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.

.faith.of.the.faithful.

New London

5:37 p.m.

Scully lay curled up on the bed, which she now knew to be metal with some fabric stretched over it, and wished they would just leave her alone. Twice now they had taken her from her cell from questioning. Well, it wasn't really questioning. They just sat her down in front of some man in a suit and alternately threatened her and gave her information. Information they promised her she would never leave with alive. It was idiotic, like they were stalling for time, or something.

They kept telling her about Mulder.

That was the one thing she couldn't bear. She had hoped he had been able to escape, but that hope had been dimming since she had gotten here and was now almost completely gone. They were too good at what they did; whether they had left behind one agent or several, they would've been well trained. They forced her to hear the details, details she didn't want in her brain, scraps of information merging together to make one horrible scene that kept running through her mind. They were wearing her down, but she wouldn't give up. Despite everything, somehow she had to find a way out.

The second time they had taken her from her cell, she had noticed the sounds. Operators on telephones, only a hair away from unprofessionalism, anxiously trying to reach someone. Other people running back and forth between offices. The sounds of a hundred computers all frantically in use. The first time she had been brought out, things were calm. The second time, it had been a war zone. And that was hours ago. She wondered what was going on.

Obviously, things had changed from when she had been brought in. Some problem had developed, something they couldn't easily solve. Things had seemed to be running smoothly until a few hours ago. What had happened? She had no idea. But she was fairly sure that, whatever it was, she wouldn't know about it until it was too late.

Her time was running out.

He looked up as a man walked into his office and stood before his desk. "Yes?" he asked, dismissing his impatience with a self-superior smile.

"Sir, the new timetable has been finalized. We need only your approval, and then we can begin." He tossed a manila folder on the desk.

Lighting up a cigarette, he flipped through the file quickly, paused once to look over a series of dates, times, and locations, and then handed the folder back to the man.

"You have my authorization," he said with a deadly smile. "Tell them to proceed."

Chicago, Illinois

5:45 p.m. EST

It was still early in the evening. People were out shopping, eating an early dinner, or just taking a walk when it happened.

No one thought it was strange for an agricultural company to open in Chicago. Some thought it was a little too close to the city for its own good, but that was their business, and the citizens of Chicago had other things to think about.

It was really a beautiful evening. The sunlight was playing off the scattered clouds in a stunning display of colors, and it was neither too warm nor too cool. It was even a little quiet.

So everyone noticed when a strange sound began moving beneath them, in the ground. Sort of a humming, almost like high voltage. It grew increasingly more intense every minute, as it came closer and closer. Some stopped what they were doing to listen.

They were totally unaware of the danger as the first bee emerged from the sewer grate.

New London

5:55 p.m.

The man appeared at his desk again, fifteen minutes later. He knew what he was here for. "You are here with good news, I assume?"

"Yes, sir," the man said, his expression unchanging. "The Chicago operation was successful. Military police are at the scene now removing victims to be placed in cryonic suspension."

"You have the photographs to prove this?"

The man held out another folder. He opened it and glanced through the photos. "You have done well." Flipping the folder shut, he gave it back to the man.

Just then, the door slammed open, and another man walked in quickly. "Sir, the transports containing the Chicago victims have been assaulted."

He was on his feet in a second. "What? By whom?"

"Whoever it was, they took the victims with them. Every one is gone." He hesitated. "Our officers, the trucks, other personnel, everything...was burned."

Not waiting to hear any more, he strode to the door, then turned with his hand on the knob to give final instructions. "Evacuate the building to Washington as soon as possible, and find some way to stop the operation."

"That's impossible," the man protested.

"Make it possible," he growled, and left the room.