Resistance Headquarters
Conference Room
10:40am
* * * * * *
Truth, bitter truth. -- Danton
* * * * * *
"What are we going to do?" Scully had had enough time to recover her
composer. Her eyes were still tinged red, but the tear-streaked cheeks
she'd worn were erased.
She and Mulder stood close, not quite touching and they looked into each
other's eyes without hesitation. "We find out what the plan is. What
they intend to do. I don't think that they would have gone to all of
this trouble without a good reason."
"And what if we don't like this plan? What will we do then? It isn't as
if we have a lot of options here."
Mulder sighed. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, admitted, "We don't have
very many, do we? I guess that's something that we'll just have to deal
with as it comes." He paused, as he considered his next words. "Scully,
do you think... do you think that you could try to read them? I mean, it
is a valuable tool..." His voice trailed off as he saw her expression.
'Tool' was not the right word. Not the right word at all. He quickly
corrected himself. "I mean," he stammered, "since you have this gift,
you might as well use it."
Scully looked away from him. "I don't know if I would consider it a
gift." She spoke these words softly. She looked up, back to his eyes.
She studied them for a moment, and this time her words came out much
stronger. "But I know what you mean. This is something that I have now,
and I might as well use it." Pause. "I'm just not sure I want to know
everything."
He took a step closer, now fully inside her personal space, and pulled
her hand up between them. "I'm afraid of what we'll find out as well."
They stood like this for several moments, both seeming to draw strength
from the other. Only the sound of the door handle turning in the quiet
room caused them to move. Scully pulled away from him, and he let her.
Mulder tried not to feel disappointed as she moved to meet the men now
entering. Mulder followed her to the doorway as the men entered. There
was someone else besides Ed and Dagen, and he entered last. He was a
tall slender man with tan skin and long black hair held back by a simple
string.
The three men stood in front of Mulder and Scully, and it was Ed who
spoke first. "Mulder, Scully, I'd like you to meet Allen. Allen, these
are Agents Mulder and Scully." Allen held out his hand and Mulder shook
it. Allen hesitated slightly before reaching for Scully's hand. They
faced each other for a fraction of time so small it was barely
measurable. Their hands were locked together for several moments before
Allen disengaged. His face had maintained a carefully neutral mask, but
Scully was now wearing a frown.
Mulder dipped his head to ask if she's all right, and her answering nod
completed the exchange of non-verbal conversation. Mulder matched
Scully's frown, but decided not to say anything. "I'm guessing by your
presence Allen, that you have something to tell us. Am I right?"
"You would be correct. Please," Allen motioned to the table, "why don't
we all sit down." They sat and waited for Allen to begin.
"I really don't know how else to put this, so I'll just be blunt." Allen
leaned forward onto the table. "I am an alien, or practically an alien."
Mulder glanced at Scully and held her eyes for several seconds. Had she
discovered this when she shook his hand? No, there was surprise in her
eyes, surprise that matched his.
Allen continued, and motioned to himself. "The form that I have
currently taken is my original one, at least what it would have looked
like had I been an adult. However, I'm able to change my appearance at
will." As he spoke, he began to change into the familiar form of the
bounty hunter. Both Mulder and Scully instinctively reached for their
weapons, only to be painfully reminded of their absence.
Allen noticed both their movements as well as their sharply in-drawn
breaths and quickly changed his form back. "I'm sorry about the parlor
tricks, I just wanted you believe me. We haven't met before today, but
you have met others of my kind. The form I just showed you is the one we
assume during our interaction with your kind. Wouldn't want to confuse
the natives." He smiled without humor. He looked down at his current
form. "This is what I looked like when I was human and lived as one of
you approximately 800 years ago. I was a part of a large group that is
now known as the Anasazi." Mulder turned to Scully, eyebrows raised.
Allen continued. "800 years ago we were infiltrated by the aliens. This
was discovered; we fought them, but we were unsuccessful. Those that
survived the conflict were incorporated with the aliens. I was one of
them."
"It wasn't until many years later that I discovered the reason behind
the attack. The aliens as a race were dying. They'd lost the ability to
reproduce, and they believed that by incorporating our genetic stock
with theirs, it would save them."
"And it did help, but it soon became apparent that it was only a stop
gap measure. Our material was not good enough. We weren't close enough
to them genetically to be of great value, so we were infected so that
the material could be changed." Allen smiled ironically. "Lucky us. But
the changes didn't happen quickly enough. We are still genetically
closer to you than to the aliens and they have not been able to use us
as they had originally planned. That's why your scientists have been
working to come up with a way to create one of them out of one of you."
"That's what they've been working on all of these years?" Mulder thought
for a moment before asking his next questions. "Why did these scientists
work for them in the first place? Why go through all of this? If, as you
claim, they were dying, why did those men choose to work for them? Why
not just let them die?" Mulder asked.
Allen looked Mulder straight in the eye and simply said, "They didn't
choose."
If it was possible, the air in the room got heavier, thickening to the
consistency of pea soup. All waited expectantly for Mulder to ask the
question that they wanted him to ask. "What do you mean?" Yes, he was
easier to train than a dog.
Allen spoke again, and his unexpected question caught Mulder off guard.
"Mulder, have you been told why your sister was taken?"
Mulder spoke somewhat haltingly, surprised by the sudden change in
topics. "I've been told several things. I'm not sure what to believe
anymore. I was told that she was given up so that she and the others
could be saved. Another told me that it was necessary so that we could
receive an alien embryo. The aliens used her and the other family
members as bargaining chips, to ensure that we cooperated. If we didn't,
we would never see them again."
Allen shook his head ruefully. "Lies, I'm afraid. But I'm sure that you
aren't terribly surprised by that, are you? You've been lied to for so
long."
"Are you saying you know what really happened to her?"
"I do." Allen nodded. The look of regret on his face clearly showed that
he wished he didn't know the answer. "These men did not need anything to
ensure their cooperation." Another pause. With each second that ticked
by, the knot in Mulder's stomach tightened. He knew, he just knew that
he was not going to like what was coming.
"Your father, and the others, were infected with the oil. The aliens
were unconcerned about whether or not they would cooperate because the
men simply did not have a choice in the matter."
Allen continued. "I know that this is disturbing, but I would think that
you would find some comfort in the knowledge that your father and the
rest of these men were not acting of their own volition. Your father had
been a good man, before."
"Yeah, that makes all of this much better." Mulder looked down to
his lap. Scully had found his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
"There is more."
"There is?"
"I'm afraid so." Allen nodded in the direction of Ed and Dagen. "I
understand that these men have explained what changes occur when
infected?" The agents nodded. "These changes occurred in your father,
and these were passed on to his children," he added significantly.
The ramifications of this news rebounded as quickly as echoes in
Mulder's head. "But... I thought that the offspring were born
infected...Are you saying...?" He stammered. The words were thick and
hard to form.
"No, you aren't infected. It's only passed from mother to child. Your
mother wasn't infected when you were gestating."
Seconds ticked off as Mulder internalized this information. "Where does
this leave me?"
Allen answered. "You were, well, you were unique. You and Jeffery
Spender are the only ones of your kind. Infected fathers; uninfected
mothers. Cassandra and Jeffrey were both used as test subjects but you
weren't tested at all. You were kept as a control. I suppose they wanted
to see how you would develop without interference. Maybe it was simply
curiosity, or maybe they just weren't sure what they should do with you.
Of course, it was always assumed that at some point you would be
recruited into the program."
"But if I am what I am, wouldn't I display some changes?"
Scully spoke and squeezed his hand. "But you do. You of all people
should be aware of your abilities. Your intelligence, your memory, your
innate ability to profile others, to 'get in their heads', your amazing
leaps of logic that always seem to be accurate."
Mulder found himself nodding in agreement as Scully listed each item.
Yes, in some kind of perverse way, it all made sense.
"And don't forget the physical changes." Allen added.
"What physical changes?" He said, alarm in his voice and then a sudden
wave of guilt followed. He shouldn't be afraid, he shouldn't be afraid,
after all, Scully was changed too, and she was ok. "Keep telling
yourself that, Mulder, maybe you'll come to believe it eventually."
"Well, granted, there are not as many...but they are significant. When
was the last time that you were sick?"
"I don't get sick."
"My point." Allen turned to Scully. "Scully, as his partner and his
doctor, you know how many times he has cheated death. Things that should
have killed him, things that would have killed anyone else, he's
survived. And after he was healed he didn't exhibit any lingering side
effects. Always back to normal."
She nodded thoughtfully. "True."
Dagen spoke up then. "There is an added wrinkle to all of this. You've
always been more advanced, you were born that way, but your recent
treatment that we gave you, what saved your life," He stressed, "is what
Scully went through, with the same results. This couldn't be helped. We
had to treat you and this was the only way we had. You were reacting so
negatively to the foreign DNA and the only way we could halt his
deteriorating health was by having his body create this DNA as well."
"So I've been changed as well..." It was not a question. Mulder could
now understand why Scully had retreated from her feelings. Feeling
nothing would feel so nice right now. To just escape this sense of
helplessness, betrayal, loss of control for a moment.
Mulder felt Scully's hand move from his own hand to his forearm,
interrupting his thoughts. "Probably just as she intended." He
turned to look at her, and she smiled. For a moment he let that smile
become his world and he let himself enjoy it. But then a wave of guilt
came crashing down on him. He'd been so worried about himself, so damned
focused with his own problems that he neglected to ask the question that
he had been asking his whole life.
"What happened to Samantha."
"I mentioned that your mother was not infected when you were gestating,
however..." Allen paused, "...however...she was when she had your
sister."
Mulder was barely able to get the next words out. "My mother...?
How...when?"
"Your mother was infected soon after you were born. Your sister was born
infected. She, along with the others like her, were taken because they
were the first generation of the changed."
"What was done with them?" Mulder asked. "I don't want to know, but I
have to. I have to know."
"Tests...tests and more tests."
Several moments passed. Quietly Mulder asked, "Where is she now?"
"She's with them, on one of the ships. She's been raised as one of them.
She has no real memories of her life with you."
"But she's alive?" Hope crept into his voice.
"If you want to call it that..."
* * * * * *
Roswell, New Mexico
52 years ago
The burly figure fanned out the newspaper he held in his hands. The
title read: 'The All Stars play the Roswell Grey's at Bottomless Lakes
State Park this Evening.' Underneath the headline was a picture of one
of the Grey team members. The caption beneath was: 'Can Exley break the
Babe's record?'
The figure folded the paper back up with irritation. "Damn game. All
of this for a damn game." He thought with disgust. Out of the corner
of his eye, he saw the yellow and red team bus pull up to the curb. He
placed the folded paper underneath his arm.
When the ballplayer that he was waiting for stepped off the bus, the two
made eye contact.
The second man, the dark skinned one, turned to his companion who had
just gotten off the bus as well. "Arthur, I have some things I need to
take care of now. I'll catch up with you later."
His companion paused. "Ex? Are you sure?"
The dark skinned man nodded. "He's my family; I need to speck with him."
He dismissed his companion with an 'I can take care of this myself' wave
and approached the waiting figure.
They began to walk instep next to each other. Neither wished to break
the silence that separated them. Finally the ballplayer spoke. "I guess
this means that you have found me."
The first man nodded curtly. "Yes. We have tolerated your irreverent
behavior for far too long. It is time to stop this acting human nonsense
and come back to your true family."
"They ain't my true family." He said with loathing.
"And they are?" The husky man motioned to the rest of the men exiting
the bus, disgust seeping through his words.
"Why? Why does it matter if I come back? Am I doing something harmful by
being amongst them? As long as no one finds out--"
"They will find out. The longer that you're with them, the more likely
that they'll discover your true nature. You've already put the project
at risk; I now have to clean up the mess that you have created. All
because of a game." When he spoke his voice filled with contempt.
"Remember, you can look like them, but that does not mean we can *be*
one of them. You have to remember that. Always keep that in mind."
Chastised, the dark skinned man looked down to the ground and murmured a
soft, "I do."
Several minutes passed as they walked in silence. The dark skinned man
spoke. "Brother, when was the last time you laughed?"
"Laughing is hardly relevant." He said tersely.
The ballplayer's next words were almost undecipherable in their
softness. "You should try it sometime. I guarantee you'll feel alive."
"I feel alive." His low, leaden voice faded to silence.
The dark skinned man stopped, and cast a sidelong glance to his
companion. The figure's mind was closed off to him, and he was unable to
get an impression. He finally turned and faced the figure next to him.
The dark skinned man studied the other's face for a moment, trying to
read him.
He finally spoke, still looking intently. "You really believe that,
don't you?" His voice was filled with a profound sadness.
The stout man spoke, ignoring the question. "I've come to bring you
back. You know this. And you should be thankful that they sent me. The
other's wish to kill you for this betrayal."
"And I thank you for that, brother." But his words lacked conviction.
The other man continued. "I can only protect you so long...You know the
consequences if you don't come with me."
"Well aware."
* * * * * *
The dark of the night was chased away by the brilliant lights that shown
above, as well as the lights from automobiles that edged the baseball
field. Two teams, one of light skin, the other of dark, stood on the
grassy field and played a game of ball.
A dark skinned man stood at the home plate, bat in hand, and grin on
face.
The man who knelt behind the plate, clad in various protective gear,
spoke. "Hey, Ex. I heard the Yankees have been calling you."
"I'm fine playing here in the Cactus leagues. It's nice and quiet." The
ball whiffed past and into a cactus plant behind him.
The man behind the plate spoke again. "Gee, I don't know, Ex. The Yanks
could use those 60 home runs a year. Well, now that, uh, Jackie
Robinson's up there in the Bigs people are saying you're going to be
next. The first black Negro man of color in the American League. Shoot,
Ex, you'll be famous, man."
His grin vanished, and his voice became serious. "I don't want to be no
famous man. Just want to be a man." The ball was pitched again, and this
time the man with the bat connected. The ball flew up into the night
sky, and disappeared amongst the stars. He looked to where the ball
had last been seen, and softly whispered, "Sixty-one.", before he was
lifted onto the shoulders of his teammates.
He joined in the celebration until he noticed something in the distance.
"He's found me.". There was no fear, no real sadness, in this
thought. Instead a calm settled over him. This was it. The defining
moment in his life; he'd made his choice, and he would accept the
consequences of it. And he relished that idea. It was his choice. He
wasn't sure when his free will had returned, but he was not about to
give it back now.
From the direction he had been looking in came a group of horsemen
outfitted in white sheets, each carrying rifles.
One of the men on the field addressed the horsemen. "What do you boys
want? We're just playing a baseball game, here."
The leader of the white clad men spoke. "We got no beef with you, sir.
It's that black Babe Ruth hiding behind you. Josh Exley. That's all we
come for."
"Well, you can't have him." Another man spoke up.
The man on the horse continued. "We heard the Yankees want to let a
Nigger play ball so we just figure we're going to play with him a little
bit first." He paused to take a breath. His next words carried over the
entire ball field. "Now, all you Niggers and Nigger-lovers! You can go
home! It's Ex we want."
Before he could continue, however, he was knocked off the horse by a
well-placed ball to the head. Other riders soon followed him to the
ground. The baseball players quickly took the rifles away from the dazed
horsemen and faced the remaining riders.
A ball player spoke again. "You boys ain't so tough without your
shotguns, are you, fellows?"
A player knelt down next to the leader who had been the first to be
knocked off the horse. The player addressed the fallen form laying
unmoving on the ground. "You ain't nothing but a coward." He spat with
disgust on the sheet covering the leader's head. "Hiding behind your
mama's bed sheet. Let's see your face." He pulled the hood away and with
shock obvious on his face, stumbled away from the figure. "Holy mother
of..." His voice trailed off as he stared with disbelief at the gray
faced being now revealed.
The creature was obviously disorientated. Its large eyes blinked several
times, seemingly unable to focus, as it slowly turned its large head
from side to side.
The players regained control of their motor skills and began to clear
the field. Only one stayed behind, the one who had known the other was
coming for him. He stood and waited for the creature on the ground to
revive.
The rider's gray face morphed into a human face. Standing up, he faced
the dark skinned man before him. He hit a switch to extend the stiletto
weapon. "It's over."
"I know." The ballplayer understood the ramifications of his choice.
"I warned you. You didn't listen. Now you die."
The dark skinned man shrugged his shoulders. "It's the right thing to
do."
"What do you know of the right thing to do? You-- who would risk
exposing the entire project for a game? A game!" The rider said with
frustration.
He smiled sadly. "I hit a home run tonight."
"A home run?" He asked incredulously.
"Number 61. I set a record."
Ignoring the comment, the rider spoke. "Show me your true face so you
can die with dignity. As your executioner I show you my true face before
I kill you." His human face returned to the alien one of before. He
spoke again. "Show me your true face or you will die without honor."
There was something almost like satisfaction in his eyes, and regret,
but no fear. "This is my true face." He said, and turned and presented
his neck to the alien.
"So be it." With those words he drove the weapon into the base of his
neck and let the body drop unceremoniously to the field beneath.
* * * * * *
The man saw the body hit the ground just as he opened his car door. "No!
Stop!" He yelled as he got out of the car. He rushed to the fallen man's
side. He pulled him into his lap and cradled him.
The rider passed him on his horse as he ran out to the field.
The man from the car spoke. "Ex?!" Concern and panic colored his voice.
The ballplayer began to struggle. "No... Let me be! Let me be!" With
desperation in his voice he yelled, "Don't. Get off me. Our blood is
like acid to you people. Arthur, get away. Don't touch it."
"It's just blood, Ex. Look. It's just blood." He held his red stained
fingers out for him to see.
Amazed and through teary eyes he simply said, "Wow." and began to laugh.
* * * * * *
Conference Room
10:40am
* * * * * *
Truth, bitter truth. -- Danton
* * * * * *
"What are we going to do?" Scully had had enough time to recover her
composer. Her eyes were still tinged red, but the tear-streaked cheeks
she'd worn were erased.
She and Mulder stood close, not quite touching and they looked into each
other's eyes without hesitation. "We find out what the plan is. What
they intend to do. I don't think that they would have gone to all of
this trouble without a good reason."
"And what if we don't like this plan? What will we do then? It isn't as
if we have a lot of options here."
Mulder sighed. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, admitted, "We don't have
very many, do we? I guess that's something that we'll just have to deal
with as it comes." He paused, as he considered his next words. "Scully,
do you think... do you think that you could try to read them? I mean, it
is a valuable tool..." His voice trailed off as he saw her expression.
'Tool' was not the right word. Not the right word at all. He quickly
corrected himself. "I mean," he stammered, "since you have this gift,
you might as well use it."
Scully looked away from him. "I don't know if I would consider it a
gift." She spoke these words softly. She looked up, back to his eyes.
She studied them for a moment, and this time her words came out much
stronger. "But I know what you mean. This is something that I have now,
and I might as well use it." Pause. "I'm just not sure I want to know
everything."
He took a step closer, now fully inside her personal space, and pulled
her hand up between them. "I'm afraid of what we'll find out as well."
They stood like this for several moments, both seeming to draw strength
from the other. Only the sound of the door handle turning in the quiet
room caused them to move. Scully pulled away from him, and he let her.
Mulder tried not to feel disappointed as she moved to meet the men now
entering. Mulder followed her to the doorway as the men entered. There
was someone else besides Ed and Dagen, and he entered last. He was a
tall slender man with tan skin and long black hair held back by a simple
string.
The three men stood in front of Mulder and Scully, and it was Ed who
spoke first. "Mulder, Scully, I'd like you to meet Allen. Allen, these
are Agents Mulder and Scully." Allen held out his hand and Mulder shook
it. Allen hesitated slightly before reaching for Scully's hand. They
faced each other for a fraction of time so small it was barely
measurable. Their hands were locked together for several moments before
Allen disengaged. His face had maintained a carefully neutral mask, but
Scully was now wearing a frown.
Mulder dipped his head to ask if she's all right, and her answering nod
completed the exchange of non-verbal conversation. Mulder matched
Scully's frown, but decided not to say anything. "I'm guessing by your
presence Allen, that you have something to tell us. Am I right?"
"You would be correct. Please," Allen motioned to the table, "why don't
we all sit down." They sat and waited for Allen to begin.
"I really don't know how else to put this, so I'll just be blunt." Allen
leaned forward onto the table. "I am an alien, or practically an alien."
Mulder glanced at Scully and held her eyes for several seconds. Had she
discovered this when she shook his hand? No, there was surprise in her
eyes, surprise that matched his.
Allen continued, and motioned to himself. "The form that I have
currently taken is my original one, at least what it would have looked
like had I been an adult. However, I'm able to change my appearance at
will." As he spoke, he began to change into the familiar form of the
bounty hunter. Both Mulder and Scully instinctively reached for their
weapons, only to be painfully reminded of their absence.
Allen noticed both their movements as well as their sharply in-drawn
breaths and quickly changed his form back. "I'm sorry about the parlor
tricks, I just wanted you believe me. We haven't met before today, but
you have met others of my kind. The form I just showed you is the one we
assume during our interaction with your kind. Wouldn't want to confuse
the natives." He smiled without humor. He looked down at his current
form. "This is what I looked like when I was human and lived as one of
you approximately 800 years ago. I was a part of a large group that is
now known as the Anasazi." Mulder turned to Scully, eyebrows raised.
Allen continued. "800 years ago we were infiltrated by the aliens. This
was discovered; we fought them, but we were unsuccessful. Those that
survived the conflict were incorporated with the aliens. I was one of
them."
"It wasn't until many years later that I discovered the reason behind
the attack. The aliens as a race were dying. They'd lost the ability to
reproduce, and they believed that by incorporating our genetic stock
with theirs, it would save them."
"And it did help, but it soon became apparent that it was only a stop
gap measure. Our material was not good enough. We weren't close enough
to them genetically to be of great value, so we were infected so that
the material could be changed." Allen smiled ironically. "Lucky us. But
the changes didn't happen quickly enough. We are still genetically
closer to you than to the aliens and they have not been able to use us
as they had originally planned. That's why your scientists have been
working to come up with a way to create one of them out of one of you."
"That's what they've been working on all of these years?" Mulder thought
for a moment before asking his next questions. "Why did these scientists
work for them in the first place? Why go through all of this? If, as you
claim, they were dying, why did those men choose to work for them? Why
not just let them die?" Mulder asked.
Allen looked Mulder straight in the eye and simply said, "They didn't
choose."
If it was possible, the air in the room got heavier, thickening to the
consistency of pea soup. All waited expectantly for Mulder to ask the
question that they wanted him to ask. "What do you mean?" Yes, he was
easier to train than a dog.
Allen spoke again, and his unexpected question caught Mulder off guard.
"Mulder, have you been told why your sister was taken?"
Mulder spoke somewhat haltingly, surprised by the sudden change in
topics. "I've been told several things. I'm not sure what to believe
anymore. I was told that she was given up so that she and the others
could be saved. Another told me that it was necessary so that we could
receive an alien embryo. The aliens used her and the other family
members as bargaining chips, to ensure that we cooperated. If we didn't,
we would never see them again."
Allen shook his head ruefully. "Lies, I'm afraid. But I'm sure that you
aren't terribly surprised by that, are you? You've been lied to for so
long."
"Are you saying you know what really happened to her?"
"I do." Allen nodded. The look of regret on his face clearly showed that
he wished he didn't know the answer. "These men did not need anything to
ensure their cooperation." Another pause. With each second that ticked
by, the knot in Mulder's stomach tightened. He knew, he just knew that
he was not going to like what was coming.
"Your father, and the others, were infected with the oil. The aliens
were unconcerned about whether or not they would cooperate because the
men simply did not have a choice in the matter."
Allen continued. "I know that this is disturbing, but I would think that
you would find some comfort in the knowledge that your father and the
rest of these men were not acting of their own volition. Your father had
been a good man, before."
"Yeah, that makes all of this much better." Mulder looked down to
his lap. Scully had found his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.
"There is more."
"There is?"
"I'm afraid so." Allen nodded in the direction of Ed and Dagen. "I
understand that these men have explained what changes occur when
infected?" The agents nodded. "These changes occurred in your father,
and these were passed on to his children," he added significantly.
The ramifications of this news rebounded as quickly as echoes in
Mulder's head. "But... I thought that the offspring were born
infected...Are you saying...?" He stammered. The words were thick and
hard to form.
"No, you aren't infected. It's only passed from mother to child. Your
mother wasn't infected when you were gestating."
Seconds ticked off as Mulder internalized this information. "Where does
this leave me?"
Allen answered. "You were, well, you were unique. You and Jeffery
Spender are the only ones of your kind. Infected fathers; uninfected
mothers. Cassandra and Jeffrey were both used as test subjects but you
weren't tested at all. You were kept as a control. I suppose they wanted
to see how you would develop without interference. Maybe it was simply
curiosity, or maybe they just weren't sure what they should do with you.
Of course, it was always assumed that at some point you would be
recruited into the program."
"But if I am what I am, wouldn't I display some changes?"
Scully spoke and squeezed his hand. "But you do. You of all people
should be aware of your abilities. Your intelligence, your memory, your
innate ability to profile others, to 'get in their heads', your amazing
leaps of logic that always seem to be accurate."
Mulder found himself nodding in agreement as Scully listed each item.
Yes, in some kind of perverse way, it all made sense.
"And don't forget the physical changes." Allen added.
"What physical changes?" He said, alarm in his voice and then a sudden
wave of guilt followed. He shouldn't be afraid, he shouldn't be afraid,
after all, Scully was changed too, and she was ok. "Keep telling
yourself that, Mulder, maybe you'll come to believe it eventually."
"Well, granted, there are not as many...but they are significant. When
was the last time that you were sick?"
"I don't get sick."
"My point." Allen turned to Scully. "Scully, as his partner and his
doctor, you know how many times he has cheated death. Things that should
have killed him, things that would have killed anyone else, he's
survived. And after he was healed he didn't exhibit any lingering side
effects. Always back to normal."
She nodded thoughtfully. "True."
Dagen spoke up then. "There is an added wrinkle to all of this. You've
always been more advanced, you were born that way, but your recent
treatment that we gave you, what saved your life," He stressed, "is what
Scully went through, with the same results. This couldn't be helped. We
had to treat you and this was the only way we had. You were reacting so
negatively to the foreign DNA and the only way we could halt his
deteriorating health was by having his body create this DNA as well."
"So I've been changed as well..." It was not a question. Mulder could
now understand why Scully had retreated from her feelings. Feeling
nothing would feel so nice right now. To just escape this sense of
helplessness, betrayal, loss of control for a moment.
Mulder felt Scully's hand move from his own hand to his forearm,
interrupting his thoughts. "Probably just as she intended." He
turned to look at her, and she smiled. For a moment he let that smile
become his world and he let himself enjoy it. But then a wave of guilt
came crashing down on him. He'd been so worried about himself, so damned
focused with his own problems that he neglected to ask the question that
he had been asking his whole life.
"What happened to Samantha."
"I mentioned that your mother was not infected when you were gestating,
however..." Allen paused, "...however...she was when she had your
sister."
Mulder was barely able to get the next words out. "My mother...?
How...when?"
"Your mother was infected soon after you were born. Your sister was born
infected. She, along with the others like her, were taken because they
were the first generation of the changed."
"What was done with them?" Mulder asked. "I don't want to know, but I
have to. I have to know."
"Tests...tests and more tests."
Several moments passed. Quietly Mulder asked, "Where is she now?"
"She's with them, on one of the ships. She's been raised as one of them.
She has no real memories of her life with you."
"But she's alive?" Hope crept into his voice.
"If you want to call it that..."
* * * * * *
Roswell, New Mexico
52 years ago
The burly figure fanned out the newspaper he held in his hands. The
title read: 'The All Stars play the Roswell Grey's at Bottomless Lakes
State Park this Evening.' Underneath the headline was a picture of one
of the Grey team members. The caption beneath was: 'Can Exley break the
Babe's record?'
The figure folded the paper back up with irritation. "Damn game. All
of this for a damn game." He thought with disgust. Out of the corner
of his eye, he saw the yellow and red team bus pull up to the curb. He
placed the folded paper underneath his arm.
When the ballplayer that he was waiting for stepped off the bus, the two
made eye contact.
The second man, the dark skinned one, turned to his companion who had
just gotten off the bus as well. "Arthur, I have some things I need to
take care of now. I'll catch up with you later."
His companion paused. "Ex? Are you sure?"
The dark skinned man nodded. "He's my family; I need to speck with him."
He dismissed his companion with an 'I can take care of this myself' wave
and approached the waiting figure.
They began to walk instep next to each other. Neither wished to break
the silence that separated them. Finally the ballplayer spoke. "I guess
this means that you have found me."
The first man nodded curtly. "Yes. We have tolerated your irreverent
behavior for far too long. It is time to stop this acting human nonsense
and come back to your true family."
"They ain't my true family." He said with loathing.
"And they are?" The husky man motioned to the rest of the men exiting
the bus, disgust seeping through his words.
"Why? Why does it matter if I come back? Am I doing something harmful by
being amongst them? As long as no one finds out--"
"They will find out. The longer that you're with them, the more likely
that they'll discover your true nature. You've already put the project
at risk; I now have to clean up the mess that you have created. All
because of a game." When he spoke his voice filled with contempt.
"Remember, you can look like them, but that does not mean we can *be*
one of them. You have to remember that. Always keep that in mind."
Chastised, the dark skinned man looked down to the ground and murmured a
soft, "I do."
Several minutes passed as they walked in silence. The dark skinned man
spoke. "Brother, when was the last time you laughed?"
"Laughing is hardly relevant." He said tersely.
The ballplayer's next words were almost undecipherable in their
softness. "You should try it sometime. I guarantee you'll feel alive."
"I feel alive." His low, leaden voice faded to silence.
The dark skinned man stopped, and cast a sidelong glance to his
companion. The figure's mind was closed off to him, and he was unable to
get an impression. He finally turned and faced the figure next to him.
The dark skinned man studied the other's face for a moment, trying to
read him.
He finally spoke, still looking intently. "You really believe that,
don't you?" His voice was filled with a profound sadness.
The stout man spoke, ignoring the question. "I've come to bring you
back. You know this. And you should be thankful that they sent me. The
other's wish to kill you for this betrayal."
"And I thank you for that, brother." But his words lacked conviction.
The other man continued. "I can only protect you so long...You know the
consequences if you don't come with me."
"Well aware."
* * * * * *
The dark of the night was chased away by the brilliant lights that shown
above, as well as the lights from automobiles that edged the baseball
field. Two teams, one of light skin, the other of dark, stood on the
grassy field and played a game of ball.
A dark skinned man stood at the home plate, bat in hand, and grin on
face.
The man who knelt behind the plate, clad in various protective gear,
spoke. "Hey, Ex. I heard the Yankees have been calling you."
"I'm fine playing here in the Cactus leagues. It's nice and quiet." The
ball whiffed past and into a cactus plant behind him.
The man behind the plate spoke again. "Gee, I don't know, Ex. The Yanks
could use those 60 home runs a year. Well, now that, uh, Jackie
Robinson's up there in the Bigs people are saying you're going to be
next. The first black Negro man of color in the American League. Shoot,
Ex, you'll be famous, man."
His grin vanished, and his voice became serious. "I don't want to be no
famous man. Just want to be a man." The ball was pitched again, and this
time the man with the bat connected. The ball flew up into the night
sky, and disappeared amongst the stars. He looked to where the ball
had last been seen, and softly whispered, "Sixty-one.", before he was
lifted onto the shoulders of his teammates.
He joined in the celebration until he noticed something in the distance.
"He's found me.". There was no fear, no real sadness, in this
thought. Instead a calm settled over him. This was it. The defining
moment in his life; he'd made his choice, and he would accept the
consequences of it. And he relished that idea. It was his choice. He
wasn't sure when his free will had returned, but he was not about to
give it back now.
From the direction he had been looking in came a group of horsemen
outfitted in white sheets, each carrying rifles.
One of the men on the field addressed the horsemen. "What do you boys
want? We're just playing a baseball game, here."
The leader of the white clad men spoke. "We got no beef with you, sir.
It's that black Babe Ruth hiding behind you. Josh Exley. That's all we
come for."
"Well, you can't have him." Another man spoke up.
The man on the horse continued. "We heard the Yankees want to let a
Nigger play ball so we just figure we're going to play with him a little
bit first." He paused to take a breath. His next words carried over the
entire ball field. "Now, all you Niggers and Nigger-lovers! You can go
home! It's Ex we want."
Before he could continue, however, he was knocked off the horse by a
well-placed ball to the head. Other riders soon followed him to the
ground. The baseball players quickly took the rifles away from the dazed
horsemen and faced the remaining riders.
A ball player spoke again. "You boys ain't so tough without your
shotguns, are you, fellows?"
A player knelt down next to the leader who had been the first to be
knocked off the horse. The player addressed the fallen form laying
unmoving on the ground. "You ain't nothing but a coward." He spat with
disgust on the sheet covering the leader's head. "Hiding behind your
mama's bed sheet. Let's see your face." He pulled the hood away and with
shock obvious on his face, stumbled away from the figure. "Holy mother
of..." His voice trailed off as he stared with disbelief at the gray
faced being now revealed.
The creature was obviously disorientated. Its large eyes blinked several
times, seemingly unable to focus, as it slowly turned its large head
from side to side.
The players regained control of their motor skills and began to clear
the field. Only one stayed behind, the one who had known the other was
coming for him. He stood and waited for the creature on the ground to
revive.
The rider's gray face morphed into a human face. Standing up, he faced
the dark skinned man before him. He hit a switch to extend the stiletto
weapon. "It's over."
"I know." The ballplayer understood the ramifications of his choice.
"I warned you. You didn't listen. Now you die."
The dark skinned man shrugged his shoulders. "It's the right thing to
do."
"What do you know of the right thing to do? You-- who would risk
exposing the entire project for a game? A game!" The rider said with
frustration.
He smiled sadly. "I hit a home run tonight."
"A home run?" He asked incredulously.
"Number 61. I set a record."
Ignoring the comment, the rider spoke. "Show me your true face so you
can die with dignity. As your executioner I show you my true face before
I kill you." His human face returned to the alien one of before. He
spoke again. "Show me your true face or you will die without honor."
There was something almost like satisfaction in his eyes, and regret,
but no fear. "This is my true face." He said, and turned and presented
his neck to the alien.
"So be it." With those words he drove the weapon into the base of his
neck and let the body drop unceremoniously to the field beneath.
* * * * * *
The man saw the body hit the ground just as he opened his car door. "No!
Stop!" He yelled as he got out of the car. He rushed to the fallen man's
side. He pulled him into his lap and cradled him.
The rider passed him on his horse as he ran out to the field.
The man from the car spoke. "Ex?!" Concern and panic colored his voice.
The ballplayer began to struggle. "No... Let me be! Let me be!" With
desperation in his voice he yelled, "Don't. Get off me. Our blood is
like acid to you people. Arthur, get away. Don't touch it."
"It's just blood, Ex. Look. It's just blood." He held his red stained
fingers out for him to see.
Amazed and through teary eyes he simply said, "Wow." and began to laugh.
* * * * * *