Rating: NC-17
Classification: Case file/MSR, WIP, Humor, Alternate Universe…people are actually happy here…well, some of them
Spoilers: Everything through the first third of Season 7, the story taking place in the universe set forth in Absolute Beginners I, Absolute Beginners II–Better With Practice, and Absolute Beginners III–Comes The Morning—available on Ephemeral, Whispers of X, Fran’s Fanfic Addiction, and The Grove. (It’ll help to read ’em, honest!)
Keywords: Be careful what you wish for. Character death…not who you think. Necromancy. Santeria. Marriage Proposal.
Summary: This story takes place late in the year 2000. In the early Spring of the same year, Mulder and Scully finally got off the dime (after a false start, angst, guilt and a nightmare or two) and did the dirty deed. After a weekend of ‘solidifying their relationship’, they are pulled off the X-Files, but managed to find at least one way to console each other. Fast forward about six months–and you’ll be right we begin, dear reader.
Disclaimers: You know, they’re not ours. They’re Chris Carter’s. Just using them for the fun, no money involved.
Archive: Yes, anywhere. Just keep it intact.
Feedback: Yes, please. You can contact me: alvaradomccain@earthlink.net
Chapter 8
By Diehard and Dryad
He and Scully had done little but exchange knowing glances since their arrival.
They knew the drill.
Mulder leaned back in his chair and stared at the clock overhead. Almost three hours had passed since they’d driven over from the Burnham. Proceeding with his internal monologue, he reviewed the morning so far. They drove the Taurus to the Field Office, even though it was only a fifteen minute walk. Didn’t want to keep the SAC waiting. Right. And then they sat. And sat. And sat some more. An interminable wait followed by coma inducing boredom was one of the key features of an official reprimand.
Finally, the intercom buzzed and the secretary took the brief call. Motioning them toward the large mahogany door, she shook her head as they collected themselves and made their way through the office door.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
Kris almost felt sorry for the two Agents as she watched them cross the threshold. Not, however, sorry enough to try to run any more interference. She’s gotten there first and was treated to hours of Mitrovic’s non-stop diatribe. Speaking of which, what in the hell was Lazarov thinking in sending her here? She was supposed to sit in and report back to him what happened. As far as the SAC was concerned, she wasn’t FBI, she was just a lowly investigative detective, barely able to sign her name and eat a donut according to him. And despite the fact he didn’t fucking appreciate having CPD involved in intra-Bureau business, he used her to vent his spleen concerning The X-Files, CPD bureaucracy, and piss poor state of law enforcement. Her attempt to become one with the walls failed miserably, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t give it one last try.
“Just what the fuck are the two of you doing? SAC Mitrovic glowered as the two of them took seats across from his desk. “When a Sergeant Lazarov calls me at seven forty-fucking-five this morning to ream me a new asshole I thought to myself, oh, who could possibly have fucked up a cop-killer case?” He pulled his chair out and sat down. “Your names were the first that came to mind. Funny, huh?…Wanna hear what he said?”
Mulder started to say something, but Scully cleared her throat just in time to cut him off.
Before sketching in the details, Mitrovic peppered the room with a truly astounding combination of obscenities before he brought the two agents from HDQ up to speed. It didn’t let up much as he lit into them.
Jorgensen took in their reaction. Mulder seemed untouched by the whole thing, as he tapped his foot on the plush carpeting. He had a pretty tight grip on the armrest, though. She also caught a flash of anger in those green eyes. Scully sat ramrod straight in her chair with her hands demurely folded on her lap. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and she definitely had a bead on Mitrovic, her eyes clocking every move as he moved in on her partner.
“For starters, Lazarov thought you’d be calling him with a report after he set up the walkthroughs for you, shithead. Then you come up with nothing. Nice, asshole, nice. He’s hears about it from his detective, and I get to hear it from him. He’s not the only one who expects to be kept in the motherfucking loop, Agent Mulder. So let’s see where we’re at…diversion of CPD resources to facilitate your
“consult,” coming up with zip…”
Settling back in the leather chair, he spoke slowly, trying to seem deferential. “It was crucial to verify that CPD conducted the proper forensic investigation…”
“No, don’t say anything yet, I’m not done. There’s the stunt you pulled with Shinoda. He was the primary suspect and the way I see it, you essentially helped him walk. Lazarov didn’t bitch to me about it, he said it was a long shot. He actually thought you’d get the answers by applying your brilliant mind in the field.” Mitrovic’s voice dripped with sarcasm with that last remark. “I’m the one who’s pissed. You interviewed the cocksucker alone, without a tape recorder. Have I been in a fucking goddamn cave, Mulder? Did the Bureau change standard interview technique without fucking telling me?”
“Sir, I felt it was necessary in order to conduct the interview. My call.” Mulder’s face was all bland acceptance, almost blasé. “Hector Dean Shinoda, while conceivably guilty of other crimes, is not connected with the death of Det. Gonzales, nor the crimes we’re investigating. If anything, he admired the man as a fellow warrior, one to be respected. There’s evidence to support other forces at play – ”
Mitrovic let him have it full force, “Enough! Cut the mystic bullshit, Mulder! There’s nothing fucking supernatural about the death of a cop. Some jerkwad rolled up and shot the man in the head. End of the motherfucking story. Now if you want to argue Shinoda didn’t have ample motive and opportunity, you go right ahead. If you want to put in your report there’s no real circumstantial evidence linking him to the deaths of Gozales or any of the others…fine. I don’t give a rat’s ass about some Twilight Zone jag-off explanation of yours. If that kind of shit flies at HDQ, fine. I just don’t want to hear of any more breach of protocol.” He slammed his fist on his highly polished desk to make sure he was getting through.
Agent Mulder shifted around in his seat, managing to look bored yet irritated at the same time, which Jorgensen didn’t think was very wise, while Agent Scully was definitely more stone-faced than usual. Jorgensen wondered when the SAC would rip into the tiny redhead.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“I won’t even bother to fucking ask you why you’ve stayed with Boy Wonder. The fact that you wanted to flush whatever career you could’ve had down the crapper is your business.” Mitrovic eyed her up and down with contempt. “The ME ripped into Lazarov after your ‘consult,’ and then Lazarov ripped into me. There are no bodies, Agent Scully. None. Just fucking skeletons, which the ME says the diener
swears were a goddamn bug buffet. Did it even occur to you make me or the ME aware of such a motherfucking unusual occurance?”
“Sir, our usual practice is to gather all pertinent data, review it and report directly to A.D. Skinner…when we deem it necessary. My understanding was that this consult was a favor to the CPD, not a mandate to alter normal X-File procedure.” Her voice was brisk, clipped, totally professional, totally unfazed.
Mitrovic grinned evilly, and leaned in toward the two of them on his massive forearms. ‘Well then, it seem to me that given the highly fucking unusual manner in which the two of you conduct investigations, it makes more sense that CPD interface directly with A.D. Skinner. I’ll call Walter myself…Detective…” looking at the previously invisible member of Lazarov’s team.
Kris spoke up, “Jorgensen.”
“You tell your boss that from now on…” pointing to the two on the other side of his desk. “…he can call their boss.”
“Agent Mulder, Agent Scully?”
They responded in unison, “Sir?”
“Dismissed.”
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
Walking to the elevators, Jorgensen was the first to rupture the uneasy silence. She wasn’t about to comment on what supposedly happened, she could barely wrap her mind around it.
“I thought Lazarov could be a prick, but Mitrovic…Jesus.” Kris muttered.
“They don’t make’em like they used to,” answered Mulder with a wry smile.
“We’ve worked with Mitrovic before,” Scully said dryly. “Years ago in New York. I don’t recall him being quite so…colorful.”
“You know I have to tell him what happened,” Kris sighed, referring to the grilling she’d get once she got back to 11th and State.
“Don’t worry about it. Scully and I are used to being a hot topic of conversation.” Mulder rested a hand on Jorgensen’s shoulder.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not one of the ones who have a problem with you.” Looking over to Scully, “Either one of you.”
Scully gave her arm a squeeze. There was even a faint smile on her face. “Thank you, Detective. Mulder’s right though, we’re not exactly the most popular Unit in the Bureau….By the way, how’s Hannah?”
That surprised Jorgensen. “Good, she’s good. My OB/GYN says it’s time for weekly prenatal visits, eating for two…the usual. There’s just one problem.”
“What’s wrong?”
“She started calling me grandma.”
Both women started laughing, and Kris wondered if that was a rare occurrence in Agent Scully’s life.
They were cut short by the ringing of Mulder’s cell. Looking over at her partner, she watched his eyes light up as he answered. It’s my contact, he mouthed.
“Iyalosha. Let me go somewhere more private. Give me a minute…Yes, my partner’s with me.”
Kris Jorgensen turned and started for the stairwell. She needed some time alone to clear her head of the dust from Mitrovic’s blast radius. And she wanted to get the edited version of her story straight before she met with Lazarov.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~~X~X~
It was a good thing no one was in the elevator. Doors closed, Mulder beckoned Scully over and stooped low enough so she can hear the conversation.
“Just tell me, when you saw her…” the ache of grief rose in her voice like a tide, “…was she hurt?” She knew the answer, she needed this man to say it, to kill off
any last doubt.
“Her left hand was bandaged, supposedly cut the night Det. Gonzales was killed. We think…it’s more recent.”
What they heard next is a strangled cry, low, but unmistakable. Mourning. What happens when a mother loses a child.
“It was my baby, mi hija…she made it happen.” Her voice barely steady, Iyalosha Adisanya forced herself to tell him about about Omi, what he help set in motion, what Alex has surely done.
Mulder looked at Scully, and saw shock, but not disbelief. Instinctively, his hand reached for her left wrist. Nodding, Scully ‘s closed her free hand over his.
“We need to end this, Iya.”
The elevator opened to the garage, Mulder held the emergency button, while Scully waived off the potential riders.
The words poured out of Iyalosha, unable to stop. Too late, she told herself, too late for anything but this. “It will take both of you…Alejandra will try to make him strong again. She will try to call him forth, and this is the only chance you have to stop both of them. It will not end otherwise. Nafatali will have some of his power and he will fight you. He comes back to revenge himself on those that were his enemies…and he will not allow anything to stop him.”
Choking back tears, she caught her breath and went on. Do you understand now why I offered you protection?” Revealing the tasks all of them must carry out, she made sure the two of them understood what would happen if they failed.
“I think Oshun was wrong about me, about what I could do for Alejandra.” Mulder’s jaw clenched, Cardenas was another woman he couldn’t save.
Iya’s voice brimmed with pain, “No, warrior….this is the only help that’s left for her now.”
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~~X~X~
Anyone passing would think the man and the woman on the bench were there to commune with the night and each other–sitting close, whispering in each other’s ears. It was eleven thirty now, and the immediate area was almost deserted. They’d been there for a good long time, having moved from their Taurus, which they’d parked just up the street hours before that.
The truth be told, they’d been there ever since early this afternoon, after this morning’s fall-out. A well-timed phone call to the U of C’s anthropology department revealed that the good professor had classes staggered throughout the day, with office hours tonight until ten. They decided they’d plant themselves here, in the unlikely case she made a quick run home.
This meant that once again they were able to partake of all the glamour that was the stakeout. Lunch had been a hot dog snagged from a park vendor, and thankfully, the public rest room was just the other side of the Hamilton statue.
Neither one of them forgot the world of pain they’d witnessed earlier, it hovered over them, seeping into the silence as they kept watch.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
He glances at her in one of those still moments, catches her eye, and sees his own regret reflected there.
“My ass is falling asleep.” He shifts in his seat.
A smirk from her. “Maybe if I kick it it’ll improve the circulation.”
Cracking jokes–it seems out of place, but it’s what they’ve always done. It’s been a code between them, emotional currency, and right now, a lifesaver.
“Another hostile comment, Scully. You might want to see someone about that.” He leans just a tiny bit closer. “I know a good psychologist, someone with a lot of experience dealing with anti-social behavior.”
She cuts him a look, “And what kind of…treatment…would I be receiving for this problem?”
“He’s extremely innovative…I think he uses a kind of body-centered emotive therapy.”
“Which consists of…?”
“Deep, physical contact. My understanding is that it leads to a release for the subject resulting in a flood of endorphins, completely eradicating any negative impulses.”
“You don’t say.”
“There’s just one drawback. It requires ongoing treatment for the rest of the person’s life.”
“Sounds expensive…”
“Oh, I’m sure you could work out something. Possibly some quid pro quo…” He stopped as a tall, dark haired woman got out of a Lexus and handed the keys to an attendant.
“Mulder…what is it?”
“Game time.”
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
11:45 pm–424 Diversey Parkway
They’ve been pacing in front of the back entrance since they saw Alex go in nearly a half hour ago. The lobby’s a no-go, there’s too much risk that the night doorman
will announce them. Normally, they would’ve apprehended her before she even made it into her building, but Iya had instructed them to stop Alex only after she’s started, and the time for this work is between now and midnight.
Mulder checks his watch and motions them to the door, fishing in his pocket for his picks. Scully takes shotgun and keeps an eye out for the night watchman. It takes extra effort, he’s out of practice, and he salts the air around him with mumbled curses until he feels the tumblers click.
They get inside, find the service elevator, and it’s all bristling adrenal rush as they climb to the top floor. They both feel the blood coursing through their veins, their senses primed. In situations like these, the world shrinks down to them, the target, and whatever’s in their way. Success depends on it, to say nothing of their lives. The elevator stops, the doors part and they’re moving down the hall so fast it’s a blur.
They’re there now–Mulder’s working the picks and it’s easier this time. She whispers the time–11:56. Without making a sound, he pushes the door open and
she’s right behind him, the two of them moving as one body across the threshold. It’s dark in the penthouse, things just barely visible from the light thrown off from the study. As they silently draw closer they can see a kneeling Alex, dressed in a white robe, but there’s dark brown stain on her chest. Old blood. She’s lit by flickering candles on a small table, which also holds a bottle of rum, the photo from their vacation, the humidor of cigars. There’s a half smoked cigar burning in a metal dish, and the air near her is full of its earthy, bitter smell. They are too late to stop her from drawing a bone-handled knife across her palm, what is clearly a second cut. She smears the blood in a fresh streak over her heart.
This is as far as she can go, this is where they have to stop her or face the consequences. Time speeds up.
They both charge her, knock her to the floor, struggling to force the knife out of her hand. Writhing beneath them, Alex spits and kicks, punching at Mulder with her free hand. He throws his whole weight on top of her to keep her down. Scully pins the hand with the knife to the floor, snatches it away and tosses it into a corner.
Cardenas is screaming every foul epithet she can think of as Mulder slams the other hand above her head. Before he clamps his hand over hers, he sees the time
on her watch–11:59.
Mulder looks over at Scully and she meets his questioning gaze.
What they don’t see the thickening shadow in the corner begin to move and take the shape of Naftali Gonzales.
The candles blow out.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
11:45–All Saints Cemetery
Standing alone in the cold and dark, she gazes up at two sorrowful angels and wonders if they’ll watch over her tonight.
Directed to this place by Oshun, Iyalosha stoops in front of the granite entry of the cemetery and places nine pennies in the dirt, takes the bottle of red wine from her bag and pours a libation on the ground. “I ask permission, Yansa. Oshun sends me here, but it is only you who can give me passage.” Out of nowhere, the wind begins to gust at her back, pushing forward. Gathering up her bag, she hurries to find the grave, robes the color of butter billowing behind her. She saw the headstone last night in another dream, and soon she’s running to find the place where this tragedy started.
Time is short, so when she sees the headstone and the words ‘Naftali Rene Gonzales,’ she begins her work in earnest. Setting her bag down, she pulls out covered dishes of cooked eggplant, black-purple grapes in thick clusters, the wine, a horsehair broom, a bunch of dried rue and a jar of orange-blossom honey. At the bottom of her bag is the most important thing, a photo brown with age, Alex when she was a little girl, all smiles and innocence, taken a lifetime ago.
Reaching into the pocket of her robe, she takes out nine more pennies, walks around the grave whispering her pleas in the old tongue, placing the coins at the corners, on the side, and on the headstone. Taking the food, she places the dishes at the foot of the grave.
“Yansa, hear me. I come to end this. He who walks must come back to this place, she who raised him must be undone.”
Lightening cracks once, twice, three times, streaking across the headstone. Iya covers her eyes from the blinding light, and when she takes her hand away, Yansa is standing before her in all Her fierce glory. For once, under this moonless sky, she allows a mortal to see Her face.
Iya doesn’t tremble, doesn’t cry out, but what she sees brings tears to her eyes. Dark beauty so transcendent, it breaks her heart to witness it. This is the face that brings the final moment. But she does not come to claim Iya.
“You will do this thing, daughter of Oshun?”
“There is no one else. I give you my oath it will be done.”
“So be it. Prepare yourself, I will tell you when it is time.”
“Yansa!”
“Yes, daughter.”
“You made a promise to her, didn’t you?” It was the last thing Oshun revealed in her dream.
“Keep your word Iyalosha, and I will keep mine.”
The winds swirl and blow, and now there’s thunder in the distance. Kneeling in the dirt and leaning forward until she’s almost prostrate, she takes the horsehair broom and brushes the grave dirt from right to left, all the way from the top to the bottom. The air grows heavier around her, and she sees the man and the woman in her mind’s eye–sees her Alejandra–sees the streaks of blood.
It has begun.
Iyalosha Adisanya does not allow herself to feel anything but grim determination. She will not falter.
Pulling her self up into a kneeling position, she lays down the broom, reaches behind her for the honey and the rue. Carefully, she opens the jar, crumbles the herb into the thick golden mass and places it beside her.
There is nothing to do now but wait.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
Midnight–424 Diversey Parkway
The dark becomes a shadow and the shadow becomes a man. The only light comes from the stars and the city at skyline.
Time slows to a standstill.
Naftali springs from the corner, his midnight coat flapping as he lunges himself onto Mulder. Pulling him away with a vicious force, they slam into one of the bookshelves. It falls, the shelving collapses, and the two of them are fighting and rolling over the debris. Gonzales is punching like a jackhammer, a brutal machine, unerring as he meets the mark. Mulder head snaps back each time he connects, he pulls the dead man away from Scully and Alex, landing as many blows as he can.
Alex tries to scramble back up to get the knife, but Scully hurls herself on top of her. Smaller than the other woman, they’re half-kneeling, half-lying. Alex spits and scratches, but Scully’s able to find the pressure point at the base of her throat and uses it to drive Cardenas to the ground. They wrestle until Alex is finally on her back. Pulling out her cuffs she makes sure Alex is secure, and falls on her to hold her down.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
Midnight–All Saints’ Cemetery
Iyalosha is poised at the brink, when she finally hears Oya’s command.
“Now, daughter. Now is the time. Quickly, move quickly!”
Iya takes the photo, brushes her lips against that beloved face, then buries it under the grave dirt. Without hesitation she pours the honey over the top of the mound. Rising slowly, Iya lets loose a wail, cries out to the silent sky.
“Mi hija…my beautiful baby. Forgive me.”
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
12:02–424 Diversey Parkway
She can hear the fighting behind her stop, but it’s still, too still.
“Mulder,” she yells without moving from her captive.
“Mulder!”
“Gonzales, Scully…Gonzales is gone.”
Scully begins to get up, reaching for her weapon, but is frozen in place as a shadow oozes under Alex. Mulder’s hit the light and is already crouching at her side, together they roll Cardenas over. The inky darkness covers her like a film, enters her body, and Alex begins to gasp for air.
Suddenly, sheet lightening hits the penthouse, shatters the windows, filling everywhere with blinding white. Neither of them moves until it’s over. As soon as they can see, the two of them maneuver around Alex’s prone body, trying to start CPR.
In the charred remains of what is left of her life, Alejandra Ruis-Cardenas closes her eyes and is gone.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
12:05–All Saints’ Cemetery
Oya has left, the winds are still, all the necessary tools have been gathered up, with the food and wine left as offerings. Iyalosha sits on a stone bench across from the grave and waits. She has to see for herself, she has to know.
Then she hears what seems like two people whispering, but so faint she can’t make out the words. Peering into the darkness, she begins to make them out. Alejandra and Naftali, standing together at the foot of the grave. Sorrow and remorse are etched into their features, she thinks she sees her baby crying. Iya does not approach, she cannot. There is nothing to say, no way that this will ever be undone. They will never see their ancestors, never sit at the table of the Seven Powers. There will be no rest for them, no joy. But Oya kept her promise, they will be together always.
It is done, and Iyalosha Adisanya rises and leaves this place.
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~
12:15–424 Diversey Parkway
“It looks like a bomb blast site.” Scully steps gingerly through the debris. She’s really talking to herself, Mulder just happens to be in the vicinity. Both of them are still pretty shell-shocked as they follow the necessary protocol. A suspect died from respiratory failure while resisting arrest. Scully tells herself that’s about the only thing they’ll all agree on once the reports are written.
He has his back to her, finishing his calls to the 911 dispatcher and Jorgensen.
“They’ll be here soon.” He’s done now, and turns to face her. They’ve covered the body with a sheet from the bed, and now they’re waiting for the coroner and the crime scene technicians.
“Mulder, look at us.”
“Yeah, pretty amazing, huh?”
Essentially miraculous would be a more apt description. There is nothing, virtually nothing wrong with either one of them, save for the blood stains they have on their clothes from struggling with Alex.
“Amazing? It’s…unreal…unbelievable. We have no discernible injuries whatsoever, no physical complaints, no symptoms of trauma, all of which should be present after the beating we took. How do you explain something like this?”
He dangles his left wrist with its red band in front of her, trying to muster a half-hearted grin as he points to hers, “I got your explanation right here.”
“You can’t be serious…There’s no basis for it, no viable scientific rationale…” She was only partially unconvinced at this point, but she wanted to make him work for the rest.
“OK,” he sighed, as exhaustion began to claim him, “maybe it’s ’cause we put the ‘B’ in badass.”
Listlessly rubbing her forehead, she caught his eye as she muttered. “Mulder, you’re making your first explanation sound better all the time.”
~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~