CHAPTER 8
Prospect Street
Hoboken, NJ
8:02 AM EST
"Come on, jerk! The gas pedal is on the right! Move it!"
Tonya Nichols' palm abused the horn in the center of her car's steering wheel, her brown eyes narrowing at the large SUV in front of her that was idling by on her morning commute. "I have a presentation today, jerk!" she yelled, though her windows were rolled high to lock in the cool air conditioning that she kept on blast to combat the summer swelter. She groaned, flopping back against the gray fabric seat of her sedan and mumbling to herself as she examined her reflection in the rearview mirror. "Shit," she muttered, wiping some mascara that had bled from her lashes to her cheek, the heat of the day making it nearly impossible to keep her makeup intact. She tucked her dark brown hair behind her ear, the short, cropped length skimming the smart lapel of her Tahari suit jacket she had purchased on a whim that weekend in anticipation for today's main event - her presentation of the latest storyboard she had for the November issue of Riche Magazine.
Tonya knew she was painfully close to being late for work, let alone reducing her prep time before the executive staff meeting later that morning. She tapped her hands impatiently on the steering wheel, trying to see around the large SUV to understand what was halting traffic so drastically. As she crept along at a steady five-miles-per-hour, her eyes fell on the accident some distance ahead. "Great!" she shouted. "Just great!"
She sighed, shifting her focus to the uniformed police officers who had dotted the scene, their parked squadron cars shifting red and blue light through the thick summer air as they scribbled notes in pads or directed traffic down a side street to detour the morning rush hour participants. Unconsciously, she found herself looking for him, though it had been at least two years since she had even spoken to him. She sighed when she finally realized what her mind had set out to do without her permission, her thoughts of him silencing the rush of impatience that had built inside of her due to the delay. William Van De Kamp.
It all depended on the day as far as what she had called him during their relationship - Will or William, but never Willy, Bill or Billy, per his request. He was one person she couldn't figure out, both when she dated him and after she broke things off. Tonya remembered his dull apartment, only having gone there once and regretting it the moment she stepped through the door. She couldn't imagine anyone living in such a dump, but he did, and it was unsettling to her. She preferred her Hudson River view from her luxury loft with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the city across the water. It was a pretty penny she paid for the view, but worth every cent to her.
Tonya met Will through a husband of a friend, another officer at the Hoboken Police Department where Will was stationed. It was a blind date that turned into a relationship lasting just shy of ten months, something she hadn't expected. Will was mysterious - she never felt like she truly knew him, which kept her intrigued. It went without mentioning of his chiseled good looks; Tonya allowed a sideways grin to play on her lips as she recalled the times they made love. She could have stayed with him just for the sex, since it was pretty damn amazing. Yet, there was an emptiness she had felt in their relationship, as if he couldn't give the most important piece of himself over to her like she wanted him to. "You have someone else," she had accused him of, receiving a sincere no in response. She believed him, until the Hoboken Police Department Winter Holiday Party where she attended as Will's date, and saw such an intensity in him as he focused on a tall blonde wearing a cobalt blue dress. They broke up that night; she had to admit it was her most empathetic break-up to date. She knew Will hadn't even realized how much he was pining after the blonde who was on the arm of a tall, dark and handsome man that she clearly wasn't interested in. "Get it together, Will, and ask her out," she remembered saying, surprised at her own willingness to turn him over so easily. Perhaps it was her desire for true love for herself that she didn't want to deny anyone who might be actually able to achieve it. With a kiss on his cheek, she caught a cab and never looked back.
Granted, she had always skimmed through the faces of police officers she had seen in the area, never one to keep up with local news otherwise. She was in too high of a position at Riche Magazine to have time for much else. "And I certainly don't have time for this stupid-" CRASH. "SHIT!" Tonya cursed, feeling herself jerk back against her taut seat belt as her front end of her sedan pushed into the SUV in front of her that had laid on the brakes with unexpected urgency. "Damnit! Shit, shit, shit!" Tonya groaned, shaking her head as she pulled the car over on a quiet alley way behind the SUV, whose driver exited the vehicle and approached her window - a large, built man with dark brown hair, a face one couldn't soon forget for its unique presence. No ring, she observed silently, rolling down her window. "Hi, sorry about that," she said. "I'll call the cops."
"No, I'd rather settle this privately," the man said calmly.
Less time spent, she thought. Tonya shrugged, the man's body easily blocking her view from her window with its broad size. "Alright, fine by me. I'll meet you around the other side. I've just got to get my paperwork from the glove compartment."
As she reached over to unlock the compartment, she froze, life escaping her mortal shell instantly as a silencer's swift bullet lodged itself in her head. There were no thoughts any more, no breath to take in, no insurance claims to process. There was no presentation to worry about, or financial responsibility for the Tahari suit that was now stained crimson with her blood. There was no need to concern herself with the past, or the future. There was no longer any opportunity for true love.
There was no hesitation as he boarded his vehicle, nor any remorse for the satisfaction he felt. The message was sent - now it just needed to arrive to its particular destination while others were skillfully arranged.
Hoboken Police Department
Hoboken, NJ
9:38 AM EST
Reyes burst through the front doors of the police department, her eyes narrowed in anger as she stormed to the desk she saw Will occupying. It wasn't possible for a human to sneak up on him given his invasive talent, and she certainly wasn't trying to. Her heavy steps that drove in a direct line toward him echoed the anger she held for Will's actions the night before. "William!" she demanded, closing in on him.
With his back to her, Will closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He had sent a text message to Reyes shortly after retrieving his phone from the locker, though to be honest, he hadn't viewed any of her responses. Simply put, he let her know where he was and then shifted his focus to the database he scoured on the computer he and Cara used to share, attempting to run the faces of the men in the photos he took from Maryann's house through facial recognition software.
He knew his odds were slim, given the photos were older and the faces could have changed significantly with age, so he enlisted the help of one of his fellow officers in forensics who had a knack for using the age estimation tools in the program to create possibilities of what the once young men now looked like. He hadn't had many hits, each not seeming to make sense for the situation, so he kept looking, sipping the sludge the station administrative assistant, Cindy, brewed.
He knew it was most likely his fault the coffee was so terrible this morning, given the shock he saw on Cindy's face when he helped himself to the last of the overnight shift's pot that was brewed as she came into work. She, of course, assaulted him with a hesitant game of Twenty Questions, not fully convinced of Will's innocence until he produced pictures on his phone of a tanned, blonde and very pregnant Cara, smiling. It wasn't the pictures, though, that convinced her of the abridged version of his story Will told. Rather, it was the tears she caught leaking from his eye as he blinked and how he discreetly tried to wipe them away. It was so typical William Van De Kamp, she had thought. So strong all the time, so brave. Never weak, never helpless. Will had opted to keep the other more interesting aspects of himself a secret for now, entrusting Cindy to generate the word to the others of his return and his trustworthiness.
"Hi," Will said gently, not turning around to face Reyes.
"Don't 'hi' me, William," Reyes said sternly, her hands finding her hips as she stared at his back. "You ditched me!"
"Hey, listen," Will interjected softly, turning in his chair, "I was trying to protect you. I swore to Doggett I would, and that's what I did."
"William," Reyes sighed, "I'm here for the same reasons you are. I'm not here to be babysat or protected." Seeing the redness in his eyes and the dark circles that had taken residence under them, she visibly surrendered her anger. In that moment, she realized how casually Will had been operating within the confines of the police department, confused by his access. "How did you get here, anyway?" she asked softly, taking the seat next to him.
"Cara's mother was killed yesterday." Will's voice was tainted with remorse. "Either Cara witnessed it or she feared for her mother's safety. The real number she gave me was Maryann's house number, so I went. I found the body, and I guess people thought I was breaking and entering, so the cops were called." He paused. "I've got full protection, Monica," he said gently. "The Chief is safe-guarding me."
"How did you convince him?" Reyes asked with surprise.
"Show and tell," Will replied dryly, turning back to the computer. "I took these photos from Maryann's house," Will explained, handing her the three originals. "I figured they might have something to do with the Shield Project, so I had Kim in Forensics do an age-modification process on them to give an estimate of what they'd look like now." Will gave the three print-outs to Reyes. "Now I'm running them through the system."
"Any matches?"
"A couple so far, but nothing that ties in with Timothy English, Daniel Riggs or Cara."
Will's attention was still on the screen. "I also called Skinner," he added softly. "I …" Reyes looked up at the profile of Will's face, sensing his struggle. "I didn't want to involve Gibson, but I think it's our only shot."
"The babies," Reyes said in realization.
"Yeah. At least one he's able to communicate with, so I'm hoping he's still able to now." Will sighed. "For now, I'm trying to occupy my time building any other leads."
"I take it you haven't heard from her?"
Will shook his head; he swallowed, pausing as he shut his eyes. "I'm sorry I left you hanging," he offered quietly. "I … I just didn't know what waited for me and I didn't want to risk you." He looked into her eyes. "Were you alright?"
Reyes nodded. "I was fine. Worried, angry, panicked … but fine."
"I'm sorry."
"Just don't do it again," Reyes warned; her gentle smile spoke of forgiveness. When Will turned back to the computer, she spread out the original photos, studying the subjects in them. "William," she said softly, "look."
"What?" Will asked curiously, eyeing where she was pointing.
"It's CGB Spender," she said softly. Will peered down where she pointed, acquainting himself with the face as he tightened his jaw.
"Why didn't I see that?" Will asked, clearly angry at himself.
"How could you have known? You've only ever heard his name and his voice."
"I feel like I should've known it was him." Will paused. "Whatever. So at least we're getting somewhere with the significance of the picture. Do you know anyone else in there?"
"No," Reyes sighed.
"Well, if you wouldn't mind, take a look at the profiles I pulled. I may have missed something." He gestured over near Cindy's desk. "There's coffee, but I will warn you, it's not for the faint of heart today."
Reyes smiled. "I've had the coffee here before. I think I'm acclimated to it," she replied, standing and patting Will on the shoulder. "Want a refill?"
"Awesome. Thanks."
"Cream? Sugar?"
"Black."
After Reyes gathered his mug and left, Will's phone buzzed on the desk, which instantly made him anxious. Will snatched it from the desktop, inhaling deeply as he answered. "Hello?"
"William."
"Dad!" Will clutched the phone tightly. "Dad, are you guys alright?"
"William, you need to listen very carefully to me," Mulder said slowly. "William, you need to find Cara. You do whatever it takes, however long it takes, but you find her."
"Dad-"
"William, listen," Mulder said sternly. "Find Cara. You need to find your children. Me living or dying is of no consequence. Those children are the key. You need to get to them before they do."
"I'm getting you out of there, Dad. I'm getting you all out."
"WILLIAM!" Mulder shouted. "Listen! Listen to what I'm telling you! Find Caraline, William. Do you understand?"
Will shook his head. "I will find her, Dad. And I will get you out."
"You can't do both. I don't want you to come here. I want you to protect your wife and your children."
"Dad, I won't leave you. Or Mom, or Doggett."
"Coming after us will get you killed, William. You NEED to make a choice, and I'm telling you which choice to make."
"Dad-"
"William, if you don't choose your children, there will be nothing left," Mulder snapped. "They'll kill you. Don't think they can't, because they will. Then, they will destroy the only things that could save mankind. They'll keep your wife as an incubator and kill her when they're finished with her. Do you get the picture yet?" Mulder paused, swallowing. "Everyone has a line in the sand, William. I'm drawing yours here."
"I don't accept that," William nearly yelled back. "I won't accept your death, nor will I risk it."
Mulder sighed. "Don't be like me, William. Don't do this."
"I love you, Dad. I love Mom. I respect Doggett. I'm not stopping until you're safe."
"William-"
"Time's up," Will heard Joy say, feeling his heart sink when the line went dead. His fist connected with the desk in rage as he yelled, hearing the wood split under it. As he crouched over his now silent phone, he breathed deeply, trying to regain control of himself. He could hear the hush of the bullpen, the attention focused to him as Reyes neared him.
"William?" she said softly, her eyes widening at the busted desk. "Who was it, William?"
"My father," Will mumbled, still buried down.
"What did he say?"
"He doesn't want me to go to Utah. He doesn't think I can do both." Will's head shot up. "I need Gibson to get here now," he growled, pushing up out of his chair. He breathed deeply, feeling himself tremble. "I've got about 36 hours left," he said softly, looking at the braided cord wrapped around his wrist as if it were a watch, twisting it gently.
"William," Reyes said gently, "what if he's right?"
It wasn't that Will couldn't respond, but rather that he chose not to, not willing to face the weighted reality his father presented. To him, there was no other option besides success. His heart simply couldn't process anything but equal triumph; his choice was to prevent having to choose.
Rural West Virginia
9:38 AM EST
The scene was familiar - white-cloaked figures posing as doctors, or perhaps legitimately so, their gazes hovering over her in silence, as if they themselves were the unidentified flying objects Mulder had sought after for so long. Their faces were equally as dreary as the surrounding atmosphere; they were, however, beings that bore different faces. Replacements, Cara assumed, given how easily they had managed to lift her into the hospital bed she was now bound to by her hands and feet. She had been gagged nearly as soon as the first restraint snapped around her wrist, her screams of anger and choice words of warning to stay away from her children muffled by the thick fabric that was jammed between her teeth. Upon its entry, her tongue was curled back forcefully, causing her to enact her involuntary vomit reflex. Her stomach was empty; she had refused the food they served her for breakfast, though common sense told her to do otherwise for the sake of her children. She now felt queasy as she was wheeled through the facility she was being held in, indiscriminating white walls and painfully bright lights passing her as she tried to find some clue as to where she was. There was nothing - no smell, no sounds, no geographical anomalies to observe. The stark and blank world she had been thrust into bore no secrets that could be shared, and neither did the faces of those who hovered over her, their surgical masks concealing most of their distinguishing features.
Why surgical masks? Cara asked herself, now panicking against her bindings. She had weeks yet until her children were even considered close to full term. Would they take them early? Would they force her labor to come, creating such danger for her babies? With every ounce of strength she had, she struggled against her cuffs that attached her to the bed, muffled threats losing travel distance against the cloth that was inserted into her mouth.
When they finally entered a room that looked as sterile as any other hospital room she had ever been in, her eyes widened as she smelled his presence. "I see you weren't cooperative," he said, the smoke draining slowly from his mouth as he spoke. He seemed amused by her attempt to respond. "Give her a sedative," he ordered, smiling down at her.
Cara verbally protested, feeling the sharp needle be inserted into her vein as a replacement doctor braced her arm down, holding it perfectly still under his inhuman strength. She watched helplessly as the sedative was pushed through the port, moments later beginning to feel its effect as her muscles relaxed against her will. No, no, no, no, she thought in horror, her eyes wide as the doctors fingered the hem of her maternity tee shirt she had worn on her flight out. She had refused to use the shower or clean clothes provided to her in her cell that morning, though she knew her resistance was futile. She would, at some point, need to succumb to using both the shower and the toilet, much to her anger. She felt her eyes closing, though she tried to fight the sleep she was forced into, slowly coming to complete rest as the replacement doctors continued to work seamlessly around her.
Her well-rounded stomach was fully exposed by the replacement doctors, revealing her protruding navel and her linea negra that recently had darkened. Wordlessly, they covered her stomach in cool gel, one of them pressing the transducer probe against her womb and rolling it over until an image of the children appeared on the CPU the Smoking Man stood near.
"Well?" the Smoking Man asked impatiently of the doctor holding the transducer probe.
"The fetuses appear to be larger than average sized for thirty-three weeks gestation," the doctor said, observing the display on the screen. "There are still many complications with such an early delivery."
"What kinds of complications?"
"The lung development isn't fully matured and could present respiration issues."
The Smoking Man brought the cigarette to his lips. "When would that be resolved?"
"No sooner than thirty-six weeks."
He exhaled the smoke. "William might receive information before then."
"I've already assigned Miles to eliminate the boy."
The Smoking Man turned toward the bounty hunter's voice, eyeing him. "Should Gibson Praise intercept William, our chances at concealing our location will become impossible."
"Miles will handle him," the bounty hunter said confidently, looking at the screen. "Are they what we think they are?" he asked of the doctor.
"They appear to be negatively reacting to us," the doctor holding the probe suggested, seeing the fetuses kick and squirm away from the pressure applied to Cara's womb.
"Well," the Smoking Man said ruefully, "they are the descendants of Fox Mulder."
"The children of William Mulder will have no choice who they serve soon," the bounty hunter calmly said. "After William is eliminated, they will no longer resist. We've known this all along. The father of importance was never Fox Mulder."
"And what of their mother?"
"As I once told William, she will be useful in future population efforts."
"William has proven to be difficult to eliminate in the past."
The bounty hunter eyed the Smoking Man. "Do you doubt my capabilities?"
The Smoking Man drug the stem of his cigarette. "I doubt the capabilities of your current resource."
The bounty hunter looked back at the screen as he watched the children move and kick with fury. "She has her purpose." He paused. "Besides, once the transaction is complete, her stake in the project is erased."
"Turning your back on one of your own?" the Smoking Man asked with an interested grin.
"We do what is most beneficial to the project," the bounty hunter replied. His eyes fell on Cara's lifeless form. "See that she contacts William upon waking. Let her tell him whatever she desires."
"You don't consider that a liability?"
The bounty hunter smiled. "I consider it more torturous for William to have all he needs without having the ability to have her."
Gunnison, UT
8:01 AM MST
"Dana? Dana, can you hear me?"
Her strawberry blonde hair had become matted and tangled, clumps of it strewn over her face that stuck to her skin by the dried blood that collected on her forehead. Scully heard Doggett's voice near her, her ability to focus hazy as her eyes slowly opened. "Dana?" she heard again, blinking hard as her head throbbed, trying to ascertain where the sound was coming from, her head shifting to the left to find his eyes peering down at her.
"John," she said hoarsely, "what are you doing in here?"
"I convinced them it was in everyone's best interest to let me check on you," he explained gently, brushing her hair carefully away from her eyes. "Easy," he said, feeling her slump back against the floor as she pushed too hard too fast.
"John, you look terrible," Scully murmured, seeing Doggett laugh softly.
"I think we've both got our fair share."
Scully's eyes opened wider as her thoughts drifted. "Mulder," she breathed, trying to sit up.
"Whoa," Doggett said, grabbing onto Scully and stopping her. "No you don't. Easy."
"John, I need to make sure-"
"Shh," Doggett said, pressing her back against the floor delicately. "You need to rest. You were out for a little while."
"I guess I didn't take my own advice, did I?"
"You don't remember?"
"All I remember … is wanting to kill her."
"You put up one hell of a fight, from what I could tell. I tried to stop them …"
"It's okay. I guess we're even now," Scully joked softly.
"I'd gladly have taken your beating for you," Doggett replied in a serious tone.
"Mulder's probably … owww." Scully winced as she sat up, touching her ribcage. "I think I have a couple broken ribs."
"All the more reason you need to rest," Doggett chided, supporting her as she slowly found a comfortable position against the wall.
"I need to see Mulder, John," she whispered. "I need to know he's okay."
Doggett nodded. "When they come back around, I'll see what I can do."
Closing her eyes, Scully breathed shallowly, resting her weight against the cool concrete. "How did we not see all of this, John?" she asked, her eyes still closed. "Were we that blind?"
"I don't think it would've mattered if we were or weren't," Doggett replied. "I'm sure they would've taken whatever they wanted, however they wanted."
"I just … don't want William to feel at fault."
"That's going to be a hard thing to prevent."
"They'll kill him if he comes here."
"They'll try. I don't think they're any match for him."
The cell door opened, Doggett's eyes shooting toward the entry to find two large replacements staring down at them. "Get up," one ordered, his eyes fixed on Scully. Hoping to prevent her from being hurt, Doggett eased Scully to her feet, stabilizing her as she found her balance. "Move. Now."
In silence, they processed behind one replacement while another walked to the rear of them, each unsure of what was coming. When they finally arrived, the sight made Scully gasp, her eyes filling with tears as she rushed to Mulder's side, lifting his head carefully in her hands and gazing at his battered and bruised face.
She couldn't tell if he was dead or alive.
