The man in the Security viewing room watched the monitor as Scully's rental car pulled away. He had to admit she looked good, even after all these years. He could see why his father had developed such a fondness for her. Quite silly, really. She was several years his junior at the time, and in light of his practices, in light of his treachery and malevolence it was really rather deluded of his father to hold the place for her in his heart that he did, and to think she held nothing other than contempt and disgust for him.
CGB Spender didn't hold anyone in his heart. His son knew that for a fact, and his father confirmed it when he tried to kill him.
The man in the Security viewing room took another puff of his cigarette. As far as the world knew, Jeffrey Spender was dead, shot at point blank rage and quickly left by his father to bleed to death on the floor. And for all intents and purposes, he was dead - even though he managed to survive thanks to a strange twist of faith. It was true; bulletproof vests did stop bullets. And to think he had originally turned down stakeout duty.
Spender did die that day, but not in the usual way one thinks of death. The bullet fired by from his father's gun, although it did not pierce his flesh, mortally wounded his soul; his belief in a true and just world where right was right and wrong punished shattered like fragile crystal hurled against a wall. It irrevocably changed him. It turned him into his father.
Like father, like son.
He proved that shortly after his father's attempt on his life by having him killed. He knew how it worked; convince Covarubious and Krycek that it was in their best interest to dispose of a man who had actively sought and plotted their downfall. It was the first step on the path his father had laid long ago. After that, it was easy. Evil is amazingly easy for the person without a soul.
Like father, like son.
The man in the Security viewing room, the man who was known at one time as Jeffery Spender took another drag off his cigarette. He knew this wouldn't be his last interaction with the Mulder family. The final phase of his plan had just started; the wheels had just begun to turn a scant twenty-four hours earlier. He wasn't through, not by a long shot.
His fun was just beginning.
Meena pulled into the last parking space on the ground floor. As she turned off the ignition, she saw Andrew drive past her in the rear view mirror. "Hopefully he'll be able to find parking on one of the other floors," she thought. Meena and Andrew decided at the restaurant to go back to Dr. Broadstreet's office on the off chance she might still be in the lab. If they couldn't begin the tests today, at least they could set up a game plan for the next morning.
Meena opened her purse, and noticed the charge slip from their meal. She offered and insisted that she treat for their repast. Her motives had changed somewhat; she still didn't entirely trust the doctor who had led her this far, but after having come this far, she relented just a little bit. She folded the charge slip in half, and opened her wallet to put it away.
It was then that she noticed her favorite photo. The photo was so old that the colors had faded, but her memory of the event was as sharp and as vibrant as ever.
Late one fall afternoon, six-year-old Meena was outside playing in the leaves. An only child, she was used to creating her own amusement and today was no different. She spent most of the afternoon entertaining herself; burrowing into the great mound of yellow, burnt orange and gold leaves and coming up quickly, throwing them high into the air and letting them rain down on her. When she grew tired of the leaves, she found an old Frisbee near the house and played a one-sided game of catch. Her father opened the kitchen door and stuck his head out to check on her. "You want Daddy to play Frisbee with you?" He asked. "Nope," Meena replied, perfectly content to continue her odd little game. "Alright," her father said, "let me know."
No sooner had her father gone back into the house than she threw the Frisbee into the tree. "Uh-oh..." she thought. The Frisbee had somehow managed to land in the "Y" of the birch tree. When it didn't fall to earth, Meena devised a plan to get it down. A plan that involved the wheelbarrow, a lawn chair, and stretching as far as she could reach.
Her plan did not work, and it a great surprise to her when she landed, chin first, on the exposed tree root.
"Little Miss Independent," her mother scolded as she cleaned her wound and kissed away her tears. "Little Miss-I-Want-To-Do-It-Myself; I don't want anybody's help...." "And just what side of the family tree do you think she got that from, Mrs. Independent-can-do-it-myself-thank-you?" The twinkle in her father's eye always made her mother smile, no matter how hard she scolded her father....
...It was that twinkle and that memory that made her smile now, and also made her a little sad.
Yes, little Miss Independent wanted to find the answer on her own, and as a result had not spoken to her parents all day, hadn't left a message for them since noon that day. She had not wanted to worry them, but they were certainly wondering where she was by now. It was late afternoon; almost the dinner hour. There was no way to keep something like this from them, especially if she was going to have to spend the night in Atlanta.
That was something else she hadn't planned on; spending the night in Atlanta.
Meena mulled things over as she walked to the elevator, and decided before she and Dr. Broadstreet and Andrew did anything that she was going to call her parents. She made a mental note to ask Dr. Broadstreet to use her phone as soon as she got to her lab.
The elevator came just as she reached the doors. Since Andrew was nowhere to be seen, she got in the elevator, and went without him.
Meena noticed the floor was empty when she stepped out of the elevator. She didn't hold much hope of there being anyone around, but still decided to go to Dr. Broadstreet's lab.
As she reached the door, she could see the doctor; her back was turned, and she was shutting the door to a storage closet. Meena knocked on the door, and came in. "Dr. Broadstreet," she began, "I'm glad you're still here. If you're not on your way out, Dr. Covington and I would like to discuss going forward with the investigation. Maybe we could take you out for dinner...."
Dr. Broadstreet did not respond; in fact, she never turned around.
"Dr. Broadstreet," Meena continued, "I'm sorry - did I catch you at a bad time...?"
The doctor turned around to face Meena and right away, Meena noticed something was terribly wrong. "I'm sorry - I thought you were somebody else," she began. "I'm Dr. Broadstreet," the person replied. Meena cut her off. "That's impossible; the woman I met, the one we saw this afternoon was pregnant..."
The woman who claimed to be Dr. Broadstreet slowly moved towards Meena. As she passed the closet door, it opened and something, someone fell out.
Meena stared in horror at the body on the floor. Dr. Broadstreet lied dead on the floor and it was brutally obvious her unborn child had been savagely taken from her. Meena turned to run and as she did, she stood face to face with a woman she did not know. As she watched, the woman changed before her very eyes into Andrew Covington.
"What is it you humans say about killing two birds with one stone?" he asked.
The last thing Meena saw was the flash of light on metal; the last sound she heard was the sound of her own voice screaming in terror.