Gregor Mendel Laboratory for Scientific
Advancement
Washington, D.C.
23rd and Pennsylvania Ave.
December 22, 1999
1:29 A.M.
"The morning shift comes on in exactly one minute. Get ready to go."
Eve 9 through placed her inky-black hair back neatly in a ponytail and slipped into a pristine white lab coat. After buttoning it, she attached the fake identification to her pocket and viewed herself in the mirror.
"Perfect," Eve 10 said, nodding approvingly.
"One of the benefits of being a clone," Eve 9 answered, "Ready-made disguise."
Eve 10 smiled widely. "You ready for this?" she asked.
"I'm not the one you should worry about," Eve 9 replied, turning behind her to glance at the now unbound Mulder in the backseat.
"Oh, we don't have to worry about that, do we, Agent Mulder?" Veckman locked his eyes onto Mulder's. "Agent Mulder will not even be considering causing any trouble for us, will you, Agent Mulder? Or else."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Or else-" Mulder drew his hand horizontally against his throat and made a choking noise.
"So glad you decided to cooperate with us, Agent Mulder," Eve 9 said, opening the sliding car door and stepping out onto the paved road.
"It's the thrill of my life," Mulder said under his breath, as he followed Eve 9 and Veckman towards the front gate. The small party came to a stop in front of a glass-paneled cubby where a well-built and well-armed guard was now standing.
"Special Agent Fox Mulder with the Federal Bureau of Investigation," he said, holding up his identification for the guard's perusal, "Escorting doctors Sally Kindrick and Veckman."
The guard raised an eyebrow, a shadow of suspicion obvious in the corners of his eyes. He picked up the clipboard in front of him and gazed through the names. "I don't have you in my records, Agent Mulder, and I was not informed otherwise of your arrival."
"Last minute project," Mulder explained, "We need a DNA test on a suspect run right away. If we don't get the results in by 10:30 tomorrow, a serial murderer could walk. You wouldn't want that on your conscience now, would you?"
"Of course not," the guard answered defensively, "but your name isn't on the list. Besides, don't you normally run those tests over at Quantico?"
"Usually," Mulder replied, "But they had to close their labs down. There was a spill earlier this morning."
The guard still seemed unconvinced.
"Listen," Mulder said, "why don't you just run my badge number so that we can get in there and do what we get paid to do."
The guard was willing to do at least that much. He picked up the phone and dialed. After getting authorization, he handed Mulder back his badge and apologized briefly for giving him a hard time.
"No problem," Mulder answered as the alarm buzzed softly and the door slid back, permitting their entry.
The trio entered the eerily vacant building, their footsteps reverberating off the freshly painted walls. They proceeded first down a long, pristine hallway, then turned down another when Veckman indicated that they do so. As they continued, Mulder glanced up at the sound of a tiny machine turning. It was a camera. The hall was lined with them. As quickly and inconspicuously as possible, he looked up, straight into the lens. He wanted to make sure that Big Brother would get a good glimpse of his face. If Scully was, as Veckman had said, still alive, he was sure that she would have every available agent searching for his whereabouts. As he turned his attention once more in front of him, Eve turned and eyed him suspiciously.
"What were you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing," Mulder answered, "Just wondering if you were sure that we're going the right way."
"I visited this facility briefly in my early years when I was working for the government," Veckman said, "They keep all of their dirtier little secrets in the next hall over."
"How do you know that they didn't change everything around?" Mulder asked.
Veckman stopped in his tracks and glanced at Mulder with a look of amusement in his eyes. "It's a governmental facility, Agent Mulder," he said, "Any information that I want from those who work within it can be gained. You just have to know who's the right person to buy."
With that, they journeyed on, turning down a final hall that seemed oddly darker than those previously visited. After bypassing a couple of doors, Veckman came to a stop.
"This is it," he said, he eyes widening with excitement. He punched a couple of numbers into the lock by the door and watched as the green light lit. "We're in." He pushed the door wide and they entered a room filled with filing cabinets stacked to the ceiling. Veckman led them straight down the center aisle where an immense vault, like those found within a bank, slowly came into focus.
"It's in there," Veckman babbled excitedly, "just through this door."
"Wow," Mulder said unenthusiastically, "they hide their secrets so well." He looked over at Veckman who was wringing his fingers with delight. "What now?" he asked.
"Now you open that door, Agent Mulder."
"Sorry," he responded, "I'm afraid I left my heat vision in my other jacket this morning."
"You stupid son of a bitch," Veckman said, "Haven't you noticed that everything in this building is computerized? All you have to do is type your badge number in to that computer console. It's all the authorization you need."
Mulder gave him a look that could kill. Muttering under his breath, he walked towards his computer and put his badge number into keyboard. After a few seconds, the sound of a pressure lock being thrown back could be heard and the heavy, leaden door began creaking slowly back into the wall. Filing cabinets lined the walls of this room, too, but in the center of the room, sitting securely on what looked like an ancient Greek pillar, was a solitary cd jewel case.
"This is it," Veckman said, picking up the case and holding it delicately between his fingers, "We finally have it."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a
large, red light began flashing at the back of the room as an alarm beeped loudly in unison.
"You idiot!" Eve 9 screamed, "You tripped an alarm!"
"I.I'm sorry," Veckman stammered, "I didn't mean to."
As Mulder smirked haughtily in the background, the door leading to the main room began to roll back into place, attempting to seal the robbers in with their shortly held goods.
"Come on!" Eve called to the two men, as she began running quickly out of the room. Mulder was about "accidentally" seal himself in the room when Veckman reminded him what would happen to his partner if he did not follow. Mulder grudgingly followed the pair, who ran back through the first room and out into the hall. The sound of footsteps could be heard advancing from the direction in which they entered.
"There's a back way out," Veckman said, "Follow me." He took off running in the opposite direction and led the group through a cascade of winding hallways and staircases. When they finally turned the last knob to the last of many doors that had come through, they were pleased to find that their exit was hidden well by ornate bushes and tree growth. In addition, the clouds that had been looming in the sky all day had covered the bright, beaming moon, leaving in their wake only a completely blackened night sky. Climbing onto a tree that was placed in a fortuitous position, the three jumped over the tall perimeter fence and fell hard onto the ground. Sitting calmly in front of them was Veckman's black sedan.
Opening the door to the front seat, Veckman asked Eve 10, "How did you know to meet us back here."
"I just knew," she answered, tossing Eve 9 a strange look of unilateral knowledge.
They drove in silence for what seemed like hours. Eve 10 stared blankly out the window, concentrating on nothing but the road as she directed the car out of D.C., and then through a series of darkened country roads. Veckman brushed his fingers almost lovingly against the cover of the jewel case while Eve 9 gazed unabashedly in Mulder's direction, who was obviously deep in thought.
"What are you thinking?" she asked finally, bringing an end to the overbearing silence.
"I'm thinking." he began, but his voice trailed quickly off.
After another hour or so, Eve 10 finally brought the car to a stop. "Everyone out," she ordered.
As Mulder slid the door back and stepped from the sedan, he looked uneasily about his surroundings. They were standing by a dilapidated shack that was cornered on all sides by an abundance of pines. Towards the back of the house, a canyon stood silhouetted against the moon, which had once again arisen from behind the overcast night. It was Veckman, however, who voiced his concern.
"Girls, what are we doing here? I thought we were going to head north? Why did we stop?"
"We needed to get rid of some unnecessary baggage," Eve 10 said, glancing in Mulder's direction.
"That's right," Eve 9 said, giggling excitedly as she pulled a gun from behind her back, "We've been meaning to do this for a long time." She raised the gun at Mulder's chest, who eyed her with trepidation.
"Wait," he began, stalling for time while he thought of an escape, "you don't want to." But he never got a chance to finish his sentence. Eve 9 turned the gun from Mulder's chest to Veckman's and fired. He gazed at her for a second, uncomprehending. As he began to process what had just transpired, he reached his hands to the wound and drew them back. He stared first at the blood on his palms, then turned his wide-eyed attention to the girls he had perceived as daughters. "Why?" he asked, as his legs gave out beneath him and he fell to the ground.
The twin faces of Eve 9 and 10 appeared over him. In the hand of Eve 9 was the gun, still puffing out thin but steady vapors of smoke.
"You tell us," Eve 9 said.
"You made us," Eve 10 said, taking the gun from the hand of her genetic sister and firing a final bullet into the brain of their former guardian. She turned next to Mulder, who had planned on making a mad dash to the car, but decided he needed to formulate a new plan once he realized the keys were no longer in the ignition.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, still hoping to buy some time.
"I thought you would understand, Agent Mulder," Eve 10 said, aiming the gun once again in his direction.
"Especially after what they did to your sister," Eve 9 added.
"Samantha?" he asked, suddenly losing interest in planning any escape, "What has all of this got to do with Samantha? What do you know about what they did to her?"
"Samantha?" Eve 9 repeated. She let out a great bellow of laughter that echoed across the mountains and down through the ravine below. She glanced at Eve 10 as she wiped a tear from her eye. "Who said anything about Samantha?"
"You were," Mulder said, advancing towards the pair even though a bullet was pointed directly at his heart, "You said that I should understand why you were doing this because of my sister." By this time, he was so close that, if he had taken one step closer, he would have felt the cold metal of the gun against his body.
"We weren't talking about Samantha," Eve 10 said, "We were talking about the other one." Her words were cut short as a bullet rang out through the night.
Eve 9 looked about wildly through the forest as Eve 10 fell to the ground. For the first time, they both looked terrified. Mulder pulled Eve 9 down to forest floor as the last signs of life drained from Eve 10's eyes. Mulder checked her pulse. She was gone. He dragged Eve 9 on his hands and his knees to the back of the car, hoping to gain shelter from their unseen assailant. When they arrived at the back, a car drove up the road towards them. The headlights were so bright that he could only make out the silhouette of the person driving. Shading his eyes, he could feel his body grow tense as he asked "Who's there?"
A tall, built man stepped from the car, the headlights still on. "It's Skinner, Mulder."
"Skinner?" Mulder repeated, relieved at once. He reminded himself to thank Scully the next time he saw her. "How did you know I was out here?" he asked.
"I suggest we save the explanations for another time, Mulder. Now get your ass in the car."
Mulder dragged Eve 9 to the waiting car and threw her in the back seat. He locked the doors as he took his place on the passenger's side. When they were driving safely down the road, he turned back to face Eve 9.
"What did she mean, 'the other one'?" he asked, "Who was she talking about?"
"The other one of what, Mulder?" Skinner questioned, but Mulder ignored him.
"What did she mean, Eve? Who was she talking about?"
As Eve 9 squirmed uncomfortably, the glass in the rear driver's side window burst into a million shards. Eve 9 fell over in her seat as blood began to ooze from her temple. Skinner brought the car to a stop as he turned back to see what had happened. As Mulder broke into chorus of four-letter words, he could feel a tightness enveloping his whole body. It was as if the very blood in his veins was choking him to death. In the rearview mirror, he could see the familiar blue as the veins in his head began to rise. He could also make out the shadowy figure of a man walking towards the car. Skinner knew who it was before he even saw his face.
"Krycek!" Mulder said. He was now out of the car and lunged for his once-time partner. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucking son of a bitch!"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mulder," he replied, brandishing the weapon proudly that had just caused the Eves to meet their demise, "I wouldn't mind putting a couple of bullets in your head."
"That's funny," Mulder replied, "I seem to remember that the last time I saw you, you couldn't keep your hands, oh, I'm sorry, your hand off me."
"The game's different now, Mulder," Krycek told him, "now that the Syndicate went back to Hell in the flames they came from. I don't need you to avert the apocalypse anymore, Mulder, because it's coming no matter what. It doesn't matter what either of us do. It's coming one way or another. All I can to do is try to prepare myself, and maybe make a little money along the way." He opened the door and searched Eve 9's pockets. He pulled out the jewel case and waved it in front of Mulder's face. "I got what I came for," he said, and he disappeared into the misty road in front of them.
Mulder leaned back into the car. "Give me your gun, Skinner," he said, but Skinner didn't respond. He only placed his hand around his throat as he felt the air rush back into his lungs.
"Give me your gun, Skinner," Mulder said again, this time more insistently.
"Just let him go," Skinner said.
"Let him go?" Mulder said, "He just committed two murders, not to mention the theft of government property, and you want me to let him go? No way. I'm going after him."
Mulder started to run after Krycek, but he stopped when Skinner pulled up alongside him.
"Get in the car, Agent Mulder," Skinner said.
Mulder looked off into the distance where Krycek had disappeared.
"Get in the car," Skinner said again, "That's an order." Mulder reclaimed his seat and glanced one last time at the dead girl in the back.
"Don't worry," Skinner said, "One day, that piece of shit is going to catch a bullet right in the head."
American Airlines Flight 917C Somewhere over the Atlantic 10:29A.M.
Krycek closed the door to the bathroom and walked back to his seat. On the way, he bumped into a large, heavyset man with a mustache who was walking towards the rear of the plane with his head facing down towards the aisle.
"Excuse me," said the man softly, who was dressed all in black.
Krycek took his seat, stared for a few moments at the back of the seat in front of him, then turned quickly towards the back to see where the man in black had gone. There was no sight of the man.
"Probably just had to take a piss," Krycek told himself as he leaned back in the seat and tried to shake off his suspicion. Sometimes it was hard to be suspicious of everybody all the time, but in his line of work, a lack of suspicion was synonymous with death. Still, he was sure that he hadn't been followed. And besides, before tonight, no one had seen him for almost a year. He had even heard rumors of his own death while he was hiding out in Russia.
"But you're not dead," he told himself, "after all this time, you're still alive." He reached into his right pocket and felt the cold, smooth texture of the cd case residing there. After patting it securely, he closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.
"Excuse me, sir, but do you have a light?"
"What?" Krycek was startled into consciousness as he looked for the source of the question. The moustache man was sitting in the seat directly opposite his on the other side of the aisle.
"I asked if you had a light," he repeated.
"There's no smoking on this flight," Krycek replied.
"Oh, no?" the man asked, standing up and taking the aisle seat directly next to Krycek, "Well, my momma used to tell me that it's always a good idea to be prepared, you know, in case of emergencies."
"What are you," Krycek asked, obviously annoyed at having his space intruded upon, "some kind of boyscout?"
"Oh, no, no, no," the man answered, chuckling to himself, not a boyscout. He drew a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, "But from what I hear, neither are you." He lit the cigarette and took a long puff from it.
The truth dawned on Krycek as he watched the man play with his lighter.
"That's right, Mr. Krycek," he said, "We know all about you." The moustache man lifted the top to the lighter a final time, revealing a tiny spear-like device inside. "Capped off with poison," the moustache man said, "Make it look like you died of a heart attack. I wouldn't go trying to do anything stupid."
As Krycek tried to come up with a way to free himself from his capturer, the moustache man leaned back in his chair. He smiled as the pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker, "Hello, folks. This is your captain speaking. I'm afraid we're going to have to make a quick layover in London."
London International Airport London, England 11:02 A.M.
The moustache man led Krycek off the plane and directed him to a long black limo that was waiting at the terminal gate. As they came to a stop, the back tinted window rolled slowly downward.
"You," Krycek said, "I had hoped you were dead by now, you god-damned son of a bitch."
The Cigarette Smoking Man, looking white and frail, drew a cigarette up to the newly surgically installed hole in his windpipe and took a long draft. He blew the smoke back out the window before he spoke.
"I'm sure you did, Alex," he said, his voice scarred to match his body, "Now, down to business. I hear that you've recently acquired something of mine, a certain disk?"
"You looking to buy it, old man?" Krycek asked.
"Oh, Alex," the Cancer Man said, amusedly drawing his face into a sinister grin, "you always did have a hand for the comedy." He laughed at his own joke, his yellowed teeth cracking through his rough lips. "No, no," he continued, "you have stolen something that belongs to me, and I would like it back. Now."
The moustache man reached into Krycek's right pocket and pulled out the disk. He handed it to the Cigarette Smoking Man through the open window.
"Ah, yes," the Cancer Man said, "this is more like it."
"What do you want me to do with him, sir?" the moustache man asked, pointing to Krycek.
"Let's send him to someplace where he can get a lot of thinking done," the Cancer Man said, "Someplace where he can contemplate what a bad thing he has done." He paused for only a moment before the grin reappeared on his face. "I hear Tunisia is nice this time of year."
The moustache man laughed as the Cigarette Smoking Man rolled up his window and the limo drove off. Krycek struggled as the tens of armed guards that had suddenly appeared carried him off to military truck waiting in the wings.
Thomas Jefferson University Hospital Philadelphia, PA December 24, 1999 1:29 P.M.
"You really don't have to do this, Mulder. I mean, I appreciate your being here, but I'm sure there are much more enjoyable things that you could be doing on Christmas Eve."
"Of course there are," Mulder answered, smiling as he looked down at her from behind the wheelchair.
"Mulder!" she scolded, turning sharply to look at him before the throbbing pain in her torso reminded her that she shouldn't have done that.
"But this if fun, too," Mulder continued, chuckling as he pushed the button for the elevator. "What better way to spend the holiday season than by checking my ailing partner out of the hospital?"
"Not getting shot could be a better way," Scully replied sullenly.
"Hey, Scully," Mulder said, as the elevator chimed and the doors opened, "I just thought of something. This is two Christmases in a row that you've gotten shot, now. That must be some kind of record or something." He turned the wheelchair around and pulled her backwards into the elevator.
"That's not funny, Mulder," she said, "Besides, you shot me first."
"Uh uh," he replied, "you shot me first." He glanced around at the questioning faces of the nurses, doctors, patients, and visitors standing beside him. "We didn't really shoot each other," he tried to explain, "It was ghosts that took on our form so that they could carry out the yearly tradition of having star-crossed lovers shoot each other in their home." He saw some of the occupants' eyebrows raise. "We're just partners," he said.
Scully hid her face from him as she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Maybe we should continue this conversation at another time, Mulder," she said.
The elevator thankfully came to a stop and the doors opened. "This looks like our stop," he said, wheeling Scully out without even stopping to check the floor number. After he had guided her halfway down the hallway, he asked, "So, how did you know where the Eves would be heading?"
"While I was searching Lamniture's house," she said, "I found a desk filled with his writings. He kept a journal in which he spoke of his research and his guilt with which the way his findings were being used. He had written about how he had turned over a disk to the government, filled with everything he had found throughout the years. He said that if he were found dead, that it was likely that the data was not safe, that someone should protect it to see that it did not fall into the wrong hands. He wrote the name of the facility where the disk was stored. As soon as I woke up, I sent Skinner there to wait for you. He was staking out the place when you arrived, and recognized Veckman's car from the description I gave him. From then on, he followed you, and you know the rest."
"Yeah." Mulder lapsed into his own thoughts and he considered what the Eves had told him. Who was this other person that they were talking about? Why had Krycek killed them? Had it been simply to get the disk, or was he trying to protect something? And why had Skinner let him go? It would have been so easy just to fire a bullet into his head. Whatever the reason, Mulder was sure that there was something greater to it, something more then what Skinner was letting on.
"Mulder?" Scully asked.
"Yeah?"
"We should have turned down that last hall."
"Oh, right." Mulder turned the wheelchair around and steered her down the hall, past the information desk and out through the revolving doors. Scully started to shiver as soon as they made it outside. Mulder took of his jacket and put it on her shoulders as they began walking to his rental car. For the first time since the beginning of the case, the sky appeared pristine and white, though the sun was hidden by the presence of thick clouds. As Mulder stopped to open the passenger door for her, Scully tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up.
"Mulder, look."
Large, soft flakes were falling from the sky. Mulder took in her face as the flakes collected in her short, fiery red hair. "Looks like it might be a white Christmas after all," he said.
"Looks like," she answered, still staring up towards the heavens above. She looked down at him and smiled. "Merry Chistmas, Mulder," she said.
"Merry Christmas, Scully." *The End*
If you want to read up on Mulder's "other sister," check out the Starkweather series by Scully3776, and SpookyKat at: .
"The morning shift comes on in exactly one minute. Get ready to go."
Eve 9 through placed her inky-black hair back neatly in a ponytail and slipped into a pristine white lab coat. After buttoning it, she attached the fake identification to her pocket and viewed herself in the mirror.
"Perfect," Eve 10 said, nodding approvingly.
"One of the benefits of being a clone," Eve 9 answered, "Ready-made disguise."
Eve 10 smiled widely. "You ready for this?" she asked.
"I'm not the one you should worry about," Eve 9 replied, turning behind her to glance at the now unbound Mulder in the backseat.
"Oh, we don't have to worry about that, do we, Agent Mulder?" Veckman locked his eyes onto Mulder's. "Agent Mulder will not even be considering causing any trouble for us, will you, Agent Mulder? Or else."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Or else-" Mulder drew his hand horizontally against his throat and made a choking noise.
"So glad you decided to cooperate with us, Agent Mulder," Eve 9 said, opening the sliding car door and stepping out onto the paved road.
"It's the thrill of my life," Mulder said under his breath, as he followed Eve 9 and Veckman towards the front gate. The small party came to a stop in front of a glass-paneled cubby where a well-built and well-armed guard was now standing.
"Special Agent Fox Mulder with the Federal Bureau of Investigation," he said, holding up his identification for the guard's perusal, "Escorting doctors Sally Kindrick and Veckman."
The guard raised an eyebrow, a shadow of suspicion obvious in the corners of his eyes. He picked up the clipboard in front of him and gazed through the names. "I don't have you in my records, Agent Mulder, and I was not informed otherwise of your arrival."
"Last minute project," Mulder explained, "We need a DNA test on a suspect run right away. If we don't get the results in by 10:30 tomorrow, a serial murderer could walk. You wouldn't want that on your conscience now, would you?"
"Of course not," the guard answered defensively, "but your name isn't on the list. Besides, don't you normally run those tests over at Quantico?"
"Usually," Mulder replied, "But they had to close their labs down. There was a spill earlier this morning."
The guard still seemed unconvinced.
"Listen," Mulder said, "why don't you just run my badge number so that we can get in there and do what we get paid to do."
The guard was willing to do at least that much. He picked up the phone and dialed. After getting authorization, he handed Mulder back his badge and apologized briefly for giving him a hard time.
"No problem," Mulder answered as the alarm buzzed softly and the door slid back, permitting their entry.
The trio entered the eerily vacant building, their footsteps reverberating off the freshly painted walls. They proceeded first down a long, pristine hallway, then turned down another when Veckman indicated that they do so. As they continued, Mulder glanced up at the sound of a tiny machine turning. It was a camera. The hall was lined with them. As quickly and inconspicuously as possible, he looked up, straight into the lens. He wanted to make sure that Big Brother would get a good glimpse of his face. If Scully was, as Veckman had said, still alive, he was sure that she would have every available agent searching for his whereabouts. As he turned his attention once more in front of him, Eve turned and eyed him suspiciously.
"What were you doing?" she asked.
"Nothing," Mulder answered, "Just wondering if you were sure that we're going the right way."
"I visited this facility briefly in my early years when I was working for the government," Veckman said, "They keep all of their dirtier little secrets in the next hall over."
"How do you know that they didn't change everything around?" Mulder asked.
Veckman stopped in his tracks and glanced at Mulder with a look of amusement in his eyes. "It's a governmental facility, Agent Mulder," he said, "Any information that I want from those who work within it can be gained. You just have to know who's the right person to buy."
With that, they journeyed on, turning down a final hall that seemed oddly darker than those previously visited. After bypassing a couple of doors, Veckman came to a stop.
"This is it," he said, he eyes widening with excitement. He punched a couple of numbers into the lock by the door and watched as the green light lit. "We're in." He pushed the door wide and they entered a room filled with filing cabinets stacked to the ceiling. Veckman led them straight down the center aisle where an immense vault, like those found within a bank, slowly came into focus.
"It's in there," Veckman babbled excitedly, "just through this door."
"Wow," Mulder said unenthusiastically, "they hide their secrets so well." He looked over at Veckman who was wringing his fingers with delight. "What now?" he asked.
"Now you open that door, Agent Mulder."
"Sorry," he responded, "I'm afraid I left my heat vision in my other jacket this morning."
"You stupid son of a bitch," Veckman said, "Haven't you noticed that everything in this building is computerized? All you have to do is type your badge number in to that computer console. It's all the authorization you need."
Mulder gave him a look that could kill. Muttering under his breath, he walked towards his computer and put his badge number into keyboard. After a few seconds, the sound of a pressure lock being thrown back could be heard and the heavy, leaden door began creaking slowly back into the wall. Filing cabinets lined the walls of this room, too, but in the center of the room, sitting securely on what looked like an ancient Greek pillar, was a solitary cd jewel case.
"This is it," Veckman said, picking up the case and holding it delicately between his fingers, "We finally have it."
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a
large, red light began flashing at the back of the room as an alarm beeped loudly in unison.
"You idiot!" Eve 9 screamed, "You tripped an alarm!"
"I.I'm sorry," Veckman stammered, "I didn't mean to."
As Mulder smirked haughtily in the background, the door leading to the main room began to roll back into place, attempting to seal the robbers in with their shortly held goods.
"Come on!" Eve called to the two men, as she began running quickly out of the room. Mulder was about "accidentally" seal himself in the room when Veckman reminded him what would happen to his partner if he did not follow. Mulder grudgingly followed the pair, who ran back through the first room and out into the hall. The sound of footsteps could be heard advancing from the direction in which they entered.
"There's a back way out," Veckman said, "Follow me." He took off running in the opposite direction and led the group through a cascade of winding hallways and staircases. When they finally turned the last knob to the last of many doors that had come through, they were pleased to find that their exit was hidden well by ornate bushes and tree growth. In addition, the clouds that had been looming in the sky all day had covered the bright, beaming moon, leaving in their wake only a completely blackened night sky. Climbing onto a tree that was placed in a fortuitous position, the three jumped over the tall perimeter fence and fell hard onto the ground. Sitting calmly in front of them was Veckman's black sedan.
Opening the door to the front seat, Veckman asked Eve 10, "How did you know to meet us back here."
"I just knew," she answered, tossing Eve 9 a strange look of unilateral knowledge.
They drove in silence for what seemed like hours. Eve 10 stared blankly out the window, concentrating on nothing but the road as she directed the car out of D.C., and then through a series of darkened country roads. Veckman brushed his fingers almost lovingly against the cover of the jewel case while Eve 9 gazed unabashedly in Mulder's direction, who was obviously deep in thought.
"What are you thinking?" she asked finally, bringing an end to the overbearing silence.
"I'm thinking." he began, but his voice trailed quickly off.
After another hour or so, Eve 10 finally brought the car to a stop. "Everyone out," she ordered.
As Mulder slid the door back and stepped from the sedan, he looked uneasily about his surroundings. They were standing by a dilapidated shack that was cornered on all sides by an abundance of pines. Towards the back of the house, a canyon stood silhouetted against the moon, which had once again arisen from behind the overcast night. It was Veckman, however, who voiced his concern.
"Girls, what are we doing here? I thought we were going to head north? Why did we stop?"
"We needed to get rid of some unnecessary baggage," Eve 10 said, glancing in Mulder's direction.
"That's right," Eve 9 said, giggling excitedly as she pulled a gun from behind her back, "We've been meaning to do this for a long time." She raised the gun at Mulder's chest, who eyed her with trepidation.
"Wait," he began, stalling for time while he thought of an escape, "you don't want to." But he never got a chance to finish his sentence. Eve 9 turned the gun from Mulder's chest to Veckman's and fired. He gazed at her for a second, uncomprehending. As he began to process what had just transpired, he reached his hands to the wound and drew them back. He stared first at the blood on his palms, then turned his wide-eyed attention to the girls he had perceived as daughters. "Why?" he asked, as his legs gave out beneath him and he fell to the ground.
The twin faces of Eve 9 and 10 appeared over him. In the hand of Eve 9 was the gun, still puffing out thin but steady vapors of smoke.
"You tell us," Eve 9 said.
"You made us," Eve 10 said, taking the gun from the hand of her genetic sister and firing a final bullet into the brain of their former guardian. She turned next to Mulder, who had planned on making a mad dash to the car, but decided he needed to formulate a new plan once he realized the keys were no longer in the ignition.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, still hoping to buy some time.
"I thought you would understand, Agent Mulder," Eve 10 said, aiming the gun once again in his direction.
"Especially after what they did to your sister," Eve 9 added.
"Samantha?" he asked, suddenly losing interest in planning any escape, "What has all of this got to do with Samantha? What do you know about what they did to her?"
"Samantha?" Eve 9 repeated. She let out a great bellow of laughter that echoed across the mountains and down through the ravine below. She glanced at Eve 10 as she wiped a tear from her eye. "Who said anything about Samantha?"
"You were," Mulder said, advancing towards the pair even though a bullet was pointed directly at his heart, "You said that I should understand why you were doing this because of my sister." By this time, he was so close that, if he had taken one step closer, he would have felt the cold metal of the gun against his body.
"We weren't talking about Samantha," Eve 10 said, "We were talking about the other one." Her words were cut short as a bullet rang out through the night.
Eve 9 looked about wildly through the forest as Eve 10 fell to the ground. For the first time, they both looked terrified. Mulder pulled Eve 9 down to forest floor as the last signs of life drained from Eve 10's eyes. Mulder checked her pulse. She was gone. He dragged Eve 9 on his hands and his knees to the back of the car, hoping to gain shelter from their unseen assailant. When they arrived at the back, a car drove up the road towards them. The headlights were so bright that he could only make out the silhouette of the person driving. Shading his eyes, he could feel his body grow tense as he asked "Who's there?"
A tall, built man stepped from the car, the headlights still on. "It's Skinner, Mulder."
"Skinner?" Mulder repeated, relieved at once. He reminded himself to thank Scully the next time he saw her. "How did you know I was out here?" he asked.
"I suggest we save the explanations for another time, Mulder. Now get your ass in the car."
Mulder dragged Eve 9 to the waiting car and threw her in the back seat. He locked the doors as he took his place on the passenger's side. When they were driving safely down the road, he turned back to face Eve 9.
"What did she mean, 'the other one'?" he asked, "Who was she talking about?"
"The other one of what, Mulder?" Skinner questioned, but Mulder ignored him.
"What did she mean, Eve? Who was she talking about?"
As Eve 9 squirmed uncomfortably, the glass in the rear driver's side window burst into a million shards. Eve 9 fell over in her seat as blood began to ooze from her temple. Skinner brought the car to a stop as he turned back to see what had happened. As Mulder broke into chorus of four-letter words, he could feel a tightness enveloping his whole body. It was as if the very blood in his veins was choking him to death. In the rearview mirror, he could see the familiar blue as the veins in his head began to rise. He could also make out the shadowy figure of a man walking towards the car. Skinner knew who it was before he even saw his face.
"Krycek!" Mulder said. He was now out of the car and lunged for his once-time partner. "I'm going to kill you, you motherfucking son of a bitch!"
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mulder," he replied, brandishing the weapon proudly that had just caused the Eves to meet their demise, "I wouldn't mind putting a couple of bullets in your head."
"That's funny," Mulder replied, "I seem to remember that the last time I saw you, you couldn't keep your hands, oh, I'm sorry, your hand off me."
"The game's different now, Mulder," Krycek told him, "now that the Syndicate went back to Hell in the flames they came from. I don't need you to avert the apocalypse anymore, Mulder, because it's coming no matter what. It doesn't matter what either of us do. It's coming one way or another. All I can to do is try to prepare myself, and maybe make a little money along the way." He opened the door and searched Eve 9's pockets. He pulled out the jewel case and waved it in front of Mulder's face. "I got what I came for," he said, and he disappeared into the misty road in front of them.
Mulder leaned back into the car. "Give me your gun, Skinner," he said, but Skinner didn't respond. He only placed his hand around his throat as he felt the air rush back into his lungs.
"Give me your gun, Skinner," Mulder said again, this time more insistently.
"Just let him go," Skinner said.
"Let him go?" Mulder said, "He just committed two murders, not to mention the theft of government property, and you want me to let him go? No way. I'm going after him."
Mulder started to run after Krycek, but he stopped when Skinner pulled up alongside him.
"Get in the car, Agent Mulder," Skinner said.
Mulder looked off into the distance where Krycek had disappeared.
"Get in the car," Skinner said again, "That's an order." Mulder reclaimed his seat and glanced one last time at the dead girl in the back.
"Don't worry," Skinner said, "One day, that piece of shit is going to catch a bullet right in the head."
American Airlines Flight 917C Somewhere over the Atlantic 10:29A.M.
Krycek closed the door to the bathroom and walked back to his seat. On the way, he bumped into a large, heavyset man with a mustache who was walking towards the rear of the plane with his head facing down towards the aisle.
"Excuse me," said the man softly, who was dressed all in black.
Krycek took his seat, stared for a few moments at the back of the seat in front of him, then turned quickly towards the back to see where the man in black had gone. There was no sight of the man.
"Probably just had to take a piss," Krycek told himself as he leaned back in the seat and tried to shake off his suspicion. Sometimes it was hard to be suspicious of everybody all the time, but in his line of work, a lack of suspicion was synonymous with death. Still, he was sure that he hadn't been followed. And besides, before tonight, no one had seen him for almost a year. He had even heard rumors of his own death while he was hiding out in Russia.
"But you're not dead," he told himself, "after all this time, you're still alive." He reached into his right pocket and felt the cold, smooth texture of the cd case residing there. After patting it securely, he closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.
"Excuse me, sir, but do you have a light?"
"What?" Krycek was startled into consciousness as he looked for the source of the question. The moustache man was sitting in the seat directly opposite his on the other side of the aisle.
"I asked if you had a light," he repeated.
"There's no smoking on this flight," Krycek replied.
"Oh, no?" the man asked, standing up and taking the aisle seat directly next to Krycek, "Well, my momma used to tell me that it's always a good idea to be prepared, you know, in case of emergencies."
"What are you," Krycek asked, obviously annoyed at having his space intruded upon, "some kind of boyscout?"
"Oh, no, no, no," the man answered, chuckling to himself, not a boyscout. He drew a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket, "But from what I hear, neither are you." He lit the cigarette and took a long puff from it.
The truth dawned on Krycek as he watched the man play with his lighter.
"That's right, Mr. Krycek," he said, "We know all about you." The moustache man lifted the top to the lighter a final time, revealing a tiny spear-like device inside. "Capped off with poison," the moustache man said, "Make it look like you died of a heart attack. I wouldn't go trying to do anything stupid."
As Krycek tried to come up with a way to free himself from his capturer, the moustache man leaned back in his chair. He smiled as the pilot's voice came over the loudspeaker, "Hello, folks. This is your captain speaking. I'm afraid we're going to have to make a quick layover in London."
London International Airport London, England 11:02 A.M.
The moustache man led Krycek off the plane and directed him to a long black limo that was waiting at the terminal gate. As they came to a stop, the back tinted window rolled slowly downward.
"You," Krycek said, "I had hoped you were dead by now, you god-damned son of a bitch."
The Cigarette Smoking Man, looking white and frail, drew a cigarette up to the newly surgically installed hole in his windpipe and took a long draft. He blew the smoke back out the window before he spoke.
"I'm sure you did, Alex," he said, his voice scarred to match his body, "Now, down to business. I hear that you've recently acquired something of mine, a certain disk?"
"You looking to buy it, old man?" Krycek asked.
"Oh, Alex," the Cancer Man said, amusedly drawing his face into a sinister grin, "you always did have a hand for the comedy." He laughed at his own joke, his yellowed teeth cracking through his rough lips. "No, no," he continued, "you have stolen something that belongs to me, and I would like it back. Now."
The moustache man reached into Krycek's right pocket and pulled out the disk. He handed it to the Cigarette Smoking Man through the open window.
"Ah, yes," the Cancer Man said, "this is more like it."
"What do you want me to do with him, sir?" the moustache man asked, pointing to Krycek.
"Let's send him to someplace where he can get a lot of thinking done," the Cancer Man said, "Someplace where he can contemplate what a bad thing he has done." He paused for only a moment before the grin reappeared on his face. "I hear Tunisia is nice this time of year."
The moustache man laughed as the Cigarette Smoking Man rolled up his window and the limo drove off. Krycek struggled as the tens of armed guards that had suddenly appeared carried him off to military truck waiting in the wings.
Thomas Jefferson University Hospital Philadelphia, PA December 24, 1999 1:29 P.M.
"You really don't have to do this, Mulder. I mean, I appreciate your being here, but I'm sure there are much more enjoyable things that you could be doing on Christmas Eve."
"Of course there are," Mulder answered, smiling as he looked down at her from behind the wheelchair.
"Mulder!" she scolded, turning sharply to look at him before the throbbing pain in her torso reminded her that she shouldn't have done that.
"But this if fun, too," Mulder continued, chuckling as he pushed the button for the elevator. "What better way to spend the holiday season than by checking my ailing partner out of the hospital?"
"Not getting shot could be a better way," Scully replied sullenly.
"Hey, Scully," Mulder said, as the elevator chimed and the doors opened, "I just thought of something. This is two Christmases in a row that you've gotten shot, now. That must be some kind of record or something." He turned the wheelchair around and pulled her backwards into the elevator.
"That's not funny, Mulder," she said, "Besides, you shot me first."
"Uh uh," he replied, "you shot me first." He glanced around at the questioning faces of the nurses, doctors, patients, and visitors standing beside him. "We didn't really shoot each other," he tried to explain, "It was ghosts that took on our form so that they could carry out the yearly tradition of having star-crossed lovers shoot each other in their home." He saw some of the occupants' eyebrows raise. "We're just partners," he said.
Scully hid her face from him as she felt her cheeks grow hot. "Maybe we should continue this conversation at another time, Mulder," she said.
The elevator thankfully came to a stop and the doors opened. "This looks like our stop," he said, wheeling Scully out without even stopping to check the floor number. After he had guided her halfway down the hallway, he asked, "So, how did you know where the Eves would be heading?"
"While I was searching Lamniture's house," she said, "I found a desk filled with his writings. He kept a journal in which he spoke of his research and his guilt with which the way his findings were being used. He had written about how he had turned over a disk to the government, filled with everything he had found throughout the years. He said that if he were found dead, that it was likely that the data was not safe, that someone should protect it to see that it did not fall into the wrong hands. He wrote the name of the facility where the disk was stored. As soon as I woke up, I sent Skinner there to wait for you. He was staking out the place when you arrived, and recognized Veckman's car from the description I gave him. From then on, he followed you, and you know the rest."
"Yeah." Mulder lapsed into his own thoughts and he considered what the Eves had told him. Who was this other person that they were talking about? Why had Krycek killed them? Had it been simply to get the disk, or was he trying to protect something? And why had Skinner let him go? It would have been so easy just to fire a bullet into his head. Whatever the reason, Mulder was sure that there was something greater to it, something more then what Skinner was letting on.
"Mulder?" Scully asked.
"Yeah?"
"We should have turned down that last hall."
"Oh, right." Mulder turned the wheelchair around and steered her down the hall, past the information desk and out through the revolving doors. Scully started to shiver as soon as they made it outside. Mulder took of his jacket and put it on her shoulders as they began walking to his rental car. For the first time since the beginning of the case, the sky appeared pristine and white, though the sun was hidden by the presence of thick clouds. As Mulder stopped to open the passenger door for her, Scully tapped him on the shoulder and pointed up.
"Mulder, look."
Large, soft flakes were falling from the sky. Mulder took in her face as the flakes collected in her short, fiery red hair. "Looks like it might be a white Christmas after all," he said.
"Looks like," she answered, still staring up towards the heavens above. She looked down at him and smiled. "Merry Chistmas, Mulder," she said.
"Merry Christmas, Scully." *The End*
If you want to read up on Mulder's "other sister," check out the Starkweather series by Scully3776, and SpookyKat at: .