Twilight’s End – Chapter 5

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

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Chapter 5

It’s been hour after hour without a break. Finally taking a short breather, they conceal all the data, and the symbols run down the small display field, a cobalt trail of secrets. Scully stretches and finds the bathroom in working order, but not before glancing over at the second unit. Thinking about Albert Hosteen, and more worlds than she can hold in her hand, it’s clear her world’s boiled down to blood and someone else’s science.

Quick foraging on Mulder’s part revealed hidden treasure in the tiny refrigerator—some water in a pitcher, brown laying eggs, cold mutton in a crock, and some fry bread wrapped in layers of cheesecloth. He’s wonders about the data they haven’t seen yet, guesses at how many vials of vaccine are in the other box, and silently prays he wasn’t wrong about hope. A roll of the cosmic dice and look where they ended up. They’re fugitives, they’re mutants, they’re the saviors of the planet. He can’t say he’s talking to God, not yet, but he asks whatever’s out there, whatever’s holding him and Scully and the universe together, to make this come out right.

At some level, he’s been ready his whole life for the way things turned out, so long as it left him with proof. Scully never asked for any of it. Fate stripped away family, career, even the bedrock of her beliefs.

And then there’s William. ‘Loss is a feeble word,’ he thinks, ‘William is our forever sorrow, Scully, yours and mine.’

“Hungry?” he asks over his shoulder, needing to say something, anything, the more banal, the better. He wants to offer her any shred of normalcy he can.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he turns just in time to catch her straightening the shabby, brown curtain back into place. When she turns to face him, there’s no doubt or confusion in the depth of her eyes. Relief runs through him–he can feel it, his breath releasing, his body relaxing.

Meanwhile, she’s already figured out what he’s thinking. There’s a split second when all she sees is the crown of William’s head, smells the milky, baby powder sweetness of his skin. But she knows what he needs to hear, what she needs to do. Teasing him seems the right response; it’s not the time to talk about what this all means. But tonight, in the stillness and the dark, in her mind’s eye she will hold her son again and tell him low much she loves him.

“Caught me red-handed, Sheriff.”

He smiles, and she smiles back. “Where’s the handcuffs when you really need ’em?” Now he’s intuiting her, and returns serve with the required innuendo.

“No time to play, I’m afraid.” She glances over to the table, loaded with guns, ammo, and alien technology.

His eyes follow hers. ‘She’s good,’ he realizes, ‘I’m good.’

“Maybe later, then. What about something to eat? It would appear our esteemed host has left the larder full.” They ate late last night, and were too distracted by each other and making ready to have breakfast this morning. It’s really more a perfunctory question than anything else. He doesn’t want anything now but the answers.

She knows he’s not interested in food or a break in the action. Besides, what they don’t know is starting to nag at her. Too keyed up to eat, she takes a long, slow breath to center herself, “Not right now…what about you?”

“Nah….Back to the salt mines, Outlaw.”

It’s that strong, even stride that never fails to move him as she nods and walks back to the table. Watching her return to her seat, a second later he walks over and joins her.

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Cracking his knuckles, he rolls his neck until the vertebrae pop, then straightens tall in his chair and slides it closer to her. Turning slightly in her direction, they’re sitting so close together that his shoulder brushes hers.

“Ready for the revolution?”

Taking another deep, deep breath, she stretches in her chair and settles in, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

His voice is calm and careful. “Display plans for an offensive, both versions. Provide all tactical and strategic information.”

Decryption is instantaneous, and they’re flooded with a barrage of information. It’s overwhelming; it’s too much at once. “Separate data and freeze into readable sections.”

It almost looks like cell division, but the chaos of shimmering blue becomes two distinct, explicit files, organizing themselves like chapters in a book. It’s their labeling that make the two of them look at each other for the first time in what seems like very long time. Underneath one is the glimmering word ‘Alpha,’ and below the other is ‘Omega.’

“First strike and the last, best hope.”

She doesn’t respond directly to his remark. “Now we can look at them one at a time. Show Plan Alpha in foreground, move Plan Omega to background and dim.”

First up is the protocol and procedure for isolating the proteins, then the formula specifying how many parts per milligram to introduce to the vaccine, followed by instructions as to how to mass produce the final product. The second major section shows a topographical map of the country, pinpointing cities with large pharmaceutical plants, research labs, medical schools, and MUFON members with access to those sites, as well as local boards of health, and neighborhood clinics.

Over the next 18 to 24 months, the two of them will travel to different cities, setting up cells where the vaccine will be produced. To insure the distribution, the serum would also be introduced to the most commonly used medicines at the manufacturing level. A cadre of carefully chosen resisters will distribute the vaccine through large medical centers, then in local clinics, then split off and set up new cells in other cities, then rural areas. There are also plans to provide the vaccine to former abductees who routinely travel out of the country.

After studying the display, Mulder breaks the silence. “We take point, stay on the move. This is doable, Scully. We have enough resources to stay mobile, to hide in plain sight. Large urban areas work as staging platforms. It’s easy access for us, and for other resisters. Then we gear up, divide and multiply.” We spread globally… reaching everywhere like a …”

“…like a virus. And you’re right, this looks really possible.”

“I like the way you think,” he quipped, “especially when you agree with me.”

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Scully gives the command and the second file opens, now the luminous record reconfigures to show both plans side by side. There’s still an easy feeling here–the room holds the sense of possibility, and sighing deeply, she allows herself the luxury of this moment.

A new topographic map materializes, but it’s only a fifty mile radius from their current location, pinpointing an isolated plateau deep inside the nearby mountain range. Mulder doesn’t say anything, but he can feel the knot slowly forming in his stomach. He asks himself why there’s another plan when the first was so perfect. It doesn’t make sense; he can feel it in his bones.

“Halt file. Freeze data…..Mulder, what’s wrong?” Scully catches the shift in the atmosphere immediately. She can sense the change in him, in the whole room without even looking.

“Smith’s put new meaning in the term ‘anal retentive.'”

“That’s not it,” she challenges, glancing at him over her shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” he murmurs as he touches her arm, “I’m thinking that there doesn’t need to be another file, unless we’re missing something.”

Turning toward him, she sees the questions in his eyes, the doubt. Truth be told, it’s dawning on her that it’s all been too easy. “OK, let’s say you’re right. There’s only one way to find out. We need to see everything that’s here and then draw our conclusions.”

Tension at the base of her spine draws the muscles tight, and instinctively she reaches back to start massaging the spot, but Mulder’s hand’s already there, his fingertips soothing away the stiffness, spreading warmth. Sighing, she leans back, letting him hold her up for a minute. But she knows there’s no time for anything but a moment’s respite. “Resume file display.”

Pressing a last caress into the small of her back, he slowly withdraws, turning back to the image before him. “We’ll deal with it, Scully, whatever it is we find out.”

“I know,” reassuring him as she steadies herself.

What the map indicates appears to be a base camp, built partially above ground, with the majority of the structure housed inside a large cave. They both notice right away a honeycomb of connecting tunnels fanning out into the mountains, into the local valley, with some finally leading to rock culverts hidden by the stand of pines they passed on the road here.

“Display schematics for all aspects of featured structure,” he orders.

Diagrams and text emerge next to the map. There are bare-bones living quarters, a main room and two smaller ones, kitchen, bathroom, a lab and a communication center. There also seems to be a storeroom, or what might be a weapons locker. It’s clear to Mulder the structure’s utilized a preexisting cave shelter and tunnels left by Anasazi. They’re ready to take it to the next level, and the reasoning behind this part of the puzzle’s critical.

“Someone’s been renovating, improving on what indigenous people left behind a thousand years ago. It seems Spender wasn’t the only one who could see they were still useful.”

“There’s probably a lot Montoya hasn’t told us,” she answers dryly. Her attention hasn’t left the display either. It’s clear to her that the base is a production lab, and she’s betting Mulder’s figured that out, too.

“It could be that Smith and his sympathizers were responsible for this directly.”

“It’s possible, but does it matter? She’s our only contact.”

“You don’t completely trust her, do you?”

She says nothing for a moment, then responds. “The only person I trust completely is you.”

“That’s my line, Scully.”

What he doesn’t say is that all the best-laid plans mean nothing, that that it all hinges on the two of them, trusting one another, and being willing to take it to the end together.

Turning to him again, she nods and takes her hand and rests it against his cheek. No words need to be said.

Both of them return to the business at hand, watching intently as the tactical files decrypt. In this scenario, the two of them staff and operate a central manufacturing lab for the vaccine. Montoya will handle security and supervise transport of cadre members from their locations to the base and back. The resistance is still comprised of the same MUFON members as before. Traveling covertly, they’ll arrive at the lab using a carefully staggered schedule and indirect routes. Apparently, the density of magnetite in the region blocks the normal tracking signal given off by the implants, concealing the presence of cadre in the region. Over the course of a week, they’ll receive the training required to reproduce the vaccine. Once completed, they’ll be briefed on tactical distribution using their respective home locations. The overall time frame of 18 to 24 month still remains in place.

Mulder sees the hole in the plan immediately. No matter how careful they might be, the risk to abductees is obvious. It might not be caught right away, but sooner or later a pattern of travel outside the normal routine of the abductees will be discernible. No matter how covert the travel, all roads lead to where they are. The chips are locator tags, and even if there’s only a partial trail, the aliens will eventually lock onto it, and will systematically search the whole area until eventually they’re all discovered and killed. Or worse, captured and abducted again. There’s the possibility that some cadre could go undetected and distribute the vaccine, but the chances of success are much smaller. He looks over to Scully, who seems lost in thought, her right hand stroking the base of her neck, fingertips brushing back and forth across her implant scar.

“Hey, Outlaw, ” his voice soft, “You still with me?”

She wants to tell him she wishes she’d refused to have the implant restored, but she knows there’s nothing to be gained by second-guessing. She didn’t want to die, she still doesn’t. ‘Please let us be safe, ‘ she prays, ‘Safe enough to do this. Please.’

“Yeah…I am,” she replies, coming back to herself and this moment. “This plan has significant weaknesses, but I’m assuming you’ve figured that out.”

“Plan Omega is a poor second choice, that’s obvious. What we’re not seeing is why it’s here to begin with.” Trying to concentrate, trying to unearth the fragment that connects all the pieces of the puzzle, Mulder closes his eyes, and leans back in his chair.

“Then we go over the files again, section by section until we find what we’re looking for.” Scully starts to scrutinize the display fields, hoping to find a hint, a clue, something. “Highlight key features of plans Alpha and Omega,” she orders, “and crossmatch the following variables….”

“Wait…The answer’s not there.”

Whipping her head around, she finds him sitting at the edge of his chair, eyes bright with discovery.

“Encrypt files and close current location,” he commands. Glowing blue words twist and swirl, fading into symbols. Suddenly, there’s a pulse of light, then nothing. He knows what to do; it was there all along in what Montoya said to both of them. It’s them. The explanation has everything to do with them.

“Display all biosignature data for subjects Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.”

A new display opens, with sections of their DNA models in close up, sections they hadn’t examined before. The anxiety’s building and she can feel her heart racing; Scully leans in to get a closer look. “I don’t know what the hell I’m looking at here. I’ll need to pull up the full models, try to piece these segments into the whole. If I can do that, maybe I can guess what it all means.”

Before she can do anything, the voice of Jeremiah Smith returns. “I think I can answer your questions, Agent Scully. By now you and Agent Mulder must see the critical importance you play in defeating the colonists. You are on the brink of a critical decision with the power to change the future. You need to understand fully why you’ve been given that choice.”

“The reason for these plans…what we need to know about ourselves…” Mulder began. All he could hear was the sound of his own voice, all he could feel was Scully’s hand reaching for his.

“Yes, I think it’s time, don’t you?” Smith hesitates for a moment, and Scully wonders if he was trying to gather the strength to speak.

“Simply put, this is the situation,” Smith was back, and there is nothing but resolve in his voice. “Our people are undergoing slow extinction due changes on our home planet that have made the environment inhospitable. Our leadership is an expansionist, and warlike. However, they have never represented a majority among us. There are those who have fought unsuccessfully for our people to find other ways to survive. For decades, a tiny group rebels has worked covertly on ships, looking for a way to halt the invasion. We are separate from the splinter group that you know as the faceless ones… their tactics have been confrontational, ours remain non-violent, more secret, and by necessity, more subtle. As often as we can, we leave the ships for reconnaissance. Our ability to change our appearance has been keenly useful in intelligence gathering. We hoped that an opportunity would arise that would allow us to help your people…

Mulder interrupts, “You turned against your own, chose to fight against your race’s chance to survive?”

“Yes, Agent Mulder, some of us believe that taking of any life is unacceptable. That must come as a surprise to you, but I am part of what you would call a clan of what you, Agent Scully, might refer to as priests. We formed the core of the resistance on the ships. You both know of my capacity to heal human abductees, and part of my mission was to attempt to reach and restore as many as I could. That mission brought me into contact with you, but the two of you have been surveilled by our group since your partnership began. Early on, we saw that both of you were willing to ask the right questions, regardless of the risk. We’ve watched you closely over time, monitored your activities, any significant changes.”

“You knew about my abduction, then?” As soon as the words leave Scully’s lips, Mulder’s fingers lace through hers.

“Yes, but we were powerless to stop it, to stop any of them, or the attempt to create hybrids…You…Agent Mulder’s sister… we couldn’t risk being discovered…It was our hope, however, that somehow, we could find a way to fight together.”

“You’d better be right,” she murmurs, hoping no one’s heard her, the squeeze of her hand tells her otherwise. Clearing her throat, “Go on.”

“You have both undergone genetic changes we’ve concealed from our mutual enemies in the hope it could be used to help wage an offensive. Simply put, Agent Scully, some time after your abduction, it appears you were exposed to some unknown mutagen that altered your natural aging process. It also appears you have a heightened ability to heal after serious injury. In other words, you have the potential for extreme longevity.”

“Fellig…,” she murmurs, almost inaudible. Mulder’s nodding, more history’s come into play.

“Are you asking something, Agent Scully?” It’s Smith or what’s left of Smith, trying to respond.

“No, just go on…”

“As soon as we were aware of this fact, we sequestered all the relevant data. It was unclear for several years what the corollary effect of that exposure was. But we periodically checked our original cellular samples, and we discovered not only multiple branching DNA strands, but the release of certain amino acids which appeared to bind instantly to samples of the vaccine we had in our possession. But its effect on the vaccine was minimal–only small, incremental increases in potency. Then approximately two years ago, The Smoking Man abducted you.”

Scully flinches, and Mulder strokes the back of her hand, his fingertips trailing comfort.

“What we’ve been able to piece together is that he reprogrammed your chip. Your risk of cancer is nil, and your fertility was restored for a single pregnancy. For reasons we don’t understand, it appears Spender was attempting to provide you with a chance for motherhood, and a return to relative safety. Without a functioning chip, you could move anywhere undetected.”

“But there’s always a complication, isn’t there?” Mulder asks even though he knows the answer.

“More than a complication, an event, Agent Mulder. You were exposed to the artifact from one of our ships, resulting in anomalous temporal lobe function, giving you precognitive ability that obviously would put plans for invasion in jeopardy. We were made aware of your kidnapping, engineered by members of the Consortium with the stated intention of neutralizing the threat.”

“And you were unable to do anything again but watch from the shadows.” On the surface, Mulder is matter-of-fact, but Scully hears the sarcasm layered underneath.

It is, however, lost on Smith. “Exactly. We came to understand that there was another agenda in place, orchestrated by C.G.B. Spender. It was unsuccessful due to your intervention, Agent Scully, and from what we discovered later, Agent Fowley’s as well.”

“Fine. We’ve just reviewed recent history. What are you saying, Smith? How does Mulder’s exposure factor into this?”

“What you don’t know is that we falsified certain test results performed on Agent Mulder during his captivity onboard one of our ships. Our operative found evidence of heightened and intensified pineal gland activity and concealed that information. As a physician, Agent Scully, you probably believe pineal gland function is essentially vestigial. But Agent Mulder, I suspect you know the significance of this change, and why we chose to conceal it.”

“Pineal gland function has been associated with the ‘third eye,’ with the capacity to access other levels of consciousness, other planes of existence….”

“You mean speaking to the dead.” She says it, and as she does, she’s aware there’s no question in her mind about it. In an old life, it would have been a bone of contention, but too much has happened to question what’s being said.

“More like hearing what the dead are trying to tell us,” Mulder responds.

“That, and the potential for telekinesis, for telepathy,” Smith continues. “Samples we took from you developed branching DNA almost immediately, and when we saw the presence of similar proteins to those of Agent Scully, we introduced the proteins secreted by both of you to the vaccine. The results were stunning, a breakthrough. That was when we began to formulate the plans you now have.”

“And speaking of the plans, why are there two sets, Smith? Just answer that directly.” Scully made no attempt to hide her growing impatience. ‘Cut to the chase,’ she thinks, ‘Let’s get to the goddamn point.’

As if he could hear her thoughts, Smith replies. “The facts, then, directly. It means that you and Agent Mulder give off a linked biosignature unlike any two people on Earth. It only exists when the two of you are in close proximity to each other, for reasons we do not understand. It means that our enemies can find you anywhere, except where there are large deposits of magnetite. We developed a serum to mask those signatures, concealed along with the vaccine in the second unit, but there’s a risk of fatality to Agent Mulder that we didn’t have the time to eliminate. When the timetable for distribution of the virus was pushed forward, when the super soldiers were introduced, it forced our hand before we could perfect the neutralizing agent. That’s why there are two plans. The first is the most feasible, but there is an obvious risk. We have no idea what, if anything, could be done with just the proteins produced by Agent Scully. We suspect that it may be possible to strengthen the effects, but we have no solid evidence to support that. In the second plan, you are protected, the vaccine is insured, but many others face potential discovery, death or recapture. Should that happen, the impact on resistance is obvious.”

There is silence now, perhaps there’s nothing else. Perhaps the essence of Smith that remains in the box is waiting for something.

Looking into each other’s eyes, they both know there’s nothing to rely on but an intergalactic crapshoot and their utter devotion to each other. Exhaustion and hunger are starting to claim their bodies, but at the core, they’re stronger, stronger than this risk, stronger than any fear.

“Terrible odds, impossible choices, Scully…”

“Just like always.”

It’s not the first time, but Mulder can count on the fingers of one hand the times he felt with pure and perfect clarity why he was born, what he’s supposed to do. He felt it the moment he vowed to find his sister, the day he re-opened the X-Files, the night in a playground when he let Samantha go. And there was that crystalline moment after the failed trip to England when Scully came him–whispering her promise as they moved together–he saw the rest of his life in the blue of her eyes. Now there’s this minute, this revelation.

She marvels at the way his eyes are flecked with gold in the fading daylight, and she can’t help but smile as she looses herself in them. It’s obvious how transparent she is to him now, but it doesn’t bother her. She past the need for those old attempts at setting boundaries. Past feeling shock at the daily unbelievable that is their life, light years away from her old skepticism. The woman who would’ve argued about what she just heard is dead and gone. There’s only room for believing what’s in front of her, seizing any chance that will keep them alive and help them fight the future. She has to live by her wits, survive on instinct, do the unexpected.

She doesn’t know how why, but for some reason Montoya’s parting words replay in her head. Before she can stop herself she says the first thing that comes to mind. It’s not practical; it’s not what her former self would say, but that Dana Scully’s not here.

“I think I’ll have that drink now.”

“I wasn’t expecting that, Outlaw….Good call.” Mulder’s up in a flash, getting the bottle from the cabinet and two tumblers. It’s almost twilight now. They’ve been at this for six hours, and the sunlight from the dingy windows is fading to dusk, to shades of violet, lavender, and gray.

Striding briskly back to the table, he hands over the bottle and glasses to her and she pours them each two fingers of the amber liquid. They’re both poised to take the first shot, when the silence is broken by Smith and a question.

“Are you ready to hear about your son?”

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