to walk, then felt the scorch of rocket-propelled heat melt my flesh from my bones. And you ask, 'How did you survive?' Well," He inhaled again, dragging deeply on the stem, "I chose life. You see, I can't die. Not anymore." He exhaled, laughing softly. "I'm what you might call Christ. For my body was buried, yet I rose again, given eternal life and exceeding power."

She wanted to scream that he was nothing more than a low-life rat who deserved to be drawn and quartered, eaten by lions or maimed by rabid wolves. She wanted to curse at him for even thinking to compare himself to someone so holy - though she hadn't had much religion taught to her, she still knew better. She wished her fists were free to beat his lit cigarette into his face, to hurt him as much as he hurt her, Will, Mulder, Scully and everyone else who didn't have a voice against him. Yet, all she could do was listen, and the silence killed her.

"You have a choice, Caraline," Satan said, still perched behind her like the coward he was. "The children you carry will soon serve a new master. Their … _unfortunate_ … aptitude for resistance they inherited from you will soon be quelled. You can either choose to live the remainder of your life with them, being able to hold them, nurture them and care for them. Or, you can die, leaving someone else to take your place as their mother." She heard him crush the spent cigarette with his foot. "William, too, has a choice to make between two paths. Only, his choices both result in death. You should consider yourself fortunate for the mercy we're showing you. Perhaps this second chance will make up for the time you lost while you rebelled against the project in your youth." He lit a new cigarette. "You know, not everyone gets second chances, Caraline. Some would kill for what you've been offered."

She opened her mouth to speak and heard the aching silence, her eyes welling with tears as she stared at the roof of the truck. It was in that moment that she saw so clearly the darkness that her husband possessed inside of him but fought continuously. It smiled at her. It whispered bitter nothings in her ears. It circled above her like a silky raven, perching on her throat and plucking the hope from her heart. She swallowed, allowing the surrender, allowing the sacrifice to come. She won and lost the fight all at once, knocked down with one fatal blow to still administer, one final play, one final move to make on the game board. She lay in forced silence, grieving as her mind became set on the terrible, unthinkable thing she knew must now be done.

_One person to save many is better than many to save one, _her heart reminded her.


	14. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

Gunnison, UT  
7:22 PM MST

"Hungry?"

Mulder's jaw flexed, feeling his stomach grumble at the mere suggestion of food. It had been twenty-four hours since his last meal and what felt like forever since he had been given water that he reluctantly drank. He could smell the bread even from the distance that separated him and Joy, his mouth instantly salivating over the otherwise less than appealing section of the loaf. Still weakened from the third round of sedatives he was administered, he felt his arms collapse down away from the pole as his cuffs were unlocked by a large replacement behind him. Mulder rotated his wrists, feeling the burn of the raw skin as it moved. His ankles were unclasped next, Mulder too weak to raise immediately from his kneeling position as Joy slid the tray forward with her foot so that it rested about a foot in front of him. "Eat, Fox," she said softly. "Though I wouldn't recommend you do anything else. I'd hate to hurt you more than I already have."

At this point, Mulder understood it was futile to fight Joy and the other replacements in the room. His heart wanted to push forward, to escape his imprisonment, but his mind told him it wasn't the best course of action. "I want to give my food to Scully," Mulder said quietly, standing as his knees cracked, his feet shaky under him as the pins and needles sensation overcame them.

"How thoughtful," Joy commented, not moving.

"Let me see her," Mulder continued, looking at Joy.

"Why should I?"

"I just … want to make sure she's okay."

Joy stepped closer to Mulder, pouring through his thoughts like a paperback. "You really are worried for her, aren't you?" she asked softly; Mulder was confused by the genuine tone to her voice.

"It's all I ask," Mulder said softly. "Do whatever you want to me otherwise. I just need to make sure she's alright."

For a moment - and maybe only a moment - Mulder was convinced that he had managed to appeal to Joy's human nature, hoping that there was at least a bit of humanity in her to appeal to. He knew she knew he was psychoanalyzing her as they stood in silence; she didn't seem phased by his study. "Follow me," Joy said, smiling, Mulder's heart dropping when he saw the familiar darkness in her eyes return.

Through the dusky pathways of the warehouse, Mulder winced as he walked behind Joy, his body wrought with pain, his feet and fingers still tingling as the blood resumed fully circulated through them. He clutched the bread and glass of water he retrieved from the tray, feeling the eyes of the three replacements behind him as they arrived at the unmarked door. His eyes widened when he saw Scully's nervous push up from her seat on the floor as soon as the entrance was tampered with, her defenses readied against the enemy though she hadn't much left to give. Her mouth opened at the sight of Mulder, her eyes locked on him as the replacements behind him shoved him forward. Joy laughed. "I'll pick you up in the morning, Fox. Enjoy your last night together."

"There's still time," Mulder said softly, looking at Joy.

"Not anymore," Joy replied, knowing she had stunned both Scully and Mulder. "You never asked me what it would cost to see Dana, Fox. The price is a deadline shift for William. Don't worry, I'll call him soon to let him know."

The door slammed behind Joy as she left, Mulder's eyes closing as he processed what it meant for Will - less time to find Cara. Though he had begged his son to focus only on Cara, he knew Will wouldn't be listening to him any time soon, opting to stretch himself impossibly thin to achieve everything, risking accomplishing nothing in return. He opened his eyes, his gaze shifting to Scully, who stood frozen as she stared at Mulder. "Mulder," she whispered, taking a hesitant step. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, crossing toward her. After resting the food on the floor near her feet, he drew Scully into his arms, freezing as he heard her wince. "Shit," he whispered, "what did I do?"

"It's my ribs," Scully explained, pressing herself carefully against Mulder's chest. "I think some are at minimum fractured."

"Jesus."

"I'm fine, Mulder," Scully said, her motions slow as her hand found his face. "How are you?"

"I'm empathizing with Rocky Balboa at the end of his fifteen rounds with Apollo Creed," Mulder joked dryly, his grin making her smile. He tilted his head toward the small portion of bread. "You hungry?"

"You eat it. You need it."

"We can split it into three," Mulder said, looking at the adjoining wall. "How's Doggett? Is he over there?"

"Yes. He's sore, but he's alright. I think I heard him sleeping a minute ago."

"Yeah, my internal clock is completely screwed up."

"It's seven thirty just about," Scully said, showing Mulder the watch in the dim light.

"Is there a hole or something?" Mulder asked, moving toward the wall.

"Not that I have found."

"Well," Mulder said with a sigh, dividing the bread into thirds, "we'll keep it just incase." He handed Scully her piece, knowing it was best to try to savor the little bit of food rather than shove it in his mouth like his stomach begged him to. Scully slid down the wall, wincing at the bottom as Mulder joined her on the floor. He pressed his back into the wall, drawing Scully between his legs as he carefully rested her back on his chest. "I'm getting too old for this shit," Mulder murmured, his face nestled next to Scully's left ear.

"Me too," Scully agreed, tearing a tiny piece of her bread and pressing it to her tongue.

"You're not old," Mulder said as he chewed. "I robbed the cradle."

"It's happening, isn't it?" Scully whispered, feeling Mulder's arms wrapping around her as he finished eating, pressing an extra chunk of his portion into her hand as she protested. "No, Mulder."

"Eat," he ordered, his hands rubbing her arms. "It's _been_ happening, Scully," he added, pushing his nose into her hair as he kissed her neck.

"No," Scully corrected softly, "I mean, there's … there's such darkness in William right now, Mulder," she confessed. "I saw what his mind was like. It was terrifying."

"Did he speak to you?" Mulder asked, surfacing from her skin.

"No, but I tried to speak to him. I don't know if he listened." She sighed, giving in and eating the extra piece of bread Mulder gave her.

"What did you see?"

"It was like I was looking through his eyes. Everything was distorted, dark and just … frightening." She paused. "Mulder, Cara isn't meant to be found."

"I know," he replied. "But I trust that William is using his resources."

"Gibson?"

She felt him nod against her. "Maybe it'll help."

Scully finished her bread, resting her head against Mulder's chest as she felt him kiss her cheek. "Did you ever ask why, Mulder?" she whispered, staring ahead at the closed door across from them. "I mean, we know the 'what' … but not the 'why'."

"For colonization?" Mulder asked, her nod confirming. "A whole other planet to infiltrate and rule is appealing for those seeking domination."

"It's just … so …"

"No, Scully," Mulder whispered, gingerly tightening his arms around her. "Don't try to assess it. It's not something that can be qualified, categorized or easily understood. Not without delving into the darkness."

"Do you think that's why William is so consumed? Because he's chosen to confront it instead of resist it?"

Mulder sighed, resting his chin on her head. "If he has, I just hope he hasn't succumbed to it," he whispered.

* * *

En route to Virginia  
9:40 PM EST

Will was relieved in more ways than one as he stood on the side of the darkened highway in the nearby treeline, his back to the car. The warmth of the summer air coasted over his skin; it didn't do much to take the incredible chill from him, but it was far nicer than the cold air conditioning Skinner had on in the sedan. He zipped his fly, rubbing his hands with some sanitizer Reyes gave him as he made his way back to the waiting vehicle. It wouldn't be long, now. They were about ten minutes from Virginia, only another ten minutes to the base after they entered. The weight of finding Cara crushed down on Will, his heart so consumed that his mind couldn't focus on much else, including the necessary functions like eating and bathroom breaks. It was Gibson who called for a stop, Will taking advantage of the opportunity to gain warmth and solitude from the other three.

His phone chirped in his pocket and he fished around for it in the black night, holding as it glowed in his hands. With a terribly painful jolt to his mind as he sought the reason for the call, he took a deep breath and answered. Reading the minds of those not meant to be read wasn't an exact science - at least, he hadn't developed the aptitude for it fully yet. Joy's mind, though, seemed to be an easy subject to pick up. "I want to speak with my parents," he instantly demanded, not feeling the need for any exchanged formalities.

Joy smiled, pacing as she held her phone to her ear. "Mmm," she purred, "now this is a William I could get used to."

"Do it," Will growled, feeling the strange urge of the darkness overtake him.

"Why should I?" Joy asked.

"Put them on," Will snapped.

"You don't even want to know why I called?"

"I know why you called."

"Ooh, baby," she teased, laughing. "You really have crossed over, haven't you?"

"I don't have time for your bullshit," Will snarled. "Let me talk to them."

"Does it hurt?" Joy asked, twirling her hair around her finger. "I mean, it's not natural to us. It's got to hurt to be able to see so much. I know I can never have the pleasure. That's why you're so special, William."

"Put them on," Will repeated.

"We will make a great team, William," Joy whispered. "Nothing can stop us."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Bumping things up? Well, your father wanted to see your mother, so that was the price he unknowingly made you pay." Joy smiled. "I can't wait to see you tomorrow, William. I've got a lot planned for you when I do."

The line went dead; Will's eyes focused on the grass underfoot as he reviewed the timeframe. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,_ he thought, shaking his head slightly as he silently made his way back to the car.

When he deposited himself in the front seat roughly, slamming the door, Skinner turned to him, observing him. "What is it, Wiliam?" he asked gently, knowing he was troubled deeply.

"Timeline's changed," Will murmured, examining his hands.

"What do you mean?" Reyes asked.

"It means … I've got twelve hours to find Cara," Will shuddered.

"What?" Reyes gasped.

"She changed the fucking time!" Will yelled, slamming his palm into the dashboard. "She axed an entire day. I need to be in Gunnison by 7:30 their time tomorrow night. It takes about nine hours to get to Utah by plane, so that means I have until nine tomorrow morning to find Cara. Son of a bitch! Mother-"

"Easy," Skinner said, holding his hand up before taking Will's shoulder. "Easy, son." He swallowed, feeling Will's ragged breath as it jostled his body. "Let's go, alright? Let's get there." Releasing his grip on Will's shoulder slowly, Skinner turned on the ignition, directing the car back onto the highway as Reyes and Gibson sat in silence.

"I can't see any damn thing either," Will continued, unmoved by Skinner's attempt at reassurance as he painfully tried to preview any connection to Cara that he could from the future.

"William, you shouldn't …" Reyes began softly, fearing what Gibson had said earlier about Will's newfound ability.

"I'm fine," Will snapped, knowing his tone wasn't at all convincing.

"She's right, William," Skinner insisted.

"I said,_ I'm fine_," Will growled.

Reyes glanced over to Gibson, whose face didn't reflect either concern or an opinion of Will's erratic behavior or dangerous actions. She remembered his words to her and Skinner earlier. _Don't get in his way._ Will was like a runaway train, the brakes cut out and the track it was on ending abruptly as he charged forward without a second thought.

For Will, there wasn't time to debate the cost of things. He knew the price that needed to be paid - the cost didn't matter. He had to see the future. There wasn't any time left to be wrong.

* * *

Outside of Fort Myer, VA  
10:02 PM EST

Everyone knew their positions and responsibilities; Will had drilled into Reyes' head to stay behind no matter what, to protect Gibson at all costs, even if it meant abandoning them. He had heard the silent resistance that flowed through her mind, weighing what he had instructed against what she felt was right. He knew, though, that she would ultimately follow his instruction, thanking his mother for the bit of logical reasoning he inherited from her. The hierarchy of life value placed Gibson at the top of the chain, only challenged by Cara.

The dark jeans he wore were ground into the dirt at the knees as his black tee shirt rippled gently in the breeze, Will's eyes focused on the base as they sat at the perimeter. "What's it look like?" Skinner whispered as he crouched next to him, knowing Will was scanning all available minds to be read.

"Five humans I can see at nine o'clock," Will murmured, peering through the binoculars.

"No replacements?"

"None so far."

"How confident are you?"

"Pretty."

Skinner sighed. "I'll go left."

"They're all at the left," Will argued softly.

"There's bound to be a replacement on the right, and you can handle him. I'll distract the others."

With a nod, Will handed the binoculars back to Skinner, feeling the weight of the gun he carried. There were a limited amount of shots he had, given he only recovered one extra clip of magnetite bullets from the bounty hunter in Hoboken. His large knife was tucked into his boot as an alternative weapon. "Alright," Will breathed, giving Skinner a nod, holding his fingers out in an "OK" sign. He mouthed a silent countdown. _Three … two … one …_ He jammed his index finger out, dividing quickly from Skinner as they covertly scaled the grade downward into the base hidden from view.

Seeing a quick nod from Skinner at the bottom, Skinner crept toward one officer, easily knocking him out with little noise as Will watched from his cover point. Another officer nearby went down, Skinner like a silent thief in the night as he claimed the consciousness of his prey. Will bolted toward the empty area when he saw an opportunity, now hearing Skinner's swift and stealthy fight against the remaining three officers behind him.

Will pressed himself against an outside wall of a building, his face twisting in pain when he received the transmission of a replacement's mind. With a mute breath, Will lunged into an attack, his strength still superior to the superhuman he tackled to the ground, two magnetite bullets to the heart finishing him cleanly as Will slipped inside, Skinner on his heels. "Good call," Will whispered, taking the lead as they made their way down the darkened hall of the seemingly empty space.

With a quick shove against the wall, Will blocked Skinner as he heard two voices drifting through the air. Their tones quickened, picking up volume as they rushed nearer to them. _Replacements,_ Will immediately knew, given how fast they realized he and Skinner were there. Will held up two fingers, allowing Skinner to know how many men were approaching. As he waited for the opportune moment to attack, Will honed in on their thoughts, feeling slightly less pain than he had before. _Interesting,_ he noted. Moving quickly, he easily took down the two officers as they came in sight, his gun claiming their lives, much to their surprise. _Guess no one sent them the memo about magnetite bullets._

They wove further through the dimly-lit corridors, peering into doors to check for any signs of life, particularly Cara's. After a while, they reached the end, unsuccessful in finding anything. Out the exit on the opposite side they went, Skinner attacking more humans as Will took down more replacements. All that Will kept thinking was how incredibly easy the search had been thus far. The last twenty minutes hadn't barely been active enough for him to even break a sweat. _Something's off,_ he concluded.

The rest of the buildings were combed, Will and Skinner managing to avoid as many humans as possible, not encountering any more replacements. Those who they crossed paths with were neatly, temporarily silenced, giving them enough time to peer through more doors that led to nothing.

Forty-five minutes in, Will froze, his heart stopping as the blue and yellow light shone harshly in his mind. He crouched in silent pain, the image frightening him. "Cara's not here, but Miles is," Will whispered.

"Where?" Skinner asked.

"Back at the car," Will said, tearing off for the vehicle. The future Will saw didn't have a happy ending for Reyes or Gibson. He picked up his pace, seeing he was just in time to intercept Miles, who he tackled, blasting him through the dirt on the ground. Will stood, breathing deeply as he held his gun up at Miles, who stood and eyed him. "Check on them!" he ordered Skinner, who tore back to the car where Reyes and Gibson were. He kept his eyes on Miles. "Where is she?" Will snarled, cocking the gun.

"You won't find her in time," Miles replied, sensing Will's ability to jump into his mind was still sketchy.

"You're going to die tonight," Will said, stepping closer, "so tell me where she is."

"She's where she needs to be."

His anger rose to uncontrollable heights, Will's hands tossing Miles backwards against a tree with ease. "Where is she?" he growled, grabbing Miles by the arm as he lifted him up, slamming his head into the trunk of the tree.

"Everyone knew you'd cross to our side," Miles said with a cool smile, feeling Will's grip tighten around his arm as he pressed back against him. "I certainly didn't think you'd resist this long."

"Tell me where she is," Will growled, pressing harder.

"You know," Miles said, "I thought you would have figured things out by now, but I see you're a little late to the dance."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why don't you reach inside my mind and find out?"

In a moment, Will dove into the depths of Miles' head, the murky evil he encountered leaving him disgusted. "I enjoyed killing Tonya and Martin," Miles said with a smile. "Normally I don't get the pleasure of such a personal task. I've been trying to rid the world of you for quite some time." He paused, trying to gain a physical advantage over Will, who didn't back down. "You haven't even gotten to the best part, my personal favorite," Miles taunted, pressing with equal force against Will, their mutual strength seeming to cause them to freeze in place, cancelling each other out. "Go on. Dig deeper. I'll know if you did."

Will's lips parted as he came to know Miles' horrid secret, he felt his heart stop as he looked into Miles' eyes. His primal rage boiled over uncontrollably. His anger, though, left him weak for defense, clouding his reaction time. Miles gained the edge slightly, allowing him to throw Will onto the ground, both palms flat as he tossed Will violently against a large boulder with his invisible force. Will groaned, his gun skittering away as his back slammed into the stone.

Miles shoved Will harder into the rock, feeling Will challenge his strength. "I had a lot of fun," Miles taunted suggestively, seeing Will go wild at his words as he struggled under Miles' power. "I'd volunteer to do it again," he continued, pleased with the hatred he saw in Will's eyes. "You think it'll help, your new talent - but you're cutting your nose off to spite your face."

Will managed to wrestle Miles' invisible energy off of himself, standing as he felt the pain of the boulder's impact from the continual weakening of his body. Will lifted the gun he dropped in the air with his mind, snatching it back in his hands. During his recovery, in a fraction of a second, he fully submerged himself in Miles' head, ignoring the voltages of pain from doing so. Will now could see his enemy's actions before they were committed, he firing several rounds into Miles' arms and legs before Miles could knock him down, injuring him with the painful magnetite but not killing him. Miles collapsed to the ground, Will driving his boot into his stomach repeatedly as he was filled with incredible strength from the surge of dark adrenaline that coursed through him. He hovered over Miles, pressing his foot onto Miles' throat, who squirmed under him in pain. "Where is she?" Will demanded, his voice dark and husky as he growled.

"I'll see you in hell, William Mulder," Miles said, smiling.

Skinner soon approached, having been delayed by checking on Reyes and Gibson, hearing the six rounds fired that came after the last five a moment earlier. "William!" he shouted, running toward him as he saw Will's long right arm over Miles' lifeless body, his finger repeatedly squeezing the trigger of his gun though he was out of bullets. "Stop, William!" Skinner said, grabbing Will's arm as he plucked the gun from his hand. Will lunged for Miles' dead body, pounding on his face with his fists, his pulse racing as he replayed the images he stole from Miles' head as Miles breathed his last breath. He felt Skinner pull him off of Miles, his eyes locked on Miles as his stomach lurched.

Will bolted away from Skinner, disappearing into the thick night; Skinner watched helplessly from a distance as he heard Will vomit. When silence fell over him, Skinner timidly approached Will, seeing his body crouched down on the ground, his hands in his hair. He swore he saw him shaking. "What did you see, William?" he asked hesitantly, knowing whatever Miles had inside of his mind had caused him to go over the edge.

"She was never here," Will managed, his voice low. "This was a set-up to lead us away from her. They knew we'd come here." He stood, his back still to Skinner. As he headed back to the car, his right arm brushed Skinner's, Skinner closing his eyes as he understood Will was keeping a terrible secret, one he wasn't ready to reveal.

"Where is she, William?" Skinner asked, turning toward Will.

Will paused, looking over his right shoulder slightly at Skinner. "I don't know," he said darkly, spitting on Miles' disfigured body as he walked away.


	15. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Rural Virginia  
11:59 PM EST

Skinner kept his eyes on the treeline where Will hovered, the light of the summer moon illuminating him as he paced back and forth several yards away from the car. "What do you think he saw?" he heard Reyes ask softly, her eyes also watching him.

"Well, I'm sure Gibson already knows what he saw," Skinner remarked, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror at Gibson.

"Gibson," Reyes said, shifting her focus to the young man beside her, "how is it that William can see the future?"

"He can't see everything that will happen," Gibson corrected. "He can predict behavior in people more than see the future."

"So … he could know what his enemy would do before they do it?"

"Yes, if he submits himself to it."

"But it will kill him," Skinner noted, looking in the mirror at Gibson.

"Yes," Gibson confirmed.

"Why?"

"Control is constructed from darkness," Gibson explained. "Hope and faith are constructed from light."

"So in order to obtain control, you obtain darkness," Reyes concluded.

"And the darkness will take away the light, leaving him powerless," Skinner added, his eyes back on Will. "Why is he choosing to subject himself to this?"

"He doesn't believe," Gibson replied. "He doubts. He doesn't have faith. Without control, he feels he has nothing."

"So he'll sell his soul to find her," Skinner murmured.

"Essentially."

"What can we do to stop him?"

"Nothing," Gibson said, sighing. "Unless you can get him to believe in who he is. If he identifies with the darkness for too long, he'll lose sight of his true purpose and power."

Reyes looked out of the window, seeing Will run his hand through his hair as he walked back and forth. "He needs to believe," she whispered. "What did he see, Gibson?"

Gibson was quiet for a long moment. Skinner saw the look in his eyes, knowing Gibson wished to erase whatever images had transferred from Will to him inadvertently. "He …" Gibson paused, swallowing. "He saw Caraline's kidnapping." Reyes caught the expression of discomfort in Gibson, seeing him play with his hands nervously.

"In January?" Reyes asked. Gibson nodded, feeling more awkward as each silent moment ticked by. "Which part?"

"Um … when Miles was … in the room with her," Gibson stammered.

"What happened in the …" Reyes stopped, her mouth opening in a soft gasp. "Oh my God," she whispered, drawing her own conclusion.

"What?" Skinner asked, confused. Neither Gibson nor Reyes spoke, one too focused on trying to erase what his mind now held while the other was still in shock over the truth that was revealed. "Would one of you mind telling me what the hell is going on? That man out there is an A-Bomb waiting to drop, and I wouldn't mind knowing what _not_ to talk about."

"It's …" Gibson couldn't finish, ducking his face even further downward.

"Will saw Miles … Miles raped Cara," Reyes breathed, shuddering.

"My God," Skinner whispered, leaning back in his seat, joining the other two in tense silence. Skinner's eyes fell to Will, who continually paced as if Cara's life depended on his constant movement. "So then the children …"

"Might not be his," Reyes finished. "Scully saw …"

"What did Scully see?"

"The ultrasound of one of the babies … it has the protrusions on its neck." Reyes turned to Gibson. "I thought you said they were William's children," she recalled.

"It said it was," Gibson replied.

"It? Meaning one?" Skinner asked.

"I don't know. I can only speak to one. The other is silent."

"How could they be both? That's impossible," Skinner said, shaking his head. "One is … and the other … No. It's not even medically possible."

"Neither is what William can do," Gibson challenged.

The three looked out into the darkness toward Will. "Maybe Miles didn't really do it," Reyes offered. "Maybe he was just trying to toy with William."

"Maybe. But still … how can he believe when he has that in his head now?" Skinner murmured.

"I don't know," Reyes said, sighing. "But he needs to."

* * *

August 25, 2012  
Rural Virginia  
1:47 AM EST

The light of the moon above cast a white glow over the green, red and blue cords that wove themselves together and around his wrist, weathered and faded from time passing and everyday life. The smaller loop clung on to the larger; as he gazed at it intently, in his mind's eye, he saw her initial look of shock as he first slipped it on her finger.

The ground he chose to sit on was rocky but he was unaware of any discomfort as he hugged his knees, his brown eyes fixed on the trees in front of him as they had been for nearly two hours. The answer, he knew, wasn't in the woods that surrounded him, but he kept looking blankly into its depths, unable to move.

The thoughts of Reyes and Skinner had faded a while ago, knowing sleep had overcome them and possibly Gibson. It was easier, anyway, without their mental chatter distracting him. To beat his opponent, he knew he had to become him. He had to willingly sink into the blackness of his mind and think his thoughts, feel his feelings and know his actions and reactions better than his enemy did. Will didn't have any prior experience with such a task, hence why he still sat outside in the dark alone after three hours total of work.

Achieving the ultra-coveted glimpses of the future wasn't easy - it was both mentally and physically painful to push aside sanity and reason to embrace evils. Just when he had felt he was getting close to seeing something of value, Will would be coarsely reminded of Miles' photographic secret he had subjected himself to, causing his focus to be severed as he calmed himself down. After, he would, once again, plunge into the minds of the bounty hunter and the Smoking Man, trying to find even a shred of something to go on. However, he was disgusted as he repeatedly drew blanks. It was as if each time they saw him coming.

He was running out of time, his heart beating like a ticking clock accounting for the precious seconds he was losing. What if she, too, was across the country and he was already too late? That, along with other frightening scenarios and possibilities had motivated him to push deeper into the evil, the chill of his skin overwhelming him as he felt his soul being put up for auction to the darkest bidder.

Now hours later, as he realized he had gotten nowhere with his current tactic, he sighed, allowing his hand to graze the grass next to him as he recalled how the curve of her fertile stomach felt. He swallowed back the bile that begged for escape from his throat, shutting his eyes as if closing them were enough to stop the chance of the children his wife carried from being Miles'. Though he was now far away from where he left the bloodied and beaten corpse, Will felt Miles' eyes examining him as he shopped from the putrid images in Miles' mind. What he saw that Miles had done to Cara made Will want to drive back to Fort Myer and beat Miles again and again until there was nothing left of his body to maim or destroy.

His thoughts shifted to his wife as he fingered the tiny loop attached to his wrist. From day one, she believed in the life she carried in her womb, sacrificing so much of herself for the safety of her offspring. Had her choice been in vain? Will had the suspicions of the babies not being his before, but seeing Miles' grotesque pride in his memories made the prospect even more disturbing; it hit closer to home. With reluctance, Will began to focus his talent on Cara, hoping to return to the depths of her mind to find an answer to where she was. Pouring through Cara's psyche was painful and ultimately not productive. She, too, had no idea where she was, and she was slipping in and out of sleep or consciousness, which made Will fear for her.

As he began to stroke the soft blades of grass to his side again, he closed his eyes, focusing on the tiny babies his wife was carrying. Gibson had said that they were his, that at least one had claimed Will as its father. _How would an unborn child know such a thing?_ he thought. At this point, he had no choice but to try this last avenue of resource. _Maybe the children can help me,_ he prayed silently. He closed his eyes, sighing deeply as he felt his best attempts to believe fall short. His faith was almost non-existent. There wasn't enough good left inside of him to overcome the evil with.

* * *

The door to the front passenger seat of the car opened gently, Skinner waking on the defense as his eyes adjusted in the darkness. "William," he whispered, knowing Reyes and Gibson were still asleep. He sighed, seeing Will carefully shut the door, his lips pressed together as his eyes looked out ahead through the windshield. Skinner glanced at his watch in the light of the moon. 3:32 AM. With a quick rub to his face, Skinner shifted his focus back on the silent man next to him. "Anything?" he asked, unable to gauge Will's emotions from his current state.

"Yes," Will replied, not moving in his seat.

"What, William?"

Will swallowed. "We need to go to Quantico," he said, still frozen in his seat as his jaw flexed. "We need to get the vaccine to the hospitals."

"William," Skinner said carefully, "there isn't time to do both."

Will nodded. "I know."

Skinner held his breath at Will's request. There was such a sense of solemn finality to Will's current physical state. "We will keep looking for her," he whispered; Will didn't move. "I'll do everything I can to-"

"I know," Will interrupted, his breath becoming quicker as his mind processed the decision he made, his eyes still glued ahead.

"You're doing your best, William," Skinner said, hoping it would encourage him.

"Then my best isn't good enough, is it?" Will said darkly, turning to look in Skinner's eyes for a long, silent moment. "I _promised_ her. I told her to _trust me_."

"We will find her, William," Skinner interrupted. "You haven't failed."

"I've failed in _every_ respect," Will replied firmly, turning his focus back to the view through the windshield ahead.

"William-"

"Just get us to Quantico, alright?" Will snapped, leaning back against his chair, turning his gaze out to the window next to him. He heard Skinner's concern that he didn't voice, choosing to shove it aside as the darkness inside of him taunted him, tearing his faith and belief apart limb from limb.

_You've failed her, William. You've failed your children - if they're even yours. You'll probably fail your parents, too. Your mother and father, tortured because of you. Agent Doggett too. Tonya and Jack are dead. Cara's family is gone. Countless people dead and still dying from a virus you failed to contain._

_You call yourself the Savior? You couldn't even protect one person when you needed to. She was raped. RAPED, William. He violated her. You let him. You couldn't keep her safe. You still can't. You're useless. Pathetic._

_It's your fault if your parents die, William._

_It's your fault she's suffering._

_You never deserved any of them._

_All you deserve is the death you're getting._

* * *

En route to Gunnison, UT  
2:43 PM CST

He stood purposely alone, his fingers digging into the strap of strap of his travel bag as he stared at the large television screen in the airport he waited in for his connecting flight. The news was all the same - more mysterious deaths from an unknown enemy, now over a two thousand lives claimed and counting. Black marks, untreatable fevers, unspeakable illness and quick endings strung the tragedies together like a chain of paper hearts, each resembling the next with every detail, the deaths themselves cut out from the same dark cloth in multiples.

Will was well aware of the impression he made on the people who passed by him, some bothered by his lack of approachability while others were intrigued, drawn to the mystery like a moth to a flame. To him, it didn't matter. Nothing did at this point, not even the little boy who he saw eyeing him as he approached, his mother distracted with her smartphone.

"Why are you wearing sunglasses?" the boy asked, peering up at him curiously.

"I felt like it," he replied noncommittally, not making eye contact.

"I wanted to wear a cape," the boy continued, "but my mom said I couldn't wear one on the plane."

"It's best to listen to your mom, then," Will replied, knowing his voice was stiff.

"But she didn't tell me _why_ I couldn't wear a cape."

The boy couldn't see Will's eyes shift toward his mother across from them, she still occupied on social media or texting. "Would you wear your cape on the plane if you wanted to?" the boy asked, gaining his attention back to him.

"I don't have a cape," he said softly, sighing.

"Oh." The boy seemed disappointed. "I thought most superheroes had one."

Will was stunned. He eyed the boy through his tinted lenses, feeling his throat dry up. "What did you say?"

"Well, you're a superhero, right?" the boy said, scratching his small fingers through his unruly dirty blonde hair. "So if you don't wear a cape, then what do you wear?"

"What makes you think I'm a superhero?" Will asked gently.

The boy shrugged. "I just know you are." He paused, tilting his head to the side as he examined Will's face. "I mean, I know you're not Batman, because you would just fly in your own private plane if you were. If you were Spiderman, you'd be funnier. You're like Superman. 'Cause Clark Kent wore glasses to try to hide from people too. But I guess you can't fly. Did you grow up on a farm?"

With a deep breath, Will squatted down to the boy's level, reading his genuine, innocent thoughts to confirm he was, in fact, human. "Who put you up to this?" he whispered, feeling violated for the references the boy used.

"No one," the boy replied, his face crinkled as he wore his evident confusion. Will saw the invisible light bulb turn on over the child's head. "Oh, don't worry, mister. I won't tell anyone," he added quietly. "Not even my mom. Not even for extra iPad time. Swear." He drew an X-shape over his chest.

Will swallowed, hearing the announcement for the plane he was catching to be boarded. He glanced up, seeing people filling in down the ramp to load into the aircraft. "Mister," the boy whispered, gaining Will's attention back, "why is everyone dying?"

"Because …" Will sighed; he wasn't prepared for the question. "Because there are people in the world that aren't good. They want to hurt others."

"Why?"

Will glanced over, seeing the woman who he assumed was the boy's mother now talking on her cell phone. "Because they let the darkness control them."

"Can you stop them?" the boy whispered.

"I don't know," Will admitted.

"You shouldn't hide," the boy decided. "Maybe if you didn't hide, they would be scared of you and stop hurting people."

It was such a simple statement, one that carried more weight than the boy would ever know. He didn't know how long he examined the boy's face, or how long the boy stared back at him - time seemed to be passing through a sieve at an agonizingly slow pace that neither of them noticed nor were concerned with. Will thought of Cara and the two children he so desperately wanted to find, he choosing to leave her behind to go after his parents, just as he had before, He had left her vulnerable, alone and in danger. She had claimed him to be her Superman since she learned of who he truly was, though now he felt lower than the dirt under Billy Miles' dead body he abandoned in Virginia. He thought of the lives inside of Cara that he prayed were his and innocent, wondering if he would ever see them grow to the age of the boy who stood in front of him.

There was such a wonder and awe the boy possessed for him that he saw inside of his mind. He didn't feel wonderful. Sure, the vaccine was now on its way to hospitals, hopefully to be proven the cure for what had already claimed so many. He had defeated Miles, making good on his promise to Cara and himself to destroy the person who violated her. To him, though, there was nothing wonderful in what he accomplished. Wonderful would have been to have her in his arms again, unharmed. Wonderful would have been to have foreseen the trap that was set for his parents before he tossed them into harm's way. Wonderful would have been to never have risked so many lives for his own personal cause. He wasn't wonderful.

"I'm not hiding," Will finally said, running his hand through his hair as it was his nervous habit.

"Then why are you wearing sunglasses inside?" the boy asked again.

_Damn perceptive kid,_ Will grumbled silently. He _was_ hiding - he was hiding from the truth, from reality, from his destiny. He was hiding from his own reflection, from his own self-hatred, from his own disappointment in who he was. Yet, here was a boy who believed in him for no particular reason at all. Will hadn't shown the boy his abilities or told him fanciful tales of heroism; he hadn't said anything at all to him. Yet, the boy was determined to believe based on simple childlike faith. He froze, remembering how Cara had insisted people would come to hope in him, that they would be drawn to him for the promise he would provide. Will felt tears coming, holding them at bay. He owed it to Cara to give hope where he could, whether he believed in it or not. He owed her that much.

Slowly, Will removed the sunglasses, holding them in his right hand. "Now I'm not," he said softly, folding the arms of the frame inward, pressing it into the boy's hand. He saw the boy's eyes widen with shock and excitement. "You keep these for me, alright?" Will said softly. "I don't need them anymore."

"Will they help if I'm scared?" the boy whispered. "I've never flown in a plane before."

Will felt a small smile form on his lips. "They will," he replied. "They helped me whenever I was scared."

"But you're not scared anymore?" the boy asked.

Will shook his head, watching the boy slip the sunglasses on, the frames a bit large for his small face. "Thanks, mister," the boy whispered. "I _knew_ you were a superhero."

Will watched with stunned shock as the boy left, returning to his mother's side, though she was only partially aware of his presence as they had their tickets scanned, on their way to board the plane. He turned away from the people who passed him, forcing his tears to subside before they even formed. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he strode toward the entrance to the tunnel connecting to the plane, silent as he pondered the chance interaction he had.

"Hey kid," Will called in the tunnel as he saw him a few strides ahead. The boy, wearing Will's sunglasses, turned back. "What's your name?"

"Jackson," he said with a smile, turning back to his mom, leaving Will frozen in shock behind him.

* * *

He settled into his seat that left him wedged between a rock and a hard place, the business man to his left carrying on about stocks on a last minute phone conversation before the plane took off while the elderly woman to his right flipped through the week's edition of Soap Opera Weekly, the scowl on her face deepening as she absorbed the latest faux tragedies to befall the make-believe worlds she followed. He shut his eyes, plugging his ears with his headphones though he didn't turn on his music; he just needed any amount of barrier he could get from the barrage of thoughts around him.

He hated flying - it was something he never admitted to Cara, afraid she would think less of him for the simple confession. They hadn't flown much together, their line of work tending to keep them in driving distances, so he didn't feel the need to admit his weakness. Now, as he sat in the uncomfortably tiny seat, he wondered why he didn't give every ounce of himself to her when he could. He had kept so much from her, assuming he would have the rest of his life to reveal the secrets he thought were pertinent. All he wished for now was the opportunity to see her again so he could admit to everything he had ever held back from her, giving himself fully to her. Absence always made the heart grow fonder, but it also made regret grow stronger.

His phone rang in his jeans pocket; he pushed his hips up to gain access to it, digging his hand inside and retrieving it. _Blocked caller. Shit._ He stood as much as the confining space would allow him to, attempting to cross over the broker to his left as he forced his way into the narrow aisle, his destination the bathroom. He was relieved when it was marked as unoccupied, cramming himself into the small space as he slid the lock securely shut. "Cara?" he said softly, clutching the phone like a lift raft in the violent emotional current he was drowning in.

"I'm surprised," came the Smoking Man's voice, much to Will's anger and disappointment. "I didn't figure you'd give up so easily."

"I haven't given anything up," Will warned darkly.

"But yet, you're thousands of miles away from where you started, now pursuing a different objective." Will heard the Smoking Man exhale, a soft chuckle under his breath.

"I want to talk to her," Will demanded, trying to keep his voice down to ensure the privacy of his conversation.

"She's not with me at the moment," the Smoking Man replied.

"So get her."

"You're quite brazen to make demands, considering the circumstances." The Smoking Man inhaled, pausing. "Is it because of the new lifestyle you've adopted?"

"Let me talk to her," Will insisted.

"Not this time, William. But I'll be sure to send your regards. I'm certain she will be quite surprised to learn of your choice to abandon the search. Though, she has seemed a bit disheartened as of late. I'm guessing it's the prospect of the impending slavery of your children that has her concerned."

"I _will_ find you, you bastard," Will promised hoarsely. "And when I do, I'll make what I did to Miles look like child's play."

"Threats will only get you so far, William. They don't carry weight if you're unable to see them through."

Will shut his eyes as the line was silenced, pressing his forehead against the small mirror he faced in the impossibly cramped bathroom, his fingers clamped down tightly on his phone. The idea of Cara knowing he had willingly abandoned her, chosen something over her, made him sick with guilt. John had warned him long ago that the lives represented by the bracelet he wore were far more important than any others, and though he knew this statement to be truth, he had continually gone against the advisement and chosen other paths. Yet, he had no earthly idea why.

The flight attendant who knocked on the door, asking the person inside of the bathroom to be seated for takeoff wasn't prepared for the man she met eyes with as Will opened the door. He heard her silent, concerned thoughts regarding his both stressed and crazed appearance, knowing he was now considered a flight risk for his sketchy behavior. He sulked back to his row, briefly pausing as he caught a glance of the young boy donning his sunglasses as he peered through a Superman comic. He was grateful the boy didn't seem to notice him, coming back down the aisle to his seat and sinking inside of it, closing his eyes as he ignored the peppy pre-recorded emergency procedure audio from the video that was played throughout the cabin.

He needed his sunglasses back.


	16. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

4:59 PM EST

Cara's strokes against her womb were methodical, careful. She permitted herself to smile when she felt the jostle of arms and legs inside of her, knowing little fingers and toes were touching her deeper than anyone ever had.

She had no concept of where she was, nor were her walls made of sheetrock to tear through to figure out. They had gotten smarter, they had learned from her previous episode. She was surrounded by concrete and steel with less refineries than prior. She imagined how Will must have felt in such a place, though her curiosity didn't last long. She didn't want to know the depth of the experience he had.

She was a practiced expert on emotional seclusion and mind transportation, her skills developed during her youth at the compound from what she vaguely remembered, as well as after. To be somewhere but not to be there was easy for her to accomplish, Cara now choosing to clutch her newborn children to her breast as she leisurely strolled through the green meadow dotted with white wildflowers that she was married in.

They were beautiful, the children, their eyes full of innocence and wonder as they absorbed the world around them, drawing in her song as their tiny hands grasped near her heart.

"Were I a little bird  
and had two little wings,  
I'd fly to thee;  
But I must stay, because  
that cannot be."

They cooed and smiled, one with his lips, the other with her eyes. One with his mane, the other with her nose. Lightness and depth, two opposites that fit so perfectly together; they were a living reflection of every wish she cast, every prayer she prayed.

"Though I be far from thee,  
in sleep I dwell with thee.  
Thy voice I hear.  
But when I wake again,  
then all is drear."

She felt his arms slip around her once again small waist from behind, nestling his beard shadowed face into the curve that joined her neck to her shoulder - it was one of his favorite spots of her body. His lips caressed it, her skin moistened by his deliberate affection. His hands claimed her, his fingers gliding to her rounded hips. She felt his heartbeat against her back as he pressed deeper, closer.

"Each nightly hour my heart  
with thoughts of thee will start,  
When I'm alone;  
for thou hast a thousand times,  
pledged me thine own."

The meadow vanished to the same place everything else she had ever imagined went, in the depths of which nothing was ever fully recovered. It was the steel that clanked, the pungent odor of smoke and the depth of a voice that destroyed the world. Though nothing remained, she refused to let go of the images she had created. They were, after all, the only motivation she had left.

"It's been a while," he said, his voice deep and his square jaw aimed at her as she sat against the corner of the wall on the cot. "I haven't been far, though."

"Should I be frightened?" she asked, her eyes challenging him.

"What do you value, Caraline?" the bounty hunter asked, taking a step closer to her.

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes shifting to the man encircled in smoke slightly behind the one who was engaging her in conversation. "Do you value William?" the bounty hunter asked, seeing her return her gaze to him. "Do you value your children?"

"I value truth," Cara said firmly, her hand resting on her womb.

"There is no such thing as truth," the Smoking Man insisted, dragging on a stem. "Truth is whatever we decide on, whatever we create."

"If there wasn't a truth, you wouldn't need to contain me," Cara replied.

"You're a fool to think you retain control," the bounty hunter said, his eyes narrowing at Cara slightly.

"So are you," she challenged.

The bounty hunter wore a slight smile. "William certainly has lost control," he murmured, catching the slight shift in Cara's expression at the mention of his name.

"I don't believe that."

"So you don't believe William is susceptible to the darkness?" the Smoking Man asked.

"If he is, it's because his hand was forced."

"I spoke with William just a little while ago," he continued, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I must say, Caraline, he's not the same man you think he is. Take a look." He tossed a photograph on the bed of Miles' disfigured and bloody body. "This is what your husband is capable of," he said, inhaling a drag.

Cara's eyes flicked down to the grotesque picture - a faceless person with holes riddled through its body, blood coating it like primary red paint on a piece of abstract art. She had no idea who it was. "They must have deserved it," Cara concluded softly, looking away.

"William would agree with you, given the circumstances."

She felt led like a mouse on the scent of Cooper Sharp crumbles, but she couldn't stop. "What circumstances?"

"I take it William hasn't yet discussed the secret he's harbored from you," the bounty hunter said coolly.

She forced her expression to remain unchanged, though her heart was jolted by his words. The bounty hunter stepped closer, retrieving the pictures. "That was Billy Miles," he said, eyeing Cara.

"Well, then Will gave him what he deserved." Cara's voice was firm.

"For merely killing people? Do you think William's behavior would spike so violently for simple murder?"

"I think Will has plenty of control."

"So you're not curious as to his secret, then?"

"I know your game," Cara snapped. "I know this is just what you want, my belief in Will to diminish so you can use it against him. I wouldn't believe anything you tell me about him. I'm not stupid."

The Smoking Man drug from the cigarette perched in his fingers. "It's a rather scary story, Caraline. Care to sit in my lap?" he said with a smile. He paused, catching her glare. "What do you remember of January's events, Caraline?"

"Enough that I want to see you both rot in hell."

"You certainly didn't remember my presence."

"That's because I didn't waste my time looking for it."

The Smoking Man smiled wider. "Who do you think dressed and undressed you?" he taunted. She felt her skin crawl at the question. "Everyone had a job, Caraline. Some more enthusiastic about theirs than others." She swore she heard her stomach flip.

"Whatever you're driving at, I'm not interested." The truth was, Cara was frightened by what she might hear, what Will might have kept from her, her multiple possibilities sketching themselves wildly to conclusions in her head.

"Oh, but I think you are," the bounty hunter said. "William certainly was."

She clenched her teeth; she regretted being in a literal corner in that moment. "Will never hurt me," she growled.

"Of course not," the bounty hunter replied knowingly. "Judging from the noise you made, I'd say he was more than welcomed in your bed that night."

"What do you want from me?!" Cara demanded, knowing she was shaking as her pulse quickened.

"William abandoned you later that morning," the bounty hunter continued. "He chose something trivial over you."

She didn't respond. She couldn't.

"And when you woke, you were nearly nude," the bounty hunter finished. "Someone had to remove your clothes." He stepped closer, his eyes focused on her. "Someone strong enough to maneuver your drugged body."

She knew she was quivering; she tried desperately to stop, to not let them in her mind. She tried to fight, but the suggestive words beating her down, creeping into her, tainting her.

"Perhaps that someone was tasked with another job, too," the bounty hunter whispered. "One that, when complete, was twice as successful as planned."

Cara felt the hot tears run down her face. "I don't believe you," she whispered.

"Oh, but you do, Caraline," the Smoking Man said in the distance. "Didn't the good Doctor do a physical exam later after William so valiantly freed you?" He exhaled a puff of smoke. "Wasn't there evidence of rape?" She ground her teeth together, blinking the tears away.

"I don't believe you," she repeated, her voice wavering.

"William may have even asked you to abort the children at one point. Perhaps through injecting yourself with magnetite." He crushed the spent cigarette underfoot.

"Fuck you," Cara sneered.

"Interesting choice of words." He fished another cigarette from his pocket, lighting it. "I believe something similar was asked of Billy Miles. He is, after all, the second most powerful replacement we've created. Quite a bloodline. You should be grateful for our consideration."

"These are _William's_ children," Cara yelled.

Both men turned, heading for the cell door. "Are you sure about that, Caraline?" the Smoking Man asked, catching her eye. "Oh, and just so you know, when I spoke to William, I was disappointed to learn that he was no longer interested in pursuing your freedom, that he has a different objective now. He's chosen something else over you. Not that that hasn't happened before."

His words hung in the air with a stench that reminded her of death; the steel door sealed her in the concrete hell, trapping her in the noxious fumes.

* * *

290 Westville Road  
Gunnison, UT  
6:41 PM MST

The rented SUV came to a halt as Will applied the brakes, sighing as he put the car in park. The large abandoned warehouse loomed in front of him; he analyzed the structure, coming to know through jolts of pain the many replacements it bore inside its walls. He was relieved that he clearly heard the thoughts of his mother, father and Doggett, each seemingly with enough health and strength to put him at temporary ease.

Will knew this transaction wouldn't be clean. He knew it wasn't as simple as an exchange. He was grateful for Skinner's ability to airlift a weapon and clips through federal channels, knowing he'd need the magnetite in order to launch the escape. He had first stopped at the drop-off point Skinner arranged for the weapon and rounds, then drove north as his phone's GPS guided him. He didn't risk bringing anyone; he knew it was guaranteed death for his parents and Doggett if he did.

He exited the car, the gun tucked in his hand as he approached the warehouse. His body ached, as it had for quite some time now, but he knew his strength would still be enough - at least he hoped it was. Miles had told him by using his unlocked power that he would be hurting himself in the long run. As he carefully entered the warehouse, he prayed it wasn't true. He couldn't afford such an egregious error, such a blind mistake.

Pausing in the darkened hall, he closed his eyes. One, two, three … four … five replacements were waiting for him around the corner, each unaware of his presence. He was early, granted, but they seemed convinced he wouldn't show in general. Will froze on the wall near the edge where the replacements were hovering. He heard their muted conversation regarding his parents and Doggett, who seemed to be nearby. He had to be careful. As much as it pained him to, he dove into the five replacements' minds nearly simultaneously, wincing in silence as he readied himself for his attack. He needed every advantage he could get, no matter how painful it was. Killshots to the head or heart would be necessary. He didn't have enough clips to waste on sloppy work.

He burst around the corner of the wall, taking two replacements out with expertly aimed shots before the other three realized what had happened. Will managed to kill another before two blasted him backward into the door that swung open from his impact, he landing on the hard ground outside of the warehouse as the replacements pursued him. Somewhere along the way he lost his gun, Will now depending on his invisible force to gain the advantage. He was able to knock one replacement who came after him down to the ground, the other grabbing him and applying harsh pressure around Will's neck with his hands. Will gasped, his arms locked as he pried the replacement off of himself, wondering absentmindedly why they always opted to go for the throat as he tossed him backwards. Willing his gun back into his hand, he shot the replacement that had tried to strangle him, missing the other he had knocked down earlier, who now slammed Will into the ground. Will gripped his gun tightly, pressing the weapon into the replacement who lunged on top of him, needing three shots to kill him.

Shoving the replacement's body off of him, Will stood, rushing back toward the entrance. His cuts and bruises remained on his face, the weakening he was experiencing causing him to retain scars and pain beyond his normal healing time. He heard the voices of Mulder and Doggett calling his name; he left them locked in their rooms. He knew there were more replacements on the way.

Six more rounded the corner, Will firing at them, missing all but one. Five replacements tackled him, flinging the gun out of his hand. "Not so tough now, hey Golden Boy?" one sneered, his thick fist ramming into Will's stomach. Will hadn't felt that much pain ever from a blow he had taken, coughing as the other two replacements with free hands joined the first, the remaining two holding Will tightly. They pounded on his back, his stomach and his face, Will choking on the blood that poured from his mouth as his jaw was smashed. He could hear his father's voice yelling obscenities as he pounded on the door, violently trying to aid him.

They stopped for just long enough for Will to struggle into their thoughts, mustering all of his energy into freeing his hands to administer blasts at the three who beat him, each crashing against the wall across from him. Will turned, taking down one replacement who held him as the other grabbed him from behind. As Will was twisted backward painfully, he spotted his gun deposited on the floor. With an exhausted heave, Will threw the replacement over him onto the other who lay on the ground, diving for his gun. He had just enough shots left to kill the two nearest to him, his hand fumbling quickly as he replaced the clip of the gun.

"Stop!"

The three replacements that were left froze, hearing Joy's voice behind them. Will aimed his gun, his arm locked as he cocked the trigger. When he finally saw Joy, Will's mouth opened, seeing Scully being dragged roughly in her grasp. "I'm impressed," Joy said, smiling. "You've made quite a dent in my little army single-handedly, even despite your handicap."

"Let her go," Will warned, aiming the gun at Joy.

"I don't think you're in a position to make any demands, William," Joy replied, cocking her own gun as she jammed it into his mother's head. "Drop your weapon and I'll let her go."

Will's jaw tightened. "I'll hand over my gun ... but not until all three are in the car I've got out front."

Joy laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Do it," Will snapped; he saw how his mother was shocked at the growing evil she saw in his eyes.

"William, I'd love to be able to trust you, given your new lifestyle and all, but I just don't think I can." Joy sighed. "You know, I had big plans for us. But you just keep letting me down. Just like you're letting Caraline down right now by leaving her with the wolves."

"I'm here," Will growled, angry at Joy's accusation. "I'm alone. I kept my end. Now do it."

"You didn't think it would all end so easily, did you?" Joy asked. "Nothing disappears without a trace, William, and certainly not without a fight. I thought you'd know better than that."

"You're right, Joy," Will replied darkly. "I do know better now."

Time moved slowly, each second stretching as Will pushed himself into the darkness, gaining the control he needed to make his plan work. Will made a split second decision he wasn't sure if he would regret, pulling the trigger of his gun, a bullet flying out of the chamber. Scully fell to her knees, blood coating her arm as she collapsed, her face painted with shock at Will's actions. In a blink of an eye, Will fired three more rounds, killing each of the remaining replacements with the distraction of grazing his mother's arm with the bullet. He then sank himself fully into Joy's mind, crying out in pain as he fired four rounds in her direction, the exposure to her mind making him crash to the ground, his gun falling out of his limp hand.

Scully's eyes widened at the sight of her son's weakness, his encounter with evil leaving him severely crippled. The dead bodies of the replacements, including Joy, were all around her, Will ahead of her as he clung onto life, writhing in pain on the ground. "William!" Scully screamed as she rushed to him as fast as her battered body would allow her to. Will's eyes were closed, his breath shallow. He was bruised, bloody and in obvious suffering.

"I'm sorry, Mom," Will whispered as he fought the pain. "I needed ... a distraction."

"Shh," Scully said, frantically examining his body for any wounds. "Where are you hit, William?" she asked quickly, ignoring the wound on her own arm that ached and throbbed.

"I'm … not hit, Mom," Will breathed.

"Why aren't you healing, William?" Scully demanded in a panic, seeing the wounds he sported.

"I will eventually … it's just not ... as fast as it used to be."

"Stay here, alright?" Scully stood, wincing as her ribs protested. She moved as quickly as she could to the two doors that held Mulder and Doggett in, sliding open the large bolts that entrapped them.

"Scully!" Mulder exclaimed, seeing her blood. "You're hit!" He quickly ripped his tee shirt and tied it around her arm.

"I'm fine," Scully said. "I was grazed. William … he needs medical attention."

"He was shot?" Doggett asked.

"No," Scully breathed. "But he's not healing." She looked up at Mulder. "I don't know what to do for him. He's so weak."

"He needs to get away from the evil," Mulder concluded, moving past Scully and Doggett toward the hallway where his son was. "William!" he breathed, crouching down to his side.

Will's eyes shifted to his father's face, the struggle evident in his expression. "Dad," Will murmured. "Dad … I had to … do what I did … to Mom. I'm sorry."

"Easy," Mulder said, stroking Will's face. "William, tell me what we can do to help you heal."

Will shook his head gently. "Nothing, Dad," he breathed. "I'm just … not who I used to be."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means … I sacrificed my … power … to gain a different power."

As he tried to sit up, Will's eyes shut, his chin tilting up as he pressed the back of his head into the ground, moaning. "Shit!" he growled, feeling the darkness still paining him as the assault from the physical abuse he had endured lingered.

Doggett now crouched next to Will, sliding his arm under him as he lifted him carefully, knowing he was the strongest of the three at present. He felt Will's tension as Will tried to fight the pain he felt, leaning on Doggett as he finally came to sit up. "He needs to rest," Doggett said softly, looking at Mulder, who nodded.

"I'll get Scully into the car, then I'll come back to help," Mulder planned.

When Mulder left, Will separated himself from Doggett, attempting to stand by himself. "Whoa, easy, son," Doggett said, catching Will's arm as he saw Will's legs buckle. Will collapsed to the floor, his breath ragged. "Damn, William … what happened to you?" Doggett asked softly, bracing him as he knelt on the floor.

"I cut … my nose off … to spite my face," Will replied, faintly hearing Doggett's voice call out his name as he was swallowed by blackness.

* * *

10:28 PM EST

She clenched the cotton in her teeth, her hands gripping it as she split it cleanly, the weave bursting in a line that severed the fabric, the threads protesting with a shrill moan as they became disjointed. Her eyes focused on her task, her mind running an anxious marathon around and over what her hands had concluded was the solution to the on-going problem. Her heart raced, the burdens it carried weighing more by the second. There would be lasts when there were firsts, this being no exception.

Her voice was soft, soothing and melodic - the sheer opposite of the chaos her soul was submerged in. She didn't know who she was trying to fool, or if the calm wasn't a front but rather a natural reaction to the dedication she had to her task. It didn't matter; it was an unimportant detail. They needed her calm as much as she did. Their tiny hearts depended on her confidence.

"Once upon a time, there lived a man and a woman who always wished for a child, but could not have one. These people had a little window at the back of their home on a hill from which a large garden could be seen below. The garden was full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to a witch who had great power and was feared by all the world.

"One day, the woman was standing by the window and looking down into the garden when she saw a bed which was planted with the most tasty rapunzel. It looked so fresh and green that she longed for it and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased every day. The woman knew that she could not get any of it and grew more pale and miserable each day. Her husband was worried about her and asked, 'What is wrong my dear?' 'Ah,' she replied, 'if I can't eat some of the rapunzel from the garden behind our house, I think I shall die.' The man who loved her thought, 'I will not let my wife die. I will bring her some of the rapunzel myself, no matter what the cost.'

"In the dark of the evening, he climbed over the wall into the garden of the witch, hastily grabbed a handful of rapunzel and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a salad and ate it happily. She, however, liked it so much - so very much, that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. Again in the dark of evening, he had climbed over the wall. However, he was terribly afraid, for he saw the witch standing before him. 'How dare you sneak into my garden and steal my rapunzel like a thief!' she said with angry look. 'You shall suffer for this!' The frightened husband answered, 'Please have mercy, I had to have the rapunzel. My wife saw it from the window and felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she hadn't had some to eat.'"

Another long slice of cloth was torn under her fingers, the rip of it sounding like the shudder she felt.

"Then the witch let her anger be softened and said to him, 'If this is true, I will allow you to take as much as you like - only, I make one condition. You must give me the baby daughter your wife will bring into the world. She shall be well treated, and I will care for her like a mother.' The man in his fear agreed and when the baby was born, the witch appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel and took the baby away with them."

A third strip of fabric was produced from the sheet that had graced the new bed in her cell, the white cotton now a scarce memory of what it once had been.

"Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she was twelve years old, the witch locked her into a tower which was deep in a forest. The tower had no stairs or doors, but only a little window at the very top. When the witch wanted to go in, she stood beneath the window and cried, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.'"

She knotted the top of the three strips together, not understanding why she had chosen the method she did. Perhaps it was to allow for more time spent. Perhaps it was because she was afraid. Perhaps it was all she knew to do in that moment.

She began to make the strips dance, swaying as they wove together to an inaudible beat that matched the pace of her heart.

"Rapunzel had magnificently long hair, yellow like spun gold. When she heard the voice of the witch, she wound her braids around one of the hooks of the window, and then the hair fell down the side of the tower and the witch climbed up by it.

"Years later, a Prince rode through the forest and went by the tower. He heard a song which was so lovely that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel who, in her loneliness, passed her time singing. The Prince wanted to climb up to her, so he looked for the door of the tower but none was found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart that every day he went out into the forest and listened to it."

She imagined the intense brown orbs that had smouldered through every imaginable tower she had ever subjected herself to as her hands worked steadily though she quivered.

"Once, when he was standing behind a tree listening to Rapunzel's song, he saw the witch come and heard how she cried, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,' and how Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair that the witch climbed up. The Prince thought, 'If that is the ladder by which one enters, I will soon try my luck.' The next day when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.' Immediately the hair fell down and the Prince climbed up."

"At first, Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes had never seen came to her. Yet, the Prince began to talk to her like a friend and told her that his heart had been so stirred by her singing that he couldn't rest. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband - and she saw that he was kind and handsome - she said yes, and laid her hand in his."

She stopped, shivering as if a blast of cold winter air had rushed through the room. Her lip trembled, her fingers ceased to move. _No. I must continue._ Slowly, ever so slowly, she began again, the cotton assaulting her hands like blades as she gripped it.

"Rapunzel said, 'I will willingly go away with you, but I do not know how to get down. Bring a bit of silk with you every time you come and I will weave a ladder with it. When it's finished, I will climb down and we shall escape together.' They agreed that until that time, he should come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day. The witch knew nothing of this, until one day Rapunzel said in her distraction, 'Oh my, you are so much heavier when you climb than the young Prince.' 'You wicked child!' cried the witch. 'I thought I had separated you from all the world, but you have deceived me.' In her anger, she clutched Rapunzel's beautiful hair, took a pair of scissors and cut it all off. Rapunzel's lovely braids lay on the ground, but the witch was not through. She was so angry that she took Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live alone and in misery."

She examined what she made hesitantly, running her fingers carefully over the length of her creation. She stood, carrying it along with a chair she dragged behind her, the feet scraping against the floor. She paused in the far corner of the room where an exposed beam ran across the ceiling.

"The witch rushed back to the tower and fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to the hook of the window. When the Prince came and cried, 'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,' she let the hair down. The Prince climbed to the window, but he did not find his beloved Rapunzel. Instead, he found the witch, who gazed at him with a wicked and venomous look."

She placed her right foot on the chair, pulling herself up to stand on its seat, the cloth in her hands as she peered at the room from the new height. She continued the tale as she fed the braid across the beam. "'You've come for Rapunzel,' the witch said, 'but the beautiful bird is no longer singing in the nest; the cat has got her and will scratch out your eyes as well. Rapunzel is banished and you will never see her again!'

Both ends of the cord met, the tales long as they hung down from above. "The Prince was beside himself and in his despair he fell down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns he fell into pierced his eyes. Then he wandered blind about the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries and did nothing but weep over the loss of his dearest Rapunzel."

She chewed on her bottom lip, gripping the fabric against her clammy palms as she gasped in shock at the sensation of it weaving around her throat.

"The Prince roamed in misery a long time, finally coming to the desert where the witch had banished Rapunzel." She wove it tighter, shuddering as it pressed against her neck with dark intimacy. "He heard a voice singing and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it. When he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell into his arms and wept."

When the expertly-constructed knot was secured, she shifted her weight carefully toward the back of the chair, feeling the dangerous pull against her tender flesh. "Two of her tears fell on his eyes and the Prince could see again." She inched closer, closer, closer still. "He led her to his kingdom where she was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented."

She shut her eyes, seeing the profile of his face as she had before, focusing on it like he told her to. "I still believe in you, Will," she whispered. "I love you. Please know that. I'm sorry I can't fight with you anymore ... but I won't let them have what they want." The fabric around her throat caught the tears as they ran off her cheeks.

The chair tipped backward. She was weightless. They were safe. He was free.


	17. Chapter 16

_the song "How To Disappear Completely" and its lyrics belongs to Radiohead_

* * *

CHAPTER 16

"_Daddy! Wake up!"_

"_Shh … Daddy's sleeping!"_

"_But I want him to play with us!"_

"_He's tired."_

"_He's always tired."_

"_I know."_

"_Why is he so tired all the time?"_

"_I don't know. Maybe it's because he misses Mommy."_

_The ray of sun that shone against the lids of his eyes illuminated the darkness, highlighting the ache of his skull. He thought he heard children, but wasn't sure. He couldn't look. He was too tired._

"_Young Fox."_

_The man's voice was over his body, gliding like an autumn leaf on a breeze. He moved his mouth, unable to speak; his throat was dry and brittle. _

"_Young Fox, can you hear me?" the man asked gently. He nodded slowly, each millimeter of movement accompanied by tremendous effort. "Young Fox, you do not belong here," he heard the man say. "This is not where you need to be."_

_He tried to speak, words failing him. His eyes wouldn't open._

"_Young Fox, listen to me," the man whispered. "You are not who I expected to find. You need to return. It is not your time." He felt the man's rough, calloused hand press against his forehead. "Open your eyes, Young Fox. Open your eyes and see where you are."_

_He swallowed slowly, the saliva barely enough to coat. "I …" His voice was raspy. "I can't."_

"_Yes, you can," the man continued. "Open your eyes."_

_He struggled against the eyelids that fought him, his will weaker at first than his body's. The warmth from the hand on his head spread over him, combating the bitter cold that had sunk to his bones. His eyes complied, finally revealing a sliver of the bright blue sky above him. More of the place was unveiled as his eyes lifted open, the blades of grass he laid on swaying in the breeze. "This is a place you cannot be right now," the man said softly, still holding his hand in place. _

"_This … is where … I was married," he managed, his eyes now fully open to appreciate the meadow he laid in._

"_No, look around you, Young Fox. Your eyes deceive you."_

_With his eyes wide open, he felt his lips part as he tilted his head to the side. A vast darkness surrounded him, bursts of red and orange flames nipping at the edge of the peaceful meadow. "Listen, Young Fox," the man instructed. "Listen to what you hear."_

_Terrifying screams, voices crying out in pain, crying for mercy. Begging for life. Hundreds - no, thousands, millions of voices. A cacophony of desperation, a symphony of fear and regret in the key of horror minor. He turned his head slowly back toward the man, seeing beyond him lay an extension of the meadow, the sky so blue it nearly hurt his eyes to see it. Grass so soft it felt like feathers. He turned back to look at the darkness, realizing he was laying on the edge of the meadow, that the darkness was slowly consuming the earth he laid on. "What is this place?" he whispered, his heart burdened._

"_Your body wants rest," the man said, "but they long for your soul."_

"_Why?" he asked._

"_You chose the wrong path," the man explained. "You were meant for peace when your time would come, but because you did not believe, you let them claim your soul. They want what is theirs."_

"_No," he whispered. "I did … good. I did what was right."_

"_You allowed the darkness to possess you. The power you sought on earth had a price."_

"_I needed it."_

"_You needed hope."_

"_I couldn't have helped if I didn't take the power!"_

"_You must listen, Young Fox," the man said firmly. "They are coming for you. You must leave this place at once and redeem your soul from the darkness. You must not allow it to seize you."_

"_How? How can I undo what I've done?"_

"_You will know. You must leave immediately."_

_He searched the man's eyes. "I heard … children. I've heard their voices before." _

"_Yes," the man replied. "There are children here."_

"_Are they mine?" he whispered._

_The man didn't answer. "I am not here for your spirit, Young Fox. I am here for other spirits who need great help."_

"_Whose spirits?"_

"_You must leave, Young Fox. It is not your time. Do not let them have you."_

"_Whose spirits?!" he repeated, his voice cracking as the volume increased. _

"_I will care for them, Young Fox. Right now, you must care for yourself."_

"_Cara's? Is it Cara?!" He was frantic; he still couldn't move. The man's hand slid from his forehead. "My children?" he gasped. "Whose spirits?"_

"_Daddy!" a small voice cried in the distance._

_Will felt the man's hand return to his head, stopping him from turning to look to where the voice came from. "Let me go!" he argued, fighting against the man._

"_You will not see what you think, Young Fox," the man warned sharply. "It is a trick! They wish to keep you. You must leave. You must leave now!"_

"_Will! a voice cried out - her voice._

"_CARA!" he yelled, still fighting to turn toward where he heard the sounds. "Let me go!"_

"_I cannot do that, Young Fox," the man said, holding his head. "You must not look! Leave at once!"_

"_Will!" her voice cried out again. "Will, help me! Please!"_

"_LET ME GO!" he shouted, pulling his head from the man's pin. He turned, his eyes falling on the darkness as he desperately searched for her face. "Cara!" he called, the darkness empty. "Cara!"_

_The man sunk back, shaking his head. "It will swallow you if you do not leave," the man warned behind him. _

_He ignored the man's advice. "CARA!" he cried out desperately. _

_His eyes widened as he saw the grotesque face that spoke with her voice. "Will!" it spoke, laughing at him with frightening evil. "Oh, Will! Save me!" it mocked in her timbre._

"_No …" he whispered, breathing quickly. "No … She's …"_

"_Leave, Young Fox!" the man behind him warned. "Leave now!"_

"_Stay, Will," the monster in front of him said in her tone. "Stay with me forever."_

"_Go, Young Fox!" the man pleaded. "You need to be their hope!"_

"_No one is hoping in you anymore, Will," the demon snapped, its voice changing to a frightening substance. "They're gone. They're here with us."_

"_No …" Will whispered, closing his eyes. _

"_It's true," the demon continued. "There's nothing left of them."_

"_No!"_

"_Come with me, William," the monster said temptingly. "Come rule in our world. Come see them again."_

"_No ..."_

"_You can have everything, William," the devil said slowly, its evil voice hurting his ears. "Everything you've ever wanted is yours. Just bow down and worship me."_

* * *

September 10, 2012  
10:57 PM MST

"No … No … No … … No …"

Mulder's eyes snapped open, the muttering beside him jolting him awake. "Scully!" he yelled. "Scully!" As Scully fled into the room, they watched the battle that ensued on the mattress. "William," Mulder whispered, touching his hand. "William?"

Licking his lips, Mulder carefully moved to lay his palm over Will's forehead. "William," he repeated. He jumped when Will burst from the mattress against his hand the instant it touched him.

"NO!" Will screamed, pulling against Mulder's touch as he gripped the sheets beside him.

"William! William!" Scully begged, touching his arm.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Will yelled, flinging Scully off of his body, his eyes glazed over as he stared ahead, panting.

"William," Mulder whispered. "William, it's your parents. Listen to me … it's your father, William." Scully watched breathlessly as Mulder tried to coax Will back down. "You're alright, William. You're safe." Mulder held his breath as he saw Will turn to him, looking in his eyes. "You're safe," he whispered, watching Will's lips tremble. "You're safe."

Will blinked many times, some slow and deliberate while others were faster, his vision that had failed him now clearing. "Dad," Will whispered, clutching immediately at his neck. He wasn't quick enough to see how Scully rushed to get him some water from a nearby pitcher, his head heavy as he tried to focus on Mulder.

"Drink, William," Scully said gently, pressing the cup to her son's lips as he gulped the cool liquid down his parched throat.

"Mom," Will whispered, feeling the water sloppily roll down his chin. Her hand was so incredibly warm as she stroked his face.

"How are you feeling?" Scully asked, knowing her voice sounded desperate, scared.

Will waited to answer, letting the assessment of his body complete before he replied. "Good," Will murmured, surprised. He didn't ache, he felt warm with the little material that covered him. His head was clear. "I feel good."

"Good," Scully breathed, smiling.

Will's eyes searched his surroundings as he began to flex his fingers, shifting his weight cautiously as if he was afraid of disturbing a wound. "Where am I?" he asked, still looking around himself.

"Sevier Valley Medical Center," Scully replied gently.

"Where's that?"

"Utah."

"How long …"

"You were in a coma for sixteen days."

Will turned back to look at Scully; he was shocked at the time that had passed. "Joy …" he whispered.

"She's dead, William," Mulder whispered.

"I … killed her?" Will asked.

"Yes, William."

Will paused, his mind jumping elsewhere. "Doggett?"

"He's safe," Scully assured. "He's with Reyes and Skinner."

"Mom …" Will shuddered. "I shot you."

Scully laughed gently. "Yes, you did."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't," Scully insisted, taking Will's hand. "I'm fine. I know you did it to save us."

As Will ran through the details in his mind, trying to piece together where things had been left off after such a long time of absence, his eyes widened. "CARA!" he yelled, bolting further up in the bed. He felt Mulder's firm grip on him, pressing him backward. "Let me go!" he argued. "I need to find her!"

Mulder tried to reason with him. "William, you need to-"

"LET ME GO!" Will shouted, flinging Mulder's hands off of himself.

Mulder lunged with every ounce of strength he had and pinned Will down against the bed. "WILLIAM!" he shouted, gaining his son's attention. "Stop!" Mulder felt Will cease his fight. "Stop, William."

"They found her?" Will asked, his voice still loud. Will saw the hesitation in his father's response. "Did they?" he demanded, only letting Mulder hold him back so he wouldn't hurt him by removing him.

"William, you need to rest," Scully said gently, her heart stopping at Will's eyes flashed to her.

"I _need_ to find her if she hasn't been found," Will growled.

"Listen, William," Mulder ordered, now looking into his son's eyes. "Listen to your mother. You need rest."

Will frantically searched Mulder's eyes, trying to moisten his throat as the wheels flew in circular motion in his mind. "Tell me," he whispered, sensing his parents were withholding information. His eyes flicked to Scully. "Tell me," he repeated, his voice firmer. After a moment of silence passed, Will shouted, "Don't make me do it! Just _tell me!_"

"William," Scully breathed, seeing the confusion and fear on her son's face. "William …" She drew her bottom lip inward, chewing on it as she cast her eyes downward. She couldn't do it.

"William," Mulder said softly, seeing Will's head snap toward him. "William … Cara … Cara is … Cara is dead."

_That there  
That's not me  
I go  
Where I please_

His blood stopped circulating, running colder than he ever felt. His muscles failed to work, his body felt limp and heavy. His head felt weightless as he sat, empty and void of activity. His heart no longer beat, for it had nothing to beat for.

_I walk through walls  
I float down the Liffey  
I'm not here  
This isn't happening_

He didn't move though they touched him. He didn't see anything though he stared. He didn't hear anything though they spoke. He didn't feel anything though he grasped the sheets beside him. He didn't taste anything, though the salty water crawled down his face and splashed onto his lips. He didn't speak, for he had no voice.

_I'm not here  
I'm not here  
In a little while  
I'll be gone_

"He's in shock," Scully whispered, seeing the extreme paleness that washed over Will, the monitors he was attached to frantically recording his inner reaction to the news. "William," she urged gently, touching her son's face. "Please. Say something."

_The moment's already passed  
Yeah it's gone_

"How?" Will whispered shakily.

Mulder inhaled deeply. "She … she hung herself."

__And I'm not here_  
This isn't happening  
I'm not here  
_

"I don't believe you," Will barely whispered, still blankly staring at Mulder.

__I'm not here_  
_

"William …" Mulder sighed, the way he saw Will react killing him.

"Do you have a body?" Will demanded, his eyes closing.

"Yes," Mulder said regretfully. "William-"

_Strobe lights and blown speakers  
Fireworks and hurricanes_

"I don't accept that," Will said quietly, swallowing. He shook his head. "She wouldn't. She … she wouldn't. I … I don't believe you."

"Please, William-"

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Will shouted as he opened his eyes, shoving his father off of himself. He ripped at the various tubes connected to his body, hearing his mother trying to stop him. "I DON'T ACCEPT THAT!"

_I'm not here  
This isn't happening  
_

Mulder reached for Will, then hesitated, watching him tear off out of his hospital room. "Mulder!" Scully gasped, feeling him grip her tightly as she tried to flee after him. "Mulder, we need to go after him!"

"Don't, Scully," Mulder warned, still holding her. "He's far too dangerous right now."

Knowing he was right, Scully closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Please just make sure he's alright, Mulder," she whispered, crying silently. He nodded, slipping out of the room and following the trail his son had taken, gaining information from the nurses and doctors who saw Will pass.

_I'm not here  
I'm not here_

He rounded a corner to another hallway, freezing immediately as he saw Will crouched on the ground, hugging his knees as he buried his head. Mulder closed his eyes, covering his mouth as he tried to summon the courage to approach him. He stepped carefully toward Will, hearing the sobs that racked his body as he shook in a ball. Mulder eased his way down to his knees directly next to Will, carefully laying his hand on Will's back. Will didn't flinch; he continued to sob as if he was unaware of Mulder's presence. Feeling his own struggle, Mulder drew Will into his arms, wrapping him in a tender embrace as he closed his eyes, Will quivering and erupting into utter sorrow and despair under him.

* * *

September 11, 2012  
2:12 AM

"Her birthday is in three days," Will said quietly, staring out of the window at the far wall of his hospital room. Mulder sat beside him, silent as he had been for the last hour while Scully slept in the corner of the room on a chair. He had no idea what to say to his son, knowing anything he did say wouldn't make a difference. Will didn't seem to be moving at all from the denial he initially displayed, he still convinced of his theory that Cara was still alive despite the medical evidence they had of her death.

"I need to get back to Hoboken," Will said, his jaw tight, his tone firm. "I need the resources if I'm going to track her."

Mulder sighed. "William-"

"I don't-" Will stopped, knowing he was taking his anger out on his father unwarranted. "I don't believe she's gone, Dad."

"Skinner, Doggett and Reyes found her body, William," Mulder murmured.

"How can you accept it so easily?" Will demanded. "Are you the same man you were sixteen days ago?"

"The DNA-"

"You sound like Mom," Will hoarsely whispered. "I mean, was she even pregnant? What about the body that was supposedly Joy's, then obviously wasn't? Have you ever thought about it being a set up?"

"Of course I have," Mulder replied in a soft snap. "The body we found … William, she had a recently sutured incision from a cesarean section."

"But what if … just, _what if _…it was all staged, Dad?" Will insisted. "What if this is meant to draw me away?" Will searched Mulder's face.

"To what end, William?"

"Why are you accepting this so easily?" Will demanded softly, trying not to wake his mother.

"We were a little preoccupied with your condition."

"My point exactly."

Mulder folded his arms over his chest. "So it's not her?"

"I don't believe it is, Dad," Will said. "She's still out there. She's thirty-five weeks pregnant now. Maybe they're trying to buy time until she's at least thirty-six. Thirty-six is considered acceptable enough for delivery without many complications."

"But how …"

"The 'how' doesn't matter, Dad," Will insisted. "What matters is that they're dicking around with me, trying to make me even weaker than I already am. I _need_ to find her."

"Speaking of which," Mulder interrupted, "why is it that you were so severely weakened? You were out for over two weeks!"

Will was silent, his head drooping as he rubbed his face with his hands. "I made a mistake," Will replied. "I exchanged my power for another power."

"Which is what?" Mulder asked, leaning closer to Will. He saw Will's hesitation and it worried him. "William?"

"I'm dying, Dad," Will murmured, not looking at Mulder. "I … I chose to absorb the power of my enemy. It's killing me."

Mulder leaned back in his chair, grinding his teeth as he crossed his arms over his chest and reflected over Will's admission. "Why?" Mulder asked softly, feeling angry at his son's decision. "Why would you do that?"

"What else did you want me to do?" Will asked.

"_Believe_," Mulder replied.

"Yet, _you_ don't _believe_ me!"

"William, I'm not sacrificing who I am for something that's killing me!" Mulder saw Will was silent; Will knew he was right. "You have to undo this, William."

"I don't know if I can," Will replied softly. He paused, remembering the man who spoke to him while he was in the meadow. "I think Albert Hosteen spoke to me," he said, looking ahead at the wall in front of him. "He told me if wasn't my time yet. He said that … I needed to take my soul back." He inhaled deeply. "I was tempted. I … I failed to recognize the trap. He tried to help, but I didn't listen."

Mulder nodded. "You can change that now," he said. His arms remained crossed over his chest. "William, why didn't you tell us about Cancer Man?" he asked.

"I didn't want you or Mom to worry."

"You _can't _keep secrets from us, William," Mulder ordered; Will saw the anger behind his eyes. "That's not how it works."

Will nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

Mulder chewed on his lip as he glanced toward Scully, who still slept soundly in the awkward position she arranged herself in. "Your mother … your mother deserves more. She deserves to know about your choice."

"No," Will whispered, shaking his head. "No, I'm not telling her. Not if I can change it."

"And what if you can't?" Mulder snapped, his eyes back on Will. "What then?"

"I _have_ to change it," Will argued. "Hope is all that will keep Cara alive." Mulder analyzed Will in a long moment of silence. "I've denied who I am for far too long, Dad. I can't hide anymore. I can't … be afraid of what I can't explain or don't yet know. I refuse to kill her because of my desire for control."

Mulder rubbed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion overwhelming him. "Sleep," Will said gently. "Go to sleep, Dad. I'm not … I'm not going anywhere. I promise you." Mulder eyed Will carefully as he spoke. "It hasn't worked any of the other times I've tried it over the last nearly nine months," Will joked softly. "I need your help to fight the future. I can't have you crashing for a mid-morning nap."

Mulder grinned. "You make me sound like a geriatric ward patient."

Will smiled softly. "You are pretty spry for a …"

"For a _what_?"

"For a human."

Mulder laughed to himself. "What about you?"

Will shook his head. "I'm fine. I just slept for two weeks."

Mulder reached toward the small hospital table and retrieved some small food items. "Your mother ordered me to make you eat something. I'd like to avoid sure death. She's rather spry for a 'human' too."

"Mmm … a brown banana and Jello. I knew I had a reason to live."

"Want me to go down to the cafeteria?"

"Nah. This will do for a few hours."

Mulder sighed. "Don't … don't be tempted, William," he warned gently. "You have to deny the power in order to use your own."

Will nodded. "I know," he replied. "That's what I'll be working on while you sleep."


	18. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

September 14, 2012  
Hoboken Police Station  
Hoboken, NJ  
6:57 AM EST

_Strike One for the day_, Will thought with regret. It was Cara's birthday. She was twenty five today. She was brought into the world by two people who weren't the best examples of parenthood, though it may have not been their fault alone. A father who would sooner experiment on his daughter than to risk her death by alien invasion and a mother who detached herself so she wouldn't have to deal with the pain of knowing what was done to her daughter. Will had considered their excuses for the terrible things done to his wife pathetic - that is, before he heard what his own wife allegedly decided to do to save their own children.

He sensed the overwhelming hesitation when he entered the bullpen, the eyes of nearly everyone on him as he nodded, striding with purpose to the back corner desk that used to be his and hers. Will sighed, hearing each of their concerned thoughts clearly, everyone wondering when he was going to erupt like a volcano, as they witnessed him do the last time he was there. He glanced over the contents of the desk, seeing files stacked on it that didn't belong to the investigation of Cara. He knew it became a dumping ground for the less-than-orderly officers who usually ticked Cindy off by not being willing to file. Their laziness meant that he would have to clean, something he didn't want to waste time doing. He inhaled deeply, exhaling as he tried to let the annoyance go so it didn't build into lethal anger. _Strike Two, dirty desk._

Though the coffee was freshly brewed, it still tasted as if it had been on the burner for the last century, thick enough to mold into shapes as it slid down his throat. It was a bad day to take your coffee black, though it didn't stop Will from chugging one mug down in a matter of minutes before finding himself refilling his cup. He had found his newly-practiced resistance against delving into the minds of his enemy more exhausting than just taking what he needed from them. Since he woke from his coma, he didn't seem to have enough energy to tackle what he used to, knowing it was a result of his initial decision to tempt fate with the dark side. Death was draining. Hope took more work. Faith wasn't easy - it required stamina and patience, both of which he had in short supply.

The third strike of the day came in the form of the morning news that flooded the relatively quiet bullpen, highlighting more unexplained deaths from the same mysterious virus that had swept the country, not seeming to match any specific pattern or target. Will knew better - though the people affected seemed random, it was anything but. Reyes and Skinner had pushed the vaccine through to major metropolitan area hospitals, but the cure success rate was lower than they expected. The vaccine Scully had replicated seemed to be about sixty percent accurate, the other forty percent of people it was administered to not reaping the benefits. About thirty percent of the ones who were able to be positively treated with the vaccine fully recovered, while the other seventy percent clung to life in ICUs across the country. Simply put, the vaccine wasn't enough. The strain they had created through the filtration systems was too strong, and arguably would continue to be revamped and reconstructed until the vaccine no longer became effective in general.

Good old-fashioned police work had gotten Will to the point he was currently at now, analyzing crime scene photos for the umpteenth time though he had been to the scene twice since flying back east two days ago. His parents knew all of the signs and symptoms of his current condition, cautioning him to avoid becoming so obsessed that he lost sight of the end goal. His mother hadn't approved of his choice to fly back the afternoon of the eleventh, considering he had just woken from a two-week-long coma the night before, but he wouldn't be convinced to stay. Time was preciously short if he was going to find Cara before she gave birth, though no one but his father seemed to share his urgency. Even Mulder had questioned Will's judgment more than expected, pointing to DNA and lab results to justify his doubt. It seemed ironic to Will that the one man who crusaded to believe in so much now had a difficult time believing himself. Though it disappointed him that the people he was closest to seemed to doubt so much, Will pressed on relentlessly, not willing to surrender to what everyone else thought was obvious.

Will gave up quickly his original task of re-filing the stacks of folders he found on his desk, shoving them aside to the top of a filing cabinet so he could completely focus on the task at hand. He knew his parents would be coming any moment, knowing the note he left in his hotel room would more than likely irritate them for his abandonment, but he needed every minute he could get to devote himself to the cause.

He began methodically writing on the whiteboard near his desk all he knew about Cara's case, trying to create a picture to assess where the missing pieces were.

_**C taken 8-23 from ? (Newark Intl?)**_

_**2 conversations w/C - 8-23, 8-24**_

_**1 conversation with CGB - 8-25**_

_**white walls**_

_**military vehicles**_

_**VA plate Z4C90M**_

_**35+ weeks pregnant currently**_

_**transferred ?**_

Will sighed, eyeing his list with disappointment as he heard his parents' thoughts before he saw them, not bothering to turn around and face them. "Yeah, I know, too obsessed," he mumbled when he heard them close behind him. He kept his eyes fixed on the whiteboard, hearing Scully's deep sigh to his right.

"William …" Scully shut her eyes, trying to find understanding for her son. "William, we got in late last night from the crime scene. You barely slept. I doubt you've eaten since breakfast yesterday, and that was only because I forced you to stop and eat." She saw Will's lips press together, his head dipping down as he listened. "Doing this to yourself won't help her, William," she whispered.

"I'm fine, Mom," Will murmured, looking over at her. "Really. I'm fine. I'm great. I'm fabulous."

"Your mother is trying to look out for you," Mulder explained, his tone a warning to be heeded.

"I don't doubt you both are," Will replied, his eyes falling on his father. "But what I need right now are two more investigators, not babysitters."

"William," Scully said firmly, "we have medical evidence. You examined the body yourself."

"And I told you already," Will reminded firmly, "it wasn't her."

"How can you stand there and deny what you have right in front of you?" she argued.

"How can _you_ stand _there_ and deny what you also have in front of _you_?" Will snapped. "You, yourself, examined a body that was suppose to be someone else's, did you not? You … YOU, Mom … found evidence of Cancer Man's involvement. Why is this so hard to believe?"

"Easy," Mulder said, his tone low as he looked at Will with warning.

Will sighed. "Listen, I appreciate you both trying to protect me. I know that you especially, Mom, are trying to make sure I don't get hurt." Will moistened his lips quickly. "But this is _my choice_. You both wanted me to believe in something. This is what I'm choosing to believe in. You're either with me or not. That's _your choice_. Just don't expect me to choose what you choose."

Without waiting for a response, Will turned back to the desk where the most recent case evidence was laid out in a haphazard spread, his head hanging as he inhaled deeply. "Okay," he began, moreso to himself than to his parents, "so Doggett, Reyes and Skinner found the body in Dry Fork, West Virginia in a military compound, right?" Will jabbed at the highlighted portion of the map with a pen, circling the point. "This is where Skinner and I went before I left." He traced his pen east to Arlington, encircling it. "It's about three, three and a half hours between the two."

"What's the correlation?" Mulder asked.

"That's what I'm trying to determine," Will answered.

"Dry Fork looks to be in a mountainous terrain."

"It's in a national park."

"Whereas Fort Myer is not."

Will paused. "It doesn't make sense," he murmured, hovering over the computer keyboard as he jabbed in a query for the internet. Mulder and Scully leaned in toward him, watching him move his hands quickly through the database he was accessing, the information appearing and disappearing as quickly as they imagined it flowing through Will's mind. "Here, look," Will finally said, pointing to the screen. "Magnetite deposits in Dry Fork are at about fifty-five percent. How do you figure you can get replacements to stay in an area that laden with magnetite?"

"Maybe through the deferasirox," Scully suggested.

"I don't think so," Will murmured. "I killed a lot of replacements with one or two magnetite bullets not too long ago, so I doubt they could hang out in a place with fifty-five percent of their surroundings being it."

"He's right, Scully," Mulder said with a nod.

"Even with the medicine?" Scully argued. "What about Joy?"

"Joy was also killed with the bullets."

"Well maybe the bullets, because of their impact and concentration, have a different effect."

"Then why not draw me to a place that would kill me, since I don't have the medicine?" Will asked. His parents were silent. "I mean, what would the point of having me and Gibson Praise three hours away where there was no magnetite if it wasn't a risk for Miles to be near it?"

"Doggett said when he encountered Miles the first time that the fragment of magnetite kept him at bay," Mulder noted.

"So Cara wasn't in West Virginia anymore is what you're saying?" Scully asked.

Will nodded. "Gibson said she was being transferred. They wanted to eliminate Gibson and me so I wouldn't be able to interfere. That would mean that they were vulnerable, that during the transfer and perhaps after, she was headed for a place with little to no magnetite."

"But a place that could be secured," Mulder added.

"And a place where she could give birth with the proper equipment and resources," Will continued.

"A hospital?" Scully suggested.

"Too open."

"Military," Mulder said.

"Virginia plates," Will said, crossing to the whiteboard. "I don't doubt that Cara started out in West Virginia, but why would there be military vehicles from out of state?"

"But the plate didn't match a military vehicle," Scully reminded.

"It didn't match anything," Will said. "How many times have you encountered vehicles where the plates don't match anything?"

"Government," Mulder responded.

Will's mouth opened. "Hold on," he breathed, grabbing quickly for a marker for the board in front of him. Mulder and Scully both watched as he scrawled the phrase on the white surface, confused by its odd nature. They watched Will step back and analyze it carefully, not understanding the significance.

"'Worm eaten hut'?" Scully asked, perplexed.

Will nodded. "Jack … Martin Jackson, a former NYPD detective and my mentor told me this just before he died. It has to mean something."

"Why would it mean something regarding Cara?" Scully asked.

"Why else would he choose it as his dying words?"

"Did he even know about Cara?"

"... No."

"You're reaching, William."

Will ignored his mother's practicality, focusing on the words in front of him. "A hut … a small dwelling … a tent … camping?" he asked, scribbling his thoughts down on the board.

"Worms … earth," Mulder said softly.

"Worm eaten … like grubs or … maggots?" Will asked, feeling the ideas bounce between him and Mulder like a rubber ball.

"Death?"

"Cemetery."

"Morgue."

"Abandoned."

"Forest."

"Wooded cabin."

"Wait, stop," Scully interrupted, shaking her head. "How can you go from assuming it's a military compound with sophisticated resources to an isolated building in a forest?"

Mulder sighed. "She's right."

Will ran his hand through his hair, absentmindedly chewing on the base of the marker in thought. "Wait a minute …" He erased the list of suggestions he and his father made, instead marking twelve dash lines in a horizontal row. "Anyone want to play Hangman?" he joked.

"An anagram," Mulder breathed with a nod.

"I think so," Will replied, eying his mother. "Listen," he said gently, "whatever this is, Jack knew about my abilities. He was the first person I ever told. I didn't have anyone else to tell. I trusted him, and he kept everything to himself. He protected me. He also was a huge fan of word games - Scrabble, crosswords, logic puzzles. I think whatever the letters W-O-R-M-E-A-T-E-N-H-U-T convert to is a major part of this puzzle."

Scully's eyebrow was arched as she examined Will's face, seeing how he gripped on to his belief tightly as he vaguely hinted at wanting her blessing. "Anagrams are your father's department," Scully said softly, offering a small smile to let Will know she understood what he was asking - he was requesting her faith in him, much like he was trying to find it himself.

"You up for a game, Dad?" Will said, glancing at Mulder.

"What, we don't get to play?" Doggett's voice came from behind them. The three turned, seeing him, Reyes, Skinner and Gibson nearing them as they trekked through the bullpen to the back corner where Will's desk was. "You look in a lot better shape than when I last saw you," Doggett joked softly to Will, who smiled at him with a small nod.

"I feel a lot better, too," Will replied.

"What are you doing?" Skinner asked, nodding to the board.

"Trying to figure out an anagram," Will replied.

Skinner was clearly confused. "For what?"

"To find Cara."

Skinner's mouth opened as he glanced over at Mulder first, then Scully, seeing the silent agreement shared in the look he exchanged with Scully. Will was reaching. He was still in denial. "William," Skinner said softly, still looking at Scully in confusion, "we … we recovered Caraline's body."

"It wasn't her," Will insisted firmly, turning back to the board. He didn't have to see them to know the glances the five people behind him shared, Gibson being the only one to remain neutral.

"The DNA-" Doggett began.

"Look," Will snapped, his eyes falling across everyone, "either you're with me or not. If you're not, it's nothing personal, but I need the clarity that your absence will bring. Alright?" Determined, Will returned to the board, staring at the capital letters he had written down as he tried to block out everyone's concerned and defensive thoughts. He zoned in on the characters, recalling the many logic games he played with Martin when he was a teenager. "Military … code?" he mumbled to himself, writing the classic military phonetics associated with the letters he had on the board:

_**Whiskey Oscar Romeo Mike Echo Alpha Tango Echo November Hotel Uniform Tango**_

"See anything?" Will asked softly, not turning to acknowledge Gibson, who approached the board silently.

"No," Gibson replied, shaking his head.

"Me either," Will remarked.

Mulder, Scully, Doggett, Reyes and Skinner watched in silence behind Will as he rearranged the letters to form different combinations:

_**row ante hour mouth heat **_

Mulder stepped forward, his eyes locked on the board with intrigue. "May I?" he asked, reaching for the marker in his son's hand. Will handed it to him, still examining his work on the board while Mulder wrote:

_**humor tumor two hunt taunt **_

"Taunt …" Will whispered, looking at Mulder's writings. "Hunt … a taunting hunt …"

"Heat," Mulder chimed in softly. "Literal or figurative?"

"Ante … upping the ante … gambling … risk …"

Mulder's eyes widened as he furiously looking between the original letters and the twelve dashes he drew. Everyone was breathless as he carefully plotted characters into the line; when he stepped away to reveal his work, everyone but Will reacted, gasping or mumbling. "What?" Will demanded, turning around to look at everyone. "What does it mean?"

"This is where she is," Mulder explained gently. "It makes sense. Death row, final hour, figurative heat, tumors of cancer in testimony, hunt for escape, taunt with interrogation …"

"How are we going to get in there?" Doggett asked, glancing at Mulder.

"The same way you did for me," Mulder replied. "We're going to have to break in."

The group huddled and began discussing their plan, their crouching over the desk they sat and stood around revealing Mulder's answer in sharp, black ink:

_**MOUNT WEATHER**_

* * *

10:19 AM EST

"Our sources have told me William is back east," the bounty hunter said quietly, watching the Smoking Man light his fresh cigarette.

The Smoking Man replied, inhaling deeply, "What is his condition?"

"He is weakened, but recovered from his encounter in Gunnison."

"He will continue to weaken," the Smoking Man noted. "After all, it took him two weeks to recover from the minor battle he had."

"You know he is more than capable should he be able to access his power," the bounty hunter reminded with a cool tone.

"Moreso than you?" the Smoking Man asked with a smile. "Am I to assume you're frightened of William Mulder?"

"William Mulder doesn't frighten me," the bounty hunter sneered. "He should frighten you, though."

The Smoking Man exhaled, laughing. "With how everything has fallen so perfectly in place?" he remarked. "Seems to me you're doubting his ability to be affected by the game."

"He has belief," the bounty hunter warned. "If he keeps it, it will be enough for him."

"Is he alone in his belief?"

"For now. Others will soon join him."

"Let them," the Smoking Man said, dragging on the stem. "Let them walk into their own trap."

"If we don't act soon, we risk losing the upper hand," the bounty hunter reminded firmly.

"Too soon," the Smoking Man objected. "We still have time."

"I won't risk the project for your personal pleasures!"

The Smoking Man exhaled, taking a long moment to look over the bounty hunter. "You _are_ afraid, aren't you?"

"I fear stupidity costing us greatly. Toying with William won't bring anything more than more attention to what he already believes."

"I want him desperate," the Smoking Man snapped. "I want him begging on his knees." He inhaled sharply on the cigarette, eying the bounty hunter. "I want William Mulder's power. I know he will exchange it for what he values most … for that which he cannot live without. That which he seeks to his very last breath. That which he believes in against all odds."

"And if he doesn't?" the bounty hunter asked.

The Smoking Man breathed out a long languid stream of smoke. "Then he will be forced to watch it die."


	19. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

September 14, 2011  
4:49 PM EST

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?"

"Cara …"

"Will, just because you don't think it's possible doesn't mean it isn't."

Will sighed, shaking his head. "So, what? There's a swamp monster in Hoboken?" He felt a small gray stone expertly aimed for his chest strike him with impact. "Ow!" he yelped. "Damn. Did you play softball or something?"

"No," Cara replied, eying him from the ground as she examined the tracks. "I didn't say 'swamp monster' … I said 'previously believed to be extinct or perhaps yet unclassified species' … with tracks no one seems to recognize."

"In Hoboken."

"Yes …"

"In the Hudson River."

She sighed. "Yes." She saw Will swoop down to pick up the stone that she hit him with. "What is so hard to believe about that?" she asked. "I mean, there are plenty of oddities that science hasn't yet discovered. Less than three percent of the oceans of the world have been explored, leaving countless of possibilities open for life to exist that we aren't aware of. What if one of these … lifeforms … ended up here by some chance circumstance?"

"It swam up the Atlantic … why? Was it trying to catch a Broadway show? Or maybe it wanted to try Carlo's' cannolis." Another stone hit him squarely in the arm. "Ow, damn! You're like David or something. Except I'm not Goliath.

You're lucky I'm just hitting you with stones," Cara teased with a smile, receiving a lopsided grin in return.

"So … what are you doing this fine Wednesday evening, Cara?" Will asked softly, his hands deep in his pockets as he faced the Hudson River. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the way the early autumn breeze made the long rebellious pieces of her blonde hair dance, refusing to be subjected to isolation in the braided bun she wore that day. He dare not mention the B-word - not directly, anyway. He had learned that when she prepped him, once again, about six months ago. She didn't celebrate the day. It was just another day. _So sad,_ he thought. _I am changing that this year._

"Nothing," Cara said, still crouched down on the ground of the crime scene they were just about done examining.

"Hmm, interesting."

"Why is that interesting?"

"I just thought Brad might be taking you out."

She stopped, her eyes still on the ground. "I'm not seeing Brad anymore," Cara admitted softly.

"Oh," Will murmured, pretending not to know. "Sorry, I didn't know …"

"It's okay," she assured. "It ended a while ago. We … uh … just weren't compatible."

_Yeah, well, he was an asshole anyway. He didn't deserve you. I'd love to get my hands on him and-_

"What did you say, Will?" Cara asked, turning to look up at her partner in confusion as she stood.

"Nothing," Will replied casually, though he was wondering if his thoughts he swore he kept internal somehow leaked out through his mouth.

"Oh," Cara said with a small nod, seemingly disappointed.

"Well, I … uh …I mean, if … you know, you aren't busy …" Will stammered, interrupted by the shrill ring of his phone. "Sorry, hold that really vague and useless thought for a minute," he joked, answering his old-fashioned flip cell phone that Cara always teased him for having. "Yeah. … Oh, hi. … Um, well … Oh. … Oh. … Uh-huh. … Sure, that's fine. … Alright. Bye." Will inhaled deeply, running his hand over his freshly cropped hair.

"Vanessa?" Cara asked knowingly.

"Yeah," Will murmured.

Cara's eyebrow raised. "Everything okay in paradise?" she teased gently. Will and Vanessa seemed to have a great relationship; she was a cute blonde with a great figure, but more importantly a nice personality. She was sweet but kind of demure. Cara wasn't sure how mentally stimulating she was of a person, which she knew Will valued. But overall, a nice woman.

"Uh, yeah," Will said, nodding.

Cara nodded back. "Good," she said with a soft smile. "So … what were you so eloquently going to ask me before she called?"

"Uh …" Will paused. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ "I, um, was just going to say that if you aren't busy … maybe you … wouldn't mind doing the report for the Hansen case for Veltre? Vanessa's parents … they, uh, asked us over for dinner at six." _You stupid idiot. You're such an asshole. On her birthday, no less. You coward. I can't believe you just asked her that. Why couldn't you just ask her out, you jerk? Screw Vanessa and her stuffy-ass parents who look down on you for being a cop. You wanted to be with Cara tonight, but you fucked up, Will. You fucked up big time._

"Oh," Cara murmured, looking down at her uniform boots.

"Cara-" Will began, desperate to take back his words. _I didn't mean it. I want to take you out. I want you to have an amazing night. God, I want you in my life so much-_

"No, it's okay, Will," Cara replied quickly, a forced smile on her beautifully full lips as she looked at him. "I don't mind at all. Besides, you did the last report, so technically it's my turn." She fished the squad car keys from her pocket and handed them off to Will. "I'm going to see if Rich wouldn't mind driving me back, then. I, uh, don't think I'll be done by five here, so …"

"Are you sure?" Will asked, his voice filled with regret. "I mean, I can just get there whenever."

"Will," Cara chided, "I'm sure Vanessa wouldn't like it if you just showed up whenever you wanted. Dinner with the parents is a big deal." She smiled briefly. "I'm happy for you guys. She seems like a great person."

_She's nothing compared to you. _"She is … nice."

"Just nice?" Cara teased. "I'm sure she's more than nice."

_I'm such an idiot. _"Um … yeah. Sure."

"Go," Cara said softly, brushing Will away. "I'll see you in the morning." He lingered, hesitating. She saw how focused his eyes were on her, the way he gazed down at her as if a thousand words were pouring through him silently, trying to make her understand something she didn't yet comprehend. "Are you okay?" she asked, stepping closer to him. "You look … flushed." She felt him jump as she laid the back of her hand across his forehead. "You're really warm, Will," she noted. "Are you feeling alright?" Will nodded profusely, unable to think because of the touch of Cara's hand on his skin. _So soft. God, she's beautiful._ "Then you'd better go, lover boy," she said with a smile, withdrawing her hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

With one last confused look, Cara turned away, not seeing how Will's jaw tightened immediately, his eyes closing, his heart full of regret.

* * *

En route to Mount Weather, VA  
10:32 AM EST

As he stared out of the back seat window, his mind ran through the same day a year ago with disgust for himself. Had he been able to read Cara's thoughts, he would have seen she reciprocated the attraction he felt for her. He had, instead, frozen up and allowed her to spend the evening of her birthday alone typing a report over a burglary case they had the week prior. Pathetic. He recalled how he broke up with Vanessa that night before even making it to her parents' house for dinner, pleading with her to understand and forgive him for the cowardly way he bowed out of their eight-month relationship. When she wouldn't truly comply with his request or understand his point, he left more broken than he had arrived, guilt pushing him through the doors of the liquor store near his apartment where he took two six-packs of lager home. He tried to drink liquid courage into himself to call Cara; he didn't call, though. Instead, he stared at a picture he had of her and him from their graduation from the academy as he sat on his second-hand sofa he had gotten for free off of Craig's List, running his finger over her face while tossing back his humiliation and regret.

A year later, he was married to the only woman he ever truly loved, she pregnant with two of his children. Only, he couldn't find her. He had to find her. When he knew where she was and he didn't have the nerve to go to her, it killed him enough. Her absence coupled with the unknown of her location was tearing him apart. He was being crushed under the sorrow. He remembered Albert Hosteen's words of encouragement, reminding him he had to be their hope. Whose hope? Cara's? His childrens'? His parents'? The world's? Regardless of who specifically, being something that people hoped in wasn't what he was accustomed to. He kept his distance, trying not to get terribly close to anyone, though at times he couldn't stand being alone. He wasn't a hero - he was a guy who made so many mistakes he could no longer keep track of them. A guy with a taste for beer more than belief. A guy who didn't even have courage before the world began to end around him to go after the only thing that mattered to him on the face of the earth. It took Armageddon for him to admit his feelings. Now, Armageddon was taking back what he had put off having for so long.

_Can you talk to the children?_ he asked Gibson quietly through telepathy, still gazing out his window.

_Not since you left, _was Gibson's solemn reply.

_Do you think … they're …_

_Do you?_

_No._

_Then I don't either._

Will eyed Gibson carefully, confused. "Why?" he asked, realizing he had asked it aloud; it was too late to take it back.

"Because if you don't accept it, why should I?" Gibson said, his expression mostly blank.

His statement made Scully turn from the front passenger's seat, glancing back at the two superhumans in the back seat. "What won't you accept?" she asked Gibson.

"Caraline's death," he stated.

"Then you've spoken with the children?" Scully asked, her eyebrow raised.

"No."

"Then how-"

"Because William believes," Gibson interrupted.

"Look," Will said softly, "I don't want you forming an opinion solely based off of me."

"You don't understand," Gibson murmured.

"What don't I understand?"

"You're the barometer of everything," Gibson said quietly to Will, now gaining Mulder's attention through a quick glance at him in the rearview mirror as he drove. "What you believe in will come to pass."

"Wait, what?" Will asked, his brow wrinkled.

"You have to keep believing, William," Gibson said with a nod. "Otherwise you won't get your soul back."

Just as Scully was about to ask a question, her phone rang. "Scully," she said, sinking fully back into her seat. "Alright." She hung up, looking at Mulder. "Pull over," she said softly. "Skinner just got some intel he needs to share with us."

Mulder slid the car to the shoulder, his foot pressing heavily on the brake, distracted by the possibilities of what Skinner would reveal. He put the SUV in park and waited, seeing Skinner come to his window. "Just got a call from a contact of mine in the DOD," Skinner said quietly, looking back at Will. "He's fairly confident he can get myself and William access. At least enough to buy us time to get onto base."

"How?" Scully asked.

"There's a DOD meeting on base tonight at eight thirty. He can get us on the shuttle." Skinner looked to William. "What sizes are you?"

"What?" Will asked.

"Suit size."

"Uh, thirty-nine long."

"Dress shirt?"

"Sixteen and a half."

"Shoe?"

"Thirteen."

"Alright," Skinner said, writing the sizes down, "I'll have him bring something for you with the IDs."

"Why only two?" Mulder asked.

"Any more will look suspicious," Skinner explained. "Besides, he knows me and I'm not in any hot water. Feathers are still slightly ruffled for you and Scully. Doggett and Reyes as well with their involvement now."

"We have a pardon," Scully argued. "Hell, we have two pardons!"

"Look, it's the best he can do," Skinner said with a sigh.

"We'll take it," Will said firmly from the back seat, seeing his parents' surprised reactions. "I need to get in there any way I can. Better not to risk all of you, anyway."

"You're not going in there without more backup," Scully said firmly. She turned to Skinner. "Call him back. Make him get at least two more."

"Scully, he can't," Skinner objected. "It's two or it's zero. I'm sorry."

"Then I'll go with him," Mulder said softly, looking at Skinner. "I'll take your place."

"Mulder-"

"No arguments," Mulder interrupted.

"Mulder, the people inside of Mount Weather wanted to see you dead by lethal injection before," Scully nearly yelled. "How does it make any sense for you to waltz in there now?"

"If Cancer Man is behind this, then I need to be inside," Mulder replied, his tone equal in volume to Scully's.

"You're telling your son not to act based on emotion, yet here you are doing just that!"

"Scully-"

"No, Mulder," Scully interrupted. "No." It was dead silent as she searched Mulder's eyes. "I'm not … You're not doing this."

"Scully," Mulder said softly, his jaw flexing, "that's what it will be." Though somewhat demure, his tone commanded respect. "William and I will go." He turned to Skinner. "We'll need the rest of you on the outside anyway. Sizes thirty-eight long, sixteen, twelve."

Skinner sighed. "Alright," he said, clearly disappointed in the decision. "I'll let him know. We'll still meet him at the drop-off for eight."

Mulder nodded, watching as Skinner climbed back into the SUV behind them with Doggett and Reyes. He, along with everyone else he rode with, was silent, Scully clearly livid. "Dad," Will finally said as Mulder pulled back onto the highway. "You shouldn't-"

"I know the place," Mulder argued.

"Mom's right, Dad. It's too big a risk."

"Hey, you're a wanted man. You're taking more of a risk than little old me who's supposedly pardoned. Twice."

"You shouldn't-"

"No, William, it's done," Mulder interjected with a heightened level of firmness. Mulder caught a glimpse of Will through the rearview mirror, watching as his son turned to the window.

"William," Scully said softly after a while, "what are you planning to do if you find Cara?" She paused. "I mean, where will you go? New Mexico?"

Will was silent for a long moment. "I don't know where we'll go," he replied. "But the first thing I'm going to do is tell her how sorry I am for being such a coward."

* * *

12:28 PM EST

_Shit._

He thought he had escaped it, even if just for a little while, but the overwhelming chill had started to sink into Will's bones deeper with each passing moment that he reflected on Cara's kidnapping and the potential consequences of it. Not to mention with each mile they drove closer to Virginia how he was reminded of the atrocities of Billy Miles against his wife.

Scully was the only one in the car he rode in unaware of the extent of his current physical condition. Outwardly, Will appeared healthy, so much so that Scully didn't question it. Yet, Will knew the reality of his situation - he was dying, and unless he was somehow able to redeem his soul from the evil he had sold it to, there was nothing stopping it from coming. There wasn't medicine or surgeries or vaccinations that could cure what was killing him. There was one thing, and one thing alone, that could preserve him - something he still had trouble fully obtaining. Hope.

Will shivered, catching the way his father immediately glanced back at him, concerned. Without a word, Mulder gently adjusted the cool air that blew through the SUV, hoping lowering it was enough to keep Will comfortable.

_You didn't tell her, _Gibson noted silently to Will.

_No, and I'd prefer it stay that way, _Will replied.

_She ought to know._

_Listen, it's my choice. I don't need her worrying about me._

_Wouldn't you want your child to tell you?_

Will shut his eyes. _This isn't a conversation I'm willing to have anymore, Gibson._

Shifting in his seat, Will peered out of the window, watching the scenery pass him by, becoming hypnotized by the trees that whooshed out of view. His mind wandered, trying to warm himself through the memories of her, though he nearly laughed out loud at the concept of "thinking happy thoughts" like a tactic from one of the fantasies she loved to read so much. _Yeah, happy thoughts,_ he said in his mind. _Happy thoughts. _

_She wore a cobalt blue dress that matched the brilliance of her blue eyes, her golden hair cascading down past the asymmetrical cut of her dress' top, her left shoulder graced with the honor of carrying a jewel-encrusted strap while the right remained deliciously, temptingly, lustfully bare. Her lips were tinged with just a bit of red, a particular shade he imagined they might become after he would take them between his, adoring them with fevered affection. His silky black tie became a noose, strangling him as his neck felt like it was on fire though it was the end of December. His palms grew clammy as his stomach began to rebel, trying to disconnect itself or perform acrobatic tricks inside of him. Whatever it was doing, it was making his heart go insane, his pulse rising beyond what he had ever experienced, even on his best runs. _

_His throat ran dry; he shifted his clumsy feet that forgot their basic function to the refreshments table, but there wasn't enough punch in the universe that could quench the burn that ran down it. A second glass, then a third. His date was in the bathroom. She would be coming out soon. Get it together. He pawed at his neck, trying to loosen the offensive tie, keeping his back to where he last saw her on the arm of an incredibly wealthy and handsome lawyer he remembered her mentioning once or twice. He instantly felt feral, like a wild animal whose mate was being threatened. He had to calm himself. She wasn't his - not in that way. He sighed; he wasn't the ferocious beast his heart claimed him to be, ready to rip apart any other male who got too close. No, he was more parallel to the Cowardly Lion who needed a severe dose of courage. If he had courage, even just a portion, he would rip her out of Don Juan's arms and worship every inch of her; he'd make her realize she would never need any other besides him. He would own her in the most intimate ways while he would also relish serving her every need. _

_He heard his date approach, mentally kicking himself for the inexcusable thoughts he had allowed himself to have of another in her absence. He felt her hand glide up his bare arm; he had rolled his sleeves up to try to cool down, his jacket was long gone at their table, barely surviving two minutes into their arrival. He heard her ask him if he was okay. He was more than okay. He was on fire. He was more alive than he ever felt. He was in love._

The memory wasn't enough to fully remove the chill, though it did distract him from the continued vortex of darkness that threatened to bring him into its cyclone. He sighed, closing his eyes in defeat. Behind his lids, he saw the evil he had tried to rid himself of, lingering in his subconscious; it had vested itself. It wasn't dissuaded by his attempts to free himself. He was still enslaved.

* * *

Nineteen days earlier  
August 25, 2012  
11:04 PM EST

She chewed on her bottom lip, gripping the fabric against her clammy palms as she gasped in shock at the sensation of it weaving around her throat.

"The Prince roamed in misery a long time, finally coming to the desert where the witch had banished Rapunzel." She wove it tighter, shuddering as it pressed against her neck with dark intimacy. "He heard a voice singing and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it. When he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell into his arms and wept."

When the expertly-constructed knot was secured, she shifted her weight carefully toward the back of the chair, feeling the dangerous pull against her tender flesh. "Two of her tears fell on his eyes and the Prince could see again." She inched closer, closer, closer still. "He led her to his kingdom where she was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented."

She shut her eyes, seeing the profile of his face as she had before, focusing on it like he told her to. "I still believe in you, Will," she whispered. "I love you. Please know that. I'm sorry I can't fight with you anymore ... but I won't let them have what they want." The fabric around her throat caught the tears as they ran off her cheeks.

The chair tipped backward. She was weightless. They were safe. He was free.

She didn't expect it to burn like it did, the cotton constricting around her throat with urgency that stopped her heart at its finality. As her neck was collapsed, she felt her lungs involuntarily expand to intake oxygen only to be rudely awakened by her desperate choice. Her eyes were wide as she felt the air under her feet, her head both light and weighted at once, the room spinning as she twisted against the braid she constructed. She couldn't think as much as she could no longer breathe, existing but not, there but gone. Her hands automatically tried to fight her decision, but within seconds came to rest on her womb, as if the contact would remind her of her reason for such drastic measures.

In the distance she heard a wail, a protest that was neither human nor animal, though her ability to decipher was rapidly draining. She felt a kick against her womb, her tears flowing faster as the wailing flooded her ears. _I'm sorry,_ she managed to think, directing her apology to her children.

Slowly, black covered the world around her like a dripping coat of fresh paint, leaking slowly from top to bottom. No longer did the cell exist, nor the fiery sensation of cotton closing her throat. All she could see was black. She felt herself process into the empty space, still floating as she gazed around her. She was alone, except for the children she still felt stretching and bending in her womb.

"Shima."

It had been what seemed like forever since she heard the name she was given by the kind family they lived with for several months in a cabin she dared to call home. Turning was easy in the vast void she was in, now facing the elder who she saw in January. "I know you," she said softly, smiling.

"Yes, you do," the elder said. "My name is Albert Hosteen. I came to you once before. You were at a different place in your journey than you are now."

"Where am I going now?" she asked, watching the way Albert's silvery white hair danced in the breezeless atmosphere.

"That is not for me to decide, Shima," Albert replied. "It is for you to decide."

"I can't go back there," she whispered with fear. "I won't give them my children. They'll kill them!"

"They cannot harm what is protected," Albert said gently.

"How are they protected?" she asked, resting her hands on her stomach.

"They are protected through prayers and faith. Through the hope of others. Through your hope, Shima."

"I don't want Will to die for us," she argued. "He needs to save more than just me."

"Young Fox is in a place of darkness, too."

"Is he here?" She looked frantically around. "Where is he?"

"You took a different path than Young Fox, Shima," Albert explained. "He took one I did not expect to find him at. Where Young Fox is I will not allow you to go."

She shuddered with terror. "No … he can't be … is he …?"

"He lives enough to make his own choice. Though, he is not yet ready to choose. His body is weak. So is his soul."

"I need to see him!"

"You cannot, Shima."

She sighed, feeling the tears well in her eyes. "I'm afraid."

Albert shook his head. "Shima, there is no safety in fear."

"They are just babies!" she argued. "I can't … let them …"

"You said you believed still, did you not?"

She nodded. "Yes. I do."

"What is it you believe in?" Albert asked.

"I believe … that good will overcome evil," she said softly.

"Then you must not let evil overcome the good that you have been blessed with," Albert advised, nodding to her womb. "You must have hope, Shima." He reached his hand out in front of her, slowly passing it over her body. "Do you remember when I came to you in the meadow?"

She nodded. "I felt so much peace."

"I performed a ceremony that is very sacred to my people," Albert said. "Look at yourself now, Shima."

She suddenly saw herself not in the clothes she once was, but wrapped in two pieces of pure white cloth at her breasts and hips as she had been so long ago, her skin otherwise glowing and bare. Clay red images adorned her flesh, carefully drawn with prayerful intention. "On your head, I drew a snake. The snake represents defiance and wisdom, which you have displayed throughout your journey so far. On your chest, I drew a bear. The bear stands for power and adaptability, which your heart has needed so many times and continues to need. Your arms bear rope symbols, giving you the security you need for your children you carry. On each of your legs, crosses were given so you would receive direction. Your feet bear lightning bolts for speed. And on your womb are mountains, representing abundance and majesty, the young that rest inside of you."

Albert paused, lowering his hands. "Shima," he said softly, "it is not by chance the Changing Woman chose to inhabit your spirit. You are worthy of her blessing, and continue to be. However, do not be fooled. You must know that avoidance might not be the answer."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Look."

He waved his hand over the darkened space they were in, parting the vastness like a curtain to reveal a view she had never seen before. "This is the world without hope," Albert said quietly. "This is your home."

She found herself gazing into the desperate view of what she once knew with hesitation, the images far too disturbing to linger on. "The people die, Shima," Albert said with grave sadness. "They die not because their time has come, but because their fates are decided for them. They die because of evil."

The spaces she saw were gray and barren, no representation of life through vegetation to be seen. "The plants refuse to grow, the animals are destroyed and the fish stop swimming. The water grows thick like oil and the earth mourns, cracking and splitting, swallowing people into its depths."

Another image flashed before her eyes, her lips parting at the sight. "They no longer bear the face of man, but they bear their own wretched skin that covers hands with claws that rip flesh from bones. Their eyes see everything. Nothing is safe."

"How can my children stop this?" she whispered, horrified at the pictures that looped in front of her.

"If they are alive, it will cease," Albert replied.

"And if they die?"

"Then everything dies."

"But they will kill them!"

Albert closed the curtain-like opening; she found herself wearing her clothes again. "You must truly believe, Shima," he said softly. "You must believe in Young Fox. For what Young Fox hopes in will come to pass. He will soon need to choose. If he chooses to continue, his hope will protect you and the children."

"What if he doesn't?" She was terrified at the gamble.

"That is not for me to say," Albert replied. He extended his hand. "Take my hand, Shima," he said gently. "It is time for you to choose." He grasped her hand, holding it tenderly. "What do you choose, Shima?" he asked, his eyes piercing through her heart with warmth.

"I choose …"


	20. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

August 25, 2012  
Shiprock Territory, NM  
9:37 PM MST

"A decision has been made," John finally whispered, his eyes still shut as they had been for over a half hour when the news first struck his heart. The other elders around the gentle hogan fire waited with baited breath for John's next words, the silence thickening the air. "My brother has visited her. Shima understands what is to come."

"What has she chosen?" one of the elder's asked softly. They had feared she would surrender to despair, that she would place her hope in what she could control rather than what was not up to her to decide.

John opened his eyes, the wrinkled brown skin near his lips curving ever so slightly upward. "She is afraid," he replied quietly, his eyes gazing at the fire. "But she believes."

* * *

11:37 PM EST

_Do not be afraid, Shima. You have chosen well. Open your eyes. Your hope will keep them safe._

"Looks like we cut her down in time," a replacement doctor said. "She's coming to."

She didn't want the first thing she saw to be his face, but it was - a wrinkled, weathered and sinister exterior affecting her deeply with hatred and fear. His eyes roamed over her still waking body, her nemesis' face blocking her focusing vision from seeing anything else. His expression was borderline, leaning more toward angry as he stared down at her, dragging on his cigarette closely to her without concern for her lungs that just began breathing off of a respirator moments ago. Clearly, he was disappointed by her bold move. To some extent, she was too - she had chosen her actions to protect her children. Now, she lay bound to a hospital bed, the braid-shaped bruises beginning to take color around her neck, helplessly subject to his every whim.

"Well," he said, still analyzing her as she blinked heavily, "I must say, Caraline - you've both made things very easy and very complicated at the same time with your little charade." He exhaled, the billow of smoke coming to rest over her body as she slowly squirmed under it, her strength still building as she regained consciousness. "If William survives his current condition, I'm sure he will be quite devastated to hear of your decision. Should he recover from the shock, I expect him to pursue you whole-heartedly regardless of the evidence we will present, which gives us an advantage over his mental state. After all, whoever controls his mind controls the world." He drug on the stem. "The complicated portion comes in how to ensure your mistaken act of defiance doesn't happen again. Of course, there will be severe punishment for your actions, as there should be." He blew out the smoke over her again, his tone sharp as he spoke. "After all, I believe I was quite generous with my previous offer to draw you back into the circle as an equal partner. Yet, you showed no consideration for my affection with your choice. I can imagine part of you is disappointed that your plan didn't come to fruition. Well, rest assured, Caraline - this is only the beginning of much more disappointment to come."

"Go to hell," Cara whispered as harshly as her weakened body could afford.

The Smoking Man peered down at her, clutching his cigarette. "You should just hope that William hasn't," he replied, his face cold and calculating. "After all, he is dying." He leaned closer to her face; she tried to back away but couldn't. "And you're the reason he is dying, Caraline. Through your choice to leave him, he's sacrificed his life to find you. Only, should he somehow still live, he'll learn it was all for naught."

"He won't die," Cara replied. "He won't give in."

The Smoking Man smiled. "He's already sold his soul to me," he stated. "I own him." Seeing the worry in her eyes, his smile grew wider. "Pretty soon, you will have a front row seat to see him beg for mercy." He crushed his cigarette underfoot.

Her spit landed on his cheek, her lips pressed together as she glared up at him. His hand that usually clutched his cigarettes repeatedly slapped with ferocity across her face; she could smell the tar on his fingertips. His other hand grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "When I take everything away from William Mulder," he whispered, his mouth close to hers as she winced and tried to push away, "I plan on letting him know that I'll be keeping one thing for myself." He pushed her jaw upward, causing her to whimper in pain. "You're my property after all, Caraline. You're mine to do with as I please." He suggestively stroked her cheek as she winced. "You have your father to thank for that."

He let go of her face roughly, turning toward the guards near him. "Keep her bound at all times. Escorts will be necessary for every activity. Do not handle her with care because of her condition." He looked over at her, putting a fresh stem in his mouth, lighting it. "The little bitch is not to be trusted."

* * *

September 14, 2012  
En route to Mount Weather, VA  
12:32 PM EST

Doggett sighed from the backseat, having let Skinner drive with Reyes riding shotgun. His gut was on edge. Sure, they had been pursuing a lead that could be the end-all answer to their current problem, but something was missing. Something wasn't right. "Why do I feel like we're walking right into a trap?" he asked, peering at Skinner, then Reyes. "I mean, can we trust the guy from the DOD or is he leading us to our death?"

"I'd like to think we can trust him," Skinner replied softly, absorbing some of Doggett's concern in himself.

"Alright, so why would Martin Jackson have the information on Cara?" Doggett continued. "Has William ever answered that question?"

Reyes shook her head. "No," she noted. "He hasn't. We were all too consumed with getting to the base."

"Right," Doggett said with a nod. "So I'm asking it now. What is Martin Jackson's angle?"

"He was Will's mentor, apparently. A father figure."

"What if ... what if he isn't to be trusted either?"

"What are you saying, Agent Doggett?" Skinner asked.

"Maybe I'm a little paranoid, but I'm just saying that I think it's all a little convenient how Martin Jackson's dying words were the answer to William's most dire problem that he supposedly wasn't even aware of," Doggett explained.

"Maybe he did know something," Reyes suggested. "Maybe it was his imminent death that brought on a confession out of guilt."

"So if it was, what was his role?" Doggett asked.;'

"He was NYPD," Skinner recalled. "Did you ever know about him?"

"No," Doggett confirmed. "And that's one of the things that has me worried."

"There's a lot of people in the NYPD, John," Reyes reminded him.

"I know, but still ... I have a funny feeling about this."

"Well," Skinner said with a sigh, "what about at the next rest stop when we refuel we see what William thinks?"

"He's not going to appreciate my skepticism right about now," Doggett remarked.

"Then I'll talk to him," Skinner said.

"The guy punched you out before. I don't know if you're a better choice."

"Me?" Reyes asked.

"No," Doggett said, feeling defeated. "I don't think any of us would be able to talk to him about this."

"Then what do we do?"

Doggett shook his head. "I don't know."

* * *

12:32 PM EST

"Happy Birthday, Caraline."

She had lost track of time, days and nights blending together between bouts of sedation and lost consciousness from her lack of cooperation even though she was nearly always bound. Her limited bathroom usage and the three showers she had taken over the last nearly three weeks were supervised, her restraints taken off for a brief period for which she needed to use her hands. She regretted each of the showers; the male replacements who stood by the open stall watched her intently, the pleasure thinly veiled in their eyes enough to make her sick.

She assumed enough time had passed that he wasn't lying, that today was, in fact, her birthday. She watched him approach her, feeling incredibly helpless as she remained bound to the bed where she had been put just prior to his arrival. "I got you a present," he said, gray clouds seeping from his thin lips. She felt a chill overcome her as his eyes lingered longer than expected on her chest as it rose and fell with her breath. He lit a new cigarette, keeping his eyes locked on her. "But first," he murmured, "I'd like to take a picture to give William something to celebrate."

Cara's lips parted. _Will's alive,_ she thought with eagerness and shock. _He's alive! _"Yes," she heard the Smoking Man say, taking a drag, "and he's on his way here now, so I'm told." She felt her heart begin to race. _Will's alive. _She had spent so much time in isolation, never hearing of anything after the night they cut her down from the beam about Will or his condition. "Of course, we'll let him in, let him get close enough. It just makes everything more interesting that way." He exhaled. "Smile," he said, seeing a replacement hold a camera near her face. She turned her head, defying his request. She felt his thick hand beat her twice, his fingers grabbing at her hair to yank her head back as he dragged on the stem of his cigarette. Her cheek stung, knowing it would soon be another bruise to add to the collection already on her face and body. She clenched her teeth as the replacement took the picture, quivering as she felt his finger trace her jaw. "Your present will also benefit me," he said, exhaling the smoke as he held the cigarette in his free hand.

She knew better but couldn't stop herself, her saliva flinging in a spit onto his face directly from his close contact with her. "Get her set up, then call him," the Smoking Man snapped to the replacement behind him, anger burning in his eyes. The replacement drug her from the corner she was chained to, strapping her to a hospital bed. When she was secured, the Smoking Man grabbed a fistful of her tangled blonde hair, yanking her head backward to look into his eyes as he stood above her. "I want him to hear her scream," he added, puffing on his cigarette.

* * *

En route to Mount Weather, VA  
1:42 PM EST

"Pull over," Will ordered, his tone harsh as he commanded his father.

"What is it, William?" Mulder asked, confused as he continued to drive.

"_Pull over_," Will repeated, his hand shaking as he held his buzzing cell phone. _Blocked caller. Cara. _He barely waited for the car to jerk to a sudden stop on the shoulder of the highway before he threw himself out of the passenger door, rushing away from the car before his mother or father could question his sudden irrationality. "Cara?" he demanded, feeling his stomach sink and twist as he waited. "Cara?" he asked again, his voice more hesitant.

"Didn't anyone tell you she was dead, William?" the Smoking Man asked. Will heard him light a cigarette, the snap of the ignitor's closing lid clicking in the phone.

"I know she's not," Will growled. "Put her on!"

"It's a shame you are currently going in the wrong direction, William," the Smoking Man continued. "Your misjudgment could cost you the best part of my plans for celebrating Caraline's birthday."

"I know where you are, you son of a bitch," Will sneered.

"Do you?"

"Put her on," Will ordered.

"Why don't you check your messages, William," the Smoking Man said, inhaling on the cigarette. "I sent you something I think you'll want to see. I'll call back in a couple minutes when you've had a chance to review it."

Will shut his eyes, the weight of the phone that was now silent crushing his hand. He didn't want to succumb to the game he knew the Cancer Man was playing, but he couldn't stop himself. He needed to know if it was what he thought it was.

His jaw flexed as he looked at the photograph, his heart rate rising. He knew his mother and father had followed him out to the field he isolated himself in, hearing their concerns as they approached. He had seen a photo like this before, a photo that tore and severed him completely, still causing him nightmares even while she was safe. His lip quivered as he saw the well-defined bruises, none more frightening than the one etched around her neck. He felt his heart grow dark, his goodness and reason disappear and his need to destroy coming to a dangerous head. "William?" Scully asked, cautiously approaching as she saw the phone in his hand. "What is it, William?" she whispered.

"She's alive," he murmured, handing her his phone while his mind spun uncontrollably, his body remaining still from shock.

"Oh my God," Scully whispered, looking at the image. "Mulder," she whispered, handing the phone to him, seeing him wince as he took in the image.

Mulder's eyes quickly shifted to Will. "He's going to call me back," Will said softly, reaching his hand out for his phone.

"Did you talk to her?" Mulder asked.

"No," Will replied. "I didn't hear her either. But judging from the bruising coloration, I'd say this was taken either today or very recently."

The phone buzzed, Will snatching it from his father as he quickly answered and pressed it to his ear. "I want to talk to her," he ordered, turning away from Mulder and Scully.

He received silence on the other end of the line, background noise the only indication of life. He heard his muffled words, the clanking of chains, the slap of flesh against flesh and a pained scream that made his heart stop. It was unlike anything he ever heard before from her, the scream filling his ears again, and then a third time. "CARA!" he shouted. He ripped at his hair with his free hand, crouching over in pain as he listened to the noise that indicated Cara's suffering. "You son of a bitch!" he screamed into the phone. "You're DEAD! I WILL KILL YOU!"

"So much for your resistance to the darkness, William," the Smoking Man said calmly.

"You're smug now, you low life bastard," Will growled with rage, "but I promise you, _nothing_ will stop me from tearing you apart."

"The present I've given Caraline for her birthday might," the Smoking Man replied. "You see, a little while ago, Caraline was administered Pitocin as she lays bound to a hospital bed. You do know what Pitocin is, don't you William?" He paused, smiling. "It's a drug to induce labor. In fact, she's already beginning to dilate."

Will felt his heart drop. "You mother fucker."

"Your children will be born soon, William," the Smoking Man said, exhaling his cigarette. "I do hope they're less trouble than your wife has been, though."

"I don't care what it takes, but I swear to you, I _will_ destroy you," Will snapped, shutting his eyes as he heard the line go dead. He felt the shocking chill of the darkness that permeated his body, his hand shaking by his side as he tried to fight it; still, the darkness gripped him tightly, unwilling to let go.

"Her labor has been induced," Will whispered, sensing his parents approaching behind him. "He's given her Pitocin."

"Is she dilated?" Scully asked.

"He said she's starting to." Will turned to Scully. "Do we still have time to find her?"

Scully nodded. "We have a few hours at least."

"I can't wait until tonight," Will said, looking at Mulder. "I've got to get on that base immediately."

"I'll call Skinner and see what he can do," Scully offered.

"Come on," Mulder said, gently urging Will, "let's get back on the road."

* * *

4:21 PM EST

The labor came quickly, the pain rolling in waves that grew shorter in distance apart from each other. Aside from the drip of Pitocin they forced through her IV, Cara was without medication - no painkillers to dull the deep ache of her induction. The Braxton Hicks contractions she had prior were no match for the real thing, each taking her by painful surprise as she struggled against the tight restraints that held her pressed against the hospital bed. Her legs were forced open, though thankfully covered by a blanket. The meager cover didn't stop her from feeling exposed and violated, doctors she knew were employed for sadistic reasons examining her, touching her, discussing her as if she wasn't there or didn't exist.

She had been in labor for four hours now, knowing it could potentially last much longer or end drastically with a cesarean section. She didn't understand why they hadn't opted to just do a C-section initially; perhaps her induced labor was part of the game they were playing with Will. Perhaps it was just to make him go mad with fear and worry.

More likely than not, her children would be born today, on her own birthday. Cara hadn't celebrated her birthday for ten years, not since the day she ran away from home. She wasn't entirely sure if she would get a reason to celebrate. She prayed earnestly that Will would follow through, like Albert had said he would. She couldn't save her children bound to a bed - she needed him to protect them.

The three distinct burns on her forearm felt raw as she moved, the circular stamps from the Smoking Man's nearly spent cigarette permanently altering her body. He had given her yet another reminder of the torment, another scar to shudder at as she undressed, another story that would never stop telling itself though she begged it to. The only happy ending she now had was being forced from her womb, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

_Please talk to him,_ she silently pleaded with her children. _Please tell him to not give himself to their game. Please tell him that he can overcome them. Please remind him of the good inside of him._

She didn't know if they heard her, or if they even understood. She couldn't measure a response or results, relying on the one thing that had kept her going in even the most dire of circumstances: hope.

She hoped he heard. She hoped he still believed.


	21. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

December 24, 2011  
St. Paul, Oregon  
11:54 PM PST

She was alone as she sat on the sofa, staring at the incredibly small Christmas tree he had chopped down from the woods that surrounded their secluded home. It was sparsely decorated, without lights and sheltering two small packages underneath its thin evergreen branches. He was due home two hours ago, and his absence made her stomach roll with sickness as she came to several thousand horrible conclusions in the silence of her mind.

She clutched the phone tightly in her hand, knowing how he hated her to worry. It was impossible, though, for her not to obsess over where he currently was, given their extensive history of more unhappy occurrences than happy ones. She had called him three times, left two messages and considered phoning the police. It was Christmas Eve - what was left of it anyway - and her present he had gotten her against her wishes was already patiently resting beneath their sad excuse for holiday decor. He had no reason to be so late.

She snatched her gun quickly as she heard the door rattle softly, her eyes shooting the distance to the front entryway. She stood hesitantly, fearing the worst and expecting more than the worst, though she knew there was still a year left. _Still almost a year,_ she thought. _There's still almost a year._ Would they come early? Would they try to track them down? Did they even care about them anymore?

They had discussed the possibilities several times, more than he cared to it seemed, judging from his resistance in his tone each time it came up in conversation. She was surprised - she knew he secretly poured hours upon hours of energy into finding the first hints of the inevitable. Yet, he always was shy about discussing his findings with her. She assumed he was trying to preserve the hope she had inside of her, and maybe even trying to starve his own cynicism and doubt. They both knew the truth, though - when the clock struck twelve on January 1, 2012, they would have a mere eleven months together. Eleven months. They had nearly two decades together, and soon it would come down to a matter of months.

The questions usually poured through her mind in the silence of night, his long arm draped around her waist protectively as he caught a few precious hours of sleep that his rebellious body would allow him. Would they die immediately? If so, how would they die? Would they be forced into slavery? Would anyone else survive? The mental ramblings stole not only her sleep but her security, his warm, lanky body behind her the only reminder of safety she had ever had. There was peace in his arms, protection in his kiss.

Yet, he was still gone, the door now shaking with gentle force as she aimed her gun, the years of experience with handling a weapon giving her a piece of the security that she so desperately needed. It wouldn't be him, not using the key. It couldn't be him, not asking for her help. Why would he access the door of his own home as if it led to somewhere he had never been? She swallowed, feeling the carpet under her bare feet as her robe draped open to reveal her thin pajamas, her chest rising as she grit her teeth. No, this wasn't him. This was someone else.

The creak of the hinges nearly echoed in the home; she had kept her breathing even and silent, swearing to herself to keep the Ice Queen disguise on as she had so expertly perfected over many years. Whoever it was that now deceivingly entered her home, they wouldn't see her weak. She would die with strength, with or without him by her side.

A large figure peered in; she considered whether to announce her presence in the home she had purposely darkened while she waited for him to come home, knowing she couldn't immediately be seen from the person's vantage point. She waited, her eyes locked on the shadowy presence as it filled the empty foyer. "Don't move," she warned with an icy tone, cocking her gun. "Hands up," she commanded, the blood coursing through her system on overdrive.

"It's me," she heard him say in a soft, reassuring voice. She closed her eyes, her guard falling as quickly as it rose, her arms relaxing as she relaxed the mechanism of her gun. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Jesus, Mulder," she murmured, her relief mixing with anger. "Where have you been?" She moved to the light switch, flicking on the overheads as she examined his wet, muddy figure, a gash clearly displayed on his forehead despite the soaked bangs that tried to disguise it. "What happened to you?" she whispered, her eyes widening as she approached him.

He locked the deadbolt behind himself. "My truck was stolen," he replied bitterly, shrugging off his coat.

"What?" she asked in disbelief.

"I was on the highway, coming home from the market when I was run off the road. They held a gun on me and told me to get out. So I did. Then they knocked me down ... and the last thing I saw before I blacked out was them taking my fucking truck." He was livid, as he had every right to be. He had spent the last several months fixing up the tattered blue truck, pouring himself into learning the work to avoid sitting around the house by himself and contemplating the end of the world while she was on shift at the hospital. It was only a couple weeks ago that he was able to get it working enough to take trips to the food store twenty miles away.

She chewed on her lip as she traced her finger around the gash he sported. She knew his pride was in worse condition than he was, despite being physically knocked down and forced to walk miles home in the cold rain. "They stole my wallet and phone, not to mention the damn groceries," he added with a growl. He brushed past her in a beeline for their bedroom. "I mean, it's Christmas fucking Eve," he continued while she watched, hesitantly following his angry path marked with the long-sleeve shirt he stripped from his body, followed by the wife beater he had underneath. "All I wanted was some goddamn holiday fucking cheer to remind me of why this whole fucking planet doesn't deserve the destruction it's getting."

Shoes flew to the corner of the room, smacking into the wall as they flung mug onto the baseboards. His socks landed with ironic grace on the bed. His belt flung open, the pants gliding down his legs, kicked aside without concern. He turned, facing her in only his boxers, his hands falling on his hips. "Is it too much to ask, Scully?" he demanded, as if she had the secret answer to something he was trying to figure out. "Is it too much to want people to be decent for once?"

She didn't respond. She didn't know how to. She was just grateful he was alive. "I mean, what's the point anymore, Scully? What's the fucking point?" he asked. "There is no point, Scully. That's the answer. You know that truth I was looking for so badly? It's driving off in my truck!" he yelled. "The truth is, Scully, I don't give a rat's ass what happens to this world in a year."

She knew he didn't mean it. She knew he was expressing the suppressed emotions of their fruitless search for William, he just as affected by the lack of results as she though he didn't ever verbalize it. Tonight was the night, though. A stolen truck equaled the straw that broke his back, everything he had felt for years now coming to an angry head as he paced in his underwear. "One time, Scully," he said firmly. "Just ONE time I would like to be surprised by the humanity of people. ONE time. Otherwise, you ... me ... we've wasted nearly two decades of our lives trying to save a population that should just go the way of the dinosaur. Everything, Scully," he continued, moving like a shark forced to keep forward motion to survive, "every fucking ideal we've ever held for this God forsaken planet was a waste of time. People don't care. People ... people are selfish, greedy bastards who deserve years of enslavement from an alien race." He stopped, facing her, seeing her but not fully seeing her in his tantrum as she stood silently and watched. "Well, when those mother fuckers who stole my truck come crawling to me for help, I'm going to laugh in their face," he stated. "You know why, Scully? Because this whole world is fucked up!"

He sighed, pausing. She thought he was done. He wasn't. "You know what else is fucked up, Scully? The fact that because I sought this truth, because I wanted answers on behalf of not only myself, but the world, YOU, Scully - YOU are without a child this Christmas. YOU are suffering. YOU should be a mother. You ... you should be holding him right now ... you should be telling him to get his little rebellious ass in bed because Santa fucking Claus won't come if he doesn't. You should be listening to him complain about missing a sighting, mentally cursing his father for passing down the gene that carries the desire for truth. You should be pulling your hair out over the mess he made of his room, or the lies he told, or the dirt behind his ears that he never washes, or the hundredth revision to his Christmas list. You should be bitching about PTA meetings and soccer practice, driving a minivan with a DVD player in the back that plays nothing but noisy cartoons on repeat. You should be taking a bite of a cookie you've made with him for the fat old bastard who he's so excited to see in the morning that he wakes you up at four A.M. and jumps on your stomach."

He paused. She didn't realize, but she was crying just as hard as he was, their tears competing for quantity and speed as he continued. "_You_, Scully, should get to kiss him, to hold him, to watch him grow, to love him. Not _those_ people. Not the Van de Kamps. _You_." He didn't bother to wipe his eyes though she did; he couldn't move from the sorrow that weighed down on him. "_You_, Dana," he whispered. "You."

He was shaking; she moved to him, needing his embrace as much as he needed hers. "Mulder ..." she whispered, hearing his heart-crushing sobs he buried in her hair. They clung on to each other, exhausted, worn and battered. "Don't blame yourself," she instructed him gently, her breath colliding with his chest.

"There's no one else to blame, Dana," he said.

"No," she said, pulling away from him, stroking his still damp hair. "Don't do it, Mulder. Don't let them win."

"Haven't they already won?" he asked in pain.

She shook her head. "Not if we don't quit," she replied. "Then they can't win."

He sniffed, sighing. "We've tried everything. Everywhere, everyone-"

"We ..." she interrupted, hesitating. "We need to try the only thing they can't take away." She looked into his glassy eyes, blinking away the tears.

He searched her eyes for a long moment, his hand combing through her silken hair. "I don't know if I have any hope left, Dana," he replied with dark sorrow.

* * *

September 14, 2012  
Outside of Mount Weather, VA  
5:02 PM EST

Will exited the SUV quickly after Mulder parked, his eyes cast forward onto the view of the base in the distance. The last few hours pried at his sanity as he dwelled on the Smoking Man's warning of potential misdirection, hoping the black-lunged devil wasn't right. At this point, he couldn't afford to not be where Cara was - he didn't know how long she had been in labor prior to the call he received and he feared she would progress quickly, perhaps too quickly.

He took the binoculars he was handed from Skinner in the cover they crouched in, Mulder joining them as Doggett, Reyes and Scully stayed back with Gibson. "William," Skinner said softly, "if you try to get in there now, you'll never make it. You need to wait for the shuttle."

"She's in labor," Will snapped softly, turning to Skinner. "I don't have time to wait three hours!"

"He's right, William," Mulder said softly, knowing how Will was disappointed in his father's alliance with Skinner. "It's too much of a risk. Once they know you are here, I'm sure they are prepared with magnetite for you. You have no advantage over them in daylight."

"So we make her suffer for three more hours while what, we talk about the Yankees?"

"William," Skinner interjected, trying to diffuse Will's anger, "your best shot is to get on that shuttle."

"They probably already know I'll be on that shuttle," Will argued. "So what's the point?"

Mulder sighed. "You think you're being played?" he asked.

"I'm just saying, they've been three steps ahead during this whole dance," Will reminded.

"Are you confident she's here?"

"That's what we were wondering, too," Skinner added softly, catching Will's eyes. "How would Martin Jackson know of the significance of Mount Weather in relevance to Caraline?"

Will shook his head gently. "I … I don't know. It has to mean something, though."

"Are you sure Martin Jackson could be trusted?"

"Yes," Will said firmly. "Besides Cara, before I met my parents, he's the only other person I've ever trusted."

"Would he have any connection to the shadow government?" Mulder asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Will was panicked; he couldn't be in the wrong place. He couldn't afford to not be where he needed to be. "Why the hell didn't someone bring this up sooner?" he nearly yelled.

"Easy," Mulder said, eying Will. "Relax. No one is saying we're not where we're suppose to be."

"He is," Will growled, looking at Skinner. "How the hell do I know if I can trust you and your local friendly DOD contact either? And isn't it convenient that I need to wait three more hours to get inside somewhere that's right in front of me?" Will demanded, feeling betrayed as he stood, stepping near Skinner. "What's your angle in all this?"

"The same as yours, William," Skinner replied before Mulder could defend him, standing to face him, unintimidated by Will's accusations. "I'm interested in saving Caraline's life. And your children's. So I suggest you start trusting in those around you who have gone with you this far."

Mulder was silent as he observed his son and Skinner, hoping Will wouldn't lose his cool at such a critical time. "William," Mulder said gently, "don't end up right where they want you." His words were soft but laced with warning. "They're setting you up for a checkmate. Stay focused."

Tossing the binoculars at Skinner, Will walked away from the others, isolating himself in the nearby treeline. "They really have done a number on him, haven't they?" Skinner observed softly as he and Mulder watched.

"He's still got more to go through," Mulder remarked, seeing Scully approach, confusion displayed on her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"William doesn't think we should wait," Skinner explained. "He's having a hard time following the plan."

"Can you blame him?" Scully said, her eyes shifting to the distance toward her son.

"I'm not so sure we're where we need to be," Mulder murmured, sighing. "I think you might be right, Skinner."

"Oh Mulder," Scully whispered, "we can't be wrong … we don't have time to be wrong."

"I don't doubt this has something to do with things," Mulder explained, "but I don't think she's here."

"Where, then?" Skinner asked. Mulder's lips pressed together; he shook his head. "Alright, so what now?"

"He's got to use his ability," Mulder whispered, the pieces falling into place in his mind.

"No, Mulder!" Scully objected angrily. "How can you even think about him using something that could kill him?"

"Not that one, Scully," Mulder said. "_His_ ability. The one they want to kill him for."

"Which is what, exactly?" Skinner asked.

"Control," Mulder replied, jogging after Will as Scully and Skinner stayed behind.

* * *

"I can't do this, Dad," Will said softly, hearing Mulder's physical approach behind him as well as his thoughts. "I thought I could save her. I thought my hope in her still being alive was enough."

"You know it's not," Mulder replied, coming closer to Will. "Your hope needs to extend far beyond that."

"To what?" Will asked, turning toward Mulder. "Santa Claus? The Easter Bunny?"

"Don't do this, William," Mulder warned. "Don't break down now."

"How can you stand there and tell me not to break down?" Will demanded. "My wife, the beaten woman who tried to kill herself to prevent all of this, is alive and in labor with children that could either save the world or destroy mankind."

"And that's_ why_ you need to keep it together," Mulder reminded. "Cara is counting on you."

"We were never meant to win this game, Dad," Will said angrily. "She was never meant to be found, just like I was never meant to get away with denying them what they want."

"You heard Gibson," Mulder argued. "YOU, William, are the barometer for things. _You_ control it."

"No offense, Dad, but I have yet to see any credible results from Gibson's claims."

"William-"

"Nothing has been proven other than my inability to protect the woman I love!" Will shouted. "Not a damn thing!"

"Then prove it, William!" Mulder shouted back. "Take a leap of faith and give it everything you have. Put aside reason and evidence and proof for _just a second_ and assess what _you_ can do that only _you _can do for Cara!"

Will shook his head. "I don't have time to waste on this bullshit!"

Mulder grabbed his arm. "William, wake up!" he yelled. "Why is it so easy for you to believe in the power of evil but not in truth?" He eyed his son, his breathing heavy. "Why can you submit yourself to the extent of their capabilities but not believe you possess more valuable ones of your own? William, why did they want you dead in January? Did you ever stop to ask why?" Mulder paused, seeing Will was listening though his head was turned slightly away. "Why would they want you to die if you weren't more powerful than them? What threat would you pose? What threat do your children pose if through you they don't contain more power than they have ever seen or witnessed? It's YOU, William. It's always been you. You are the only thing that can stop them - and they know it."

He didn't want to, but Will cried, the tears of anger, fear, frustration and guilt running cleanly down his face as he clung to his father. He felt embarrassed for his sudden self-destruction, ashamed for taking a moment to truly grasp how it all had affected him. His father was right - all along he had been the answer, but he continually sought the truth in what he could prove, what he could hold in his hand, what he could protect with his strength. He ignored the things of the heart, relying on his reclusive nature to protect himself from feeling too much of his own power for safety's sake. He had never wanted the burden or responsibility that possessing his power brought, yet he had destroyed so much in his quest to relieve himself from it, not realizing that the control, all along, was through what he put his hope in. Because he had refused to hope in his own power and instead vested himself in the power of others and other things, they had retained all control of his life and the lives of those closest to him. They had even prevented the miracle of speaking to his child that he knew he could communicate with, but never had the chance to because of the thick, dark veil of ignorance and doubt that hung between them.

It hit him squarely in his temples, the sensation of a voice flooding him so familiar yet so incredibly different. Instead of pain burning through his skull, he felt assurance and confidence, the voice small and bright in pitch. He looked into his father's eyes, not seeing him but rather listening to the small voice that rang clearly in his mind. His lips parted, shocked at who the voice belonged to, his heart both warming and breaking, both healed and severed. "What is it?" Mulder whispered, still clutching Will's arm though he loosened his grip.

"My son," Will whispered. "I can hear my son."

Mulder watched breathlessly as Will focused and drew his bottom lip inward, chewing on it as he listened. "What is he saying?" he asked.

"She's not here," Will said softly, the disappointment clear in his face. "She's somewhere you know. Somewhere Mom knows. A lighthouse." Will paused, confused at the message. "A beacon. Rushing water. He heard it … when they first entered, he heard the water."

"Ruskin Dam," Mulder murmured, shocked.

"Where is that?" Will asked.

"Pennsylvania." Mulder grabbed Will's arm, desperate as he looked into his son's eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Are you sure this is what your son said?"

Will nodded. "I know it was him," he replied. He was still stunned at the interaction he had just had, his heart breaking over the tiny voice that spoke so clearly within him. "He said there's not much time. He can hear them, Dad." Will was shaking, the emotion overwhelming him. "My son ... he said he's _my_ son ..."

"Let's go," Mulder urged with gentle haste, guiding Will back to the SUV.

* * *

Shiprock Territory, NM  
3:39 PM MST

"The time has come," John said softly, standing from his seat in the hogan, where he had spent the past several days in constant prayer. "Young Fox has chosen his path."

"Is the path good?" one elder asked.

"Yes," John confirmed. "He has listened to the power of the truth inside of himself."

"What of Shima?" another questioned.

"She suffers greatly," John replied with regret. "Her body is weak, but her spirit is still strong."

"And the children?" yet another inquired.

"The children are ready for battle," John said with a small nod. He looked to the elders who were around him that were joined by all of the men in the settlement. "Prepare your homes," he warned, his face solemn but his voice strong. "The war is about to begin."

* * *

5:39 PM EST

A knock came at the door; he turned when he saw the uniformed replacement filling the space of the doorway. "Sir," the replacement said, swallowing, "we've got a situation."

"What kind of situation?" the bounty hunter asked, still near Cara's bedside. Through her wave of nausea from the increasingly intense pain of her labor, Cara listened, her heart stopping at the thought of what it could mean.

"We've got a location on William Mulder," the replacement replied.

The bounty hunter paused. "He's not at Mount Weather?"

"No, sir."

"Where is he?"

"He's … headed here. With Mulder and Scully."

"How does he know of this location?" the bounty hunter demanded.

"I don't know, sir. We took all preventative measures-"

"Intercept him," the bounty hunter growled, glancing over at Cara, who breathed quickly behind her gag she was forced to wear. "Prep her for surgery," he commanded the doctors that were in the room. "I want these fetuses delivered now."

The doctor looked worried. "Sir, she's progressing with the Pitocin. We could damage the fetuses by-"

"NOW," the bounty hunter yelled. He turned back to the uniformed replacement in the doorway. "I don't care what Spender wants," he said darkly. "William Mulder must die. Stop at _nothing_ to kill him."


	22. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

En route to Ruskin Dam, PA  
6:12 PM EST

The wipers were tasked with an extraordinarily hard job on their commute to Ruskin Dam, the water pouring in amounts that could be confused for crashing ocean waves. The dark, ominous skies loomed ahead, bolts of lightning slipping from heavy clouds as their impact rumbled the earth in claps of thunder. Fitting weather for the interception of an apocalypse, Mulder had thought as he navigated the highway in silence.

He, Scully and Will had divided from Doggett, Reyes, Skinner and Gibson. Skinner agreed to stay behind and infiltrate Mount Weather for whatever Martin Jackson had meant for Will to find there, Doggett accompanying him while Reyes guarded Gibson. It was risky, but neither group was certain there was a better option. Both of their bases were covered at minimum, which was as much as they could hope to do.

Mulder wasn't blind; he saw Will's struggle in the back seat. The stormy ride to Pennsylvania was only an hour and a half long trip, but Will already felt he had been in the car far longer than he could bear.

_Cold, _Will thought, trying to suppress his physical reaction to the bitterness in his bones. _I'm so cold. Shit. I'm so cold. Why? Why is this happening?_

"We're getting close," Mulder said knowingly with a swallow.

_How am I going to fight like this? _"How close?" Will asked, drumming his fingers on his thigh with a shiver that didn't go unnoticed from Mulder. _How am I going to protect them and save Cara? So cold. Damnit. This shouldn't be happening. I believe. I believe! _

"We're about ten miles away."

_Fucking cold. Shit. I believe, damnit. Come on! I can't afford to be so weak!_

Will stopped his incessant drumming of his hands, his attention snapping to the passenger window beside him. "We're not alone," Will whispered, feeling the jolt hit his head as he inadvertently took advantage of the power that was slowly draining him. He cried out in pain, surprising Scully.

"William!" she said, her eyes wide as she took in his condition.

Scully glanced toward Mulder, who kept his eyes on the road. "How do you know?" Mulder asked.

"I don't know," Will replied with a wince, massaging his temples, feeling Scully's eyes on him. "I wasn't even trying to get in their heads."

"Resist them, William," Mulder warned, cursing silently in his mind. "They will take control if you let them."

"Shit!" Will groaned, feeling the pain increase.

"William-"

"I can't … shut them off …"

"What the hell is going on?" Scully yelled, horrified at her son's suffering.

"You have to, William!" Mulder shouted, ignoring Scully's question and pressing harder on the gas.

"It's … too … strong," Will breathed, crying out in pain.

"William," Scully breathed, seeing how he had clutched his head in suffering. He was muttering unintelligible gibberish in between exhausted and pained moans. "Mulder, what's happening to him?" she demanded, looking back at Mulder next to her.

Mulder's jaw flexed - he knew Will's dirty secret, which also became his through not sharing it with Scully. "He's still affected by the power he absorbed. The closer we get, the more difficult it will be to resist it, though it will destroy him." Mulder said quietly, feeling Scully's shock emit from her body. Thunder crashed with an everpresent _boom_ in the near distance. "He's … been weakening."

"He's _been_ weakening?" she asked in disbelief and anger. "And when did you think would be an appropriate time to tell me?"

"Scully-"

"We need to help him, Mulder!" she snapped, turning back to Will. "William," she said, reaching behind as far as she could to touch his arm. "William, what can we do?"

"Nothing, Mom," Will managed, his face still partially buried. "There's … nothing." Crying out in pain, Will screamed, "NOOOO!"

Before Scully could argue, the car slammed viciously into something, its body groaning as it rammed into another automobile that wasn't able to be avoided. She felt her body jerk forward against the automatically tightened seat belt she wore, her neck and head snapping and whipping forward with the unexpected impact. The rubber of the tires on the highway screeched, the friction of the demand they were suddenly given leaving hot burns on it while the tires slid against the rain-slicked road. The world shifted sideways, glass shattering in every direction as their bodies tumbled violently in motion with the car, heads knocking against the dashboard, a door and the wheel simultaneously as they rotated through the one hundred and eighty degree flip. The car slid several yards forward on its roof, the scrape of metal against black top deafening and course. It finally stopped, the car tipping dangerously near the edge of the road, gravity betraying their pleas for safety as the car tilted into the ditch, completing another clockwise ninety degree rotation that jolted their bodies.

He was the first to come out of the unconscious stupor each fell into at some point during the accident, knowing the reason was his strength that, despite taking a severe blow, was still far greater than theirs. Will found himself draped upside down in the groove between the back and front seats, his seat belt clenching around his stomach with force. He slowly opened his eyes, his right hand fumbling near the release button to free himself while his left braced himself, his body protesting. "M-m-om?" he croaked out, his throat dry. "D-d-ad?" When his fingers pushed down on the button, he felt his body want to pull down into the crushed door under him, the left side of the vehicle ground into the earth. He gripped tightly on the headrest of his father's chair, pushing himself up through the right passenger window, his skin cut and bleeding as he forced himself through the shattered glass.

As his body failed to heal itself, he continued to pull himself up and out of the car, his hands struggling to find a grip. He groaned, feeling his legs flail as his feet sought a launch pad to help him emerge through the window. With a final pull, Will managed to lift both of his legs out of the car, feeling the entire vehicle begin to shift. _No, no, no, no, no,_ he thought with panic, gravity once again acting less than favorably as it finished the car's rotation another clockwise ninety degrees from his movement. With every ounce of strength he had, he clung to the car's exterior he had climbed onto, the car coming to settle on its tires on an angle. Will's body was pulled down with it, his bottom half swinging toward the lowering vehicle, his leg becoming caught by a tire as he fell onto his stomach. Will groaned loudly in pain, feeling the entire weight of the SUV crushing his leg at the shin and calf, the tire pressing down on him without concern. With heavy, exhausted breaths, he gripped the grass near him, pulling his weight and trying to free himself as he cried out in agony, wondering why he didn't have the strength he used to in that moment.

"Son of a bitch!" he growled, gripping tighter and attempting to dislodge his leg. Will felt the wet, rocky ground under him assault his stomach as he crawled, ripping sod from its roots as he inched away from the wreckage in the pouring rain. _Come on,_ he thought to himself. _Come on, Will. She needs you. They need you. Beat this, Will. _With one final pull, Will freed himself, moaning as his leg became separated from the car. "Shit!" he groaned, his face pressed into the ground. He closed his eyes, feeling the heaviness of his head swelling and his strength at rock bottom as he pushed up from the dirt, his biceps and triceps straining to support himself.

When he came up to his elbows, he winced, feeling the excruciating ache of his damaged shin under him. His body was far from its peak power, and he wasn't the only one to recognize it. "They say not to knock a man when he's down," Will heard a voice above him say; he tried to lift his head to see who it was. "But neither you or I are men," the voice continued. Will felt the impact of a boot into his ribs, the force knocking him to his back with a moan. Will saw the replacement standing over him, his breath labored as he tried to lunge at the replacement's leg to take him down. He missed, his inaccuracy due to his weakening body. The replacement laughed. "Come on, Golden Boy," he taunted, kicking Will again. "Get up."

Will winced, the pain from the assault radiating through his cold, achy joints. "Coward," Will managed with a strained voice, looking up at the replacement. _Come on, Will. You can beat him. You can change it all. Get up. They need you. _

"I'm the one standing over you, William," the replacement remarked.

"Yeah, only because my body isn't cooperating."

"Get up, then. I'll wait for you." Will felt the steel-toe boot dig into his side three more times, coughing as the replacement laughed. "I changed my mind," the replacement said, crouching down over him, a gun pointed at Will's head. "Don't worry about Caraline. We'll take good care of her, lover boy," the replacement whispered, pinning Will down easily.

The round blasted from the gun's chamber; his body was painted red as the world was painted black.

* * *

Outside of Mount Weather, VA  
6:12 PM EST

"Anything?" Doggett asked, glancing over at Skinner as he peered through the binoculars from the SUV they took shelter in, the rain pouring down around them with fierce intensity.

"Just saw two tanker trucks pull in," Skinner replied, keeping his eyes on the activity in the base.

"Tanker trucks?" Reyes asked.

"Damn," Skinner said with sudden realization, putting down the binoculars.

"What?" Doggett asked.

"The virus," Skinner explained. "One of the methods of transportation for the virus has always been bees. Bees pollinating crops that will infect the people."

"Being transported in tanker trucks?" Doggett's tone was heavily laced with disbelief.

"Mulder and Scully encountered this a few times, most notably in Texas," Skinner replied.

"Is that how Agent Scully became infected?" Reyes asked; she saw Skinner nod. "Do you think that what Martin Jackson wanted us to find here?" Reyes asked.

"More than likely," Skinner replied.

"So … how do we stop it?" Doggett asked.

"They've got to be keeping a credible vaccine in there," Skinner noted. "We need to get our hands on it."

The three peered down at the base, each feeling weary of their chances for success. "Reyes," Skinner instructed, "when Doggett and I get on that shuttle, you need to take Gibson to this address." He handed her a piece of paper.

"Then how will you both get out?" Reyes asked.

"We'll figure something out."

"It's suicide!"

"She's right," Gibson spoke up, catching Skinner's attention. "My place is here."

"Gibson …"

"It's what must be," Gibson said firmly.

"You're risking your life, Gibson," Doggett gently reminded.

"No, I'm not," Gibson assured. His lips curled into a very small smile, watching the rain fall out the window. "William will get there in time. He is becoming unstoppable. He'll do what he has to do."

* * *

En route to Ruskin Dam, PA

_Daddy! Daddy, open your eyes!_

He hadn't realized he had squeezed his eyes so tightly shut, his palms flat at his sides as if he were pressing something away with force. His pulse was racing; every muscle in his body at full tension as if he braced himself against an invisible threat, keeping it at bay.

His breath expelled from him in sharp beats, his eyes slowly opening as his hands remained at his sides. He heard his son's voice calling to him again, slowly focusing on the imagery he saw in front of him. _Daddy!_ he heard his son say with soft urgency.

"What happened?" Will breathed, taking in his surroundings, his hands still firm.

_You saved them, Daddy,_ Will's son said carefully. _Look. Look out the window._

Will's eyes shifted to his parents and the windshield in front of him, his lips parting in confused awe. Mulder and Scully were still as paintings, their bodies motionless. The rain around them had ceased to fall, frozen in mid air as was their SUV and the other vehicle that nearly collided with them, the driver's expression fixed without movement. Time had come to an unnatural and complex stand-still; time had stopped.

"What the hell?" Will breathed, his eyes darting around to take in the scene.

_You did this, Daddy,_ his son said, the excitement obvious in his voice. _Daddy, you controlled time._

"Mom … Dad … " Will murmured, his hands still extended with flat palms, scanning his surroundings. "Okay," he breathed, "if there's a logical, scientific explanation for this, I'd really be comforted by it right about now."

In his mind, his son laughed - a joyful giggle from a child. _Daddy, _he whispered, _you're silly. You saw the accident that would have happened._

"I _what_?" Will asked.

_You stopped time to stop the accident from happening._

"How … how can … I … stop time?"

_I don't know, _his son replied. _But you did. It's your gift, Daddy. It's what the bad men want from you. You can change fate. You can control it._

"But … why couldn't I do this before?" Will asked, stunned as he looked at the frozen rain out of his window.

_Because you didn't believe._

"So … what happens if I lower my hands?" Will asked softly, swallowing his shock.

_Time starts again._

"Then my father needs to listen to me," Will said quickly. "The driver in that car is a replacement. He needs to cut left, not cut right."

_Then tell him._

"Will they trust me?"

_Yes._

"Alright … here goes nothing."

Time resumed as if nothing had happened, the rain continuing its path to the ground as the car propelled forward at the drop of Will's hands. "DAD!" Will shouted. "CUT LEFT!" Mulder turned the wheel sharply toward the on-coming car, catching the driver by surprise. In a blink of an eye, Will snatched his gun, leaned out of the window he opened and fired three rounds at the driver as the rain pelted down on his body. "CUT RIGHT!" Will ordered Mulder, who obeyed without hesitation, managing to circle the car around the other that sped into the ditch nearby, flipping on impact.

"Holy shit," Will breathed as he sank back into his seat, rolling up the window in shock.

"William!" Scully demanded. "How on earth-"

Mulder's hand smacked down excitedly onto the wheel. "We lost time!" he announced, looking at the clock. "Scully, we lost time!"

Scully glanced at the clock, minutes having disappeared for no apparent reason. "But why, Mulder?" she asked. "And it's not nine minutes that we lost."

"But we still lost time!" Mulder insisted. "You see that, William?" he asked, jabbing his finger at the dashboard display.

"Uh-huh," Will replied, feeling stunned by what he just accomplished

"William, how did you manage to shoot the driver so accurately?" Scully asked.

"It helps when they are still," Will joked dryly, catching both of his parents' attentions.

"Wait, you-"

"There's more," Will interrupted with sudden urgency.

"Where?" Mulder asked.

"Behind us." Will pushed a new clip into his gun, grimacing. "This is my last clip," he said softly.

"Then you'll need to aim carefully," Mulder quipped, speeding forward on the highway.

"How far away are we from the dam?" Will asked, peering out of the back window to the SUV that rapidly approached.

"Less than ten miles."

Will breathed deeply. _Alright, let's see if I can do the party trick twice. _He felt his palms coat with sweat and he focused on the nearing vehicle. "Roll the window down, Mom."

"You can shoot any time you want, William," Mulder yelled from the front seat, his eyes wide as he saw the black SUV barreling toward them, now moving to the driver's side of their car.

"Wait …" Will whispered. "Just wait …"

"William?" Scully asked desperately, looking at the dangerously close car next to them, seeing a gun be drawn.

"NOW!" Will finally said, holding his hand out. He felt the car jerk to a halt, his parents frozen in shock and fear. With fluid grace, he shot three expertly aimed rounds into the car next to him, each impaling into the replacements like a slow-motion film. "Holy shit!" Will yelled, lowering his hands. "CUT RIGHT!" he ordered Mulder as he clung onto the headrests in front of him. Mulder and Scully came back to life instantly, Mulder only hesitating for a brief second before complying with his son's instructions.

Mulder laughed loudly with giddy excitement as he looked at the clock, fitting the missing pieces together in his mind. Scully continued to grip onto the car door and console with white knuckles as they sped off, panting as Mulder smiled. "Another three minutes gone!" he exclaimed. He looked at Will in the mirror, his eyes full of light. "Now _that's_ talent!"

Will breathed with a bit of the same hesitation as his mother had, seeing the vehicle disappear behind them. "Holy shit," he whispered, feeling his throat run dry.

"William, do you know what you've just done?" Mulder asked with exuberance.

"Other than almost peeing myself?" Will replied.

"I'm right there with you," Scully murmured, still stunned.

Mulder answered, "You've stopped time, William!"

"I wouldn't go that far, Dad," Will replied, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips.

"William, _you can control time_! Don't start doubting now! This is _why_ they wanted you dead, William! YOU can control the fate of mankind!"

"A few minutes and the fate of the human race are a little different."

Mulder laughed, his smile getting wider. "They're the same thing, William," he insisted, chuckling. "Holy shit! Scully, did you see that?" He was like a little boy, his excitement overflowing with genuine glee.

"I saw it," Scully murmured, feeling frazzled as her mouth remained drooped open.

"Woohoo!" Mulder shrieked, slamming his hand on the wheel. "Shit, this is exciting!"

"I'm glad someone's excited," Will said dryly, mirroring his mother's shock. "Because I think I'm just freakin' terrified."

Mulder's laughter continue to fill the car, his excitement seeming to radiate off of him. "We made a good one, Scully," he said with a knowing smile and an eyebrow waggle to Scully.

"He takes after me," Scully quipped softly after a moment with a small smile.

* * *

Ruskin Dam, PA  
6:27 PM EST

_He's coming._

The relief shuddered through Cara's body, her eyes on the doctors who worked over her, their hands moving over her skin against her will as they felt the position of the babies inside of her. She felt the cold antiseptic they sloshed on her body drip down over her hips, her bound arms keeping her from fighting against their work. The bounty hunter moved to her bedside and smiled down at Cara; she pulled against her restraints, the hatred burning in her eyes.

"We will have what is rightfully ours pretty soon," he whispered, his square jaw jutting down toward her. She ground her teeth into the cloth that was stuffed in her mouth. He looked over at the doctors that milled around them, his eyes narrowing in focus. "How much longer?" he demanded.

"We can begin the incision as soon as we administer the local," the lead doctor replied.

"No locals," the bounty hunter ordered, his eyes falling on Cara.

"But sir-"

"I said, no drugs," he growled, his gaze still downward at her. He leaned in, examining her face. "This is payment for the time I've spent waiting for this moment," he said, smiling as she fought to attack him.

"Sir," a uniformed replacement said to the bounty hunter, gaining his attention.

"What is it?" the bounty hunter snapped.

"Sir … we've lost contact with the others."

The bounty hunter paused, his facial expression blank. "Where is William Mulder?" he asked icily.

"We … we can't find him," the guard admitted with a stammer.

_He's here._

Cara's eyes widened, hearing the distinct voice of the child inside of her inside her mind. _Guide him, _she replied mentally, hoping the child would understand. _Guide him here._

"Cut her!" The bounty hunter turned, growling at the doctors. "I want these fetuses delivered right now!"

"Sir, she will-"

The bounty hunter swiftly impaled the doctor who objected to his order with a stiletto, the green acid oozing from his neck as he fell at the bounty hunter's feet. "I said," he repeated with darkness, "CUT HER."

The doctor nearest to the table of surgical tools gripped a scalpel tightly, holding it over Cara's exposed and protruding womb. Cara screamed behind her gag, fighting as violently as she could against her bonds. She felt the other alien doctors brace her limbs down to hold her perfectly still and she continued to scream, her voice distorted and muffled as the doctor wielding the scalpel lowered the blade to her womb.

Gunshots rang through the hallway outside of the room, bodies slumping to the ground just out of view as the bounty hunter looked with panic backward at the dead replacements. "OPEN HER!" he ordered, forcing the doctor's hand down onto Cara's stomach, the blade dragging across her body. Cara screamed in pained shock as the replacements braced her down and ravaged her body. The tears streamed down her face as she cried out in agony, the blood pouring quickly from the incision being made across her skin.


	23. Chapter 22

_The song "Do What You Have To Do" and its lyrics are property of Sarah McLachlan._

* * *

CHAPTER 22

Days Inn  
Near Reston, VA  
6:27 PM EST

After watching the last of the tanker trucks unload on the base, the group drove to the drop-off location that was specified by Skinner's contact from the DOD. A tall man with salt and pepper hair in a navy blue suit gave Skinner and Doggett a nod as he took cover from the pouring rain in front of Room 130, seeing them approach while Reyes and Gibson stayed behind.

"David," Skinner said, once they all filed into the small motel room. "Special Agent John Doggett."

The man named David nodded cordially, opening the closet doors inside the room. "David Strickland, DOD. I was able to make the last minute changes," he said, gripping a suit by a hanger as he handed it to Doggett. He handed another to Skinner, pausing. "Your IDs are in the pockets," he said. "If you're going to catch the shuttle in Alexandria at seven fifteen, you'd better hurry."

"What are we looking for once we're in?" Doggett asked, unbuttoning his shirt he was wearing as Skinner mirrored his actions.

"Unlike times before, there aren't any counteraction measures openly created to combat this strain of virus," David said quietly, turning his head while the men changed. "What you're looking for is information in a file code named Phonics."

"Phonics?" Skinner asked.

"Building blocks," David replied as Skinner and Doggett stripped their pants, replacing them with the suit pants they were given. "The key behind Phonics is the ability to identify and manipulate the gene structure of the virus in order to teach the correspondence between these genes and the infected. Finding the information on Phonics will enable decoding and blending, both potential resolutions for anyone infected."

"Blending?" Doggett asked, slipping on his button-up shirt after buckling his new belt.

"Merging human DNA with the virus to support it rather than to worry about destroying it."

"You mean making hybrids?" Skinner asked.

"Essentially," David replied.

"Why couldn't Phonics be used to develop a cure?"

"There is no cure for what you cannot kill, Walter," David explained softly. "There's only the chance of altering one's self to adapt to the onslaught. If a mutation can be made, it can be administered beforehand, significantly reducing the number of the population who dies during the invasion. Later, it can be perfected and administered to young being born, given that the aliens aren't able to enslave everyone, that some will make it into successful hiding."

"Try to adapt to potentially survive," Doggett murmured.

"It's the human race's only chance," David said solemnly.

"Where will we find it?" Skinner asked.

"All I know is, it's being stored in Mount Weather. I can tell you that it won't be on the main drag. You'll need to breach access into Level Five clearance."

"Do these badges give us that?"

David laughed. "Are you kidding?" He shook his head. "Those badges only serve to make sure you're not shot on site as soon as you step out of that shuttle. The rest is up to you."

After he slipped his jacket on, Doggett glanced at Skinner, who was finishing tying his tie. "Well, sir," Doggett said softly, "looks like we're ready to get ourselves hooked on Phonics."

* * *

Ruskin Dam, PA

Cara gasped when it happened; the doctors stopped with suddenness that wasn't natural or predictable, their bodies crashing to the floor around her as he shoved them over. The scalpel fell from the alien's hand with a clatter onto the tile underneath, green acid pouring from their necks from an unexplained attack. Her mouth hung open, seeing a large form move swiftly and fluidly around the room, one by one taking the doctors out with ease. She swore she felt the warmth of his skin brush across her cheek, though everything was hazy as her body continued to bleed, her responses lowering with each passing moment. It was when one remained that she felt the world resume its natural motion. She shook out of terror and fear but also out of joy and relief.

"Will," she breathed behind the fabric in her mouth, seeing him disappear behind her as she heard the battle ensue. She couldn't tell what was happening behind her; she couldn't move. She felt the sharp, burning sear of her wound and felt the blood trickling down her skin; she quivered in pain.

Her eyes widened when she suddenly saw Scully over her. She felt Scully's small hands work quickly to ungag her, Cara gasping in relief when her mouth was free. "Will!" she breathed, now seeing Mulder approach her side. She knew it had to be Will who was there only a moment ago, though it was all becoming so blurry. The pain hit her all at once, her body shocked by the horrific trauma she endured. Her eyes shut against it, her breath taken away by it.

"Go!" Scully ordered Mulder, nodding toward the door. Mulder rushed out of the room, gun in hand as he pursued the trail Will had blazed in pursuit of the bounty hunter who fled. Her eyes shifted back to Cara, her fingers nimbly unlocking the straps that kept her braced. "Cara!" she said, her heart racing as she examined the bleeding wound. "Oh my God. Jesus … Cara … are you alright?"

"I'm … okay …" Cara shuddered, the pain of the deep incision that had been made into her flesh consuming her. "The … babies …"

"Cara, listen to me," Scully said, not realizing her voice was shaky like she felt inwardly. "I have to finish opening you. There's no time to wait to administer a local." She saw Cara's eyes widen. "You'll bleed out and go into shock if I don't get the babies out now and suture you."

The two women looked at one another with desperation, each feeling frozen in their mutual fear. "Save them," Cara finally said softly, her tears streaming down her face as her breathing quickened. "Save my children."

* * *

Will tore through the building, his gun gripped tightly in his right hand as he ran. His heart pounded in his chest with more adrenaline than he had ever experienced, his vision sharp and focused as he pursued the bounty hunter with motivation. He had encountered a few more replacements during his chase who each went down easily with his gun. He knew he didn't have many shots left; he felt grateful for the large knife stowed deep in his pocket that served as backup.

He came to the end of a hallway, freezing as he pressed himself up against the edge of the wall. The overwhelming urge to reach into his enemy's mind rushed through him like a tempting wave, the knowledge it offered to share nipping at his ears. He shut his eyes, pushing down the evil that tried to sway him, breathing in deeply as he remembered the brief glimpse of Cara he was able to steal during his attack. Regret for not kissing her flooded him, but he couldn't lose the bounty hunter who had nearly caused her death and the death of his children. So he left, unsure if she felt the brush of his fingertips against her bruised cheek as he passed by her in slow motion. The touch had been enough to re-energize him, to focus him on his task, to quell all of the darkness that taunted him, to gain the advantage over evil.

He burst into the empty hallway, his gun drawn as he followed the echo of the bounty hunter's escape in the distance, a door slamming to his right guiding him further into the belly of the undefined building he had located through his infant son telepathically. Kicking open the door he knew the bounty hunter disappeared behind, Will checked the empty, dark space cautiously, every sense in his body on edge and every fiber of his being focused on finding his nemesis and, at last, destroying him.

As quickly as he had taken out the other weaker aliens, Will was dropped to the floor of the dark room with violence, pain ripping through his bleeding body as he felt the bullet lodge into his side.

* * *

En route to Mount Weather, VA

"So what's the plan, sir?" Doggett whispered carefully to Skinner as they sat on the rocky shuttle with the other people on their way to the base.

"We divide and conquer," Skinner replied, equally as discrete. "Distract and retrieve."

"Who is the distraction?"

"I haven't gotten that far in my poorly constructed plan."

"Now I'm starting to feel more like I'm with Mulder."

"I'll distract."

"You sure?"

Skinner nodded. "Just get in Level Five quick. I doubt we'll have much time once we get in there."

* * *

Ruskin Dam, PA

Mulder didn't know where Will had gone; he had progressed too fast to keep up with him. With his weapon drawn, he slowly moved through the building, the bodies of replacements on the ground in front of him leading him along like a breadcrumb trail. He knew it was Will's handiwork, each replacement taken down with expertise, a single round ending their lives.

The motion of a shadowy figure moving in the near distance caught his eye, Mulder looking up from the body at his feet to where he thought he saw the person. With his gun aimed, he carefully approached the darkened area, feeling a lump build in his throat, the same intense churning of his gut accompanying him as it had during all of his years as an agent. Despite the years, he never seemed to fully adjust to the concept of both being in control of taking lives and out of control with someone else being able to take your life.

The shadow moved again, Mulder now catching a better glimpse though it disappeared through another doorway. He rushed toward it, his nose catching the distinct odor that put him on high alert. Smoke. He repositioned his fingers over the grip on his gun, anger and bitterness overtaking him as he considered the prospect of finally ridding the world of the Smoking Man.

Ducking in a doorway quickly, Mulder's eyes widened as he aimed at the Smoking Man, whose back was to him. Mulder cocked his gun, watching with rage as he saw the Smoking Man lift his cigarette to his lips without concern for Mulder's presence. "Turn around," Mulder ordered darkly, cocking his gun.

"Don't want to shoot your father in the back, Fox?" the Smoking Man taunted, inhaling on the stem of his cigarette.

"Turn around," Mulder repeated, his voice raising. He watched as the Smoking Man slowly turned; he was stunned by his rather youthful appearance compared to the last time he saw him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the Smoking Man said, exhaling slowly. "I'm quite surprised at you, Fox. I would have figured you'd have taken the shot."

"I'm not like you," Mulder replied, stepping closer.

"No, you're certainly not." The Smoking Man drug on his stem. "But I must say, that son of yours shares more of my traits than you realize. He's quite capable. He can get a job done, unlike his father."

"Shut up!" Mulder ordered. "Now, before I kill you, tell me where the vaccine is!"

The Smoking Man laughed through his exhale. "There is no vaccine," he replied. "Are you that naive to think we would be concerned with saving lives at this point?"

"Then how will you survive, you son of a bitch?"

"That's the beauty of modern experimental medicine, Fox." The Smoking Man inhaled a drag. "Not only can it revive life, but it can preserve it."

"Not for long," Mulder sneered, moving closer with his gun.

"Do you really think your magnetite bullet will end my life?" the Smoking Man asked, challenge in his tone.

"I guess I'll find out, won't I?"

* * *

Sweat poured from her brow, tears mixing with drops of perspiration as she gripped the hospital bed she laid in, shuddering in pain. "Don't … warn … me," Cara whispered through her labored breaths, swallowing back her nausea as she saw Scully hastily prep for the delivery, snapping gloves on after scrubbing to the best of her ability with what little she had to work with around her. "I … I'm … too … scared …"

"Cara-" Scully began, pausing as she faced her daughter-in-law. Her opened mouth was covered by her surgical mask, hiding her fear at the condition she saw her in.

"Just … do w-what … you have to … do."

Time was ticking, each moment bringing them closer to danger, each moment closing the gap to survival. Scully closed her eyes and said a prayer as she bent over Cara, keeping her hand steady as she finished cutting Cara open, Cara's blood-curdling screams ringing in her ears.

* * *

_What ravages of spirit_  
_conjured this temptuous rage_

_Created you a monster_  
_broken by the rule of love_

The blood was sticky and warm, leaking with impatience from Will's side as he clutched his wound. The burning hot invasion took his breath away, every organ protesting the loss of life as fluid continued to pour from him

He knew the bounty hunter was still there, watching him. He saw Cara in his mind's eye and rolled himself onto his stomach, assaulting his painful wound that fought to heal itself but seemingly couldn't. He lifted his head from the floor and saw his gun that had dropped from his weakened hand near him. So close. His right hand reached, his fingertips digging for grip against the wooden floor as his blood pooled under him, his stomach painting a trail as he crawled for his weapon.

Time wouldn't cease, no matter how hard he tried to utilize his new-found talent. The seconds kept ticking by, each a stale warning of an approaching fate he seemed to have little control over, unlike he thought only a short time before.

_And fate has led you through it_  
_You do what you have to do_

He heard her shrill scream echoing through the building. Groaning, he reached again, pulling everso slightly further, the pain he felt in his soul stronger than the trauma to his body as he listened to her agony.

* * *

Outside of Mount Weather, VA

Skinner and Doggett exited the shuttle quietly, each taking on the role with serious interpretation. Neither was willing to admit what might happen that evening, that both were risking their lives for a possibility, on a chance, on an experiment that wasn't proven. If it existed, though, it was the only possibility some might know in days to come. It was all that they could do to help their loved ones. It was all that was left for science to offer.

_And fate has lead you through it_  
_You do what you have to do_

* * *

"Hang on, Cara!" Scully ordered, knowing she was terrified though she masked her fear with a front of courage and strength as Cara lay helpless subject to her. She knew Cara's pain must have been nearly unbearable, her muscle being torn, her body opened, all for her to fully feel. _Oh God. I barely know what I'm doing,_ she thought quickly, her eyes welling as she worked as quickly as she knew how.

_And I have the sense to recognize_  
_that I don't know how to let you go_

_Believe in yourself,_ Scully heard a small voice say in her mind, stunning her. Her lips parted, the voice comforting and soothing her. _We believe in you._

* * *

The shot Mulder took implanted itself into his enemy's body with no quantifiable result - no blood, no pain, no weakening. He took another, his eyes focused as he watched it impact near the first. His enemy's laugh chilled him.

_Every moment marked_  
_with apparitions of your soul_

"Fox," the Smoking Man said, continuing to puff on his cigarette undisturbed. "You can't kill a man that can't die."

Another two rounds fired, each lodging deeply into the Smoking Man's body as Mulder clutched his gun. He couldn't register the implication of what was happening, denying the power he saw proven in front of his eyes. "Don't you see, Fox?" the Smoking Man asked. "This is a game you just can't win."

"I _will_ kill you!" Mulder yelled, still holding his gun as if it were capable of defending himself.

* * *

They entered without complications, the IDs clipped to their chests meeting the requirements without concern. Cloaked by the dark suits they traveled with, Doggett caught Skinner's eyes, passing on a confirmation through the silence of his eyes. This was it.

_I'm ever swiftly moving_  
_trying to escape this desire_

Backs were turned. It was enough. Doggett slipped away while Skinner kept moving forward, unsure of what both the immediate and the near future held. He didn't know if they walked into their own sure deaths or into heroism, into failure or victory. All he knew is he couldn't rest without trying whatever he could to fight.

* * *

Will hadn't made it very far on the ground before he heard his voice above him. Will pulled at the floor with renewed strength, ignoring the bounty hunter's words. "She's dying, William," the bounty hunter said with a smile. "She'll never survive."

_The yearning to be near you_  
_I do what I have to do_

"She's not … dying," Will growled, dragging himself closer to his gun. "You … are."

* * *

"BREATHE!" Scully ordered, seeing the paleness of Cara's skin. "BREATHE, CARA!" Opening her womb, Scully blinked slowly, seeing the two children moving inside of it. "HANG IN THERE!" she shouted through another of Cara's horrifying screams.

_The yearning to be near you_  
_I do what I have to do_

* * *

"You won't kill me, William," the bounty hunter said, stepping in front of him in the darkened room, his body only half lit. Will saw the bounty hunter's boot kick away the gun he had worked so hard to edge near, groaning as he slowly, painfully pushed himself up by his weakened arms.

_And I have the sense to recognize_  
_that I don't know how to let you go_

"Yes …" Will growled, standing shakily to face the bounty hunter as his wound continued to leak profusely. "I will."

* * *

Doorway after doorway, hall after hall, Doggett tried to keep his bearings but began to feel inevitable disorientation. He wasn't sure even if he was able to find Phonics that he would be able to leave with it.

_I don't know how to let you go_

Doggett felt powerless without a weapon, checking over his shoulder for guards as he ducked into a door to his right.

* * *

"You can try, Fox," the Smoking Man said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "But ask yourself this - what is more important right now? Attempting to kill a man who won't die, or perhaps saving your rounds for one who can, one who is in the process of claiming your son's life?"

Mulder's nostrils flared in anger. "Shut up!" he warned.

"That has been your life's goal, hasn't it? Destroying me?" The Smoking Man laughed. "Did you ever ask yourself why it is you feel so passionately about destroying the only man who has advocated for you all these years?"

_A glowing ember_  
_burning hot_  
_burning slow_

"You've never done a damn thing for me," Mulder sneered.

"On the contrary," the Smoking Man argued, "I've done more than you think. I've given you not only the cure for Agent Scully's cancer, but the means for her to conceive a child when she was medically proven to be barren. A child, that I might add, which now desperately needs help."

_Deep within I'm shaken by the violence_  
_of existing for only you_

"Then help him," Mulder yelled, stepping closer to the Smoking Man. "Give me the vaccine!"

"You're threatening me as if you have an advantage," the Smoking Man said with a smile, dropping his spent cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his foot. "It's your choice, Fox. Waste your time or save your son."

* * *

Sweat, blood and tears covered Cara's body, her heart working furiously to keep up with the demand of the trauma she was experiencing. "CARA!" Scully shouted, hearing how Cara's vitals were all over the place on the monitors she was hooked up to. "STAY WITH ME!"

_I know I can't be with you_  
_I do what I have to do_

Another agonizing scream filled the room, Scully breathing through a small smile as she lifted one child from the bloody depth of Cara's womb. "That's good!" Scully whispered with a swallow, clutching the tiny baby that kicked in her hands. "Stay with me!"

* * *

His heart raced, Doggett flying through room after room, finally reaching an office space tucked deep into the chasm of the building. His eyes searched frantically around him, his hands tearing through the desk sitting in the center of the room, his eyes finally landing on a file. His mouth opened as he absorbed the contents, his fingers flipping through information. A bright white piece of paper stopped him in his tracks. He quickly snagged it, folding it to fit into his suit jacket.

Much to his relief, there was a map of exits permanently fixed to the wall near the exit door. He studied it, closing his eyes as he said a rare prayer and slipped out of the room.

* * *

_I know I can't be with you_  
_I do what I have to do_

Though he didn't witness it, the moment when the first child was lifted from his wife's womb, a rush flowed through Will's body, warming the chill that threatened to claim him from the magnetite buried in his side. Stunned, he watched his body quickly heal, his eyes flicking up to the bounty hunter veiled in the shadows. His lips parted when he saw the bounty hunter's sudden loss of coherence and power, the large figure dropping to his knees as Will gained more strength. Somehow, the scales had been tipped, the tides rapidly turned. He was healed, his strength renewed. His enemy was able to be defeated.

* * *

Skinner's jaw flexed as he kept his eyes open for Doggett. They had studied the map provided by David in the motel room before leaving for the shuttle. He now hoped Doggett had retained what was necessary to ensure his survival.

_And I have sense to recognize but_  
_I don't know how to let you go_

His eyes shut as he saw Doggett casually emerge from a restroom with two other men they rode the shuttle with. Catching his eyes, he saw Doggett give him a tiny nod. He had it. Now all that was left was for them to get out.

* * *

"Alright, Cara!" Scully said, the cries of newborn life piercing the air behind her as she focused her attention on Cara. After cleaning the first baby enough to help it breathe, Scully rushed to Cara's side to deliver the second one.

_I don't know how to let you go_

Scully was stunned when she didn't hear Cara scream as she lifted the second child from her body, cutting the umbilical cord. Her eyes fell on the monitor that tracked her heart, watching and listening in horror as the flatline scrolled across the screen.

* * *

Will quickly tackled the bounty hunter, forcing him first onto his back as he looked in his enemy's eyes, seeing the unusual display of pain registering on his face. "One … day," the bounty hunter said softly, fighting through the pain that Will couldn't figure out an origin to. "One day … he will answer … for what he is …"

"What do you mean?" Will demanded in confusion, shaking the bounty hunter as he gripped his shirt.

_I don't know how to let you go_

"Your son …" The bounty hunter grit his teeth, eying Will as he writhed in pain. "One day … we will … kill your son …"

* * *

Merging back into the crowd, Doggett and Skinner slipped outside with some of the men and women who smoked, hovering near them as they lit up their cigarettes to get one last fix before the meeting they were attending. With careful observation, they once again divided, Skinner drawing attention to himself while Doggett slipped out of sight through their planned escape route.

He reached the waiting SUV, Reyes' eyes wide with relief and worry when she saw he was alone. "Where's Skinner?"

"Give him a minute," Doggett said quietly, swallowing back his fear.

"John, we don't have a minute!"

Doggett breathed heavily. "Gibson, help me out here. Where is he?"

"He's coming," Gibson said quietly.

"How soon?" Reyes asked, panicked as she gripped the wheel.

They waited in silence for a long moment, each feeling restless and anxious. The bang on the window made them jump; Doggett swung the door open and pulled Skinner in as Reyes slammed on the gas, the vehicle speeding away as they each caught their breath.

* * *

Mulder swung the door open to the room Will was in, watching Will breath heavily over the dissolving body of the bounty hunter under him. "GET BACK!" Will yelled, Mulder staying his distance as he looked at the incredible amount of blood on the floor.

"William!" Mulder exclaimed. "Are you hit?"

"I was," Will breathed, his eyes watching the destruction of the corpse below him.

"How … did …"

"MULDER!"

Will's head shot up, hearing his mother's voice screaming his father's name. "Cara," he whispered, running out of the room with Mulder following behind.


	24. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Two weeks later  
Northern Navajo Medical Center  
Shiprock Territory, NM  
6:23 AM MST

He swallowed. He shut his eyes. There were too many tubes, too many monitors. It was a maze of wires and plastic pipes pushing and pulling from her fragile body, taking more than they gave as she lay still in pale silence, her eyes shut as they had been for the last fifteen days.

Surprisingly, the bruises had begun to heal nearly as soon as she arrived in New Mexico from the emergency unit she had first been airlifted to in Pennsylvania when she was deemed strong enough. Her skin, a background of fading creamy tan, no longer was splotched with purple and green, dark red gashes fading to whisper pink reminders of the hell she had been through, the hell she remained in as long as her eyes were closed. Thus far, his prayers had gone unanswered for her recovery, her health in stable instability. She had lost too much blood during the horrific delivery Scully was forced to perform, shocking her system into mass chaos. For fifteen days, he contemplated why the blood loss this time around was harder for her to bounce back from, having heard the story of her only three-day coma in January after her exsanguination.

He had been alone for over two hours now, clutching her left hand as he waited for his mother to arrive from the NICU. He carefully felt the ridges of her knuckles with his thumb for what seemed like the hundredth time, memorizing the details of her he somehow had missed the first night in the Wyoming motel room. When he rubbed over the small braided loop he had slipped back onto her ring finger, he closed his eyes in silent pain. He had only arrived to the hospital the night before, taking precautionary measures to ensure hers and the children's safety as his name surfaced through federal channels. For two weeks, his children had been parentless, he relying on his own parents to nurture and protect them as their mother recovered and he waited to arrive. The moment had finally come, though - he could covertly meet his children without the looming jeopardy of the implications of his prior actions.

Will heard the door open gently, the clear bassinets wheeling inside as Scully steered, gently guiding them toward him. He held his breath, seeing the tiny feet raised in the air wrapped in receiving blankets and instantly cried. He kissed Cara's hand tenderly, whispering yet another prayer to a God he committed himself to believing in, and laid it carefully down by her side as she remained motionless.

In that moment, he felt too large, his hands too big and rough, his feet clumsy. He felt incapable and far from gentle. He was sure the instant he touched their miniature bodies that they would crumble into a thousand pieces. His heart was lodged in his throat, his eyes cloudy from the moisture that lingered. He saw Scully smile as he gazed in awe at the two beings that instantly captured his heart.

Will laughed; it was an awkward laugh, on the verge of becoming a sob as he looked at the bassinet on the right. "He's just like I dreamed," he whispered, his hand pausing over the newborn with hesitance, scared of touching them as if they would disappear if he did. His eyes shifted to the left bassinet, his lips parting. Her eyes, her mother's eyes that were still shut, stared back at him in a vibrant shade of green housed in a rosy-cheeked infant with wispy curls of auburn hair. His daughter. "God …" he whispered, shuddering. "My God she's beautiful." He looked up with glazed eyes into his mother's, seeing the streams of tears on her cheeks. "I want to hold them," he said slowly, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Which one first?" Scully asked quietly.

Will shook his head. "Both. I need to hold them both."

Without words, Scully scooped up the boy first, gently instructing her son how to properly hold his weak body. Will held his breath as his mother's hands let go of his son, staring in awe at the tiny human with thick, dark brown hair and deep, intense eyes that locked on his. He then felt his other arm be filled with his daughter, the fair redhead who cooed as she flexed her incredibly small fingers. He didn't realize it, but Scully had guided him to sit in the same chair he had claimed the instant he arrived in New Mexico, he now facing Cara's still form as the new lives squirmed comfortably in his arms. "Oh my God," he breathed, looking from one to the next as if he weren't sure he was really seeing them.

He didn't hear the door reopen, Mulder stepping carefully in to observe the touchingly bittersweet scene. Mulder slipped his arm around Scully, seeing the remains of the tears she had tried to rid her face from, his smile pressing into her hair as he kissed her. "Our family," he whispered into her ear, his heart swelling with pained pride as he watched Will's body fall into a natural rocking motion. The monitors attached to Cara continued to record their data uninfluenced by the emotions surrounding her, the dance of their displays and the tones of their work filling the background with white noise.

_Hi Daddy_, the boy said inside of his mind as he continued to lock eyes with Will.

_Hi there_, Will responded in like silence, blown away by the power of the infant he held.

_Where is Mommy?_ the boy asked, not moving as his sister wriggled and gurgled happily across from him.

_She's sleeping,_ Will replied. Even in his telepathy, his voice shook in fear.

_I can make her better, _the infant claimed, blinking slowly.

_How?_

_Like I made you better when I was born. Let me feel Mommy's heart. Put me on Mommy's heart._

Will quivered, shutting his eyes. It was too much, too much to bear, to think about in this joyous moment. _Don't be afraid, Daddy,_ he heard his son say. _Trust me. _He slowly stood, knowing his parents were watching with confusion as he leaned over Cara and tugged at the loose hospital gown with his fingertips to reveal more of her chest.

Mulder touched Scully as she went to intercede, his mind racing as he silently told her to give their son the space he needed to have. _The child, _Mulder thought. _The child who slays monsters. _Could it be true? Could this tiny infant boy be the promised hero who would kill the monsters of the world through his mere existence? Could Will be right to assume, then, that he could heal the good on earth as well? Was this how Will had survived the bullet he took? Was this how the bounty hunter became powerless?

He and Scully watched with intensity as Will rested the infant boy on his mother's chest, the swaddled baby still as his face touched her skin. Still clutching his daughter and keeping his large hand on his son on Cara's chest, Will waited in fervent hope, his throat drying as he forgot to breathe. _See, Daddy?_ his son said softly in his mind. _Mommy is going to wake up soon._

Minutes ticked by in still silence with no visible changes. It was in a sudden whirl that activity flourished in the room, Cara's heart rate elevating to a safer norm as the monitors who analyzed her condition seemed to chirp happily. Scully's mouth opened in shock as Mulder's smile crept onto his face. Will moistened his lips as he saw Cara's head shift slightly, her eyelids fighting to open. "She's waking up," Will whispered, his hand still protecting his son on her chest.

The first thing she saw was the thick, dark silky hair of her infant son's head. She blinked slowly, trying to focus on the image to decipher what it was. "Will?" she whispered, her voice shallow and parched. No. Far too small to be Will's mane. She felt his warmth radiating near her, her head slowly tilting to see him by her side, clutching two small bundles, one pressed to her bosom. "Will," she whispered again, attempting to swallow to wet her throat. He shuddered in relieved agony beside her, immediately pressing his lips onto her cheek, lingering for a moment as she felt his tears drip onto her shoulder. She felt a gentle touch to her right, Scully offering a glass of water that she carefully sipped, her eyes now focused back on the child pressed against her whose intense eyes made her gasp. "Ours?" she breathed, asking Will as if she feared they were imaginary.

"Ours," he replied. "Our son." He positioned the baby against her still wakening body. "And our daughter." He tilted the bundle nestled into the crook of his arm, the fair angelic face in contented sleep.

Cara cried silently, closing her eyes as she shivered against the emotional wave that crashed against her. Her right hand slowly reached to cover his on their son, her left stroking the hair of the boy whose cheek pressed against her heart. Her eyes shifted to their daughter, smiling in overwhelming love at the tiny freckles that dotted her cheeks so perfectly. She then found Will's gaze as he bent to press his lips on hers, her mouth parting and allowing him to consume her, her strength renewing beneath his passion and intensity.

When they parted, they both saw they weren't nearly as alone as they had began, Doggett, Reyes, Skinner, Gibson and John hovering toward the back in the dimly lit corner of the room where Mulder and Scully were also. Relieved smiles were fixed on all of their faces as they observed the momentous victory. "Thank you," Cara whispered, unable to stop more tears from coming. "Thank you all so much."

"Young Fox, Shima," John said, his weathered face full of light. "Never doubt who these children belong to. They are truly blessed." He stepped toward the bed, his wrinkled hand resting on the boy's back and the girl's forehead. "Yes," he said with a small nod, "they are truly a miracle." His smile grew as he backed away, murmuring a chant of thanksgiving under his breath.

"Okay, I'm dying to know," Doggett said softly. "What are their names?"

"John, she just woke up," Reyes chided.

Will smiled. "It's okay," he said, looking down at Cara. "We already named them before ..." He saw how everyone waited anxiously for the information, laughing softly. "Want to tell them?" he asked Cara.

"This is Maddox William Mulder," Cara said happily, cradling the boy to her chest. "Max for short. He's named after three incredible men who came before him who were destined to fight the future, Fox, Brody and William." She looked up at Will, who still clutched their daughter, giving him permission silently to reveal the girl's name.

"This is Emma Katherine Mulder," Will said with unmistakable pride as he gazed at his daughter. "She's named after three courageous women who stood in the face of evil and conquered it, Emily, Samantha and my mother, Dana Katherine."

A tear-filled silence filled the room, John stepping from the side to Cara's bed. "May I?" he asked, looking at Max. Cara nodded, watching as John lifted Max in the air with experienced grace. "Maddox is a fitting name for this child," John said with a smile. "For his name means, son of the Lord." He lowered Max carefully, pressing his lips to the infant's forehead. "This is the child born to slay monsters." He handed Max back to Cara, reaching for Emma as he smiled. "And Emma is certainly a fitting name for this child," he continued, holding her up. "For her name means, universal. She is the child born of water."

* * *

December 14, 2012  
San Diego, California  
7:18 PM PST

The breeze was chilly for California, but Cara laughed it off, knowing what winter felt like back east. Still, she tucked cozy blankets around Max and Emma with loving care as Will shut the trunk of the car. "Ready?" he asked, brushing a piece of blonde hair from his wife's eyes.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she whispered.

Unlike the beaches back in New Jersey, California's were rockier and steeper, something Cara hadn't expected. She was grateful for her grip on Will's strong arm as he clutched a baby carrier in each hand, his inhuman muscles barely being worked to support the demand of the infants he toted down the shoreline.

They reached the edge where the fire was already waiting, lit and warm as it continued to be fed by Shilah. "They're here!" River exclaimed with excitement, bounding toward Will with eagerness. "Young Fox! I missed you!" he said, wrapping his skinny arms around Will's leg.

"I missed you too, River," Will murmured with a smile. "It was a long week away from you."

"I know, right?" River agreed, making Cara laugh.

"What am I, chopped liver?" she teased.

"Of course I missed you, Shima," River squealed, embracing her as she bent down to his level. "And Max and Emma. How was your trip?"

Cara felt her smile weaken at the question, but forced herself to hide her reaction as best as she could. "It wasn't home," she replied, smoothing River's windblown hair down. She caught Will's eyes, his disappointed and knowing look filling her will worry. "Do you want to carry one?" Cara offered, nodding to the babies.

"Max! I want Max!" River replied with joy, beaming as Will handed off the carrier to the young boy. "Come on, little buddy. Let's go."

"Don't worry, Emma," Cara said softly, tenderly stroking her daughter's chin. "Someday, the boys won't be able to stay away from you."

"Oh yes they will," Will grumbled, gripping the handle of the car seat a little tighter.

As they reached the rest of the group, Will set down the carrier with Emma inside, giving Cara and his mother a quick kiss each before slipping away toward Mulder, who lingered further down the shore away from the others. Scully was beaming, swooping down to stroke Emma's silky rounded cheek. "Little Emma," she said in a sing-song, "I missed you." Emma cooed and gurgled, her smile wide as Scully stroked her tenderly.

"She missed you too," Cara said with a smile.

Scully hugged Cara tightly. "How are you?" she asked, her tone carrying obvious concern.

"I'm … we're fine," Cara replied hesitantly.

"Are you sure?"

Cara nodded. "As good as can be expected."

"How is William?"

Cara sighed, looking toward where Will had gone, seeing him in the darkening distance. "He's struggling," Cara whispered. "He's … he's so worried about …"

Scully nodded. "I know."

"I hate … I hate that after all this, that he just doesn't …"

"Me too."

Cara looked back toward Scully, feeling the tears fill her eyes. "I wish he wasn't so afraid," she admitted.

Scully's eyes searched Cara's. "Maybe Mulder can talk some sense into him."

Cara shook her head. "I doubt it. I tried. He's just so … so damn _stubborn_." She laughed softly. "Sorry," she murmured. "I know he's your son and all."

"No, you're absolutely right," Scully assured gently. "He _is_ stubborn, just like his father." Her eyes fell on the two men walking further away from the group. With a small smile, she watched as River interacted with Max. "Hopefully Max won't inherit that trait."

"I think you're too late on that one," Cara replied. "Trying to get that little one to do anything he doesn't want to do is torture."

Scully laughed. "That's the Mulder men for you, I guess." Bending down and unbuckling the seat belt that braced Emma in, Scully scooped up the infant and pressed a kiss on her head. "At least the Mulder women are strong and influential, though," she added.

* * *

"How'd your 'secret mission' go?" Mulder asked, breaking the tense silence that had rested between them after they shared a short embrace. There was an obvious bitterness in his voice that he tried to conceal but knew he failed to.

"Alright, I guess," Will said softly, his hands jammed into his pockets as he listened to the ocean waves ebb and flow, crashing against the large boulders in the water's depths.

"Find what you were looking for?"

"To an extent."

Mulder nodded. "How is Cara?"

"She's upset," Will said, his voice flat as he refused to look at his father.

"Why?" Mulder questioned gently.

"I'm doing what I can," Will replied, feeling a little irritated. "We've got a week, Dad. One week."

"Eight days, but who's counting?"

Will sighed. "I mean, what else can I do? There's nothing. There's absolutely nothing that can prevent what will happen."

"What _might_ happen," Mulder stopped next to him, glancing at his son. Will's wild brown hair swayed in the ocean wind, his distinguished profile and his heart's current state of chaos mirroring both of his own so well.

"Not might," Will corrected, still watching the water. "Will. What _will_ happen."

"Then why are we even here, William?" Mulder asked, finally gaining his son's eyes on his. "Why do all of this? To appease a tribal elder?" He searched his son's eyes. "How … after all you've seen, all you've experienced … how can you still not believe?"

"I _do_ believe," Will replied tensely. "What I also believe is how there are things that need to be done that make sense. Things that are logical and orderly."

"You can't stop what already is, William," Mulder reminded, hearing Will exhale with annoyance. "You can't change who your children are."

"I don't want to. I just don't want the colonists' search for them to mean death for the entire settlement."

"William-"

"No, Dad," Will interrupted, shaking his head. "It's already done. We put in our payment. I've secured a job. We're leaving in three days."

Mulder stopped with shock, analyzing his son. "You said you were just looking."

"An opportunity came up. We took it."

"You didn't say you were going to buy."

"It's done." Will's voice was firm though his heart was breaking.

Mulder shut his eyes, his head drooping. His long fingers rubbed over his temples. "Where?"

"You know I won't tell you."

"You're going to break your mother's heart."

"Her heart will heal. Her life won't if it's taken."

"William-"

"Dad-"

"No, you listen," Mulder demanded, grabbing his son's arm and pulling him to face himself. "How many times have we been over this?" Mulder asked, searching Will's eyes. "How many times do I have to keep telling you that running away isn't the answer?"

"I'm not running away-"

"Then what the fuck are you doing moving right now?"

"Dad-"

"No, William," Mulder growled, furious at Will. "Your mother and I … your mother and I spent years - YEARS - searching for you after what she was forced to do. Running away didn't help you from the time you were as big as Max. Why would it help now?" He paused, feeling his heart racing. "I just got my family back. And I'll be damned if I let them go away."

"It's not your decision to make," Will snapped, yanking his arm away from Mulder.

It was a familiar scene, two alpha males squaring off, tensions and prides high and armed for combat. The only thing to cut through the painful silence shared between them was River's youthful voice that carried easily through the air. "It's time!" they heard him shout, each still frozen in front of the other. With disgust, Mulder was the first to back down, his anger still flared as he brushed by Will, who closed his eyes in sorrow and regret as he was left behind.

* * *

"Maddox has already made his mark on the world from the moment he was lifted from his mother's womb," John said, smiling as he gazed at the small baby being held tenderly by Scully. "Now, it is Emma's turn to fulfill her destiny."

Guided by Will, Cara carried Emma down to the water's edge, the waves sloshing over her bare feet. The water was seasonably cool as to be expected, but the weather was still gorgeous for the middle of December. "Emma," John said as the crowd gathered behind Will and Cara, "the water you touch will forever be cleansed and protected so long as you live. Through your gift, you will sustain and bring life into the universe you are named for. Your healing and cleansing power protects the people."

John nodded to Will, who tenderly took Emma from Cara, squatting down to where the water rushed past his bare legs, his jeans rolled up and his bare feet sinking into the sand. John began to chant melodically, his long silver white hair dancing in the wind as he scooped ocean water into his hands, carefully trickling it over Emma's head as it sank back down into the ocean, carried out by a receding wave. Everyone who was there - everyone who had been in the hospital the day Cara woke from her coma, plus some of the people from the settlement - waited in silence, watching the rushing waters for a sign.

It was John resuming his chant that broke the reverie, each murmuring about what they thought might happen. "It is done," John said after a moment, a hush falling over the group. He smiled, looking into Emma's eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

John watched as Will gave Emma a kiss on her forehead, Cara scooping her back into her arms. "Young Fox," John said softly, stopping Will in his tracks. "Share a walk with me."

Will glanced at Cara, who nodded gently in understanding, clutching Emma as she made her way back to the fire that blazed behind them. Turning back to John, Will sighed, knowing what he was in for. "Please," John said, gesturing to the shore in the opposite way he had traveled with Mulder.

Will fell in reluctant step with John, accompanying him quite far away from the others before he heard John speak. "Much troubles you, Young Fox," John said quietly, his eyes fixed on the ocean.

"It doesn't trouble you?" Will asked, observing the older man.

John waited to answer. "A great war waits for us," he murmured. "It waits for all who resist."

"Resist or serve."

"Yes," John said with a nod. "But what is resistance if not resisting the impulse to serve through accepting fear?" He continued to look out onto the ocean. "What waits for us, what people must choose to obey or rebel against, is the embodiment of fear."

"It's a nice thought," Will commented, his eyebrow raised. "But I'm not serving. I am fighting."

"Are you?" John asked, watching the ocean intently.

"Of course I am," Will replied indignantly.

"How will you fight in the safety of your own mind?"

Will shut his eyes, leaning his head back. "He told you."

"No, Young Fox," John corrected. "You did."

"Actually, I didn't."

"You did through your fear."

"I'm not afraid."

"Then why remove yourself?" John asked. "Are not the people who you love also willing to resist, making their fates the same no matter where you are?"

"If it will help protect, then that's what I choose to do."

"Protect who? Them, or you?"

Will grumbled. "John-"

"Young Fox," John interrupted softly, "that cord you wear. You've kept it close for a long time."

"I take my oath seriously."

"What about the oath to your own destiny?"

Will opened his eyes, running his hand through his messy hair. "I can't do this right now," he murmured.

"When will you face it then, William?" John asked softly. "Soon, there won't be time left to ponder such things of the heart. Soon, all that will remain is the darkness." He paused. "Soon, all that will remain is your light. It's up to you whether you want to hide it under a basket … or put it on a tower to share with everyone."

John turned away from Will, leaving his side as Will stayed, his hands on his hips as he watched the tide. In that moment, he envied the simplicity of the water's existence - ebb and flow. That's all anyone ever expected from a body of water. No one expected perfection, bravery or courage. No one expected perfect answers to life-altering decisions to be made by the waves in front of him. Just ebb and flow. That's all that was ever asked. Ebb and flow.

His tears mirrored the water he watched. No one seemed to understand the burden of the choice he had to make. No one seemed to grasp that he was as desperate to stay as they were to have him stay. He couldn't, though. He had to protect them.

If only his life were as simple as ocean waves ...

* * *

December 18, 2012  
Mount Weather, VA  
11:09 PM EST

The room was still with thickened silence that choked the pulse from their conversation when he entered, taking his seat in the direct front of the group. "Don't let me stop you," he mused with a smile, putting the cigarette in his mouth, flicking his lighter to activate the flame.

"The information on Phonics has been shared with scientists across the country and in Europe and Asia," a woman finally said. "We fear they will create a successful preventative treatment in time."

"In time, perhaps," the Smoking Man said. "We still retain the upper hand. Even if they are successful, which is strongly doubtful, our numbers will be far greater, our access to new strains far greater."

"We just got word that the female fetus has destroyed the water strain," one man in a dark suit said solemnly, feeling nervous for being the volunteer bringing the bad news.

The Smoking Man exhaled a puff of gray, his eyes fixed on the messenger. "Did she, now?" he asked calmly.

"Yes, sir."

"Interesting," the Smoking Man murmured, taking a long drag. "And I suspect our task forces have been too afraid of the male fetus to pursue their location?" The men and women replacements in the room were silent, their eyes ducking down to the floor in guilt. "I see." He released another puff of smoke, knocking the ashes from the tip of the cigarette into the tray in front of him. "So then, I am to assume that this meeting is in vain?" the Smoking Man demanded. "That each of you are scared of mere infants?"

"They have power, sir," Assistant Director Horncheck from the FBI suggested.

"And we don't?" The Smoking Man eyed the person who spoke up. "What about the crops?" he asked. "Do we not have modified produce being stocked as we speak?" He drug on the stem. "Or what about the inoculations we will implement when the American public sees their world going to hell in a handbasket and we are the only ones with the answer and the remedy?" Exhale. "Fear William Mulder and his children and you give them power," he chided. "They are nothing more than laboratory mistakes that _will be_ easily eliminated in time."

"We can't get a location on William, Caraline or the children," a uniformed military man noted. "They've gone into hiding."

He lifted the cigarette to his lips. "Let them hide," the Smoking Man murmured with a smile. "The longer they avoid the inevitable, the more rewarding their eventual destruction will be." He paused, gazing over the people with a small smile. "Everything will go according to plan," he assured, clutching the cigarette in his hand. "The beginning of the end will still come. You can't kill something that won't die."

* * *

December 21, 2012  
10:13 PM MST  
Shiprock Territory, NM

"Why, Mulder?" Scully asked, quivering against him. "Why?"

Mulder wished he could answer. He so desperately wanted to categorize the reason she sought, to clearly explain the choice that had been made. He begged his heart to give him the secret to ease her mind, so she could have a sense of peace with the loss she experienced now a third time. He clutched her bare body against his, the escape of the sensual pleasures they lost themselves in moments before now drifting away on a rapid wind.

"I don't know," was all he could say in honesty, hoping his embrace in their quiet cabin bed was some sort of comfort to her. "Maybe …" _No. No, Mulder._ He couldn't get her hopes up with idle thoughts.

"Maybe what?"

_Shit. _"Nothing."

"Maybe what, Mulder?" she insisted.

"Maybe … Maybe they'll come back. I know he wants to ride out the first wave alone, play things by ear. To an extent, I can understand his reasoning. They could be tracked through us. The beginning is still unknown."

"Our son isn't that impulsive. He finds comfort in control. Once he thinks he has it, he won't easily let go."

She was right; they both knew it. "We can find him, Scully," Mulder whispered, hating how he was, yet again, having this conversation with her, each buried under blankets, clutching each other as if there were nothing else to hold on to. There wasn't. "We can bring them home."

"Mulder-"

"We found him twice. Third time's a charm, they say."

Scully was quiet. "When we wake up tomorrow …"

"Don't," Mulder interrupted. "Don't … think about that."

"It's all I can think about besides them."

"Don't give them the satisfaction of having everything," Mulder reminded gently. "What will be ... will be. Our power is in our hope. I say we pour that energy of your worry into a positive."

She found tears to cry that hadn't already been released, much to her surprise. "Where do we even begin to look?"

Pulling her closer, his hand dipping to the familiar curve of her lower back, he held her and kissed her tenderly, feeling the moisture of her tears wet his neck and chest. "I don't know," he murmured, his own eyes welling with sadness. "But all I know is, we can't lose hope, Dana. Not now. Not ever."

* * *

Kodiak Island, Alaska  
10:13 PM AKST

Cara wrapped herself tighter in the weathered blue robe she wore, her grip firm on her gun next to her on the small table as she listened to the disturbance near the front door. "It's me," she heard Will's voice say through the sheets of pouring rain outside of their tiny home on the remote island of Kodiak in the southwestern portion of Alaskan territory. Every penny they had mutually together, including the wills Cara inherited from her mother's and father's unfortunate deaths, went to purchasing their new life - an incredibly small house that was nothing to look at, a single vehicle that only did Point A to Point B and sparse furnishings for their new, secluded life. His keys jingled softly as the door opened, Will ducking inside as a blast of cold winter air hit the kitchen he walked into. Cara relaxed her hand on the grip of the gun, shutting her eyes with relief, the ache in her head from worry becoming too much to bear.

He stripped his dirty work coat that was soaked for yet another day, the flood of rain that fell from the heavens not permitting Cara a break from the constant washing and drying of his outdoor gear for his demanding and dangerous logging job. Muddy boots were deposited at the entryway, keys tossed on the table as he slumped into a chair across from her.

"Coffee?" she offered quietly, knowing her voice was stiff. She had tried to work on her delivery for the past two hours, but when the performance came, she forgot all of her practiced methods.

"No thanks," Will mumbled. Rubbing his eyes, he asked, "How are you?"

"Fine."

"How are Max and Emma?"

"Asleep," was her short response.

Will's head shot up, a frown under his searching eyes. "I know that," he said, focusing on her as she traced her finger around the edge of her mug in front of her.

"Then why ask?"

"Jesus, Cara!" Will snapped, trying to keep his voice calm. "What do you want from me? Huh?"

"I want to know why we're here," Cara replied bitterly, eying her husband. "Why we aren't with your family. Why we aren't finally just ... living. Why we are still running."

"You know why."

"Actually, I don't," Cara argued.

"I'm trying to protect you and the kids!" Will growled.

"From what, Will? From our children being raised with a family? From us being near people who love them and us and want to protect us as much as you do?"

"I don't have time for this." Will stood, pushing his chair angrily away from the table with disgust.

"Oh really?" Cara challenged. "When _will _you have time, exactly? Because last I checked, tomorrow is D-Day." Will stopped on his path to their bedroom, his head hanging as he felt her near him behind him. "Which, by the way, we have no clue how it will begin, but we know it will affect everyone, regardless of where the hell they live." She paused, swallowing back her fears. "Why, Will?" she whispered; he could hear her tears without even looking at her. "Why do you refuse to believe in yourself?"

"I do believe," he murmured.

"Then why are you so afraid?"

"I'm not afraid."

"You must be. You must be afraid of what will come."

"I'm _not_."

"Then why are we here?"

The silence was unbearable. He knew she was right, but the idea of confessing such a thing left a sour taste in his mouth, his pride bruised as he milled around at rock bottom, realizing he, himself, had put them there. He alone had been so afraid of what was to come that he didn't confer with anyone before deciding their course of action. His desperate desire to keep the three lives he valued so much safe had caused him to lose sight of the truth, once again.

He felt her arms wrap around him from behind, her cheek pressing into his back that had worked over fifteen hours cutting, trimming, sorting and moving timber. He felt her hands glide over his arms that had failed to pick up his son and daughter for yet another day, though they had only arrived in Kodiak a short time before. He felt the rhythm of her breath ebbing and flowing, reminding him of the ocean waves he once envied. He felt her heart that now beat so strong that he once saw die, knowing that though the pulse was there, it was dying once again. _Protection. Safety. Isolation. Deterrent. Misguidance. Hiding. Selfishness. Avoidance. Wishful thinking. Foolishness. _ "I don't know," he whispered.

"Can we go back?" she asked, the words barely audible.

He shook his head slowly, sniffing away a tear. "Not right now." They couldn't - not when things were so unpredictable. They had to wait out the storm that would begin in the morning. The waters couldn't be immediately sailed now. His fear had cost them; they were now as stranded figuratively as they were literally, his desire to protect through isolation needing to be seen through until it was safe enough to flee. Until it was his turn to move in the game. Any sooner, and they risked exposure from impulsiveness.

"When?" Cara's voice trembled; her heart leaped at the possibilities. She knew Will gave so much with the intention of saving so much, but she longed for the family she had through him, wanting to cling to the familiar as it all began, her heart burdened with what no one knew would come to pass.

Will picked his head up, looking out of the small window in the living room across from him as the rain continued to pour with maddening persistence, reminding him of every trial he had faced that never seemed to end, it soaking the ground just as heavily as he had been drenched in his own mistakes. "Soon," he whispered, wondering how the end would begin in terrified silence, wondering how the world would change when they opened their eyes the next day, wondering if they shouldn't just leave right then and there, wondering how he could have been so foolish, wondering if he could be redeemed, if he could be forgiven. "I hope soon."

He was ready to put his light on the tower; he just didn't know if he was too late.

"Maybe there's still hope," he breathed.

* * *

_**fin.**_


	25. Acknowledgments

_**Acknowledgments**_

_**I'd like to express my sincerest gratitude to everyone who has taken this journey with me through my post-IWTB series. Your feedback and support has been nothing short of inspiring and humbling, and I continue to relish each moment spent telling the tale you each have so kindly supported. **_

_**I dwelt a lot on the ending of this book for many reasons, the main reason being the obvious open-ending it leaves off at. I do, believe it or not, believe in happy endings, despite what this series might otherwise say. (LOL) However, I feel this is the only justice that can be done to such a dramatic and gloomy prospective situation for the planet as colonization. **_

_**It was my desire with this series to explore different facets of human weakness, the main ones being incessant need for control, order and predictability as they relate to such a vague and wild concept as something like colonization. Do old habits die hard, or do people truly learn to adapt? Is doing what one thinks is right always right? Or is denying one the freedom to make mistakes really hurting that person's ability to truly learn? My interpretation of William as an adult has explored those questions throughout the entire series, coming to a final head at the last chapter of "Hope". William has fully embraced his destiny, though regrettably too late. Perhaps the fear inside of him is still vying for control. Perhaps he will always struggle with this internal battle, the war of his heart becoming his own, tragic destiny.**_

_**I also desired an open ending for the possibility of continuing the story, whether I would be the one to do so, or you, the reader, in your own unique and fascinating imagination would be. Chris Carter wasn't kind enough to sum things up for us, which can both leave one bitter or hopeful, dissatisfied or curious. I'd like to think that though at times I'm convinced Chris is a sadist, he is brilliant for choosing to keep the spark of possibilities lit through the unanswered questions and unresolved issues. With resolution comes the absence of creativity and imagination, whereas without we are given the fantastic opportunity to draw our own conclusions, thus fanning the flame for the story for generations to come.**_

_**Please leave a review should you wish the plotline to continue with the near/distant future of a post-Colonization look at these characters. Otherwise, I, once again, am eternally grateful for the ability to share my work with each and every one of you. By far, this is the best way I've spent my downtime as a writer in the last several months.**_

_**I anticipate in 2015 to self-publish an original book called "Purity" that is inspired by many different elements from literature and entertainment, including The X-Files, classic Greek tragedies (i.e. Antigone) and H.G. Wells' "The Time Machine". The story is about the dystopian future as it were if all current ideals of the world were made possible to an oblivious, compliant public, with one woman and one man realizing what sacrifices were made to make it possible and how the facade of idealism is covering a grotesque evil reality. **_

_**For more information, please private message me here.**_


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X-Files, Adventure, Suspense