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