CHAPTER 9

Miles separated the caravan from where the Censurians were stopped by Will and Cyrus, Skinner's knuckles white as he gripped the wheel to the SUV with Will's precious cargo strapped inside. Cara had lost the ability to speak soon after her voice nearly gave out from screaming, the shock hitting her and consuming her.

Her paleness made Skinner nervous, unsure whether the young woman beside him would stay conscious or not. "Caraline," he murmured, taking a quick glance toward her, "are you alright?"

Am I alright? she asked herself in silence. Her husband - her best friend, partner and father of her children - just decided on the spur of a moment to offer himself as a sacrifice to the blood thirsty Censurian army guards. Her final contact with him had been through an open car window, the door of the vehicle and the seat belt restraining her from even embracing him. The kiss they shared was chaste compared to others that had come before it, fear driving the pace of their union. Her throat ached from first screaming his name, then just incoherent cries of terror as she watched her husband strain against evil itself through the rearview mirror. What compounded it all was realizing her brother had chosen to stay with him, accepting the same, if not worse, fate for himself.

"Max," Cara finally whispered, her body shaking, "where is Daddy? Where is he?" She knew she was begging - she didn't care. She would beg anyone to tell her where Will was.

"He's not talking," Max murmured, sniffing back a tear.

"What about Uncle Cyrus?" she asked quickly.

"He's ... He's in pain."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No," Max said with sorrow. "He's moving ... He's in a truck, but he doesn't know where it is going." Max chewed on his lip, clutching Emma's hand beside him. "Daddy is alive. Uncle Cyrus keeps thinking that so you know."

Cara burst into tears, her sobs breaking through the air with sharpness.

The two-way radios allow the caravan to communicate, deeming the now thirty mile distance from the scene of the Censurian raid safe. The cars pulled over, Skinner, Mulder, Eric and Shilah exiting their vehicles to discuss their options.

Cara knew she needed to be strong for her children, but something about the situation was so final that she didn't have the strength of her hope like she had in times of crisis before. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, this day was long since coming and it ate at her, gnawing through her with impressive speed. "Mommy?" Emma whispered.

"Yeah sweetie?" Cara whispered back, her eyes still locked on the view through the windshield.

"Is Daddy going to die?"

"This is my fault," Christina murmured as she shivered in the back seat, a chill overcoming her despite the hot summer air that warmed the car.

"No, it's not," Scully insisted, it being the first words she spoke since leaving the gas station.

"It is," Christina insisted, shaking her head. "If I had just left with Harry, you each would be safe. William would've never been found. Cyrus ..." She stopped, her throat feeling like it was closing at the mention of his name.

"You don't know that. You don't know that Harry wouldn't have been tempted by the promise of rewards for the information he held. It was a risk William took to bring him to you." Scully sighed. "William trusted him as much as I'm sure you once did. It's no ones fault but Harry's."

"I was the fuel to his fire. I was-"

"Listen," Scully interrupted gently, turning toward the young woman behind her, "everyone is responsible for their own choices in life. Everyone, including Harry. It doesn't matter what your actions were - it was always up to him to choose a higher road, and he didn't." She paused for a beat, examining Christina's tear-stained face. "You have to believe that there is still hope," Scully whispered. "You can't focus on what won't change now. You need to access your faith, just like John said. We all need your faith. We all need your belief."

"Don't you have faith, too?" Christina asked, seeing the glint of the gold cross draped around Scully's throat.

"Not that much," Scully admitted with a sigh.

Christina knew the feeling. "When my parents died and I heard how they were killed, I didn't either." She drew a shaky breath. "Turns out that I only needed a tiny bit to keep going."

"Faith of a mustard seed ..."

"You remember the scripture, then?"

Scully did, but even the quantity of faith comparable to the size of a mustard seed seemed an impossible achievement.

"We have no way of getting in contact with them, and they've got no way to contact us," Skinner argued. "They're not interested in what we've got. Without William, we're no threat."

Mulder shook his head. "He'll come for the kids," he insisted, his hands on his hips. "It's why William sacrificed himself. He knows the Black Lunged Bastard wants the kids more than he does himself. He'll take William to pick him apart for his power, but it's the kids he wants destroyed."

"Then what do we do?" Shilah asked.

"We keep going to Virginia," Mulder replied.

"We're not going to look for William and Cyrus?" Skinner asked, baffled.

"They're not even here anymore. He's taken them. We have no way of knowing where they are." Mulder sighed, shutting his eyes. "Look," he said, his head hanging, "the only way we can stop this is to kill it at the root."

"Using the kids?" Skinner argued.

"I don't think the kids have to actually do anything," Mulder explained.

"How do you figure?"

"I've seen what Max can do. He was born and he took down a bounty hunter with just his presence in the same building. And he was a newborn."

"So you're saying, just get them in the same area?" Eric asked.

Mulder nodded. "I think the Smoking Man will be weakened the closer we get. The closer that Max gets."

"Then why take William?" Skinner asked.

"Why not? He's the most powerful adult in the world."

"Will we deal with the Cancer Man, if that's what he wants?"

"No, no deals."

"Then-"

"Look," Mulder interrupted, his temper flared. "William knew what he was doing. He bought his children time, space and he hoped protection. Now we've got to ensure they make it to where we are going. Otherwise, my son will suffer in vain."

Mulder spun around on his heel and headed for the car Scully was in, sighing as he sunk into the front seat next to her. He slammed the door harder than necessary, his mind reeling over the choice Will had made, as well as his own choice to support him despite his desire to protect him. "We keep going," Mulder murmured, leaning one elbow on the door frame while the other hand ran through his hair. He knew he was rambling, as if he was trying to convince himself of the merit of his plan. "It's all we can do. We've got to destroy this thing at the base. It'll just keep growing if we don't."

He knew Scully was livid at him for his initial choice to stop her from pursuing Will, as well as heartbroken over the reality of what they faced. He expected an angry objection, a fighting match of wills - the same banter that stoked the fire of their relationship for longer than they kept track of.

Instead, she sat quietly, fingering the hem of her khaki button-down shirt that was open over her white camisole. No words. It was worse than hearing how horrible he was or how careless his actions were or any other reprimand he could ever imagine. Her silence told him she hated the reality he presented, yet supported the choice he made. Her silence didn't give him confidence or help him to determine which course of action to take, which path to travel.

In that moment, he realized he relied on her for direction so much, both in the past and in recent times, the same way he relied on Will for leadership. No. Now wasn't a time to back down or become a coward. Now wasn't a time to second-guess himself or to wait for a hand to hold. His son's life was on the line. His grandchildren's lives were on the line. He had to act.

Mulder's silent pep talk didn't quell all of his fears, though - he could still hear them snickering in his mind as he led the caravan east, assuring him that the worst was yet to come.

2:23 PM CST

The light pierced Will's eyes with urgency, whatever hood that had been forced over his face swiped away, bright beams assaulting him. If he didn't know better, he would've sworn there were bricks pushing his head down, the muscles in his neck straining under even the simplest demand of movement.

Was he bound? Yes, his wrists were strapped behind him. He didn't expect to see himself merely sitting on a chair, though, as he opened his eyes fully, taking in his surroundings. It was as if they underestimated his capabilities. His stomach dropped with the thought; his hands automatically tested his theory. Handcuffs that would've normally snapped like toys scraped his wrists and kept him vulnerable. They didn't underestimate him - they weren't afraid of him because there was nothing to be afraid of.

Will's upper arm burned with the realization, the pain that pounded his head and the ache that traveled through his joints so familiar. He imagined the Censurian guards each kept a stock of the one thing that could kill him-magnetite-in anticipation for this very moment, when he would be captured. He was unstoppable without it in his system. With it, he was subject to their every whim.

"Good afternoon, William," a voice spoke behind him with sureness that made Will's blood run cold. His head hurt too much to turn toward it. He didn't care to, anyway - he knew whose voice it was without looking. "How are you feeling?" Will didn't answer, which he knew irritated the Smoking Man, catching the huff he made behind him. "Not very social, I guess. It's understandable, considering the condition we found you in. You look far better than your brother in law does."

Cyrus. Will swallowed with the thought, knowing Cyrus most likely had suffered greatly to protect him after he blacked out. He just prayed he was still alive. "You must have done some heavy lifting," the Smoking Man continued. "You exhausted yourself to near death. Of course, with your ability to heal, we weren't all that concerned. About a half-hour after we took you and your brother in law, you came to. We sedated you, naturally. That, coupled with the magnetite injections, is why you feel so lethargic."

"You're still scared of me, though," Will murmured with a small smile.

"What makes you say that?" the Smoking Man asked as he lit a new cigarette.

"You don't want to look me in the eye to talk to me. You're too afraid to leave yourself vulnerable."

"Afraid?" the Smoking Man asked with a laugh. "My boy, you've got it all backwards. I don't fear you. It's me you should fear."

"Come out of the shadows, coward. I'd love to see your ugly face again so I can spit in it." A replacement nearby punched Will in the stomach, Will sputtering as he coughed. "Touch me again!" he growled to the replacement as a warning, strained. He received another punch to his gut, the wind partially knocked out of him. "You're dead, you bastard!" Will snapped through his shaky breaths to the replacement.

"Save your energy, William," the Smoking Man chided. "There is much to discuss. Do you remember the gifts I sent you when your beautiful wife was pregnant with your exquisite children?" The Smoking Man was still behind Will but stepped closer. Will was quiet as he thought. The train, the plane and the boat. The toys had been burned before they moved to Alaska. "You never did thank me for them."

"No reason to," Will growled, feeling the beginnings of the all too familiar effect of losing to the darkness he wrestled with from the magnetite in his system.

"How is Caraline, by the way?" The Smoking Man exhaled slowly behind Will, closer to himself than Will realized. "I bet motherhood suits her." Will was stopped by the replacement as he tried to go after the Smoking Man at the mention of his wife. He groaned under the pressure the replacement put on his arms, the pain more than he normally felt. "I bet she's radiant," the Smoking Man continued, circling around to face Will as the replacement kept him braced. "Even more sensual than she was before, I'd imagine. I'll find out when I see her soon. I'm looking forward to it."

Will let out an animalistic snarl as he pulled against the replacement, gritting his teeth together as he watched the Smoking Man smile. "If you touch her, I will kill you, you son of a bitch," Will warned darkly.

"See, this is exactly what we need to discuss. You can't kill me," The Smoking Man drew in on the cigarette calmly as he stood in front of Will. "Especially not in your current condition." He eyed Will. "And of course, you know your father listened to your plan, however ill-fated it might have been. Right now, he's continuing to head east, as if the mere presence of your son will be the thing to destroy me." He exhaled, playing the bluff, knowing Will wasn't absolutely sure of his theory of Max's power and purpose. He was hoping to use Will's doubt against him while he bought time. "That is what you're betting on, isn't it? Maddox William Mulder to redeem the world through his existence alone?"

The Smoking Man Dragged on the cigarette again, keeping his focus on Will. "Let's get back to the gifts I sent," he said. "Then you'll understand why your plan was so poorly constructed." He took a few steps, pacing slowly as he talked. "There were three toys that were once yours that I put in the box - a plane, a train and a boat. All three were in sore shape, much like you now are. Yet, all three have one thing in common - they are methods of transportation." He paused, taking another drag off of the stem.

In the haze of his mind, Will was desperately trying to piece the puzzle together before the Smoking Man could reveal it to him, knowing that there still was a chance that Max could hone in on his thoughts. "You see," the Smoking Man continued, "the toys were each symbolic of a way that the alien virus has been transported in the past. Those methods didn't work entirely. There were holes and gaps that needed to be remedied in order for the success rate to be higher. But what those three toys also had in common was their owner." The Smoking Man stood in front of Will, taking a puff. "And their owner, despite all of the trauma he has ever endured, is a resilient man."

He began pacing again. "Then it hit me - why not use a resilient means of transportation instead of weaker ones? It was a brilliantly simple solution to an on-going problem - transportation through existence. The only issue with the idea was how to go about weakening your stubborn nature so you might be used as a vessel. How do you kill a man who can't seem to die?" he asked. "The obvious answer is magnetite, which we've already begun to administer in carefully-measured doses to ensure the smoothest transition. It's a myth that you'd die with too much magnetite, William. The others like you, most certainly. But not you. It doesn't kill you, it merely changes who you are. It leaves you vulnerable, but doesn't automatically kill you. It's why you've been able to endure it in mass quantities in the past. You've always been an oddity, much like your son and daughter now are. No," he said, exhaling, "magnetite won't kill you. It strips away your power. And without your power - being fully human - you die like the rest of us."

The Smoking Man looked Will in the eyes. "The good news is, I'm not planning on taking one power away without giving another. Oh, you might feel like dying during the conversion, but rest assured, your change will become more natural than your existence has ever felt. See, one cannot toe the line for their entire life, William." He smiled. "One can't have the piece of cake in their hands and eat it, too." He breathed, a gray puff lingering near Will's face, the smoke stinging his eyes. "No, William. Your abomination of a life has gone on long enough. When I'm finished with you, you'll wonder why you didn't seek me out sooner to be converted."

"Converted to what?" Will snapped.

The Smoking Man laughed. "You know exactly what, William," he replied, taking a drag. "Your battle between mortality and immortality will soon end. Being immortal is was you were meant to be. You were never meant for a life with a wife and children, William." He let the smoke go through his lips. "You've known that all along. It's been said from the beginning that if William Mulder seeks family, the family will die. Am I right? Well, I rescued both you and your family. See, without your mortality, you essentially 'die.' This 'death' of sorts is only a death to an existence imprisoned by obligation to lives you'll never be able to protect." He paused, seeing Will's reaction. "That's right," he reaffirmed. "You're well on your way to the life you were meant to have. A life forevermore with no attachments. A singular existence with no burdens and no pain."

"And no soul," Will breathed, remembering the conversation he once had with the Smoking Man long ago in Arizona.

"You listen to me, you son of a bitch," Will remembered saying in regards to a threat made against Cara. "You come anywhere near her and I'll make you regret the day you were born."

"Such a temper. We had predicted that in you." The Smoking Man paused. "If you're not careful, it can get you into trouble, William."

"Who are you?!"

"My advice to you would be to cherish what you have right now. Because a time is coming when you'll be left with nothing. Not even your own soul. I'll be in touch."

"Souls are useless, William," the Smoking Man said, bringing Will out of his thoughts. "They are burdensome anchors to a world that doesn't have much to offer. The new William Mulder will be someone to envy." The Smoking Man leaned close to Will, smiling as he puffed on his cigarette. "Remember how I said I saved your entire family?" He exhaled, standing up straight. "Well, I'm sure you've heard of the prophecy: If the father lives, the son serves his cause and if the father dies, the son will serve the opposite cause. Your conversion will save Maddox's life by allowing him the same immortality that you are in the process of receiving."

"No," Will breathed, realizing what it all meant.

"Yes, William. See, it was never about you and Fox, but rather about you and Maddox." The Smoking Man smiled, a small laugh escaping him. "The best part about your conversion is that you won't even remember anything that came before once it's complete," he explained, Will's eyes widening in horror. "Caraline, Maddox, Emma, even your mother and father, will be of no consequence to you once you're finished. Maddox will work for me, and I'll make sure Emma is utilized." His grin widened, seeing Will's angry look that was thinly veiling his sickened worry. "Caraline already belongs to me according to a contract her father signed. You won't have any use for her anymore. You'll be a free man. Sex will be the last thing on your mind. I'll be sure Caraline's ... talents ... don't go to waste."

As he stood and crushed the cigarette underfoot, the Smoking Man watched Will struggle violently against the replacement, groaning in pain. He fought hard enough that another replacement had to assist holding him. "Don't you touch them!" Will screamed as the Smoking Man walked away and out of sight. "You fucking bastard! I'll kill you! I swear, I will kill you! Don't you dare touch them! I'LL KILL YOU!"

"No, you won't, William," the Smoking Man assured as he lingered near the opened door to the room. "Soon, you'll serve me."