From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 27 Aug 2002 22:04:46 -0000
Subject: Tuebor (1 of 3) by Slippin\' Mickeys
Source: direct

Reply To: red_phile@yahoo.com


Tuebor
By Slippin' Mickeys

Keywords: Post-finale, MSR, I forgot 
the rest of these. That's enough, right? 

Rating: PG-13, language, violence, 
nooky. Kinda.

Disclaimer: Dear Chris Carter, you on a 
bike, me with a stick. 'Nuf said. 
Anyway... Characters not mine, blah, 
not making any money, blah, that 
wasn't me in the bushes outside your 
off.., never mind. 

Summary: 25 years in one night. 

Whole story can be found here:
http://www.geocities.com/fay2804/Tuebor.txt

Feedback: red_phile@yahoo.com I am 
a self-professed feedback whore. I work 
between the corners of Constructive 
Criticism Avenue and Show Me the 
Love Boulevard. 

Author's Note: I dreamed up this story 
when I was unsatisfied with the ending 
of the finale. I pretty much left the 
fanfic community over a year ago to 
pursue other things. It's all working out 
very well for me, and though I do still 
love the medium, this story will 
probably be my last foray into X-Files 
fan fiction. Famous last words, right? 
Mad love to Sybil, for the guerilla, ass-
kickin' beta, and to all of my fellow 
TWoPers that convinced me to come 
back. And no, I didn't picture Vin 
Diesel as Van. I don't know what 
you're talking about. 

Also, "Tuebor" is Latin for "I will 
defend." Props to MI. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Tuebor
By Slippin' Mickeys

XxXxXxXxXxX


If he had wanted to, he could have been 
a concert pianist. 

He'd been a musical genius since birth, 
but couldn't sing. He was 6'2" and 195. 
He bats .400. He was a rock climber 
and had a shot a sniper would envy. He 
always won at poker.

He'd once saved a small child from 
drowning. He was a certified skydiver 
and a part-time equestrian instructor. He 
was an Olympic qualifier and made a 
mean omelet. 

When he was in elementary school, his 
Odyssey of the Mind team had won 
Nationals and he knew how to change a 
tire. He had a pilot license but never 
flew. He'd graduated from an Ivy 
League school but was self-employed. 

He loved other people but lived alone. 
He spoke Latin, Russian and Odawa 
and had been courted by the Central 
Intelligence Agency. He liked dogs but 
had a cat. He understood Stephen 
Hawking but adored Bridget Jones. He 
flossed.

He had an unabashed sweet tooth and 
10% body fat. He could start a fire with 
two sticks but always carried a lighter. 
He could crack an egg in one hand and 
had an ass that wouldn't quit. He 
secretly liked pop music and could sail 
a boat by himself. He had a perfect 
smile, but had never worn braces. He 
never got sick. He killed houseplants 
but his cat was 15. He saw his parents 
everyday, but they never saw him.

His name was William, but no one ever 
called him that.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van sat across from the bed in one of 
the hotel chairs, fidgeting a bit. He was 
a little nervous, yes, but he was also 
trying to sit in an unassuming, non-
threatening position. He didn't want the 
bed's two occupants to feel too 
endangered when they woke. He ended 
up just leaning forward, resting his 
elbows on his knees, his fingers laced 
together.

He knew the grand plan and the long-
term goals of what he was doing, but 
what to do in the short-term was a much 
more vague concept. He wasn't sure 
what he was going to say or do when 
they finally opened their eyes to find a 
strange man, in a strange hotel room, 
staring at them. Which should be... he 
looked at his watch... right about now.

As if on cue, he heard the woman groan 
softly and roll over toward her sleeping 
cohort who emitted a quiet chuff of his 
own. He heard the long inhale of the 
newly awoken, and tensed.

The man moved a bit himself, and the 
two eased closer.

"Hey," he heard the man say. 

Then he leaned in for a long, leisurely 
kiss and Van felt more than slightly 
embarrassed. 

The woman pulled back and scratched 
the man's stomach lightly. 

"Hey," she said, with a slight smile.

Odd, Van thought, that they only 
noticed each other. He doubted it would 
last long.

It didn't.

The woman saw him first and sat bolt 
upright in the bed, scooting back a bit 
against the headboard and fixing him 
with an intense, untrusting stare.

The man noticed the woman, and then 
he noticed Van. He reached one arm 
toward her, but swung a leg over the 
side of the bed, pausing there.

"Who are you?" The man said, his 
entire body tense like a drawn bow.

"Easy," Van said, holding up both 
hands and leaning a bit back in the 
chair, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Get your gun," the man said, throwing 
his voice at the woman, but not taking 
his eyes off of Van for a second.

"Please don't," Van said lightly, 
keeping his hands up.

"Who *are* you?" The man repeated. 

"You can call me Van," he answered, 
"and there's a lot I need to tell you."

The man made a move for the 
nightstand, but stopped short upon 
reaching for it. He then seemed to 
notice the rest of his surroundings and 
looked at them, confused. 

"This isn't our room," he said, matter-
of-factly.

"Not really," Van answered, "not as you 
remember it, anyway."

The man clenched his jaw, but didn't 
move, and Van stole a glance at the 
woman. She remained sitting up in the 
bed, but cocked her head, squinting at 
him as though she may have recognized 
him.

"Like I said," Van spoke once again, 
"there's a lot I have to tell you." 

The man made a move towards Van but 
stopped short upon hearing the 
woman's voice.

"Mulder," she said, "don't."

XxXxXxXxXxX

The three of them had gathered around 
the small table in the hotel room, after a 
quite lengthy bathroom break and 
clothes changing session. Scully had 
gone into the bathroom first, and 
Mulder had joined her as soon as he 
heard the toilet flush. Van heard them 
softly disagreeing about what do about 
him.

"You're not going to be able to fit out 
that window, Mulder" Scully said, her 
voice amused but muffled through the 
door.

Mulder's voice was lower and quieter 
and Van had a hard time making it out. 

They debated for several minutes and 
he ended up leaning forward on the 
tabletop and nonchalantly propping his 
head up on his elbow.

 In the end, they both emerged, and Van 
simply stood, gestured toward the table 
and chairs, and said, "Please." 

They sat across from him now eyeing 
him with apprehension and distrust. 
Van noticed that they'd both turned so 
that their knees were touching. 

He took a deep breath, rubbing a hand 
through his five o'clock shadow and 
regarded them honestly.

"I don't quite know where to start," he 
said.

Mulder opened his mouth as if to speak, 
but then glanced around the room, not 
saying anything.

Van began again, deciding to be 
completely direct.

"You're both aware of the impending 
alien colonization," he began. Both 
Mulder and Scully grabbed the arms of 
their chairs and pushed them back 
quickly, ready to bolt. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, throwing 
his hands up again in mock surrender. 
"Maybe that was a little too direct," he 
mumbled to himself. 

Mulder rose all of the way and wedged 
himself as much as he could in between 
Van and Scully. 

"I want to know what the fuck is going 
on here," he said.

"And I fully intend to tell you," Van 
replied, "and you can stand if you want 
to, but it's probably going to take a 
while."

They eased back into their chairs, but 
didn't push them back to the table. 

"I just need to clarify some things first," 
he continued, "I promise you, this is 
going somewhere." He paused for a 
moment, and then tried to give them a 
reassuring smile.

"We know of it," Scully said, for the 
first time addressing him directly. 

"Good," Van said, "then I won't have to 
go too far into it." 

Mulder nodded his head, urging the 
man to speak. 

"And you know the date. The date 
colonization was supposed to have 
taken place." 

They exchanged glances and nodded. 

"That date is inaccurate," Van 
continued, "and you need to know why. 
And you need to know how."

He paused again for a moment, trying to 
decide how best to proceed. 

"And you need to know that world that 
you closed that door on last night," he 
gestured to the hotel room's entrance, 
"is not the same one you'll find when 
you open it this morning." 

XxXxXxXxXxX  

They took it better than he thought they 
would. 

Scully locked herself in the bathroom, 
and Mulder sat stock still in his chair, 
staring at Van unblinking for a full five 
minutes.

He didn't blame either of them in the 
least.

Mulder finally gave his head a bit of a 
shake and looked at him with a small 
smile as though he wasn't completely 
sure Van hadn't been kidding all along. 
He then looked around the room, gave a 
small grunt of amused disbelief.

"So are the Yankees still around?" He 
asked.

"Yeah," Van grinned, "but they're 
losing."

"To who?" Mulder said with no small 
amount of incredulity.

"The Tigers," said Van, his grin 
spreading.

"It *must* be a sign of the apocalypse 
then," Mulder said, throwing his head 
back a bit and rubbing at his eyes.

Van wondered if Mulder truly knew 
how close he'd come to stating the 
truth.

Van had decided to lay it all out for 
them. To tell them how there was a 
faction of aliens no one knew about. A 
species of beings which had been at war 
with the colonizing aliens for centuries. 
These other aliens had fought with the 
Colonists for as long as the Colonists 
had left their own planet, destroying 
others in the galaxy. The Guardians, 
unlike their enemy, had a strict policy 
of non-involvement, and had been 
secretly combating the Colonist's 
agenda on Earth for decades.

Unfortunately for Guardians, they 
hadn't anticipated the new tactic of the 
Colonists, to conspire with the beings 
they hoped to conquer,to convince a 
ruling faction of humans to aid them in 
their malevolent quest. Their policy of 
noninvolvement had then necessarily 
been broken. They too came to Earth, 
conspired with humans, and fought the 
future.

They had been successful in many 
ways.

The Colonists plan to invade in 2012 
had been thwarted. This had been the 
Guardian's greatest victory. Yet they 
needed more help. As most of the world 
knew nothing of their existence, or of 
that of the Colonists, they had hoped to 
keep it that way. To stop the Colonists 
and move on as they had been doing for 
centuries.

So they had come to Earth and 
convinced a few individuals and groups 
in positions of power to help them. Had 
told them of their plight, and of the 
plight of the Earth.

They had immediately recognized the 
importance of Mulder and Scully. The 
role they would play in the fight against 
the Colonists. But when they had finally 
arrived on Earth, Mulder and Scully 
were on the run and in even more 
danger than they could have possibly 
predicted. 

And so the Guardians had taken them, 
had abducted them, in fact. Had held 
them in stasis for nearly a quarter of a 
century. They had been watched over 
by the Guardians and a few of the 
humans that they had picked from 
millions to help their fight. Van had 
been one of them, had watched over 
them both nearly all of his 26 years. 

The Colonists had planted seeds of 
manipulation into the Earth for 
thousands of years. Humans had found 
them and from them grew knowledge, 
creeds, religions. The Colonists had all 
but preached their purpose to the world.

But not all prophecies came from the 
same place. 

The Guardians had recognized the time 
and had, only the day before, told Van 
that Mulder and Scully would be 
returning to Earth and he was to watch 
over them and prepare them for the 
coming battle. 

He'd given them all the proof he could 
think of. Newspapers with dates on 
them, all of the information the 
contingency of resistance had amassed 
on holographic IMP. He'd even shown 
them the readout of their status he'd had 
printed out when they came out of 
stasis. Van told them everything. 

Well, nearly everything, he thought to 
himself, some things they would have to 
experience on their own, and some 
things it was best they learn later. 

Mulder gave his eyes one last rub and 
rose from the table, giving Van a small 
uncomfortable smile as he made his 
way to the bathroom door. 

"Scully?" He called quietly, holding up 
a knuckle to the door's surface but not 
knocking. 

They heard a soft shuffle behind the 
door and it opened to reveal Scully, her 
face pale, her eyes wide. 

Mulder reached a hand out to her.

"You okay?" 

"They took it out," she said, taking a 
step towards him and putting a hand to 
the back of her neck, "I just noticed. It's 
gone."

"What's gone?" Mulder said, throwing 
a look in Van's direction and then 
squaring his shoulders toward Scully, 
his hands lightly grabbing her elbows. 

Scully pressed her lips together and 
only looked at him.

"The implant? Jesus! Are you sure?" 
Mulder said, bending his knees so that 
he was eye level with her.

"Mulder" Scully began.

Van felt the need to say something and 
interrupted.

"It's okay," he said, "they took it out 
the day they put you in stasis. No one 
can use it to find you. I doubt anyone is 
even still looking." 

"But that's not" Scully began again. 

Van set the brakes on her train of 
thought.

"Your cancer won't return," he said 
gently, "you don't have to worry about 
that anymore. Any underlying medical 
conditions you had when you were... 
taken..." Van stumbled a bit, "have 
been taken care of."
 
They both stood for a moment looking 
at him, then at each other -- both 
deflating into an embrace, trusting 
despite themselves. 

He wanted to reassure them, but he was 
starting to worry that he was talking too 
much and scaring them instead. 

He changed the subject quickly.

"I know this has all been a lot to take in, 
but we should probably get going. 
We've got a long trip ahead of us."

Mulder and Scully didn't move from 
their embrace for a moment. Mulder 
tucked Scully's hair behind her ears and 
then held her face in both hands. Their 
eyes connected for a moment and then 
they turned to Van at the same time. 

"Where are you taking us?" Mulder 
asked.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Dressed in the clothes Van had supplied 
them with, Mulder and Scully got into 
the back of the utility vehicle that Van 
had parked outside their room in 
Roswell, New Mexico. They had gotten 
into the rear seat without discussion, 
and Van said nothing. 

"What, no hover craft?" Mulder asked, 
as he and Scully strapped on their seat 
belts.

"I left it at home," Van deadpanned.

Mulder regarded him with a look of 
uncertainty, but Scully chuffed a small 
grunt of laughter. 

As Van started the vehicle and pulled 
out onto the main road, Mulder spoke 
again. 

"Do you happen to know if Skinner is 
still alive? Walter Skinner?"

"I'm afraid he's not," Van said after a 
moment's hesitation. He omitted the 
fact that Skinner had died while trying 
to protect their lives, and he was 
thankful neither Mulder nor Scully 
pressed the issue.

"How about John Doggett or Monica 
Reyes?" Scully spoke.

"Yes," Van answered, glad he was able 
to deliver better news, "and I'm sure 
they're both eager to see you."

"You know them?" Scully asked him, 
her tone warming a bit. 

"Quite well, actually," he answered, "I 
have for a long time" 

Van eased out onto the freeway and 
adjusted his rearview mirror a bit so that 
he could see them both. 

Mulder fidgeted in his seat and regarded 
Scully for a long moment before he 
leaned forward, his voice dropping an 
octave. 

"Do you know," Mulder stopped and 
stumbled a bit over his words. "It's just 
that we..."

Van's eyes connected with Mulder's in 
the mirror, and he raised his eyebrows, 
urging Mulder to continue. 

Mulder looked to Scully again, who 
turned from looking out the window to 
return his gaze. Mulder looked back to 
Van.

"We have a son. Though I don't 
suppose you" 

"He's alive," Van answered quickly, his 
eyes connecting with Mulder's for a 
moment before turning them back to the 
road. "Though I'm afraid that's all I can 
tell you." 

Scully stared at Van's reflection in the 
rear view mirror for a moment as if 
willing him to reveal more, and then she 
returned her gaze out the window. 

Mulder leaned back in his seat and 
brought his hand to the back of Scully's 
head, smoothing down her hair before 
he, too, turned his eyes to the world 
outside his window. 

Twenty-five years in one night, Van 
mused, it was surely a lot to take in. 

Their journey turned silent and 
remained so.

XxXxXxXxXxX

It was odd. 

Van had been prepared nearly his entire 
life for the day when Mulder and Scully 
would wake and again take their place 
in the world. He always knew he would 
be there, and imagined a thousand 
different scenarios of what it would be 
like. The reality of it, though... 

Van shook his head. It had only been a 
few hours. What the hell did he know? 

He pulled over into a rest area and shut 
off the ignition. Mulder had been 
dozing on and off throughout the ride, 
but Scully had remained awake. 

She reached over and squeezed 
Mulder's knee. 

Van turned around in his seat and gave 
them a grin.

"I'm starving," he said, "and I'm sure 
we could all use a chance to stretch our 
legs." 

They emptied out of Van's vehicle and 
made their way into the mostly vacant 
building. The state-mandated public rest 
rooms were on one side of the entrance, 
and there was a Burger King on the 
other. Van left them to use the facilities 
and went into the Burger King to order. 

He had seated himself near the counter 
to wait for his order when Mulder and 
Scully shuffled out of the rest rooms 
and came together near the entrance of 
the restaurant. They paused there to talk 
to each other out of Van's earshot. 

However, Van had particularly good 
hearing, and the restaurant was all but 
deserted. 

Scully glanced at Van, who averted his 
gaze to study his receipt, and inched 
closer to Mulder.

"Mulder," she said, "I'm not feeling 
very well. I'm afraid he's done 
something to us." 

"I know," Mulder answered, "me 
neither. You feeling kind of queasy? 
Headache? Your joints ache?"

Scully nodded to every symptom.

"I don't know what to think," Mulder 
said. "I mean, we wake up this morning 
and there's some strange man in our 
hotel room who spins an unbelievable 
story, but... Look around us, Scully. I 
didn't even know how to use the urinal 
for Christ's sake. This is not 2002. This 
is... I don't know what this is."

Scully stole another glance at Van, who 
pretended not to hear them and 
retrieved his order from the counter. 

"We've been following him, taking 
everything he says at face value, 
Mulder," she said. "Why?"

Mulder shook his head. 

"It doesn't seem like we have much of a 
choice," Mulder replied, "and I know 
this is going to sound weird especially 
coming from me, but I find myself 
trusting him in spite of myself." 

"Me too," Scully replied, "that's what 
scares me." 

Van couldn't help grinning at that. He 
felt like he knew them, having passed 
by their stasis chambers everyday, 
reading up on their backgrounds, 
personal and medical information. But 
despite what he knew about them, their 
personalities as he was discovering 
them now, were most interesting. 

"So what do you want to do?" Mulder 
asked her, as they turned to walk slowly 
in his direction.

Scully opened her mouth as if to ask 
Mulder another question, but looking at 
Van, thought better of it and answered 
instead.

"I guess we just stick together and find 
out as much as we can," she said.

Van wasn't sure what he could do to 
reassure them, to prove to them that he 
was being completely honest with them, 
and he finally decided that the best 
thing to be done was nothing at all. 

They approached his table, and Van 
gestured to the other seats.

"Have a seat," he said, his mouth full. 
He swallowed. "Can I get you 
something to eat?" 

They exchanged a glance, and Mulder 
answered.

"To be honest," he said, making a face, 
"neither of us quite have an appetite 
right now."

"It's Stasis Sickness." Van said, "It 
starts to set in about eight hours after 
you wake up. Eat something, you'll feel 
better."

Neither one moved.

"I promise," he said.

Scully pushed out a sigh of distaste but 
stood. 

"Come on, Mulder," she said.

Van handed her a twenty. 

He couldn't help but notice as she 
nonchalantly glanced at the bill's 
treasury date, and then expressed more 
interest as she moved the bill to look at 
the hologramic anti-counterfeiting 
measures that the US government had 
installed nearly two decades ago. 

Van watched them order and took 
another bite of his burger with relish. 
He vaguely wondered if they'd notice 
that the French fries weren't fried 
anymore and then dismissed the 
curiosity. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van produced new ID's and plane 
tickets when they arrived at the airport 
in Denver. He'd given them new 
identities as a precaution.

"It's not a direct flight to Thunder Bay," 
he said, "we have a couple of hours in 
Minneapolis, and then it's just a short 
hop on a private plane. We got you fake 
identities just as a safeguard. You 
shouldn't have any problems with 
them." 

The resistance had gotten clearance to 
fly their private jet from Minneapolis to 
Thunder Bay, but they hadn't been able 
to get it from Denver, or any airport in 
New Mexico. They would necessarily 
have to take a commercial flight.

He handed the tickets, ID's and 
passports back to them and hoped they 
wouldn't have any problems. The 
network of resistance that the Guardians 
had amassed was strong, despite how 
few people were actually involved. 
They had pull in nearly every corner of 
the globe. Nevertheless, from what he'd 
read about Mulder and Scully, they 
seemed to attract trouble wherever they 
went. 

He also hoped the names he'd picked 
out for them didn't grate on them too 
much. Megan and Tyler McCoy, the 
names were simple, common, and no 
one needed to know that his first crush 
had been a Megan, his best childhood 
friend had been a Tyler, and that he was 
a big Star Trek fan. 

The flight was smooth all of the way to 
Minneapolis, and they had no problems 
with their new ID's. 

They'd decided to catch dinner at the 
airport and opted for one of the few 
restaurants with wait staff. They 
weren't supposed to meet the private 
plane they were taking to Canada for 
another two hours, so as they waited for 
their meals to be brought out, Van 
leaned back in his chair and relaxed. 

He watched Mulder and Scully, who in 
turn watched just about everything else. 
They both still looked shell-shocked 
and uncomfortable and he wondered 
how long it would take them to adjust. 
He wasn't sure of the timetable they 
were on, but he couldn't imagine it 
would be all that long. 

He'd been sent to prepare them for the 
coming battle with the Colonists and 
also to protect them from whatever 
danger might present itself. He prayed 
he could do his job. Despite the fact that 
it was his duty,  he was already feeling 
protective over them, imagining all they 
must be going through. However, 
regardless of the fact that they were 25 
years behind the times, they were still 
intelligent, capable adults, and probably 
the most versed people on the planet on 
the alien conspiracy with the Colonists.

The world needed them ready, and he'd 
been chosen to deliver. 

 He turned back to the table and found 
Scully looking at him. He gave her a 
grin and reached for his Coke, 
wondering what it was about him that 
was so much more interesting than the 
future. 

After a few moments, the look on her 
face changed from casual curiosity to 
one he thought he recognized as near 
fear. His stomach flip-flopped. What 
was it that she saw? Did she know? The 
question immediately popped into his 
head. Then he noticed that her eyes 
weren't directed on him anymore, but 
just over his shoulder. He turned 
himself to see what it was she was 
looking at, his hand going to the harness 
on his back that held a pistol. 

He rose as he turned and almost 
smacked into another man that was 
approaching their table with purpose. It 
took him a moment to recognize the 
face. As soon as he did, his hand fell 
from his back and he grabbed the man 
in an easy embrace.

"John," he said jovially, "you weren't 
supposed to be here for another hour or 
two." 

"What can I say?" John answered, 
returning the hug and giving Van an 
extra slap on the back before pulling 
away, "I couldn't wait to see your smug 
ass."

Van gave the man warm grin and stood 
back to face his other two companions. 

He took a breath as the three people 
looked at each other for the first time in 
25 years. No one said anything for a 
moment. 

"Damn," John Doggett finally said, 
looking at his two peers who looked 
exactly as he'd left them, 25 years ago. 
"God damn."

"Agent Doggett?" Mulder finally asked, 
standing to greet his friend. 

"It's me, Mulder," Doggett said, 
reaching across and shaking his hand, 
"though you can drop the 'Agent.' Just 
Doggett. John."

Van looked at Mulder, fairly bursting 
with health and youth, and couldn't help 
but think that Doggett suddenly looked 
all of his 65 years. 

Doggett turned to Scully, who rose as 
well. 

"Dana," he nodded at her.

She stood for a moment, silent, and then 
finally made her way around the table to 
wrap the man in a quick, tight hug.

Doggett smiled down at her. "You 
haven't changed a bit."

She huffed a snort of laughter and 
returned to Mulder's side. 

"You look good, John," Scully said, 
filling the air around them with her 
voice. The silence was getting louder 
and they all remained standing. 

Finally, Doggett pulled out a seat to sit 
down and said "I look old, but thanks 
for trying." 

They all reclaimed their seats and the 
waitress took the opportunity to set 
down their meals. She inquired if 
Doggett wanted anything, but he 
ordered only a black coffee. 

Doggett leaned back after the waitress 
had left and looked back and forth 
between Van, and Mulder and Scully.

"So," he finally said, his lips curving 
fractionally, "you've met."

"Briefly," Van answered quickly, 
drawing John's quick look, "yes." 

Doggett squinted his eyes at Van for a 
moment and nodded. 

"Well," he continued, throwing Van one 
last glance before turning to face 
Mulder and Scully, "we've got a bit of a 
flight ahead of us, and I have some 
catching up to do I think." 

"I look forward to hearing it," Mulder 
said, reaching under the table and 
grabbing Scully's hand.

"Good," Doggett merely replied, "now 
where the hell is my coffee?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van had horrible dreams. 

He almost never had good ones. He 
either slept well and didn't dream at all, 
or he had horrible, startlingly real 
nightmares. He told himself they 
weren't prophetic, but eventually, 
everything he ended up dreaming came 
true.

Not always in the exact way he dreamt, 
but no matter what, there were bits and 
pieces of future reality in each 
nightmare. 

In retrospect, what he'd dreamt when he 
was younger was downright tame 
compared to the dreams he'd been 
having for the past several years. 
Whether it was Mr. McClendon being 
trapped underneath his tractor, or Brett 
Johansen being swept away by a giant 
eagle with a shrill, metal-tearing 
shriek-nowadays, they were 
categorically terrifying. And always 
they had to do with Colonization. 
Always. Every time. Without fail.

Until the dream he'd just been jarred 
awake from. 

In his dream, the air around him had 
been hot. Blistering hot-so hot that it 
felt as if his blood were cooler, like a 
knee that got too close to the campfire. 
He was searching, endlessly in a world 
as black as pitch, calling out. 
Screaming. 

"William!" He'd call out, still 
searching, eternally searching. 
"WILLIAM!" 

He could feel the veins in his neck 
bulge with each desperate cry. His skin 
boiled, his throat burned. 

He heard a shuffle behind him and 
whipped around, staring directly into 
the striking blue eyes of a man across 
from him. 

"William," he'd say, knowing he'd 
found who he was looking for.

Then the air around him shattered like 
broken glass.

He'd awoken with a start, unsure as to 
whether or not he'd let out a small yelp 
in the process. 

"Van?" Doggett asked him, his hand 
squeezing his shoulder. 

He looked up at the older man, shaking 
his head as if to clear the dream from 
memory. 

"Yeah, John," he said, wiping the sleep 
from his eyes, "what is it?" 

"You looked like you were dreaming 
again."

He glanced around the plane to find 
Mulder concernedly looking at him, 
Scully asleep on his shoulder. 

"Yeah," he said, turning back to 
Doggett, "I was." 

John Doggett looked at him a moment, 
raising his eyebrows, silently 
questioning. 

Van returned the look, shaking his head.

 Sometimes, when his dreams were 
vividly lucid, he'd tell Doggett and 
Reyes about them, hoping they'd be 
able to help whatever tragedy his mind 
had predicted. Some times they were 
able to-most times they were not. 

This dream was as obscure as it was 
fragmented. No amount of professional 
expertise could solve its mystery. 

He blew out a breath and unfastened his 
seatbelt, standing in the jet's small, 
private cabin. He stretched his arms 
over his head and made his way slowly 
to the cockpit door, stretching his legs 
as he walked. 

He could hear Doggett settle back into 
his seat behind him and resume a 
conversation he'd obviously been 
having with Mulder. 

"So I retired about seven years ago and 
have been working with Van and the 
resistance ever since."

"And who's heading up the X-Files?" 
Mulder asked. 

"Monica," he answered, "she has a few 
good agents under her."

"Agents?" Mulder said, his curiosity 
more than captured, "as in more than 
one?" 

Van grinned and lost the conversation 
to the din of the engines as he reached 
the cockpit. He gave the door a couple 
of short knocks and then let himself into 
the cramped command center.

"Want me to take over?" He asked 
amiably, slapping the pilot on the 
shoulder as he dropped himself into the 
vacant co-pilot's seat. 

"When was the last time you stuck a 
landing?" The pilot answered similarly.

Van grinned at him sideways and 
looked to the vista of heaven reaching 
out in front of him.

He leaned back and enjoyed its beauty 
and peace while he could.

XxXxXxXxXxX

They landed in Thunder Bay just before 
dusk. Doggett loaded what little 
luggage they had and then the three of 
them into his car, driving further out of 
town for nearly a half an hour before 
pulling onto a ranch driveway at Magic 
Hour.

Horses crowded a nearby fence as the 
car made it's way up the main 
residence. Van watched them a moment 
and turned to Mulder and Scully in the 
back.

"We're home," he said, giving them a 
warm grin. 

"You live here?" Scully asked, her 
expression one of intrigue. 

"I have small cottage on front 40 near 
the bluffs," he answered, "but yeah, I 
live here." 

He hopped out of the car as soon as 
John stopped it, opening the door on 
Scully's side, helping her as she slid 
out. 

"Full service," she said, smiling but 
looking at the ground.

"Half service," Mulder uttered quietly, 
hauling himself out of the other back 
door and closing it behind him. 

The screen door whapped shut behind 
him and Van turned towards the large 
houses' main entrance. 

A woman walked slowly out on the 
porch to the edge of the steps, wiping 
her hands on a dishtowel. She grinned 
goofily at the four of them and Van 
returned it, swinging the car door shut 
and making his way up the steps. He 
gave her a soft kiss on the cheek and a 
warm hug. 

"Monica," he said, taking a step back 
and down, "you look like shit." 

"Hey!" She replied, feigning insult. She 
wound up the dishtowel and flicked him 
in the chest. 

"Look who I brought," he answered, 
backing down the steps all of the way. 

Monica Reyes pressed her lips together 
in a smile and made her way down the 
stairs and up to Scully. 

"Dana," she said, opening her arms to 
the woman.

"Monica," Scully said, pushing out a 
breath and stepping into the embrace, 
"this is... It's good to see you." 

"It's better to see you," she replied. 

She took a step back from Scully and 
looked over the car at Mulder.

"Agent Mulder." 

Mulder made his way awkwardly 
around the back of the car and paused in 
front of her. He reached his hand out as 
if to shake hers but dropped his arm as 
she wrapped hers around him. 

"I hear you've got my files," he said, 
squeezing her uneasily but smiling all 
the while. 

She took a step back, ignoring his 
discomfort, and smiled widely. 

"I've just been watching over them for 
you," she said, "I may even give them 
back." 

They were getting better at this, Van 
mused to himself, maybe by the time 
they saw the Gunmen he wouldn't have 
to hold his breath, worried one of them 
might faint. 

He interrupted their reunion by slapping 
a mosquito that had landed on his neck. 

"Let's take this inside," he suggested, 
"I'm getting eaten alive out here." 

Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance 
and then followed him up the stairs. He 
held the door open as they entered and 
waited for Doggett and Reyes to follow 
them.

Reyes grabbed Doggett's hand as they 
walked and he gave her's a quick 
squeeze.

"How was your flight from DC?" He 
asked her softly.

"It was good," she answered, returning 
the squeeze, "but Jefferies has gotten 
reports of increased activity. We've 
gotten amplified SRCD readings 
coming in from all over the country."

"Have you heard from Scot-Res or the 
Southern Coalition?"

"Not yet," she answered, not sounding 
very concerned, "but we can talk about 
that later." 

Their hands fell away from each other 
as they ducked under Van's arm and 
through the door. 

Van followed them all inside and into 
the large foyer where Mulder and 
Scully were standing together looking a 
little out of place. 

"We've arranged a room for you 
upstairs," Reyes said, taking a step 
toward them, "and we've got you 
clothes and some other things all 
stocked up. If you need anything, 
though, just let me know."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to stay here 
tonight," Van said, looking to Doggett, 
"it's been a long day and I don't feel 
like getting back into a car. I can take 
them upstairs, show them around."

"Plenty of room," Doggett nodded, 
"you get some rest."

Van threw a smile in both his and 
Monica's direction and then to Mulder 
and Scully, gesturing with his head to 
the large, half-spiral staircase to their 
left. 

"Right this way," he said, ascending the 
stairs in front of them. He looked down 
to the foyer to find Doggett and Reyes 
watching them all the way up. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van gummed his mouth, trying to lose 
the taste of morning as he made his way 
into the ranch house's large kitchen. 
Monica was already inside, sitting at the 
countertop eating a half of grapefruit. 
She smiled at him as he made his way 
inside and sat down on the stool next to 
her. She reached over and ruffled his 
sleep tousled hair. 

"Morning," she said.

"Morning," he replied on a yawn. 

"Are they still asleep?" She asked him, 
squeezing out the last of juice onto a 
spoon.

"Yeah."

She got up to put her dishes in the sink 
and then leaned back against the 
countertop, looking at him. 

Van suddenly felt like a ten year old in 
trouble. He resented it.

"Is there any coffee?" he asked, his 
voice taking on a petulant edge. He 
regretted his tone immediately and shot 
her a shit-eating grin. "And would you 
like some?" 

"Nice try," Monica said, shoving off of 
the counter and walking over the coffee 
maker at the fridge. She programmed in 
a mocha with extra caffeine and waited 
by the fridge for it to fill the mug she 
held out. "John told me you haven't told 
them yet." 

Van had been hoping he could avoid 
this conversation for a while yet longer. 

His head hit his arms, folded on the 
countertop in front of him. 

"Monica," he whined, his voice 
muffled.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, 
Van," she said, "I just think you need to 
figure out the best way to do it and do it 
soon. They're going to find out, it's 
only a matter of time. And if they find 
out from anyone, it needs to be you." 

"I know," he said, sitting up and taking 
the cafe mocha that Monica offered 
him, "but it's going to be hard." 

"And it's going to be harder the longer 
you wait."

He nodded at her and took a sip.

"Someone needs to take a look at the 
fridge," he said, making a face, "the 
coffee is too cold and the water is never 
cold enough." 

"Oh, get over it," Monica said good-
naturedly, letting the subject drop, "like 
you drink anything from here more than 
once a month anyway."

 "Just because your old-assed taste buds 
can't take decent temperatures doesn't 
take away my right to complain." 

Reyes all but shrieked her laughter at 
him and was winding up the dishtowel 
again when Mulder shuffled into the 
kitchen. 

"Oh!" she said, unconsciously bringing 
a hand to her chest, "did we wake you?"

"Not at all," Mulder said, "I've been 
wandering around this place for the past 
half an hour trying to find the bathroom. 
I followed your voices. Kitchen's good 
enough, I guess." 

"How'd you sleep?" Van asked him, 
motioning to the stool next to him.

"Pretty well considering I was sure I'd 
wake up in New Mexico in the year 
2002," Mulder said, taking the offered 
seat. 

Both Van and Reyes looked at him a 
moment, not knowing what to say. 

"But," Mulder continued in lieu of their 
discomfort, "I'm assuming they still 
have coffee makers in 2027?" 

Mulder was looking longingly at Van's 
steaming mug.

"Of course!" Monica said, jumping to 
her feet, "cappuccino, mocha, latte...?" 

"Black?" Mulder hedged. 

Reyes nodded and pressed the button on 
the fridge.

"It's in the fridge?" Mulder said, 
looking at the stainless steel appliance 
as if it were the most unnatural thing in 
the world.

"Welcome to the future," Van grinned.

"Speaking of which," he said, nodding a 
thanks to Reyes as she set down a mug 
in front of him, "do people usually say 
'twenty twenty-seven' or 'two thousand 
twenty-seven'?"

Van threw Monica a look and answered.

"Usually we just say '27." 

"Ah," Mulder answered, taking a sip of 
his own. 

They all sat for a moment in silence. 

"I thought I might take you and Scully 
around the ranch today," Van finally 
said, "show you around the perimeter, 
everything you'll need to see. Then this 
afternoon take you to the Barn and 
show you some of the equipment we 
use around here."

At the last comment, Monica's eyes 
grabbed his, but she looked away. 

Mulder nodded but was silent for a 
moment. Then he spoke.

"Is that what this is going to be like?" 
He asked, not exactly hostile. "You 
ferrying us around, showing us what we 
need to see, telling us what we need to 
do?"

Van opened his mouth to answer, but 
Mulder continued on.

"Look, we've gone along with you so 
far without much question or protest. I 
think partly out of some subconscious 
idea that this was some drug-addled 
hallucination... Now I understand 
everything you've said to me, I'm 
halfway to accepting it, and I think 
Scully is too. Everything has happened 
so fast, and we're still running to catch 
up. I don't think either of us quite 
understands or believes we're so 
important that it was necessary to take 
us away from our lives--perilous though 
they may have been--our friends, our 
family... our time... our son." 

Mulder seemed to deflate a little at his 
pronouncement, letting out a deep 
breath and leaning forward a bit to stare 
into his coffee cup. 

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful for 
everything you've done for us," he 
continued, "it's just... You know me, 
I'm looking for answers." 

Monica took that moment to step 
forward.

"And that's why you're so important," 
she said. "You and Scully are not 
prisoners here, Mulder. You're free to 
go at any time, and free to come back. 
We don't know a lot of the reasons the 
Guardians chose to do things the way 
they did. We may never know but 
they know as well as I do that you and 
Scully know exactly what we're up 
against here, know it better than 
anyone. We all know that no matter 
where you are, you'll fight for what you 
believe in, you'll die for it. Maybe the 
Guardians didn't want you dying until 
the catastasis of fate's hand. Maybe 
they just like the way you look. They 
may be right and they may be wrong. 
But the fact of the matter is, you're here 
and we need your help. This hasn't been 
easy for any of us, Mulder. But we're 
all here, whether by chance, by fate or 
by God, and none of us intend to let the 
Colonists win. None of us plan to lose."

Mulder regarded her with admiration 
and surprise.

"No matter what happens, Mulder," she 
continued, sweeping her graying hair 
over her shoulder, "I know you and 
Scully will do the right thing. If I didn't 
believe in both of you, I wouldn't still 
be here. I personally think the 
Guardians know the future, or know of 
the avenues we have to take to get there. 
I've put my faith in them. They've put it 
in you." 

No one had noticed Scully leaning 
against the doorway. Van had only 
glanced over at her when she walked 
through it and on to Mulder's side. 

She looked at Reyes and stood up 
straighter, her stare bleeding approval. 
She ran her hand over the back of 
Mulder's hair, resting her hand finally 
on his shoulder. She looked to Van.

"So what time should we be ready?" she 
asked. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van was just lacing up his boots when 
he heard Mulder and Scully emerge 
from one of the rooms at the end of the 
hall.

"I always thought she was kind of a 
flake," Mulder said, "now I feel kinda 
bad." 

Scully shushed him. 

Van gave them another moment before 
he joined them in the hallway. 

"All ready to go?" He asked. 

"Lead the way," Mulder answered, 
following him down the staircase, 
through the foyer and out the front door.

An old Chevy Silverado was gassed up 
and waiting for them in the driveway. 
Van twirled the keys around his finger 
and climbed in the driver's side. It took 
both pulling from Van and pushing 
from Mulder to get Scully up into the 
cab, and Mulder followed quickly 
behind her. They strapped on their 
seatbelts as Van gunned the engine, 
giving it more gas than necessary. He 
loved this truck. 

Mulder opened the dash and ogled the 
control panel.

"This looks like a prototype Frohike 
hacked me the specs on a few years 
ago," he said, then paused for a 
moment, "or thirty." 

Scully threw him a look.

"What?" Mulder asked, managing to 
sound genuinely innocent. 

"This is a 2010 Chevy Silverado STR," 
Van said, gunning the engines again for 
emphasis. "The finest constructed piece 
of machinery ever to come out of 
Detroit." 

Scully rolled her eyes and Mulder 
smiled. 

Van felt like whistling. After having 
hashed it out in the kitchen, everyone 
seemed to feel better about the situation, 
and everyone seemed in a good mood. 

He put the dream he'd had the night 
before in the back of his mind and 
hoped the trend continued.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van drove them back the other way 
around the house, away from the 
driveway, and then due west. 

He showed them the west end of the 
ranch and its boundaries, which were 
fairly deserted. The eastern half of the 
ranch had more going on, and housed 
most of the ranch's staff. 

'Staff,' Van clarified for them, as they 
bounced around on the truck's bench, 
making their way east, was somewhat 
of a cover for the other resistance 
fighters who lived and worked here. 
Their quarters were located on the 
northeast corner of the ranch property, 
as was the barn that held most of their 
work.  His cottage, he explained, was 
on the southeast corner, near the bluffs 
that overlooked Lake Superior. The 
ranch house, in which Doggett and 
several others lived (and also where 
they'd spent the last night), was located 
on the southern edge of the property 
nearest the road, as were the stables that 
housed their horses and various other 
livestock. 

He pointed out the outlying buildings 
and the field that also served as a 
sometimes chopper pad. 

"That's awfully big for a helicopter 
pad," Mulder observed.

"Yeah, well," Van had answered, 
"sometimes other, aircraft, land 
there." 

They were silent the rest of the way as 
Van drove down the eastern fence and 
finally up to the drive at his cottage. 

It was a small, two story log cabin 
structure with a long porch running 
along both the back of the house, which 
faced the drive, and the front which 
faced the Lake. 

He threw the truck in park in front of 
the cottage and cut the engine.

"Well, this is my place," he said, filling 
the sudden silence with his voice, "I 
figure we can grab some lunch here and 
then hit the barn." 

"Sounds good to me," Mulder said, 
opening his door and holding out a hand 
for Scully. 

"Me too," Scully replied as well, 
scooting over the bench and bypassing 
Mulder's proffered hand completely as 
she jumped down onto the soft earth. 

 Van grabbed a duffle bag that had been 
riding along with them in the bed of the 
truck and showed them inside. 

The inside of Van's house was anything 
but Spartan. He was a packrat and an 
enthusiast over many subjects, all of 
which were represented in one form or 
another throughout his house. 

There was a large telescope looking out 
one of the bay windows facing the lake, 
and an indoor basketball hoop on the 
opposing wall. There were books 
everywhere, as well as pictures and 
CDs. There was a digital projection 
system hanging down from the ceiling 
above his couch, as well as a large, 
silvery-grey screen that took up most of 
the opposing wall. He cursed himself 
for forgetting to turn off the TV.

He walked over to the wall at the end of 
the hallway and pressed a button. The 
projection unit then folded itself up and 
into the ceiling with a quiet whir, and 
the silver TV display disappeared 
behind the wall, a picture of 
Tahquamenon Falls taking its place. 

"Interesting," Scully muttered, turning 
to examine the titles on one of the many 
bookshelves, as Mulder stepped forward 
to better examine the TV mechanism. 

"Very," Mulder said, bending down to 
scrutinize the power button that Van 
had just pressed and the others 
surrounding it. 

Van moved into the kitchen and perused 
the cabinets. They, unlike the rest of his 
house, were pretty bare and he 
wondered a bit if he shouldn't have 
grabbed their lunch from the main ranch 
house instead. 

Scully appeared behind him quietly and 
he huffed a frustrated sigh as he turned 
to her, shutting a cabinet door 
fruitlessly. 

"I don't suppose you're in the mood for 
pickles and saltines?" He said. 

"Not for a while now," Scully said with 
a wistful smile, making her way to the 
fridge. 

She gave it a cursory once over and 
turned to Van.

"Pantry?" 

Van pointed her toward the pantry in 
the corner and watched as she bent 
over, peering inside. 

"Ah," she said, pulling herself up to her 
full height, "this I can work with." 

"Then I'll let you," Van grinned at her 
and backed out of the kitchen. 

He found Mulder going through the 
Digital Track Catalog display, and 
Mulder turned to him as he stood. 

"Supertramp released another album?" 

"Sure did," Van answered.

"Damn," Mulder replied. 

Van agreed and made his way out the 
front screen door and out onto the 
porch. Mulder followed him and they 
leaned against the railing, looking out 
over the endless expanse of blue. 

"Scully inside?" Mulder asked, turning 
as if to spot her. 

"Yeah," Van said, "she graciously 
accepted the task of trying to make 
something out of nothing."

Mulder turned back to him.

"For lunch," Van qualified. 

They stood for several minutes in 
silence, the cool, damp air blowing at 
them in fragrant gusts.

"Have you lived here your whole life?" 
Mulder asked.

Van paused for a moment, 
contemplating how to respond. 

"No," he finally answered, "I grew up 
in the States." 

"Where?"

"Out west," he continued, "the Rockies. 
Though when I turned about 8 I started 
spending summers up here, and lived 
here throughout college. I've been a 
part of the resistance since I was a kid." 

Mulder nodded and looked out over the 
water. 

"Sounds like the resistance faction is 
quite large," he said.

"And it just increased by two," Van 
said, shooting Mulder a look and then 
turning his eyes to the horizon himself. 

"Actually," Mulder said, his tone 
gaining a somewhat playful quality, "if 
you want to get into technicalities, 
Scully and I are the founding 
members." 

Van nodded, "you think that comes with 
any benefits?"

"Well," Mulder answered, "it's 2027. 
Surely a pension can't be too far off." 

Both men chuckled lightly and silence 
swept gently in with another gust of 
lake air. 

Van could hear various clamoring 
noises from in the kitchen and guiltily 
wondered if maybe he shouldn't go in 
and help Scully. He then caught of 
whiff of something vaguely tangy and 
decided to let her handle it. 

It was then that Mulder spoke. 

"You know," he said, "I once had a 
discussion with Scully about fate. We 
never really decided if we believed the 
course of our lives was 
predetermined, that fate played a hand 
in everything we did. I didn't give it 
much thought outside our discussions 
until the day when I was told about the 
resistance and the part I would play in 
it. That's the day it started to matter to 
me. I had a reason to believe in fate. I 
wanted to believe in it. From that day 
forward I did believe."

Van regarded the other man's profile 
intently as Mulder continued.

"But for the past day or so, I've been 
questioning whether or not this is all a 
part of fate's plan or an avenue fate 
didn't foresee."

"You're wondering if the reason you 
had for believing has been taken 
away?" Van wondered softly. 

"I suppose I am," Mulder said, and 
paused for a moment. 

He smiled sheepishly down at the 
ground.

"I was told," he went on to explain, "at 
a time when I questioned whether or not 
I would ever see my son again, that 
one day the resistance would come and 
that if I lived to see it, I would stand to 
fight the Colonists with my son at my 
side." 

Van considered the man's words and 
his own past experiences and 
contemplated all of the things he could 
tell him. He took a breath and turned to 
face Mulder completely, deciding on 
the simplest one of all.

"You are," he said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Tuebor
By Slippin' Mickeys

Part two


Mulder didn't move for a moment and 
Van held his breath.

"What did you say?" Mulder stood 
taller and turned to him. 

"You are fighting at your son's side," 
Van said, "I'm your son."

Mulder said nothing but squinted his 
eyes at him.

"My name," he said, "as I knew it 
growing up, is William VanDekamp." 

He shrugged his shoulders.

"It's why people call me Van. Anyway, 
I learned when my adoptive parents 
died in 2010 that I was born William 
Mulder, and that you were my parents. 
You were in stasis at the time, and the 
Guardians saved me when the Colonists 
found out where I was and came to take 
me. I've been with the resistance ever 
since." 

"I," Mulder started, "I don't know what 
to say." 

"You don't have to say anything. I 
couldn't even think of how to tell you, 
and I've known this was coming for 
almost a decade." 

"We, uh," Mulder said after a moment, 
"we need to tell Scully."  

"Yeah," Van said, worried about 
Mulder's color, "but maybe you should 
just let it sink in for a minute first." 

Mulder nodded and Van held out his 
hand in greeting. 

"I've wanted to say this for a couple of 
days, but... It's good to finally meet my 
father."

Mulder grasped his hand for a moment 
and held it. 

"Jesus," he said. "Jesus."

Van heard a throat being cleared at the 
doorway and both men's arms fell, 
turning towards it.

"Am I interrupting something?" Scully 
said. Her mouth was turned up in a 
smile, but Van knew just by looking, 
her eyes knew something was up. 

"Scully," Mulder said, clearing his 
throat, "lunch can't burn, can it?"

XxXxXxXxXxX

The three of them sat wordlessly around 
Van's living room, Mulder stealing 
glances between Van and Scully, Van 
stealing glances between Scully and 
him, and Scully stealing the spotlight.

After a moment or two, she looked up 
directly at Van. 

"I knew," she said, the last possible 
phrase Van could have expected, "I 
don't know how, but... I knew."

Van stood and moved to her. She stood 
herself and they moved into a 
comfortable embrace. After a moment, 
he felt her shoulders begin to shake and 
he pulled back a bit to get a look at her 
face. 

"Hey," he said, as she sniffed and tried 
to hide the tears that slid down her 
cheeks, "I could have turned out a lot 
worse." 

She chuckled softly and sniffed again a 
little louder. 

"I just missed so much," she said.

"Just a scrawny kid that wouldn't eat 
anything green and a teenager that liked 
to get into fights," Van said, giving her 
one last squeeze and then taking a step 
back. "On the bright side, you could 
have come back years from now, and I 
would have been *older* than you."

He turned to Mulder to find the man 
standing close. Mulder reached a hand 
out and set it on Van's shoulder. He 
squeezed once and looked into his eyes 
a moment before turning to Scully, his 
hand dropping back to his side. Scully 
stepped into Mulder's arms and they all 
stood for a moment looking at one 
another. 

Van considered them for a moment and 
then spoke. 

"There's something else I need to tell 
you," he said, and they eyed him warily. 
"The term limit law was overturned by 
the Supreme Court and George W. Bush 
is still President." 

Scully's eyes doubled in size and 
Mulder's jaw dropped into an "o." 

"Only kidding," Van said, hoping that 
the enormity of his last phrase being a 
lie would belay the fact that his next 
one was the truth. "But um, I think you 
should know that the Lone Gunmen are 
alive."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Having eaten lunch and gone over most 
of his life story for several hours 
afterwards, Van, Mulder and Scully all 
piled back into Van's truck and were 
heading toward the Barn. 

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the 
truck's cab. 

Van knew there were questions they 
both still wanted to ask him. 

He thought he knew what to expect in 
all of the years he waited for them to be 
brought out of stasis. When his adoptive 
parents had first been killed by the 
Colonists and he'd been brought here, 
he resented any implication Mulder and 
Scully were more to him than statues in 
a silver tube. As time passed, he 
accepted that they were his birth 
parents, and eventually he longed for 
their return-for the comfort and reality 
of family life once more. As he grew 
older, he accepted that he was living on 
a timetable that wasn't his own, and 
he'd go over scenarios in his head of 
what it would be like when they 
emerged. Nothing he'd dreamt up when 
he was younger was playing before him 
now. 

Eventually, he'd come to accept that, 
too. 

He glanced over at Scully to find her 
watching him, and they both exchanged 
a small smile. 

He turned back to the road to find the 
Barn looming in front of them. 

What they referred to as the Barn, was 
in actuality an enormous structure, 
easily taking up two acres of space. By 
all outward appearances though, it 
resembled an average two-story red 
barn. It's windows were a frosty opaque 
and located near the top of the ground 
floor, and of average height on the 
second. They were bordered in white, 
and the entire structure looked as 
though it was cared for with the utmost 
affection and respect. 

They all piled out of the truck and Van 
entered the main entrance, which 
opened into a room one would normally 
expect to find in a ranch barn. The floor 
was littered with hay and there was 
farming equipment hanging from every 
wall. 

Van nodded to Albert Waugonawkisy, 
who was busy fixing a bridle in the 
corner of the room. 

"Nguhsh wuhk," Van said softly. 

The man nodded and gave him a small, 
proud smile.

Albert was a Native American who'd 
been on the ranch for as long as Van 
could remember. He still wasn't exactly 
sure why the Guardians had taken him, 
but he was a fixture on the ranch, and 
everyone respected him. He'd been a 
friend to Van when he first came to 
Thunder Bay and had taught him to 
ride. He could often be found in the 
barn at the entrance, or more often than 
not, at the stables near the ranch house. 

Van led the way to another doorway 
near the back of the entrance room. He 
entered a security code into the keypad 
next to the door, held up his thumb to 
the laser receptor and swung the door 
open when it beeped, revealing the 
interior of the massive structure. It 
looked nothing like the inside of a ranch 
barn, and straight from the set of a 
futuristic movie.

The walls, ceiling and floor were a 
striking, immaculate white, and there 
were workstations and computer 
consoles littered throughout the room. 
Tens of workers dressed similarly in 
sterile white uniforms were moving 
about them, working. 

Van grabbed two steri-suits and handed 
them to Mulder and Scully. 

"Put these on over you clothes," he said, 
"I'll take you in and show you around." 

They obliged and he put on a suit of his 
own. 

He led them through the initial work-
stations and a few rooms, which 
occupied the center of the large 
warehouse-like structure, explaining 
what the various people were doing and 
why. 

He tried to gloss over the mundane 
details of the inner workings of the 
ranch, but he found it difficult to 
sidetrack either one of them when they 
found something that interested them.

He finally led them through a series of 
doorways and into a room, which 
housed a small, complex machine in 
one corner. 

"This," he explained, "is the SRCD 
detector. We've found it's the best way 
to keep track of the Colonists 
movements. It reads solar radiation and 
cosmic dust and alerts us immediately if 
anything with those properties enters 
the atmosphere."

As if on cue, the machine beeped and a 
worker in a white lab coat walked over 
to the unit. 

"Just a meteor," he said, shooting 
Mulder and Scully a reassuring smile, 
"nothing to worry about."

"And this," Van said, pointing to the 
man, "is Agent Jefferies, with the FBI's 
X-Files unit." 

The agent walked over to Mulder and 
Scully and reached out a hand, taking 
Scully's first. 

"I've been wondering if I'd ever get the 
chance to meet you," he said, "I was 
surprised to go upstairs this morning 
and find you both gone."

"You just get in?" Van asked the man.

"Yeah," he responded, but turned back 
to Mulder and Scully.

"I have to say," he said, "I've been 
following your work since I got into the 
Academy. It's a real honor." 

"You're with the X-Files?" Mulder 
asked him.

"Sure am. Though I've only been with 
the unit for five years, I'm afraid I'm 
the rookie of the bunch." 

"How many of you are there?" Scully 
asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Eleven if you count Agent Reyes," 
Jefferies said.

"Are you stationed here?" Mulder 
asked.

"No," Jefferies said, shaking his head, 
"we're still based in Washington, but 
there are always two agents here on a 
two week rotating basis. My partner 
Valentine and I just got in this 
morning." 

"There are eleven of you?" Scully 
asked, seeming to not get past the 
number. 

"Yep," Jefferies said, "I was in high 
school at the time, but after the thing in 
2012, I guess the FBI strengthened its 
numbers." 

Mulder and Scully stood silent.

"Of course," Jefferies went on, "I didn't 
find out about that until I joined the X-
Files." 

He paused for a moment and then 
looked at Van, a little unsure. 

"They know about this, right?" He 
asked.

Van nodded. "I showed them the 
hologram." 

"If you want," Jefferies said, "I can get 
a hologramic record of the X-Files for 
the last twenty years."

Mulder's eyes brightened, and he 
nodded.

Just then, they were interrupted by the 
doors swinging open. A man shuffled in 
backwards wheeling with him a large 
table, full of equipment.

"Wrong room there, ace," Jefferies said, 
shooting the man's back a warm grin, "I 
keep telling you it's Alzheimer's but 
you keep forgetting."

"Yeah," the man said, huffing a bit as 
he pulled, "well I only wheeled this in 
here to shove it up your ass." 

Having successfully moved the table 
into the room, the man turned around to 
face his tormentor.

Van mused to himself that if he didn't 
have Alzheimer's, he was surely about 
to develop a heart condition.

Ringo Langly gawked at the group in 
front of him opened mouthed, and then 
grabbed the table behind him for 
support. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

After Van and Jefferies had helped 
Langly into a chair, the older man 
turned to Mulder and Scully. 

"Frohike told me you two were out," he 
said, "I thought he was yanking my 
dingo." 

Scully smiled, happy to see her friend. 

Van had explained to them as they'd 
eaten lunch that the Gunmen had in fact 
been trapped with the lethal toxin in the 
hotel so many years ago. However, the 
Guardians had come to their rescue and 
they each woke up a few days later on 
the ranch. They'd been working here 
ever since. Mulder had seemed 
somewhat troubled by the fact that they 
were still alive. He was happy, of 
course, but Van could sense in his 
father the apprehension and slight 
anxiety that came with the 
announcement. 

Seeing Langly once again, the slight 
pall on Mulder's countenance was back. 

Van thought he knew why. 

"You know there are three empty 
coffins in Arlington?" Scully said with 
a grin. 

"There are plenty more than that," 
Langly said, rising to his feet. "Come 
on, if I don't take you to Frohike now, 
I'm never going hear the end of it." 

Never one to make small talk, he made 
his way to the door, but he paused as he 
reached it and turned to Van.

"If that's all right with you," he said, 
looking back and forth between Van 
and his parents.

"That's where we were going next 
anyway," Van said, "I'll come with." 

The unit in the corner beeped several 
times as they were making their way out 
the door, and Van paused for a moment. 

"Hey Langly," he said, "I'll meet you 
up there. I need to talk to Jefferies for a 
second."

Langly nodded and showed Mulder and 
Scully to the elevator.

Van and Jefferies both made their way 
to the SRCD unit at the same time. The 
beeps started up again coming faster 
and closer together. 

"Shit," Jefferies said under his breath, 
"this is the third day in a row we've 
gotten readings like this."

Van leaned down and examined the 
display. 

The levels of SRCD in the atmosphere 
were peaking past any previously set 
limits. Van touched the screen and the 
unit mapped out the readings. They 
weren't just coming in in a random 
pattern, or spread out in a streak as with 
a meteor shower. The levels and 
placement of the readings could only 
mean one thing. 

The Colonists were arriving.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Fuck," Van said, leaning forward a bit, 
hoping the readings would change if he 
could see them better. When they 
didn't, he walked over to the phone unit 
against the wall. "Does Reyes know 
about this?"

"Yeah," Jefferies said, "but she wanted 
to be informed if the readings continued 
to come in like this. We should call her 
again." 

"Have we heard from the Southern 
Coalition or Scot-Res yet?" 

"The Southern Coalition is sending a 
team up to Germany, they're supposed 
to DH Rendezvous with us at 1800."

"But nothing from Scot-Res?" Van 
asked with some concern.

"No," Jefferies said, panic creeping into 
his voice, "nothing." 

"Well, let's just keep trying. Maybe try 
a fiber-optic connection? The Southern 
Coalition being in Africa, maybe the 
Colonists took out a satellite or two in 
the Northern Hemisphere. Let's try 
terrestrial communication. With 
readings like this, I want to know what 
they've got. I don't care if we have to 
use telegraph wires and Morse code." 

"Right," Jefferies said, "I'll call 
Valentine and let Doggett know we're 
on it." 

"Keep me updated?" Van shot at him as 
he turned to leave, leaving the phone 
calls to Jefferies, "I'll be with my 
parents."

"You bet," Jefferies responded, "and 
Van?" He said, his serious expression 
falling a little bit.

Van turned back to him.

"I'm glad they're back," he said, "and 
I'm glad for you. We all are. I know 
what they mean to you." 

"And we all know what they mean to 
us," Van responded, growing serious, 
"get back to work Jefferies. You know 
I've wanted this for a long time, I also 
want a future in which to enjoy it." 

Van left the station and made his way to 
the elevator, getting off on the port near 
the Vaccination Research station. 
Frohike and Byers could usually be 
found there, and he assumed that's 
where Langly had taken Mulder and 
Scully. 

He pushed the door open, but only 
found Susanne and a few of her 
assistants. 

His brow furrowed and he looked about 
the room. 

"Van," Susanne called to him, "are you 
looking for me?" 

"Actually," Van said, "I'm looking for 
your husband and Frohike."

"They're down in Stasis," she 
responded. "With your parents," she 
added.

Van smiled at her and leaned against the 
nearest countertop.

"How's it going in here?" He asked.

She returned the smile and pushed the 
glasses off her face, up onto her head. 

"It's going all right, we think we've 
gotten closer to isolating the active 
ingredient to what you brought us back 
from Russia."

"That's fantastic," Van said, not letting 
himself get his hopes up. They'd come 
close before to creating a vaccine that 
was either extremely affective against 
the alien virus, or easy to replicate in 
mass. They had yet to find a formula 
that was the perfect marriage of both. 

"We'll get it," she said, shoving from 
the countertop she was leaning against, 
and pushing her glasses back on her 
face, "I always said I would." 

Van smiled and thanked her, making his 
way to the Stasis room, checking to be 
sure his Steri-suit was on properly. 

 Susanne Modeski's presence at the 
facility was more a doing of Byers than 
the Guardians, Van remembered. He'd 
searched and lobbied for years to find 
her and then get her on staff at the 
ranch. Eventually, she'd worked her 
way up and was now head of 
Vaccination Research. 

He made his way down the hallway and 
on through the two chambers that led to 
the Stasis room. 

The inside door opened to reveal Byers, 
Langly, Frohike, and Mulder and 
Scully. They were surrounded by the 
long, silver stasis tubes, lined up side by 
side along one wall. The hiss of the 
stasis units was strangely absent in 
Van's ears, as there were no occupants 
at the moment in the chambers. The 
quiet of the room felt off to him after 
having visited Mulder and Scully here 
nearly everyday for the past 17 years.

He suppressed a small shudder and 
forced on a smile.

"I see you found each other," he said, 
moving into the room. 

"We were just telling Mulder and 
Scully more about the stasis process," 
Byers clarified. 

"It's certainly very interesting," Scully 
said politely, "though I'm not sure 
whether or not I want to know which 
ones we were in." 

Van unconsciously glanced at the two 
cylinders on the far left. 

Mulder caught Van looking, but didn't 
say anything. 

Van's face turned grim. 

"I'm afraid we've got SRCD readings 
almost off the map," he said, watching 
as everyone tensed, "we've got a DH 
Rendezvous at 1800, I'd like everyone 
to be there." 

He looked to Mulder and Scully.

"I think it would be best if you came 
along, too. We could really use your 
help on this." 

They all nodded and Byers made his 
way to the door. 

"I need to go talk to Susanne," he said 
quietly, "excuse me." 

Van turned to Langly.

"I need you to get on the wire and see if 
you can't get in touch with Scot-Res. If 
at all possible, we need them at the 
Rendezvous tonight. And I also want to 
know what the *hell* is going on over 
there." 

Langly nodded and left.

XxXxXxXxXxX 

The air in the Rendezvous room was 
tense. Rumor had spread about the 
Colonists, and had been through various 
stages of "Operator." 

Doggett stood from his seat around the 
inside table and spoke.

"First of all," he said, "I want to dispel 
the rumor that the Colonists blew up 
Europe."

There were a few chuckles throughout 
the room, and also a few guilty looks. 

"Now let's get started," he continued. 

The room was set up to fit nearly 100 
people in it. It had three round tables, 
each one bigger than the one before it. 
Doggett, Reyes, Valentine, Jefferies, 
Mulder, Scully, Van, and a few of the 
other higher ups in the resistance force 
sat along the edge of the inside table, 
which surrounded a small metal 
cylindrical tube with a lens fitted on the 
end of it. 

The Gunmen sat together along the 
second table looking paranoid and old. 
Frohike was leaning on his cane and 
looked slightly bored. 

A young man seated in the corner, in 
front of the room's sole computer 
console looked up to Doggett. 

"They're ready," he said.

"Patch 'em through," Doggett 
responded. 

From the cylinder in front of them, a 
hologramic projection of a room similar 
to the one they were in came up in front 
of them. 

"This is Sanjeev Singh with the 
Southern Coalition initiating Digital 
Hologramic Rendezvous with Thunder 
Bay Station One," a man in the center 
of the middle table said, rising. His 
accent was thick, and Van tried to place 
it. Zimbabwe, he thought. He'd met the 
man before, but only briefly. 

"This is Thunder Bay Station One," 
Doggett responded, "commence 
transmission." 

"Ah, Mr. Doggett," Singh said, "it's 
good to see you again. Have you been 
able to contact the Scottish Resistance? 
I'm afraid we've had no luck, here." 

"Only by way of the old fiber optic 
telephone lines," Doggett answered, 
"we're about to patch them through, but 
it'll only be audio and single shot 
video." 

Singh nodded, and Doggett turned back 
to the young man in the corner. 

"Is the connection ready, Dean?" he 
asked. 

"Almost sir," he responded, his fingers 
flying across the keyboard in front of 
him, "patching it through, now."

A flat screen appeared along side the 
Southern Coalition's transmission. A 
single man took up the screen from the 
shoulders up. He nodded to the room 
and smiled somewhat sheepishly. 

"This is Alexei Baughman with the 
Scottish Resistance," he said with a 
light German accent, "thank you for 
initiating, Thunder Bay, I'm afraid 
we've had some difficulties around 
here."

"What kind of difficulties?" Doggett 
asked.

"Our SRCD readings are concurrent 
with yours, I'm assuming," Baughman 
said, "around this time last night GMT, 
our satellites were taken out." 

"Which satellites of yours?" Singh 
asked from his projection, turning to 
where Baughman's screen projected in 
his own room.

"All of them," Baughman said. 

"Christ," Doggett muttered. 

"We've called in the Australians for 
help. They're coming in with a team 
from Japan and they should be here 
shortly," Baughman explained. 

"But the SRCD readings," Singh began.

"Are too high," Doggett finished for 
him, "I can only assume the Colonists 
took out the European satellites to 
impede communication. We're going to 
have to come up with another 
alternative. I don't want the damn 
colonization to start happening and us 
being deaf and blind." 

With that, he looked to the Gunmen. 

Langly nodded and looked to the 
screen, speaking up. 

"Have McNichol from the Australian 
team send me a transmission when she 
arrives," he said, looking to Baughman, 
"we can have her and Chiho hook you 
up, and then the Australian team can 
head down to the Southern Coalition to 
install whatever we'll need there. I'll 
figure something out." 

"Good," Doggett said, "now, let's 
clarify. I don't think it's going to be a 
massive invasion, or anything out of 
War of the Worlds. At least, not yet. I'd 
say we've got a good couple of weeks."

"I agree," Singh said, and Baughman 
nodded. 

"What we need here are ideas on what 
they're going to do, and what we know. 
And we're also," he continued, turning 
to Mulder and Scully, "going to need to 
know everything you know about the 
conspiracy. Everything you put in the 
X-Files, and everything you didn't. And 
most importantly, we're going to need 
to know what you think, what your 
insights are. Even what your intuition is 
telling you." 

Mulder leaned back in his chair and 
scratched his neck. Scully turned to him 
and they exchanged a glance. 

"You got good batteries on this thing?" 
He asked, nodding toward the projector. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

The Rendezvous room emptied out at 
midnight. Nearly every person in the 
room was dragging their feet with 
exhaustion and anxiety. 

Everyone but Mulder. 

Van couldn't help but notice his father's 
straight back and energetic gait. If only 
because of the lifeless nature of those 
around him, it shone. Scully seemed to 
be the only other person that noticed, 
and she carried with her a small, 
knowing smile. 

He watched them both and recognized 
why. 

They were back. 

For the first time in 25 years and two 
days, Mulder and Scully were on the 
case. People were looking to them for 
answers. 

They carried around insight and 
erudition like a secret. Mulder's eyes 
held a barely contained fire. 

As workers and other members of the 
resistance filed out of the building, a 
few replacements brushing past them to 
take their place, Van, Mulder and 
Scully went with them. They stepped 
out into the fresh, cool air of early 
summer, and Van could see his breath 
as it misted faintly in front of him and 
up to the stars. 

He glanced up as he shoved his hands in 
his pocket, walking-the Colonists 
were up there somewhere, and they 
were waiting. 

Mulder and Scully followed him to his 
truck, but waited outside it, Mulder 
bouncing slightly on the balls of his 
feet. 

"Hop on in," he said, throwing his own 
door open, "I'll give you a ride back to 
the ranch house." 

 They obliged and Van cranked up the 
heat. 

They rode most of the way in silence, 
but they had just reached the halfway 
point when Scully spoke up. 

"How long do you think it'll be," she 
asked, "how long do you think we 
have?" 

Van looked ahead into the night and 
considered the question. 

"A couple of weeks," he answered 
honestly, turning to her, "maybe more, 
maybe less. It's hard to say." 

"I wish we had more," she said, leaning 
forward in the cab and looking to the 
stars through the windshield.

"So do I," Van said quietly, regarding 
them both out of the corner of his eye, 
"you have no idea how much." 

Mulder turned a bit in his seat, leaning 
his back against the window and 
looking at his son. 

"I know you had to give me up after 
raising me for nearly a year, and I know 
how difficult that must have been," Van 
said, trying not to let the emotion into 
his voice, "I imagine how difficult it 
was, wanting me back despite the 
dangers. But I've had 25 years to want 
you back, too. Danger's be damned." 

"And now the danger's here," Mulder 
said, his voice low, "but so are we." 

Van nodded silently and turned to them 
both. 

"And I'm going to fight to keep it that 
way."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder and Scully spent the next 
several days preparing themselves for 
the inevitable battle, and offering their 
services to whoever needed them. They 
were often called into a meeting to offer 
whatever knowledge or insight they 
had. So often, in fact, that they both 
were given COM links that were 
connected to the ranch's network-they 
were basically on-call twenty-four 
hours a day. 

When he wasn't having his brain picked 
by members of the resistance, Mulder 
was with Van, getting updated on the 
latest technology. 

As Doggett had told him the first day he 
was taken into the ranch's garrison, 
"technology, no matter how advanced, 
still blows up." 

Their strategy against the colonists was 
simple. 

"Have more firepower. Blow shit up." 

It was actually written on the wall of the 
armory, above the cabinet that held the 
small arms assault weapons. Some 
resistance fighter with a questionable 
sense of humor had painted it there not 
long after the building went up. No one 
had taken it down. 

Van opened up a cabinet that took up 
most of one wall of the armory. 

"How well do you remember your large 
automatic weapons training?" He asked 
Mulder.

"That depends," Mulder answered.

"On what?" 

"On whether or not I actually had large 
automatic weapons training." 

Van laughed and then his face fell.

"Are you serious?" 

Mulder kept a straight face successfully 
for only a moment before he let it melt 
into a reassuring smile.

"No," he said, "I can handle an M-16." 

"Good," Van said, relieved his father 
had been joking, "then you can 
probably handle the upgrade."

He grabbed one of the weapons from 
where it sat in the cabinet and tested its 
heft. He handed the weapon to Mulder.

"Standard issue nowadays in the 
military," he said, "design is basically 
the same, but the loading chamber was 
re-engineered. They don't jam up nearly 
as much as the old M-16s did."

He took a cartridge of ammunition and 
loaded the ammo in Mulder's gun.

"Load your cartridge here, pull back 
here," he said, pulling back on the 
loading mechanism, "flip from safety to 
semi or auto and you're good to go." 

Mulder left the safety where it was and 
sighted. He nodded. 

"And what good is this going to do?" 
He finally asked. "I don't think shooting 
the black oil is going to do anything, 
and from what I've seen of the alien 
ships, firing a bullet at one isn't going 
to do a hell of a lot either."

"These," Van said, popping the ammo 
out of Mulder's weapon, "are for 
defense against the super soldiers."

"Super soldiers?" Mulder asked. 
"Fighting with the aliens?"

"Who the fuck knows," Van answered. 

Who the fuck did know? he thought to 
himself. No one knew what side they 
were fighting on, but it certainly wasn't 
the resistance's.

He slid a bullet out of the top of the 
cartridge and tossed at Mulder. 

Mulder caught it in the air and 
examined its puckered head, tipped with 
blue.

"This a blank?" He asked, looking to 
Van. 

"That is what you'd think," Van said, 
reaching over and taking the bullet from 
Mulder's fingers. "This is actually just a 
casing. The core of the bullet is filled 
with magnetite. On impact, the casing 
shreds away and the magnetite will 
burst out." 

Mulder took the bullet back, intrigued. 
Van continued.

"One isn't going to stop a super soldier, 
but you get a few rounds into one of 
them... poof." 

Mulder loaded the bullet back into the 
cartridge and locked it into the weapon. 

"Frohike actually helped engineer the 
design," Van added, thoughtfully.

Mulder stood for a moment with the 
weapon in his hand looking pensive. 

Van observed him and finally spoke of 
something that had been weighing on 
his mind since the day he'd told Mulder 
and Scully that he was their son. 

"It bothers you, seeing them alive, 
doesn't it," he said. It wasn't a question.

Mulder looked up at him.

"The Gunmen," Van clarified.

Mulder shook his head. 

"I wouldn't say it bothers me, no," he 
said, "it's just..." 

"You saw them, just after they died." 
Van stated simply, sure of himself. 
Mulder's eyes darted up to meet his, 
surprised. "And you've seen other 
people, other things that you know 
couldn't be there." 

Mulder nodded slowly. 

Van picked up a cloth and started 
wiping a weapon down.

"I've seen things, too," he said, 
concentrating on the gun, only flicking 
his eyes to his father's occasionally. 
"People... Things I can't explain."

He wiped his hands on the cloth and 
handed it over to Mulder.

"So far as I know," he continued, 
"we're the only two people that have."

"How long have you seen these 
things?" Mulder asked quietly.

"All my life," Van answered, taking the 
rag back and leaning against the cabinet 
behind him nonchalantly. He shrugged. 
"I didn't know it wasn't normal until 
my adoptive parents died and I saw 
them after the fact."

Mulder's eyebrows rose slightly. 

"I eventually told Reyes, who told me 
that I'd always had a gift," Van cleared 
his throat, "she didn't tell me anything 
more." 

Van paused, gauging Mulder's interest 
and then continued.

"Then, when I was about fifteen, I 
started reading up on you and my... and 
Scully. I came by your stasis chambers 
everyday and read everything the files 
had. Personal information, physical 
tests, papers from college, and your 
medical background. I even read all of 
the X-Files that you'd worked on." 

He ended his sentence with a quiet 
chuckle that Mulder returned.

"I couldn't get enough. I was a teenaged 
orphan and feeling a little lost. I guess 
sitting near you learning about you both 
made me feel a little more connected. 
Anyway, I'd read in your medical files 
about your neural condition and the 
corresponding X-Files. I'd also read in 
your file that according to your mother, 
you suffered from epileptic seizures 
until you were twelve. I kind of all put 
it together in my head. I didn't know 
what it was exactly, but I knew that I'd 
gotten it from you."

Mulder said nothing, but his eyes 
implored Van to continue.

"One day the Guardians came to me in 
a dream. At least I think it was a 
dream," Van took a breath, not wanting 
to get into that particular aspect of his 
life, "and they told me that the gift we'd 
gotten we'd use someday. I never told 
anyone this, but I think that what I 
see... what *we* see, that the visions 
are sent to us from the Guardians, 
meant to steer us from harm. Protect us. 
Of course, I don't know for sure," he 
went on, "sometimes I think they're 
ambiguously infuriating on purpose." 

Mulder's brow wrinkled somewhat.

"A gift we'd use someday?" He said, 
letting a little derision slip into his tone.

Van smiled and shoved himself off of 
the cabinet, uncrossing his arms and 
taking a hold of one of the larger 
weapons. 

"Yeah well, they've always sucked at 
specificity."

Mulder grunted and looked to his own 
weapon.

"Boys and their toys." 

A voice spoke up from the doorway and 
Mulder and Van turned to it. 

Scully walked into the armory with an 
exasperated smirk on her face. 

"Just in time," Van said, "you may be 
working elsewhere, but you should 
probably get some instruction in this 
area, too."

Scully had resigned herself to work 
with the medical personnel. She'd spent 
nearly all of the past four days in the 
med unit of the Barn getting "caught 
up." Van had heard her mutter the 
words 'med school' and 'fucking' on 
more than one occasion and not 
necessarily in that order.

"Instruction?" She said, quirking an 
eyebrow. She grabbed a cartridge out of 
one of the boxes near the door and 
examined it gingerly. 

"Automatic weapons training," Van 
said, taking another weapon out of the 
cabinet and handing it out to her as she 
approached. 

He'd barely blinked before she'd 
grabbed the stock of the gun, flipped the 
cartridge around in her hand, swung the 
weapon up and had it locked and 
loaded. 

"Or not," he said, raising an eyebrow of 
his own. 

Scully took the cartridge back out, 
setting the weapon back in the cabinet 
while Mulder stood silently by, trying 
not to look too proud. 

"Normally, I'd rather save lives than 
take them," she said, bringing her hands 
to hips and looking to the ground, "but 
in this case..." 

Van couldn't pick his jaw up off of the 
floor. 

"Do that again," he said, like it was a 
magic trick and he was twelve.

Scully smiled but didn't move. 

"No, seriously," he said, "I mean... 
disassembled... How fast can you put 
one of those together?" 

Scully finally looked up and quirked 
another eyebrow at him. 

"Faster than you can run," she said. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

It was the first time they'd all sat 
around the same table.

Somehow, there was nothing pressing 
or urgent going on in any one section of 
the ranch, and Reyes had managed to 
get Mulder, Scully, Van, Doggett, 
herself, as well as a few other resistance 
fighters that lived in the ranch house 
sitting around the same table for dinner. 
The Gunmen had declined the 
invitation, choosing to be socially 
recluse and vowing to keep an eye on 
all of the equipment and readings.

"So," Dorothy Hornbaker, the ranch's 
veterinarian said from the seat at Van's 
left, "has the Southern Coalition gotten 
a read on the satellite situation? I heard 
there've been wiggy readings on nearly 
all of the resistance equipment." 

"Please," Monica said, "let's not talk 
about that for one evening. I'm begging 
you." 

Doggett turned to her, but didn't say 
anything, finally nodding his head.

They all sat in an uncomfortable 
silence. 

"Um," Van finally said, "do we have 
anything else to talk about?" 

Everyone chuckled. 

"We could talk about the time that you 
tried to fly off of the roof with a 
garbage bag and a beanie," Doggett 
said, with a humored look on his face. 

"Or when you took apart the engine in 
Langly's hydrobike and only pretended 
to put it back together," Reyes offered, 
grinning. 

"Nope," Van said quickly, "nothing to 
talk about." 

He stared at the dining room door 
practically willing someone to come 
through with the meal. 

"Not so fast," Mulder said, grabbing his 
water glass and taking a sip, "I want to 
hear this." 

Van turned to Scully sitting next to him, 
and pleaded with his eyes for sympathy. 

She reached out and squeezed Van's 
hand on the tabletop.

"Oh come on, leave him alone," she 
said. 

Van was hopeful that her voice pulled 
weight, but was worried that her tone 
hadn't carried much conviction.

"Leave him alone?" Richard Howard 
said, one of the few resistance fighters 
on the ranch that was near Van's age. 
"And let him forget about the time he 
messed with the hydraulics on the 
mechanical bull at Leo's? I almost 
broke my neck!"

"Oh come on, Rich," Van said, "that 
was funny." 

Rich threw him a good-natured dirty 
look and grabbed the wine in front of 
him. 

"I'm sure that this is all very 
fascinating--" Van began, but was 
interrupted by Dean, who burst in the 
dining room door, his coat still on and 
out of breath. 

Everyone looked up.

"There's a message for you, sir," he 
said, looking at Doggett.

"Can't it wait until after dinner?" 
Doggett said, leaning back and giving 
the impression he wasn't about to move. 

"No sir," Dean said, worrying his lips 
with his teeth, "it's from the 
Guardians." 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van, Mulder, Scully and Monica sat out 
on the porch after dinner nervously 
sipping coffee and trying not to let their 
nerves show. 

"What do you think it is?" Scully asked 
quietly, turning to Reyes and Van.

Monica shook her head.

"It's hard to say," she said.

"How often do they communicate with 
you?" Mulder asked. 

"Not often enough for this to be 
routine," Van said, staring blankly 
ahead.

Mulder nodded and shifted on the 
bench, bringing a hand to his temple 
and then letting it fall, Scully looked at 
him a moment but neither said anything.

Van heard a low growl and looked up to 
see Doggett's truck rumble around the 
corner and up the drive.

Doggett parked the truck in his usual 
patch of grass and hopped out. Van rose 
to greet him.

"What is it?" He asked as Doggett made 
his way up the steps and onto the porch, 
"what'd they say?"

"We can talk about it tomorrow," he 
replied, pausing in front of Van and 
giving him a reassuring quirk of his 
lips.

Van narrowed his eyes at the older man 
but kept silent.

"Really," Doggett continued, putting a 
hand on Van's shoulder, "it's okay." 

He nodded to Mulder and Scully and let 
his hand fall.

"I'm going to turn in," he said, putting 
his hands in his pickets against the chill 
of the night.

"I'll join you," Monica said, rising and 
walking to the door, "Good night," she 
said, smiling at Mulder and Scully and 
elbowing Van lightly as she walked by.

They headed inside and Van sat back 
down just as Mulder rose.

"I think I'm going to turn in too," he 
said with slight wince, then leaned 
down to lay a soft kiss on the crown of 
Scully's head.

She grabbed his hand in return and gave 
it a squeeze, pulling him down to steal a 
quick kiss. He brushed by them, laying 
a hand on Van's shoulder as he passed, 
and then disappeared inside the house.

Van waited a moment before he spoke. 

"Is he okay?" He asked, slightly 
concerned.

Scully smiled softly and lifted her leg to 
rest on the bench, wrapping an arm 
around it.

"He's been getting headaches," she 
said, "he'll be okay."

"We can get him some Ibuproxin," Van 
said, leaning forward as if to get up.

"I already gave him some," Scully said, 
resting her chin on her knee.

Van nodded and leaned back into the 
chair, looking at Scully as she looked at 
the horizon.

So this was his mother, he thought to 
himself. Despite not spending as much 
time with her as he had with Mulder, he 
could see parts of her in himself. He had 
her calm head under pressure, logical 
methods and a precise nature. He had 
her light complexion and goofy laugh. 
As he sat looking at her, he even saw 
that they had the same knees, and 
couldn't help but notice the first time 
their eyes connected that they were the 
same startling shade of blue.

"Did I cry a lot?" He asked her softly, 
"when I was a baby?"

She smiled softly, as if returning to a 
happy memory, turning on her cheek to 
face him.

"No," she said, "not a lot."

"Huh," he said, "I must have learned to 
be a pain in the ass, then." 

"No," she said after a moment, "you got 
that from your father." 

He smiled at that, not doubting it.

She continued to look at him, and he 
tried to think of other questions he 
could ask, wanting to keep her in 
whatever happy memory he could.

"I try to remember," he said after a 
minute or two had passed, their eyes 
connecting, "I try to remember that far 
back, and sometimes... Sometimes, I 
think I do."

Scully's face fell and she turned away.

"Do you forgive me?" She said after a 
moment, her voice catching in her 
throat, "do you forgive me for giving 
you up?" 

"Hey," he said, rising and moving to her 
slowly, sitting down in the space that 
Mulder had abandoned, "there's nothing 
to forgive."

She turned to him and there was a tear 
in her eye that threatened to fall.

"You did what you had to do," he said, 
wanting to touch her, to comfort her, 
but kept his hands in his lap. "We all 
make sacrifices. Some of us have to 
sacrifice more than others."

He looked away.

"I've learned that here," he added 
softly.

Scully turned back to him, her 
expression pained.

"It's okay," he said, "I've learned 
plenty of other things here as well. 
Loyalty, friendship, unconditional 
love... And I wouldn't even be here if 
you hadn't done what you'd done." He 
paused. "It sounds to me though, like 
you haven't quite forgiven yourself."

She was silent for a moment and wiped 
a tear onto her pantleg.

"I suppose I haven't," she said.

"You should," he said, finally reaching 
out to her and touching her shoulder 
lightly, "for both of us."

She nodded and seemed to lean in to his 
touch. She turned to him after a 
moment.

"William?" She said, and he turned to 
her without hesitation.

"Yes," he replied.

"Are you happy? Are you happy here, 
doing this?" 

"Yeah," he said after thinking it over, "I 
think I am."

She smiled at that and took a breath.

"Good," she said, "that's good." 

He let his hand fall from her shoulder 
but brought it back to rest behind her 
along the back of the bench. They sat 
for a moment, each comforted in the 
presence of the other.

Scully examined her fingernails, 
picking at the chips in them, and then 
she turned back to him.

"Have you ever been in love?" She 
asked, her curiosity full of hope.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, 
"I can't say as I ever have been." 

"I want that," she replied, "I want that 
for you."

"I think every mother wants that for her 
son," he said simply.

"Yes," she said, not disagreeing, "but I 
know the essentiality of it. I think I 
know better than most."

"You've been through a lot," he said, 
running his hand over the back of her 
hair in a gesture not dissimilar to one 
Mulder had done the first day they'd 
met.

She turned to him, regarding him 
honestly.

"And I wouldn't have gotten through a 
minute of it without Mulder beside me," 
she said, "There's love you feel in your 
heart, William, and there's love you feel 
even deeper than that. That's the kind of 
love I want for you. I may have missed 
watching you prepare yourself for life, 
but I don't want to miss watching you 
make the journey." 

Van's throat closed up and he felt tears 
sting the back of his eyes. No one had 
ever said anything like that to him. And 
despite the fact that they were here now, 
he missed his parents more than ever. 
He wanted the past 25 years back, and 
he wanted them in every one. 

He shut his eyes to her admission and 
held onto it in for a minute.

"I had a dream once," he said, looking 
up at her, "that you and Mulder were 
sitting on a beach, playing with a little 
girl. My daughter, I think. It was one of 
the only good dreams that I've ever had 
in my life." 

Scully tilted her head at him.

"Don't worry," he said, reaching for her 
hand, "our journey's aren't over. Not 
yet."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Part three

Doggett leaned against the kitchen 
counter near the fridge and sipped his 
coffee. Mulder and Scully were seated 
at the stools at the island and Monica 
was leaning against it. They all looked 
up when Van walked into the kitchen. 

"Morning," he said as he entered, his 
booted feet sounding loud in his ears. 

"Morning," Doggett said, raising his 
coffee mug in a half salute. 

"What'd I miss?" He asked, nodding to 
the room's other occupants and 
grabbing a mug for himself.

"Nothing," Doggett answered, "you're 
just in time."

"Great," he said, filling his own mug, 
hoping the liquid would be hot enough. 

He hiked his way up and planted 
himself on the counter's edge. 

"What have we got?"

Reyes shifted uncomfortably. 

"It's almost time," Doggett finally said, 
his brow furrowing as he spoke. "They 
didn't tell me when it would be exactly, 
but I can't help but think it'll be within 
the next couple of days." 

His eyes flicked to Monica who pursed 
her lips nervously.

"What do you mean they didn't tell you 
when it would be, exactly?" Van said, 
irritation creeping into his voice.

Doggett only shrugged. 

"Come on, Van." He said, "We're 
talking about the Guardians, here. 
We've never really understood the way 
they work."

Van kept silent, nodding resignedly, 
blowing out a sigh. 

He couldn't help but be impatient. 
Stress had stretched his personal 
patience limitations to their breaking 
point. He had so much now, so many 
things he wanted to do, the least of 
which was fighting an enemy he didn't 
understand with an ally he understood 
even less. Emotions were running high 
now, both within him and without, and 
he struggled to hold it all together. 

"They also said," Doggett paused, 
looking directly at Mulder and Scully. 
"They also said that she would have the 
answer." He nodded his head at Scully.

"That Scully would have the answer?" 
Mulder asked, "the answer to what?" 

Doggett shrugged, lifting his hands in 
uncertainty. 

"They mentioned me?" Scully asked, 
not looking as though she liked the idea. 
"Me specifically?" 

Doggett nodded again.

Van slammed down his mug suddenly, 
sloshing hot coffee over the countertop 
and himself. Everyone jumped.

"This is bullshit!" He said, ignoring the 
pain the scalding liquid had brought to 
his hand and wrist. 

"Van," Monica said softly.

He swung his head to her.

"No!" He said, raising his voice, "They 
know what's going on, and they know 
what's going to happen, yet they talk to 
us in riddles and ambiguous prophecies! 
It's bullshit. I'm so sick of it!" 

"Van," Monica said again. 

He ignored her and moved to the door, 
stopping only when he heard her voice a 
third time.

"William!" 

He turned to her slowly. 

She didn't say anything, but wrinkled 
her brow at him. He understood the 
question anyway.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking to her and 
then to Mulder and Scully and then 
Doggett, "I just... I need to get out of 
here for a while." 

The screen door slammed shut behind 
him and he cursed himself. Where was 
that calm demeanor he'd been so proud 
of the night before? 

He found himself making his way 
toward the stables and decided that a 
ride would do him good. 

He made his way through the dusty 
corridor and stopped in front of 
Hiawatha's stall. 

"Hey boy," he said, reaching out to pat 
the stallion's nose, "it's been a while, 
huh?" 

The horse threw his head back, as if in 
answer. He could sense Van's foul 
mood. 

"Oh, come on," he said, grabbing the 
horse's bridle and walking him out of 
the stall into the corridor. "It hasn't 
been *that* long."

 He hooked him to a link on the wall 
and began grooming him. As an 
afterthought, he took off his COM link 
and hung it just inside Hiawatha's stall. 
When he said he wanted to get away, 
he'd meant it.

He was just tightening the strap on 
Hiawatha's saddle when he heard quiet 
footsteps behind him.

"A-peesh-nah bin-ji-bah-yuhn" Van 
said softly.

"Betasiga ," Albert Waugonawkisy 
replied in a tone just as gentle.

"I knew it would be you," Van said.

"You taking him out?" Albert asked, 
reaching up and patting the horse's nose 
softly. Hiawatha nuzzled him back. 

Albert had a way with horses that Van 
envied. They were comfortable with 
each other, and, he suspected, respected 
each other. 

"Yeah," Van said, swinging himself up 
into the saddle. 

"Watch the western field," Albert said, 
unhooking the horse's bridle from the 
wall, "with the rain we've had, there are 
some holes out there." 

"I'll take him to the shore then," Van 
said, and then nodded to the older man. 

He nudged Hiawatha forward and on 
down the path that led to the lake. When 
he reached the shore, he spurred the 
horse into a full gallop, careening 
through the sand and water like in a 
movie. 

The ride cleared his head. 

He slowed the stallion to a trot as they 
approached the bluffs and turned around 
when the bluffs turned to cliffs, the 
water overwhelming the shore and 
crashing against the rock. 

He was about to spur the horse on again 
when he saw another rider approaching 
him at a full gallop atop a chestnut and 
white Appaloosa. 

"Nice beach you've got here."

Scully slowed her horse to a stop in 
front of him. 

"I didn't know you could ride," Van 
said, impressed. 

Scully turned her horse so they were 
walking side by side.

"I didn't know you could," she said 
back. 

Van conceded her point and they 
walked their mounts down the beach in 
silence. 

"Does Mulder ride?" Van finally asked, 
as Hiawatha crowded the horse next to 
him and bumped Van and Scully's legs 
together. 

"Mulder doesn't like horses," Scully 
said, "something about Russia. I don't 
know." 

"Huh," Van said, mentally tallying off 
another thing he and his mother had in 
common. 

"You okay?" Scully finally asked him. 

Van grunted a laugh. 

"I just needed to blow off some steam," 
he said without much conviction. 

Scully nodded, waiting for him to 
continue. 

"I guess I'm just worried," he finally 
admitted, "I've known for years that 
this was coming and that my job would 
be to protect you, and here I am 
resenting the fact that I have to at all." 

"If it makes you feel any better," Scully 
said "Mulder and I don't want to lose 
you again, either." 

She dug her heels into her mount's 
flank, spurring it forward and kicking 
up sand and water into the air behind 
her.

"Come on!" She shouted over her 
shoulder, and Van drilled Hiawatha to 
keep up.

He almost barreled into her when her 
horse abruptly pulled up and reared. His 
stomach flip-flopped as he pulled up his 
own mount, but Scully managed to keep 
her seat. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said softly, 
patting Hiawatha's flank, "easy." 

The horses' ears were laying back flat 
on his skull and he backed up, despite 
Van's attempt to spur him forward.

"You okay?" He called to Scully, who 
was trying to control her own mount. 

"Yeah," she said, finally getting the 
animal to stop bucking up its front feet. 
"What the hell happened? Did you see 
anything?" 

"No," Van answered, "nothing."  

He looked out to the water, but didn't 
really see anything unusual. 

Hiawatha let out an uneasy snort and 
the hairs on the back of Van's neck 
stood up. 

Scully's mount threw its head back 
several times and Van walked Hiawatha 
up to her and grabbed the horse's bridle. 
He kept his eyes on the water. 
Something wasn't right. 

The waves continued to rush into the 
beach and lapped around the horses' 
legs. Outwardly, Van couldn't see 
anything wrong or out of place. 

"Come on," he said, giving the reins to 
his horse and letting go of Scully's, 
"let's get out of here." 

"Yeah," she said, her voice a little 
unsteady. 

The horses took off down the beach 
with little urging.

Later he would think back and only then 
would he see the pair of footprints 
leading from the lake to the shore and 
up the bluffs behind it

XxXxXxXxXxX 

Van had invited Mulder and Scully over 
to his cabin for dinner that night. They 
had been more than eager to take him 
up on the invitation. They'd spent most 
of the day in the Barn while resistance 
workers eyed Scully warily. It had made 
her uncomfortable and it pissed Mulder 
off. 

He'd leant them his truck and took one 
of the ranch's rigs back to his cabin to 
prepare their meal. 

They pulled into the drive as Van was 
putting dishes into the kitchen sink. He 
stopped and watched them, uninhibited. 

They both jumped down out of the cab 
and Scully threw a comment over the 
truck's hood to Mulder who only 
grinned at her. As he reached her side, 
she turned to walk with him toward the 
cabin, but Mulder reached out and 
expertly grabbed her hip, pulling her 
against him. 

She looked up at him, trapped in his 
embrace and his lips moved softly. She 
smiled and hooked her fingers through 
the belt loops on the front of his jeans, 
pulling him closer. 

Mulder leaned down and wasted no 
time in devouring her mouth with his. 

Van turned away from the window. 
They may be a relatively young, 
attractive couple, but no one wanted to 
watch their parents making out. 

A few minutes later, he heard a soft 
knock on his door and then heard it 
open. 

"Hello?" Scully called softly, popping 
her head into the kitchen and shrugging 
off her coat.

"In here," Van said with a smile.

Scully threw her coat at Mulder as he 
was removing his and it hit him in the 
face. He pulled it down and gave her a 
look, but turned to hang them both up.

"Smells good," Scully said, and Mulder 
walked in behind her, resting his hands 
lightly on her hips. 

"Hope so," Van said, "I spent a year at 
CIA."

"CIA?" Mulder said, cocking his head 
to the side.

"Culinary Institute of America," he 
clarified. He tossed his head in the 
direction of the dining room table. 

"There's some wine out there," he said, 
"and some glasses." 

Scully slipped out of Mulder's grasp 
and moved to the dining room to open 
the wine. 

"You feeling a little better?" Mulder 
asked as Van took a dish out of the 
fridge. 

He closed the door and regarded Mulder 
honestly.

"No," he said. 

Mulder blew out a breath.

"Yeah, me neither," he said.

Both men stood silent as Scully entered 
with three filled wine glasses. 

After dinner, while Van cleaned up in 
the kitchen, Mulder and Scully made 
themselves comfortable in the living 
room. When he finally entered, trying to 
wipe off the wet from his pants, he 
found Mulder lounging back into his 
couch and Scully examining the picture 
that hung across from it. 

She looked up at him when he 
approached. 

"Niagara?" She asked.

Van shook his head. 

"Tequamenon," he corrected. 

"Sounds familiar," she said. 

Van nodded and recited part of a 
favorite poem from memory.

"And thus sailed my Hiawatha
Down the rushing Taqumenaw
Sailed through all its bends and 
windings,
sailed through all its deeps and 
shallows"

"Longfellow," Mulder said from the 
couch. 

Van nodded. 

"I always loved that poem," he said, 
"how Hiawatha needed no paddle to 
make his journey, certain his thoughts 
could glide him to the left or right as he 
wished." 

"That would explain the horse," Scully 
said, moving to the couch to insinuate 
herself into the crook of Mulder's 
shoulder. 

"That would explain the horse," Van 
repeated, reciting the whole of the poem 
to himself in his head. 

He stopped, as he always did, at the part 
in the epic poem where Hiawatha 
appealed to Kwasind, the strongest man 
of all, to use his magical strength to 
clear the river so that Hiawatha could 
float swiftly upon it.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder and Scully ended up staying the 
night in Van's guest room. They'd all 
been up much of the night talking. Their 
conversations had begun with story 
swapping from childhood and 
adolescent indiscretions, but when they 
eventually found themselves talking 
about the alien conspiracy and 
impending crusade, exhaustion quickly 
overtook them and they turned in. 

Van used it and them as an excuse to 
sleep in. 

He found them in the dining room 
sipping coffee when he came 
downstairs. Mulder had a large, 
longhaired cat sitting contentedly in his 
lap. Mulder didn't look quite so 
comfortable. 

"I see you met Frank," Van said, 
grinning. "He's a social hermit. He 
must like you." 

Mulder threw him a look but Van 
turned on it and filled a mug of his own 
with the scalding liquid. 

"We should probably head in soon," he 
said, "I haven't talked to Doggett or 
Reyes since yesterday morning." 

Van paused for a moment.

"Actually," he said, "I should probably 
get in touch with them and let them 
know we're on our way."

He patted down his pockets to no avail.

"Have you seen my COM link?" He 
asked his parents.

They both shook their head. 

"Huh," he said, setting his coffee into 
the sink after only a couple of sips, "I 
must have left it in the stables. You 
ready to go?" 

Mulder managed to get Frank off of his 
lap and they all tumbled tiredly out of 
the house.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van pulled to a stop in front of the 
stables and shut off the ignition. 

He opened his door and turned to 
Mulder and Scully. 

"Come on," he said, "you want to meet 
my horse?" 

"Not particularly," Mulder grumbled 
softly. But he'd somehow ended up 
riding bitch and slid obligingly after 
Scully who was already out the door 
waiting for him. 

Van headed toward the stable's entrance 
with Mulder and Scully in tow.

He was almost to the door when he saw 
Albert make his way around the corner, 
his face a stone mask.

"Ahnee," Van said cheerfully at the 
older man, holding the door open for 
them as Mulder and Scully walked 
through it. 

"Mnu ke-zhap. Mnoo-geesh-guht, 
nuh?" Van said again, puzzled at 
Albert's non-reaction. The man only 
looked at him and continued to make 
his way toward them. 

Something wasn't right. 

"Wuh?" Van said, and when the man 
still didn't respond, Van walked 
through the stable door behind his 
parents and closed it behind him. 

"Let's go to the back," he said, walking 
quickly, urging his parents to walk in 
front of him.

"What's the matter?" Mulder said.

"Let's just go," Van answered. He 
turned just as the stable door opened. 

Albert paused in the doorway for a 
moment and then stepped through it.

Immediately, an alarm went off in the 
building, reverberating off of the walls 
and stirring the horses into a terrified 
frenzy. 

"Shit," Van said, "run!"

Mulder and Scully both turned to him, 
frightened. 

"Go, GO!" Van screamed, and they 
took off in front of him, heading toward 
the back of the large building.

Van turned just in time to see Albert's 
face morph into the familiar rugged 
countenance of the alien bounty hunter. 
The man held his right arm up and out, 
and before Van could shout a warning, 
Scully crumpled in front of him. 

Mulder skidded to a stop unsteadily in 
the straw in front of them, but Van 
grabbed her and swung her easily into 
his arms.

"I've got her!" He called, "Go!"

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder and Van continued to run until 
they reached the other end of the 
stables. The bounty hunter was still 
walking purposefully in their direction. 

Van gestured to his right with his head.

"Through that doorway," he said. 

Mulder looked at down at Scully, 
pained. 

"Come on, Mulder," Van said, "go!"

Mulder burst through the doorway and 
Van made his way in behind him. 

The room they entered was small, but it 
had another door leading to the outside 
at the other end of it. 

Van, however, paused when he got 
inside.

"Here," he said to Mulder, "take her." 

Mulder moved quickly to his side and 
scooped Scully up, gently cradling her 
in his arms. 

Van threw the door closed behind him, 
and ran toward the other end of the 
room kneeling to the floor. He swept 
away straw and hay and found the 
handle in the floorboards that he'd been 
looking for, pulling up on it. He reached 
down into the depression and came 
back up with the prize he was looking 
for. 

Mulder held Scully, quietly murmuring 
something to her and watched him. 

Van held up the small tool in front of 
him and pressed the button on the side. 
With a quick burst of air, the stiletto 
unsheathed itself, and Van took position 
behind and just to the left of the door. 

"We've got these things hidden all over 
the ranch," he said to Mulder's 
surprised look. 

With that, the door burst open. 

Van moved quickly as the bounty 
hunter took a step inside the room and 
aimed to plunge the weapon into the 
back of his neck viciously. 

The bounty hunter however, turned just 
in time to see him and brought up an 
arm to block him. The stiletto grazed 
the shirt the hunter was wearing and 
tore it. 

Before Van could gauge whether or not 
he'd broken the skin and released any 
toxic blood, the bounty hunter shoved 
out his left hand in a maneuver meant to 
throw Van into the wall behind him. 
Van, however, was half expecting it and 
ducked just in time to miss the brunt of 
it. 

The bounty hunter's push instead 
connected with Van's shoulder, 
whirling him around. Van kept his feet, 
and the two circled each other like two 
wolves fighting for a kill. 

Without warning, Van charged the man 
in a move that had never failed him. He 
hit the bounty hunter head on with all of 
his force but fell back, feeling like he'd 
just tested Newton's third law of motion 
on a brick wall. He shook his head, 
dazed a bit. He'd never lost a fight 
before, but the bounty hunter's strength 
was inhuman. 

Naturally.

He tried to come in low and throw the 
man off balance, but the bounty hunter 
came down hard on his right arm, 
knocking the stiletto out of Van's hand, 
sending it skittering off somewhere in 
the straw covered floor. Van lost sight 
of it, and before any clever needle-in-
hay-stack metaphors could come to 
him, he was narrowly avoiding a rabbit 
punch to the back of his own neck.

He dashed a few steps back and 
connected eyes with the bounty hunter, 
smiling despite the fact that he was 
fairly certain both he and his parents 
were about to die.

"Mulder?" He said, turning his head a 
bit but not taking his eyes off of his 
opponent. 

His father didn't answer. 

After a second, Van turned behind him, 
but saw only Scully laying prone and 
unconscious on a soft pile straw. He 
whipped his head around just in time to 
see the bounty hunter make a lunge for 
him, and then crumple, falling solidly at 
Van's feet. 

He looked up to see Mulder holding the 
stiletto, staring down at the bounty 
hunter with fury in his eyes. 

"Nobody fucks with my family," he 
said, dropping the stiletto at his side and 
moving purposefully toward Scully, 
lifting her.

Van kicked the door shut and made his 
way quickly to the other door at the 
back of the room. 

"Come on," he called to Mulder, who 
needed little influence, "let's get out of 
here." 

The body of the bounty hunter bubbled 
sickeningly green into the straw-
covered floor as they fled. 

XxXxXxXxXxX

As soon as they were out the door, 
Mulder laid Scully down gently on the 
soft earth. 

"What did he do to her?" Mulder asked 
quietly, not taking his eyes off of 
Scully's face. 

Van knelt down beside them both and 
examined her as best he could.

"I don't know," he said softly. 

"Jesus," Mulder said, leaning closer to 
her and patting her cheek gently. 
"Scully?" 

Van scanned her body quickly with his 
eyes. He could see no shot, no point of 
entry of any kind that would indicate 
that she'd been hit with anything. 

"What did he do to her!?" Mulder said 
with more urgency. 

Van's eyes connected with his father's 
and he shook his head, blowing out a 
worried breath. 

He almost didn't notice it. 

Protruding from her shirt, just behind 
her right shoulder was a small, rounded 
dart, about the size of a thumbtack.

He pulled it out immediately. 

"What is that?" Mulder asked, leaning 
closer.

"I'm not sure," Van answered, looking 
closer, "it must have shot something 
into her system. Do you have your 
COM link on you? We need to get her 
to the Barn." 

They made quick work of calling to the 
medical facility at the Barn, and there 
was a medi-shuttle there in minutes. 

Mulder and Van followed it closely all 
of the way back to the Barn and were 
met at the door by Jacob Lee, the head 
doctor at the ranch, who was dressed in 
scrubs, waiting for them. 

"What happened?" He asked, pulling 
Scully's eyelids up to get a look at her 
pupils.

"It was the bounty hunter," Van said, 
glancing up to meet the doctor's eyes.

"Fuck," he said, as they moved Scully 
to a bed near the corner. 

He went to a countertop nearby and 
grabbed something that was sitting in a 
cup on top of it.

"Did you find one of these on her?" He 
asked, holding up a dart similar to the 
one that Van now carried in his pocket.

"Yeah," Van said, "where'd you get 
that?" 

"Albert," Jacob said sadly, "we found 
him on the stairs at the ranch house this 
morning. He's not doing very well." 

Van stood silent. 

"We don't know how long he'd been 
down," the doctor continued, "it could 
have been hours. We think we may 
have isolated it though, and if you 
pulled it right out of Scully... Her 
chances are pretty good." 

Mulder slumped a little next to him in 
relief. 

"I'm going to need some blood work on 
her," Jacob said, "you two can stay with 
her if you like. Just leave me room to 
work." 

Five minutes later, after he'd taken a 
drop of blood from Scully's finger and 
dropped it into a machine next to her 
bed, a readout came through on the 
screen above her head. 

Van understood little of it. 

The Gunmen shuffled into the room a 
minute later, Susanne among them. 

Van was leaning against the counter 
near Scully's bed, and Mulder had 
situated himself on the mattress next to 
her, holding her limp hand. Jacob had 
left the room, leaving them alone until 
the readouts had finished compiling. 

They all paused for a moment after 
coming through the door and Mulder 
and Van both looked up to them. 

"We heard about Scully," Langly said.

"How is she?" Byers asked.

"Bounty hunting goat fuckers," Frohike 
muttered, swaying somewhat and 
leaning on his cane.

"We'll know more in a minute," Jacob 
said, entering the room again and 
squeezing past the four new occupants. 

"Doctor Modeski," he said politely as 
he passed.

She nodded to him respectfully and 
stayed by Byers side.

Jacob moved to Scully's bedside 
opposite Mulder and leaned in toward 
the readout.  

"Ah," he said, "we were right. 
Nanotechnology." 

Mulder's eyes swung up to the doctor.

"What?" He said, panic creeping into 
his voice.

"It's okay," Dr. Lee said, reaching into 
a drawer and pulling out a syringe and 
vial. He injected it into Scully's IV. 
"Luckily, we came up with a defense 
against it. Or Dr. Modeski did, rather."

He nodded at Susanne. 

She stepped forward and looked to 
Mulder.

"It's an oxidizing agent," she said, "the 
nanotechnology may be advanced, but 
at it's base, it's still made of metal. The 
agent goes in, and essentially, rusts the 
nanobytes out of existence."

Mulder nodded to her and looked back 
to Scully's face. 

Jacob watched the monitor as levels of 
the detectable metal went down on the 
screen before him. He continued to look 
at the monitor and then his brow 
wrinkled.

"Huh," he said, leaning forward as if to 
get a better look, "this is odd." 

Susanne stepped forward, and Van 
pushed off of the counter, curious. 

"What is it?" Susanne asked. 

"This," Jacob said, pointing to one of 
the readouts in front of them, "her 
coraprocite level. It's off the chart."

"Coraprocite?" Susanne said, puzzled. 
She leaned forward herself, gazing at 
the monitor. 

"Coraprocite?" Mulder repeated, 
sounding skeptical. "What the hell is 
coraprocite?"

"It's..." Susanne started, but paused, 
not being able to distract her attention 
from the readings in front of her.

Byers stepped forward, his tone full of 
intrigue.

"It's one of the key components in one 
of our most effective vaccine attempts," 
he said. 

Susanne stepped back. 

"Scully's body actually seems to be 
*producing* it," she said.

Jacob looked to Mulder.

"Has she been vaccinated?" He asked, 
stunned. 

Mulder nodded dumbly. 

"The thing in Antarctica," he started. 

"Of course!" Byers stepped forward, 
excited. "The vaccine Mulder was 
given. The one he administered to 
Scully on the Colonist's first ship!"

Susanne picked up his train of thought.

"It must have had a component that 
merged with her endocrinal system," 
she said, excitedly, "that version of the 
vaccine actually induced her body to 
recreate it independently!"

"Then that means..." Jacob started, his 
mouth dropping.

Susanne stepped forward.

"Van, come here," she said, indicating 
the bed next to Scully's. "Give me your 
arm."

She pricked his finger and took a drop 
of blood, placing it in the machine 
along side the bed. 

A moment later, readouts started 
coming up on the screen. 

"Hot damn!" She said, slapping her 
hands together.

Jacob Lee stepped forward and gazed at 
the monitor. 

"Jesus," he said, "it's genetic." 

Susanne nodded, reaching out and 
touching the screen where it showed 
Van's own coraprocite level. It too was 
off the charts. She turned to the man 
standing beside her.

"Do you still have that sample of Van's 
stem cells?" 

"Of course," Jacob finished.

"Get it for me, now!" She called to him, 
making her way out of the room faster 
than any sixty-year-old woman that Van 
had ever seen, "and send it up to my 
lab! I'll be waiting!" She called over her 
shoulder. 

Byers bustled out after her and Langly 
stood in the middle of the room next to 
Frohike looking shell-shocked.

"Dude." He said. 

Mulder spoke up.

"What does this mean?" He asked.

"It means," Van started, a bit stunned, 
himself. "It means that I may be the 
only person alive that's naturally 
immune to the alien virus."

"With his stem cells," Jacob finished for 
him, "we can recreate that vaccine."

Mulder looked at his son. 

"She did have the answer," he said.

Frohike raised his cane a bit and struck 
the younger man beside him in the shin. 

"And she's *still* hot," he said. 

"I heard that." 

A voice came from the corner of the 
room. 

All eyes swung to the bed, and Scully 
returned each look, alert. 

"What'd I miss?" She asked.

XxXxXxXxXxX

By that afternoon, Susanne Modeski 
had isolated the necessary components 
from what remained in Scully's system, 
and with the help of a Scot-Res genetic 
engineer, had used the information 
stored in Van's stem cells to nail down 
a chemical formula for the vaccine. 

By midnight they were producing it on 
the ranch, vaccinating resistance 
workers as it came out. 

By the next morning it would be created 
in labs across the globe, spread out to 
the earth's population in hospitals, 
across the counter in cold medicines, 
and, ironically enough, asthma inhalers. 
Within a few weeks, 90% of the earth's 
population would be vaccinated. It was 
only a matter of time before everyone 
was immune, and mothers were passing 
the immunity on to their children.

Van found Reyes on the porch of the 
ranch house as he and his parents got 
out of his truck. 

Scully had been given a clean bill of 
health earlier that afternoon, and Van 
had left the two of them alone, only 
having picked them up a few minutes 
before.

Monica had a huge grin on her face and 
it widened as Van approached.

"We did it!" She all but shrieked, and 
Van took the steps two at a time and 
wrapped her in a huge bear hug. 

"You're God damn right we did," he 
said, finding it hard not to grin himself. 

Monica rubbed absently at the bandage 
on her upper arm, after already having 
received the vaccine. 

She took a step back as Mulder and 
Scully walked up the steps, hand in 
hand.

Everyone stood silent, all smiles now as 
Monica's contagious grin spread. 

"We did it!" She finally said again, her 
voice a little quieter. "We're having 
fireworks in an hour," she went on, 
"before the sun comes up." 

"Ah, a celebration," Mulder said 
quietly. 

"Sounds like a good idea," Van agreed, 
"we haven't had a cause for celebration 
in a long time."

They all stood on the porch in silence 
for a moment and Scully shifted a bit 
where she was standing, biting on her 
lip. 

"I think may go rest a bit before all of 
the excitement," she finally said, giving 
a somewhat fakey yawn. 

Mulder leaned down and kissed her 
cheek, lingering there. 

"Have a nice nap," he said.  

Despite having spent a better portion of 
the morning unconscious and in danger 
of having her system overrun with 
lethal nanotechnology, Scully didn't 
look at all tired.

"I don't know, Mulder," she said, "I 
think you could use the rest, too." 

"Actually," he said, "I'm wide aw--" he 
stopped himself mid sentence at 
Scully's eyebrow. "You know, I think 
could," he said quickly, and they both 
disappeared through the screen door and 
up the stairs. 

Van could hear a shriek of Scully's 
laughter for a moment and then a door 
slam shut. 

Reyes tried to pear down her grin.

"Looks like the good moods around 
here are contagious," Van said, trying 
not to think about what his parents were 
up to. 

Monica nudged him with her elbow 
playfully, but her smile fell. 

"I'm afraid I do have some bad news," 
she said. 

Van felt his euphoria take a nose-dive. 
His stomach fell with it.

"What is it?" 

"It's Albert," she said, reaching out to 
him, "I'm sorry, Van, but he didn't 
make it." 

Van stood silent and his knees wobbled, 
the strength holding his legs up, sapped. 

Albert had been his first and best friend 
at the ranch. A man that had stood by 
him and taught him well. He'd been like 
a surrogate father and a brother all in 
one. 

"William?" She said, rubbing a hand 
over his back, "I'm sorry. I know what 
he meant to you."

Van nodded, blowing out a breath. 

"Hey," she said. "He led a good life and 
he was proud of you. And," she went on 
to add, "he got to see you with your 
parents. It was the one thing he wanted 
most for you." 

He nodded again. It wasn't the most 
auspicious beginning to the new era 
they'd brought in that day, but it gave 
them a place to start. Things, Van 
thought, could only improve from here.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The fireworks were quite spectacular. 
Van stood atop a small rise just beyond 
the Barn on the ranch's western border. 

Mulder and Scully stood next to him, 
their arms around each other, and 
Monica and John as well, on his other 
side. All of their faces were upturned, 
lighting up in bursts of color as the 
rockets exploded. 

The show was grand, and there were all 
sorts of colors and patterns, it seemed to 
never end. Van vaguely wondered 
where they'd gotten the pyrotechnics 
and if they'd only saved them for an 
occasion such as this. 

He suddenly felt movement on his arm, 
and he looked down to find Scully's 
hand on his wrist. He looked up to her 
eyes and they caught on each other's 
glance, and then Scully looked back up 
to the sky, sliding her hand down and 
holding onto his. 

He lifted his own eyes to the early 
morning sky and for the moment, felt 
content. 

The sound of the explosions bounced 
off of the atmosphere and the ground, 
and eventually carried out over Lake 
Superior and back. 

He turned his eyes toward the dark 
water, lit in a dark, eerie blue with the 
bright moon. Gitche Gummi, he 
thought, Big Sea. The natives had called 
it that and they were right.

It was big, he thought, and a chill ran up 
his spine. Too big.

An abnormally loud explosion caught 
his attention and he turned his head 
back to the sky above him. 

A celebration. A warranted celebration, 
he knew, but perhaps a bit premature. 
He excused the thought after a moment. 
No cause for celebration was a bad one. 
He should enjoy each one as it is. 

Another loud explosion sounded around 
him, and he wondered vaguely if it, too, 
had bounced off of the water and back, 
as there had been no display from which 
it could have come. 

There was a temporary lull in the 
performance above, as workers tried to 
reload the canons as quickly as they 
could. 

Another explosion sounded, and 
another. The resistance fighters around 
him began looking around, wondering 
where the fireworks were that had 
created the noise. 

A canon fired at that moment, but 
instead of exploding in the sky in a 
burst of color and light, it collided with 
an object in the air and exploded in a 
fiery blast. 

"What the hell?" He heard Doggett say 
from his left. 

He'd barely spoken when fire reigned 
down from above, hitting the ground 
only meters from where they were 
standing, kicking up dirt and rock all 
around them. 

"Go!" He heard someone yell, "back! 
Get back to the Barn!"

He held onto Scully's hand and pulled 
her in the direction of his truck, 
glancing to his left and seeing Byers 
and Langly helping Frohike into a rig of 
their own. Susanne had stayed back at 
the Barn to oversee the manufacturing 
of the vaccine. 

"Come on," he yelled over the din of 
explosions erupting around them. There 
were more and more every second, a 
hailstorm of fire. 

Mulder had Scully's other hand and 
they ran, full tilt toward Van's truck, 
throwing themselves into it. 

Van gunned the engine and peeled out 
of the field, heading away from the rest 
of the fleeing vehicles and people 
toward the road that ran along the 
western border of the ranch. 

"Where are you going?" Scully asked. 

"To the armory," Van said, "if they all 
make it back to the Barn they'll have 
weapons, but they won't have nearly 
enough." 

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder and Van loaded the boxes of 
weapons and ammunition into the bed 
of Van's truck as fast as they could. 
Scully was sitting up front with a loaded 
M-35 watching the skies.

Mulder's arms were getting tired and 
Van could tell. They kept loading the 
weapons as fast as they could, but Van 
eyed his father wearily. 

They stacked one more metal container 
into the truck and Mulder paused for a 
moment, rubbing at his upper arms.

"You all right?" Van asked.

"Fine," Mulder said, a little aversion 
creeping into his voice. 

Van nodded and grabbed the handle on 
a large box that held a one-man ground-
to-air missile.

"This one's heavy," Van warned.

"Fantastic," Mulder said, grabbing the 
other end. "How many more do you 
think we need?" 

Van considered this, throwing his back 
into lifting the box on top of all of those 
they already had loaded. He was trying 
to take the brunt of the work, but 
Mulder was doing his best to keep it 
even. 

"How ever many we have time enough 
for," Van replied, sliding the box as far 
back as it would go toward the cab. 

They went inside the armory to retrieve 
one more box when suddenly they 
heard a blast of automatic gunfire. 

"Shit," Van said, rushing to the door to 
see Scully hanging out the window of 
the truck spraying the area in front of 
the truck with bullets. 

He could just make out a humanoid 
figure bursting into dust in the murky 
morning light. 

Scully turned back to them. 

"We've got company!" She yelled. 

"Fuck," Mulder mumbled to himself 
and then ducked back into the armory 
for a second. When he emerged, he had 
an M-35 slung around his shoulder and 
was loading another one. He tossed it at 
Van.

Van caught it in the air and slung it 
around his own shoulders, slamming the 
back of the truck up. 

"Guess that's enough," he said, "let's 
go." 

Van made his way to one door of the 
truck and Mulder made his way to the 
other. 

They both got in, shoving Scully into 
the middle, not leaving her much room 
surrounded by the stocks and barrels of 
their weapons. 

Mulder plopped down in the seat beside 
her and rolled the window down.

"Shotgun," he said, grinning, and then 
unslung the gun from around his 
shoulder, leaning out the window 
gangster-style. 

Despite their situation, Scully rolled her 
eyes. 

Van gunned the engine again and took 
off at break-neck speed toward the barn. 

He reached down to flick on his lights 
just in time to illuminate a figure that 
was directly in their path. 

Van barreled into it with a sickening 
thud.

"Shit!" He called out, "fuck!"

He swerved, despite the fact that it was 
too late, and kept his eyes on the road.

"Tell me that was a super soldier," he 
said, swallowing. 

Mulder shifted and looked behind them, 
just as Van looked in the rear-view 
mirror. The figure he'd just hit started 
to get up.

"That was a super soldier," Mulder said 
matter-of-factly, swinging his weapon 
up and firing back behind them in the 
early morning light. 

He kept firing until he was out of 
bullets and then swung back into the 
cab, holding out his hand to Scully.

"Ammo," he said, gesturing with his 
hand. 

Scully already had the weapon she was 
holding loaded and handed it to him 
instead, taking the used firearm from 
him and loading it quickly.

"Maybe you could try hitting 
something," she said just loud enough 
so that Van could hear her.

Van chuckled and hoped that his 
father's marksmanship improved as 
their supply of ammunition was 
depleted.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Van skidded to a stop in front of one of 
the Barn's side doors. He was reaching 
for the handle when the door swung 
open. 

He was greeted with the business end of 
a machine gun. 

"Hi, John," he said jovially.

Doggett dropped the gun in relief. 

"Jesus," he said, swinging the door 
open completely, "we were worried 
they'd gotten you." 

He glanced over Van's shoulder at 
Mulder and Scully who were standing 
just behind him.

"All of you," he finished. 

"Get some people," Van said, 
shouldering his own weapon and 
turning towards his truck, "we've got 
weapons." 

With help from about 10 other 
resistance fighters, Van's truck was 
emptied and the weapons they'd 
brought were added to the existing 
stockpile in the Barn's reinforced 
interior. 

Scully had excused herself to help the 
medical staff tend to the ranch's 
wounded, and Mulder stood at Van's 
side. 

Van turned to Doggett. 

"What have we heard," he asked the 
man, "anything?" 

Doggett nodded.

"We've been in touch with everyone. 
Scot-Res, the Southern Coalition, the 
Australian Resistance Forces, the Asian 
Detail, everyone." 

Van nodded, urging Doggett to 
continue. 

"It looks like we were hit first," he went 
on. "Somehow, they found the base of 
operations of every resistance order on 
the planet. But they didn't start hitting 
them until about five minutes ago. We 
were able to get word out, and everyone 
is prepared. About an hour after they hit 
us, they hit the ARF, and have been 
moving in on every other chapter."

"Why in hell would they hit us first?" 
Van asked.

"Why wouldn't they?" Doggett asked 
back. "We've been the initiator of 
resistance from the beginning. We 
found the vaccine."

Van nodded. It did make sense.

"What about the rest of the world?" He 
asked. 

Doggett nodded and gestured toward a 
large holographic map on the wall. 

"We've mapped movements toward 
about 20 major cities around the 
planet," he said, "the Colonist's ships 
are en route to LA, Tokyo, Mexico 
City, London... But so far they haven't 
hit any of them." 

"Shit," Van said, "well, we'd better stop 
them before they do." 

His statement was punctuated with an 
enormous roar that shook the very 
foundation of the colossal structure. 

"What the hell was that?" Mulder 
asked, just as another blast ripped 
through the building, nearly knocking 
him on his ass. 

Despite being reinforced with materials 
that modern contractor's only dreamed 
about, thanks to the Guardians, the Barn 
shook once again and threatened to 
break apart at the seems. 

Computer monitors tumbled off of 
tables, and workstations collapsed.

Doggett wasted no time. 

"Murphy, McIvery, DeBuke." He 
gestured toward the pile of surface to air 
missiles sitting near them, and the two 
men and one woman nodded, making 
their way toward them without 
question. 

Other resistance fighters grabbed 
weapons and ammunition, preparing 
themselves to head out of the Barn. 

Van looked to Mulder and slapped him 
on the back, his hand remaining there. 

"Well," he said, "we didn't keep you in 
stasis for nothing." 

He handed his father another casing of 
ammunition and the two men turned to 
the doors, following the other fighters 
out into the morning air without another 
word. 

Fire reigned down on them as soon as 
they were clear of the building. Fighters 
ran along the trenches alongside the 
Barn while others fanned out into the 
dusky morning. 

An eruption of fire and sod exploded 
just to Van's right and he fell. Mulder 
grabbed his arm, hauling him up just as 
Doggett started screaming out orders. 

They both adjusted their COM links to 
automatic and fitted them to their ears, 
listening to the man as they followed 
the troops that were running through the 
trenches along the Barn. 

Those with surface to-air-missiles 
began firing at the alien ships as soon as 
they appeared, bursting into the sky 
above them as if with puff of wind, to 
fire on the ranch. 

They heard McIvery let out a war 
whoop as his missile collided with a 
ship, and it flamed down to the earth, 
hitting with tremor that registered 
somewhere between 5.1 and 6.2 on the 
Richter scale. 

They stumbled for footing just as a 
super soldier came out of the shadows 
and hacked through two of the 
resistance fighters in front. A deluge of 
gunfire from 20 different weapons rang 
out and the super solider exploded in a 
whirlwind of dust. 

He was quickly followed, however, 
with dozens more and they came out of 
the shadows with malevolent purpose. 

Van could barely hear himself think 
above the pandemonium of battle 
around him. 

A resistance fighter he vaguely knew as 
a team member from the ranch's 
communications team fell beside him, a 
chunk of shrapnel lodged in his throat. 
A large bazooka that Van recognized as 
being one of the few weapons they had 
capable of taking out an entire base 
rolled out of the man's arms and Van 
scooped it up. 

Mulder stumbled next to him having 
just dispatched a super soldier not five 
feet in front of him, and struggled to 
reload his weapon as another 
approached. 

Van held the bazooka in one hand and 
swung his own weapon up with the 
other, his bullets ripping into the soldier 
just as it reached Mulder. 

It dusted a meter in front of him and 
Mulder looked up.

"Thanks," he said. 

Van nodded at him, but was distracted 
by something over Mulder's shoulder.

A ship was hovering over the earth 
nearly two acres away near the shore, 
but wasn't doing anything but hanging 
there. 

Something about the ship grabbed his 
attention and Mulder turned to see what 
he was looking at. 

"What do you think it's doing?" Mulder 
asked, finally seeing what his son was 
staring at. 

"I don't know," Van said, hiking the 
bazooka up on one shoulder and 
holding his gun up to the other, "come 
on." 

The two men left the fray, glancing 
behind them to see more of the alien 
craft falling out of the sky in flames. 
Satisfied they weren't desperately 
needed, they trotted in the direction of 
the suspended ship. 

They were halfway to it when they 
pulled up short, dirt skidding in front of 
them in their haste to stop. 

Mouths hanging open, they stared as 
Albert Waugonawkisy walked toward 
them, holding a hand up. 

Both men brought their weapons 
halfway up and then paused. 

Neither man had a stiletto, but 
something was telling Van that they 
didn't need one. 

"Gu-sanh" the old man said. 

Van's gun fell a little. So did his jaw.

"Na zag-mah," he continued. "Mip-too, 
ti-ba Gitche Gummi. Jim-ni-do jeeg-
beek a-yaht. Mee-gahs jim-ni-do. Nim-
kee, bi-jees-ga." 

Mulder and Van turned to each other 
and then back to Albert. 

The man was gone, as was the ship that 
had been floating behind him.

"You just saw that, right?" Van asked 
his father.

"Yeah," Mulder said. 

"Okay," Van said, "good."

They stood for a moment silent in spite 
of the roar of battle going on behind 
them.

"And did he say," Mulder cleared his 
throat, "to go down to the beach, and to 
fire into the water?" 

"You understood that?" Van asked, not 
turning from where Albert had been 
standing. 

"Uh huh," Mulder said. 

"Well then," Van said, "I guess we'd 
better do what the man said." 

They ran full-tilt toward the beach and 
slid down the trail that led to the lake. 

"Where exactly," Mulder said in 
between breaths, his chest heaving, "are 
we supposed to be firing?"

Van shouldered the bazooka once again 
and scanned the beach. 

Then he remembered his trip down the 
shore the day before with Scully and the 
horses spooking. 

"Down here," he said, taking off for that 
very spot. 

When they arrived at it, there was no 
discernable difference between the 
water before them and that lining the 
rest of the shore. 

Van handed his M-35 to Mulder and 
brought the bazooka to his shoulder. He 
aimed just below the horizon and then 
turned to his father, looking for one last 
sign of approval. 

Mulder shifted his hips a little away 
from the water, nonchalantly trying to 
protect his groin and squinted his eyes 
giving a small wince. But he nodded at 
his son. 

Van turned back to the water and dug 
his feet into the sand. He then depressed 
the button on the front of the weapon, 
firing it. 

The missile ripped into the water and 
for a split second, nothing happened. 

And then suddenly, a deafening roar 
erupted out of the lake's surface, 
knocking both Mulder and Van several 
feet back onto the beach. 

A fireball shot out of the water's surface 
and filled the air. Steam hissed along 
the water and shards of metal shot up to 
the surface in a rage of bubbles. And 
then there was nothing. Silence but for 
the steam that hissed for a moment 
along the lake and then was whisked 
away with a puff of wind. 

The sound of the battle behind them 
was suddenly silent as well, and father 
and son turned to each other, their eyes 
connecting. 

They'd done it.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Epilogue

XxXxXxXxXxX

It had been nearly three years, Van 
thought to himself as he stood along the 
very same stretch of beach, he couldn't 
believe it. 

There were one or two families dotted 
along the sand, children playing in the 
water on the mostly deserted beach. 

The ranch had disassembled much of its 
inner workings, keeping only a skeleton 
crew now on hand throughout the year. 
Many resistance fighters had gone back 
to where they'd hailed from, and they'd 
removed any no trespassing signs that 
they'd lined their borders with only a 
few days before.

Some families played there now, using 
the newly freed beach on the first hot 
weekend of the summer.

Van glanced at the nearest little boy, 
running around naked along the shore 
as his father chased him with a beach 
towel. Most of them didn't even know 
how close they'd come to annihilation. 
Most of them never would. 

He turned then and walked up the 
closest dune, stalking a woman who 
was bending over in the sand, picking at 
the rocks that dotted the beach. 

When she rose awkwardly, her pregnant 
belly protruding in front of her, he 
grabbed her from behind and planted a 
sloppy his on her cheek. 

The woman yelped happily, nearly 
dropping the bucket of rocks she'd been 
carrying.  

"Hey," a voice came down from above 
them, atop the dune.  

Mulder slid a bit as he descended, his 
bare feet kicking up sand into the cups 
of the loose khaki pants he'd rolled up 
on his legs. 

"Leave my wife alone," he said, letting 
a little humor into his tone "go jostle 
your own." 

Van smiled down at Scully and released 
her, turning toward the slender blonde 
woman that was slowly walking along 
the edge of the water toward them. She 
had a big, floppy straw hat on her head 
and the waves had soaked her pants up 
to the knee. She looked ridiculous. 

Van nearly keeled over with affection 
as his heart squeezed in his chest. 

The woman grinned goofily and 
approached him, taking the flip-flops 
she carried in her hand and striking him 
with them lightly in the chest.

"Leave your poor mother be," she said, 
leaning in for a kiss. 

Van mooned down at her, but didn't say 
anything. 

They walked hand-in-hand and joined 
Mulder and Scully on a beach blanket 
that they'd just laid out. 

"Oh yeah," Carly spoke after a moment, 
pulling something out of her pocket 
next to Van and handing it over to him. 
"I found this on the beach. What do you 
think it is?"

Van ran the piece of metal over in 
hands silently and then handed it back 
to Mulder. His parents both took one 
look at it and exchanged a glance. 

"Oh, I don't know," Scully finally said, 
giving the other woman a reassuring 
smile "probably just a piece off of some 
boat." 

Van took the object back and ran his 
fingers over the Navajo script, knowing 
exactly what it was and where it was 
from. 

Carly took it from his hands.

"Really?" She asked, "well what do you 
think these markings are?" 

Van leaned in and nuzzled her neck, 
distracting her just as he took the piece 
of alien ship from her hands. 

"I think it says," he said, rising 
playfully.

She let out a yelp of half hearted 
protest, but watched him, grinning.

He dramatically squinted his eyes and 
peered at the metal surface.

"Yep, I think that it says 'I would make 
the *perfect* skipping stone,'" he 
finished, squinting at the markings 
dramatically and then holding the flat 
piece of metal for a moment, finally 
whipping it toward the water. 

It skipped six or seven times before it 
finally sunk below the surface, far from 
the beach. 

Van watched it sink, and then walked 
back toward his wife. 

"I'm impressed," she said, taking his 
hand as he sat next to her. 

He gave her a grin and then looked to 
Mulder and Scully. 

They gazed at him proudly but didn't 
say a word.

"You should be," he said, turning to his 
wife, "I, William Mulder, am a very 
impressive man." 

XxXxXxXxXxX

THE END

Feedback me! It's been a while. 
red_phile@yahoo.com