Kismet

by Jaimee

Mulder and Scully investigate a seemingly meaningless murder in a small farming town in Alabama and find themselves caught in the middle of events that could lead to the end. (I swear it's not as long as the kb listing says..i had a 1/2pg story on here an

13. Kismet: Second Wind

Title - Kismet

Author - Jaimee Kidder

Email - invisibleshining@ivillage.com

Rating - PG-13 (for violence)

Classification - XRA

Spoilers - Herrenvolk/Talitha Cumi, Fight the Future, Triangle, Two Fathers/One Son, Three of a Kind

Keywords - Mulder/Scully romance

Summary - Mulder and Scully investigate a seemingly meaningless murder in a small farming town in Alabama and suddenly find themselves caught in the middle of events that could lead to the end.

::whirrrrr:: "I made this!"

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. I wish I was Scully and owned Mulder, but such is not the case. If I did, this would be an episode -- or two, or five -- of the show, not some story that Chris Carter will prob'ly never read. :) The secondary characters are mine (so there!). But Mulder, Scully, and the rest are all CC's (hail to the man!), 1013's, and Fox's. Too bad for me. ;-)

Oh yeah...and I borrowed Celine Dion's "Because You Loved Me"...so thank you, Celine, for singing such a lovely (and shippery) song!

.kismet.

.second.wind.

10:09 a.m.

The click was only noticeable if you listened for it, and Mulder was one of the few who knew what it meant. "Lone Gunmen," Langly answered.

"Shut the tape off," Mulder said hoarsely.

"Mulder?" Langly asked elatedly.

"Yeah, it's me," he said. The exhaustion was catching up with him, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"We've all been worried about you two, I mean, with the news and all...Frohike was sure you faked it, but after we got our hands on the D.O.J.'s report...so you're okay?" Mulder chuckled in spite of himself and Langly continued, obviously smiling as he spoke, "So Scully's not dead or anything?" The words took his breath away and for a moment he couldn't answer. His mind had filled again with horrible pictures, this time of her dying, of her dead. After a second, an eternity, filled with a thousand nightmares, he became slowly aware of Langly's voice, calling him back to reality. "Mulder? Mulder!"

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Something's...happened to Scully," Langly said softly.

Finally. A bench. He collapsed on it, only then realizing he was shaking. "She, uh...I left the room to get something...from the vending machine." He laughed roughly. "When I came back, she was gone and a man was waiting for me in my closet with a knife." He took a deep breath. "They're holding her in New London, wherever that is."

Mulder could hear the sound of tapping keys, and Langly was all business again. "New London...where are you? I mean, where were you, when...."

"Richmond."

"Okay..." More keys tapped, faster this time. Come on, Langly, Mulder thought, impatience taking precedence over weariness. After another moment, Langly shouted, "I've got it!"

"What? What'd you find?"

"Okay, an hour or two away from Richmond is the Fort A.P. Hill military reservation. That's where New London is. It's some sort of town, or something. I'm really not sure."

He sighed, a long ragged sigh. "Okay."

"How're you going to do this? You have a car?"

He shook his head. "Back at the hotel."

"Okay...somehow, you'll have to get a ride to Bowling Green. It's a little town about a mile west of the base. From there, you probably should walk if you don't want questions. How do you feel about hitchhiking?"

He smiled wearily. "Whatever it takes, Langly."

"All right. Here's what you do...."

New London

11:28 a.m.

It was dark. She couldn't see anything, except a paper thin sliver of light a few yards away on the floor, which could only mean that that was where the door was.

What...? Where am I? Scully wondered. Then she remembered -- the hotel, the men, Mulder... Mulder. Had he come back while they were still there to find an army waiting for him? Had they gone looking for him? She shivered.

She was lying on some sort of hard bed attached to the wall. She tried to sit up, but was rewarded with such a crash of pain in her head that she quickly lay down again. Whether that was the result of the chloroform or something else was impossible to tell.

After another moment of lying in the dark, she tried again, more slowly this time, and managed to sit all the way up and put her feet on the ground. The floor was cold and felt like cement or concrete, and that was when she realized that she had taken her shoes off at the hotel and was still barefoot. Standing up despite the cold on her feet, she felt around the walls of what could only be some kind of cell. It was fairly small, she concluded, about eight feet by six feet, and the door had no handle on this side, as far as she could tell.

She sat back down on the bed and began to think about her situation. She was obviously being held by the same men -- or the people they worked for -- in a cell, probably on a nearby military base. Unfortunately, she had no idea how long she had been there, so she couldn't really estimate the time it had taken to get there from Richmond. Fort Lee seemed like a reasonable guess, but then again, knowing where she was didn't help her much right now.

She was a prisoner, held away somewhere in the confines of a military base. Clearly, someone was getting her out of the way. That could only mean that Mulder and she were right, that their worst nightmares were coming true, that the wheels were in motion for something big. She still couldn't bring herself to think about colonization.

It seemed reasonable to think that Mulder was here somewhere as well. At least, she hoped he was -- considering the sheer force of the men that had taken her, it was unlikely that he would have been able to escape. That is, if they had waited for him to come back. So if he wasn't here...

Suddenly, a harsh metallic sound made her look up. The door slid open, inundating the room with light. She shielded her eyes from the glare and was able to make out a man standing in the doorway. He walked in slowly, and her eyes narrowed as she recognized the wrinkled face, the sardonic smile, the cigarette. She stood up, suddenly incensed.

The door slid closed again, and only the spark of the lighter lit the room for an instant. "Agent Scully," he said amiably, touching the flame to the end of his cigarette. Angry, she surprised herself by reaching up and snatching the cigarette away from him and flicking it to a corner of the room. "As you wish," he smirked, obviously amused.

"What is this?" she demanded. "Why am I here?"

"You -- and your partner -- have a way of...shall we say...bringing to ruin the plans that men for fifty years have been working to bring about." He chuckled, as always enjoying having the upper hand. "Sometimes I don't think you or Agent Mulder realizes how much is at stake here."

She stared at him. "I know what's at stake here. The lives of billions of people, the fate of our world --"

He cut her off sharply. "Such arrogance, Agent Scully! You have no idea of the fine line we tread! Ours was merely a ploy for time, so that we could perfect the vaccine. No one meant to actually develop a hybrid, and so bring our judgment upon ourselves."

"I've heard this all before," she interrupted, her eyes flashing. "You chose to save yourselves. You disregarded billions of human lives to save your own. Don't talk to me about arrogance." He took a step back -- his openness was at an end, and she realized it. "Wait." He turned, and she heard the clink of his lighter as he put another cigarette between his lips. "Where's Mulder?"

He flicked the lighter; the flash of flame showed his face twisted in a contemptuous smile. "He's dead."

Her heart stopped for a second at his words. "You're lying."

"Oh, I've been told he put up a good fight -- almost killed the agent we placed in your room. But our man eventually got his gun and..." He shrugged, and the door opened. "Have a nice day," he called pleasantly.

The door closed, and she sat down slowly on the bed. The only sound she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears -- that and the echo of his words.

He put up a good fight....but....

A good fight...?

But...

Mulder.

She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, hoping somehow she could fall asleep before comprehension could penetrate the layer of denial that enveloped her heart.

Bowling Green, Virginia

12:56 p.m.

Mulder watched the driver speed away down the highway, glad he was out of the truck and on his own feet. The man had told Mulder he had a few stops he needed to make, and wound up making what should have been an hour-long trip into almost two and a half. Mulder had just sat in the passenger seat, keeping his eyes focused on the glove compartment and his thoughts focused on his mission.

He still had no idea what he planned to do when he reached the base. According to Langly, it would take him about twenty minutes, jogging, to get to the perimeter of the base. He had reluctantly decided on the drive up that he had the best chance of getting inside if he waited until dark. He knew there was really no point in trying to save her if he was arrested before he could even get to New London. It was still hard, though, knowing he was a few miles away from Scully but his hands would be tied until nightfall.

He walked down the road aimlessly until he came to a small restaurant. With nothing else to do, and realizing he was hungry, he went in.

The waitress at the counter took in his bloody face, his scruffy hair, and his torn clothes with one sweep of her eyes. "Coffee," he said, without looking up, and she disappeared into the kitchen.

He turned around on the red vinyl-covered counter stool to look out the huge plate glass windows that covered the front of the building. It was more habit than anything, really, but he had nothing else to do. The town was small, and from what he could tell, boring. There was a little cheap motel across the street, and a bank next to that. Nothing special. He wasn't sure what exactly he'd been hoping to see -- a couple military jeeps, maybe, or a couple of men in black...or Scully -- but there was nothing there, and he turned back around.

The waitress came back with his coffee, and he gave her a dollar, muttering with a wave of his hand for her to keep the change. That earned him another suspicious stare, and she retreated to the kitchen again. He took a sip of his coffee -- it was too hot, and terrible besides -- and glanced around the diner. A couple people were sitting at tables, on lunch break, no doubt. He was about to turn around again when movement from outside the window caught his eye.

There was a man, dressed head to toe in black, walking by the front of the building. As Mulder watched, stunned and momentarily paralyzed with anger and surprise, he turned his head, and met Mulder's eyes.

Mulder stood and walked, dangerously slowly, to the door, slamming it open with a fist. The man on the sidewalk shot him one last incredulous look, and then bolted. Mulder followed at a run, his long legs taking him closer and closer to his prey with every stride. Finally, he was close enough, and leaped on top of the man, knocking him to the ground. He drew his gun and shoved the barrel against Krycek's chest.

"Krycek," Mulder hissed, breathing hard. "What brings you to town? Business as usual?"

"Mulder --" He tried to sit up, but Mulder pushed him back down hard with the gun.

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Krycek. Just give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

He drew a deep breath, his eyes looking around futilely for some hope of escape. "Because I can take you to Scully."

Mulder froze, and after a moment's consideration stood, motioning with his gun for Krycek to stand as well. They were not far from a small alley; Mulder rested the gun between Krycek's shoulder blades and they walked single-file into the alley.

"All right," Mulder said, when they had reached a spot near the back of the alley, "Talk."

Krycek was silent for a minute, then began. "I was sent here to look for you. They know it was you who called them, Mulder -- they know you were the one who killed their agent, and they knew you'd come here the first chance you'd get."

Mulder took a deep breath. That much he could've guessed, though he had hoped that they had not been able to learn that much already. But there were more important things to think about. "What about Scully?"

"She's being held in the base of operations. Fort A.P. Hill --"

"In New London," Mulder interrupted. "I know. What are they doing to her?"

"Nothing, so far," Krycek said. "But they know if they can somehow get in touch with you, or better yet, find you themselves, they can get you to bargain with them for her life."

Mulder let out a long breath. "That can't happen. I have to find her first." He stood, and Krycek seized his arm.

"Mulder, you have to realize this: the date for colonization is set."

"I know," Mulder answered, anger tingeing his voice.

"No, you don't. If they perceive anything to be a threat to their plans -- and that includes you, Mulder -- they will move the date up. Closer. No one will be allowed to stop this now. Especially not you. They will do what they have to."

"And so will I," Mulder said quietly.