Title: Twilight’s End
Author: diehard
Rating: R/NC-17 for language and sexuality.
Classification: WIP, MSR, Alternate Universe, Post Truth. Follow up to Day Tripping.
Spoilers: Takes place directly where Day Tripping left off.
Keywords: Seek and ye shall find.
Summary: Underground, Mulder and Scully attempt to find a way to launch an offensive.
beta by the lovely sallie
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Chapter 3
Montoya reholsters her weapon and takes in a long, deep breath. Her arms fall loosely to her sides. “Jeremiah Smith was a prisoner in our holding pen, where we were kept before They experimented on us or killed us….He would heal the ones They weren’t through with yet. I guess the fact that I fought Them every every time they came for me meant something.”
Smiling ruefully, she went on. “Smith said he was one of the last of a group of alien resistors, but he’d been captured and imprisoned with us….He couldn’t stand to watch the suffering, and They used him. Used him to treat the guinea pigs they still wanted… and destroy what was left when people died during the tests. The last time I had the tests it practically killed me. He saved me, and we came up with a plan to fight the aliens and the soldiers. I was hidden in the ‘refuse,’ dumped in the Arizona desert and found my way to the underground.
“You contacted the Gunmen.” Pushing back his chair, Mulder stretches out his long legs and takes a deep, cleansing breath.
“It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be…not after I made myself known in MUFON circles.”
“You know they’re dead, don’t you?” Wincing slightly as he speaks, his jaw’s tight with regret.
“I assumed that when my messages to them got bounced back. You knew them?”
It’s Scully who answers, her voice barely rising above a whisper. “They were friends…”
Mulder finishes, “…the best kind of friends.”
Their host says nothing, but nods and stares down at the tips of her boots.
“And you’ve waited all this time for us?” Impassively scanning the woman’s face, his gray-green eyes flicker. He’s cautiously moving ahead, but every instinct he has tells him to trust her.
Montoya’s lips curved into what Mulder guesses is a familiar smirk. “Well, I managed to keep busy. Aside from the aiding and abetting fugitives, I gradually stockpiled weapons…weapons that we can use against the soldiers. Pistols, rifles, grenades…explosive devices…you name it. I’ve adapted them to carry an charge made from some of the ore found here…”
Scully cut in, “Magnatite…you altered ammunition to carry magnitite…”
“Seems like you’ve been doing some field research of your own.”
“We’ve discovered what its effect are. Are you suggesting you were sent back in order to launch an attack against the aliens?”
“It’s a little more complicated that that. It’s about the two of you…”Montoya glances at Mulder, then back at Scully….The Resistance can’t succeed without you.”
Hear that, Scully?” Mulder quips drily. “Our leadership abilities are finally appreciated.”
“It’s much greater than that…We need what’s in you… both of you.”
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
An uneasy trust weaves itself around three strangers in a naked room in the middle of nowhere. Mulder stretches and cracks his knuckles, while Scully loosens her grip on the trigger and slowly sets her gun on the table. Montoya, still standing between the two of them, leans on the table with outstretched arms, palms flat against the weathered pine surface.
Scully finally cracks open the silence. “What do you mean, ‘both of us?’ Are you saying Mulder has some kind of implant we couldn’t detect?” Taking a breath, she releases it, tries to stifle the other question in the back of her mind. She will not let herself think the word ‘cancer.’
“No, his exposure to the artifact changed him. At least that’s what I was told.”
“My abnormal brain activity.” Mulder looks up at Montoya and shakes his head, he doesn’t know how he always knows, but he knows. “That’s not what you mean, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. You both have something in common, something physical.”
Scully feels a single bead of sweat work its way down her spine, Whatever information Montoya has, she wants it and wants it now. The tension and frustration’s eating at her but she wills herself not to move, sitting ramrod straight in the ancient wooden chair. “Enough cryptic responses…we need…”
“…answers.” cuts in Mulder. He’s trying to hold onto his reserve, but Scully recognizes the change in the color of his eyes. All traces of green are siphoned off by gray—something dark and angry is surfacing.
Montoya tries to respond. “I have to know you’re ready to take this to the next level.”
Scully surrepetitiously inches her hand along the tabletop, slowly wrapping her fingers around the Walther’s grip.
“We’re here because we want to stop the end of the world. There’s no going back for us…nothing to go back to.” Mulder ‘s voice starts off carefully modulated, but he keeps getting louder as he goes on. Gripping his knees to steady himself, he struggles against the urge to start shouting. “We either take them out or go down trying. Is that ready enough for you?” He stares at her dead on, and she stares back, silent.
Miraculously, it clicks into place, and the corners of Montoya’s mouth form an actual, honest-to-god smile. “Good. I have information for your eyes only.” The words hang in the air, and turning away from them, she strides to the bed and the footlocker on the floor. Looking over her shoulder, she glances over to Scully’s weapon and the pistol sticking out Mulder’s boot. “You won’t need those… ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’….”
Mulder rests his open hands on the table, and Scully slips the Walther carefully back into her boot. She beckons him, and easing to his feet, he’s at her side in a couple of steps. Turning, she glances up at him, questioning.
Their host has gone back to what she was doing, pulling open the lid of the storage box, and removes two black, rectangular objects, each about the size of cigar boxes, one larger than the other. There are no seams, no lids, no hinges. Just two solid masses. Walking back to the table slowly, she sets them gingerly in front of the two of them, then motions to Mulder. “You have to do this together.”
“Do what, exactly?” his voice curious. Scully’s hand is on his thigh.
“Each of you has to touch the boxes. They’re designed to respond to your biosignatures and yours alone.” Montoya sounds confident, a little brusque. Clearly, her temporary hesitancy’s gone, and she sounds as if she’s giving fellow soldiers directives now
“Biosignatures? What are you not telling us?” Scully matches her tone, she knows how to give military attitude with the best of them. There’s steel in her voice and in her eyes and she hopes it has the desired effect on Montoya.
“Smith told me he and a small group of sympathizers prepared this, in the event you both survived and could find your way to me. He mentioned biosignatures when he gve me the boxes.” Pointing to the larger of the two, “This is an information storing device. Two possible strategies for an offensive have been outlined, based on the rest of the information that’s there…..You need to be briefed, then make a decision.”
“And what about us, what is it about us that’s so important?” Scully keeps pressing.
“You’re necessary….There’s something that makes you different from other abductees, something that links you together….and somehow connects you to the vaccine. That’s all I can tell you. What specific information’s in the box is for you alone….I don’t need to know, don’t want to know….
“Eyes only, then?” Mulder asks, his sixth sense itching. Last night, hope was little more than a wish in the dark. Today, he thinks it might be found inside a black box.
“Yeah, eyes only….While you do what what you need to do, I’m going to get rid of a potential problem. Give me your car keys.”
Glancing at Scully, he bites back a grin when she raises an eyebrow. Some things never change, he tells himself. Catching her eye, he gives her a slight nod. Then, both turning to Montoya, they stare her down, waiting for an explanation.
“We need to dump that SUV…it’s a tipoff you’re not from around here.”
He hears Scully sighing as he reaches into his back pocket and tosses the keys.
Montoya’s hand shoots up, and in one quick, fluid move, she makes the grab. Keys are shoved into her cargo pants, and she ambles over to the bed, pulls a Makarov semi- automatic from under the pillow, and reaches under the bed to retrieve a Glock 9mm. Striding back to where her guests are waiting, she offers an explanation. “I have a contact who’ll trade me the gas guzzler for a ride that won’t stick out like a sore thumb. I’ll be back tomorrow at first light….It’ll take me that long to make the connect, do the deal and drive back.” Shoving the weapons onto the table, “Take these, and unload them into anyone who comes here…including me…or anyone looking like me.”
Mulder picks up the Makarov pulls out the clip, “Magnatite in the bullets…In case our soldier friends stop by for a little search and destroy…”
“That’s right…consider it extra insurance. Smith told me you’d be safe in this location. It’s loaded with deposits….The whole region is, from here, all the way to Roswell….I just want you to be prepared in case recon somehow pushes through.” Looking over to the still seated Scully.” I’m guessing neither of you will have a problem dropping any uninvited visitors.”
Scully hasn’t said much and doesn’t plan to. She doesn’t completely trust this woman, but there’s nothing new there. The one person who has her unconditional trust has decided for both of them, and there’s nothing new there, either. Realizing that their new life’s pretty much like their old life is strangely reassuring.
Shoving the clip back into the pistol, he answers for both of them. “I think you already know we won’t.”
A few minutes later they’re standing on the porch, watching Montoya hop into the SUV. Instead of turning toward the access road, she pulls up right in front of the porch and hits the brakes. Flinging open the driver’s side door, two duffels are tossed out, landing practically at their feet. Montoya pokes her head out, and there’s a slight smirk on those full lips. “Thought you might want to freshen up later.” Then she hoists up the aluminum suitcase with their cash, ID’s and laptop, swings it and lets it fly. Mulder grabs it in mid-air, swearing at her under his breath. If she caught any of it she didn’t let on. “I thought you’d want to keep that close by. By the way, you’ll find a bottle of mescal in the cupboard above the stove. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a bad host.”
Scully starts to yell something about the medical kit, but the SUV door slams shut. The window whirs up, and Montoya floors it in reverse, pulls a U-turn, in a matter of seconds becomes a dark blip speeding toward the main road. Mulder realizes the Colt’s still stowed in the glove compartment, but decides to let it go.
He nudges Scully, and when she turns toward him, there’s an old, familiar gleam in his eyes.
“C’mon, honey, let’s get it on.”