28 hours later...

Scully and Skinner sat in a café in New Jersey, with William in a carriage between them, hoping to appear like family members catching up over a late night meal. Scully's print dress and Skinner's jeans made them look less professional than ordinary, so they at least looked the part. Earlier in the night it was decided that it would be safest for William if he was neither at home, nor in the same state as the person trying to kill his sister. Skinner volunteered to help Scully protect him, if it came to that, because he felt that Doggett and Reyes would work better in a crisis with each other than with him. Gibson was with them as well, since they worried his alien DNA put him into danger as well, even if he hadn't heard that it was so.

"So, like I was saying, it's been really nice catching up with you, this weekend, Uncle Dan." Scully said brightly as she fed William part of a blueberry muffin. "Hasn't it, Jay?"

"Absolutely." Gibson said, smiling broadly. "When Dad first told me that I was supposed to go with my step-mom and little Frankie to see you and Aunt Kate, I thought it was going to be a drag. No offense, but you're not really my family, so...but you guys have been really cool. It's just too bad that Aunt Kate has to work tomorrow."

"Oh I know." Skinner said, after he sipped his chai. "She would have loved to come out with us too, but she's got to be at the daycare at 7am. Lucky for you guys I took this week off. Jenny, you really should try to see her more often, she misses you." Skinner added in a slightly disapproving tone.

Gibson took over Will-feeding as the two adults continued their mock conversation. He tried to keep his face from showing it, but he marveled at their acting ability. No one in the café was thinking about them at all, so they were doing a wonderful job blending in. He was startled that their acting was so flawless, considering that he could feel they were both sick with worry about what was happening at that moment in New York. Even better, he read William's mind, and the little boy wasn't picking up on it at all. Gibson broke off another piece of muffin and hoped there wouldn't come a point that night that the baby would.

**

The partial collapse of a bridge under construction caused traffic to be backed up for over an hour and a half, which resulted in everyone becoming tense as they made their way to the house in New York. Doggett and Reyes drove together his car and at least had each other to commiserate with about the mess. Mulder, on the other hand, was alone with his regret that they hadn't left earlier. Before the traffic jam it seemed important not to arrive too early, but now he worried that it had been the lesser of two evils without his even realizing it.

Mulder had been expecting the celebration to resemble an understated version of the town fair that would probably be held in the fall. He rubbed his eyes with one fist at the first sight of the fairgrounds, sure that it was a hallucination. When it didn't go away he decided that the town had left the designs to people more used to planning raves.

Garish neon lights covered blocks, and the effect was dizzying, because it was difficult to tell the rides and booths from the lit fairways. Most of the fair-goers looked like they had just stumbled out of a concert and were confused, lights dazzling their eyes and making them stupid. They also were wearing glowing necklaces, some making them into slim headbands, which Mulder thought looked foolish.

Eventually the size of the crowd and the temporarily blocked roads made it impossible to travel any father by car, so Mulder got out and began to walk because he could see the house, which Gibson had described perfectly. He left Doggett and Reyes to try to find another road with access to the house, hoping that either he or they would make it to the house by eleven.

Pushing his way through the throngs of people, he decided that had he been a beat cop, he could have cleaned up that night; the air reeked with the strange sweetness of pot. Sweaty bodies pressed upon him from all sides, making his progress slow. Had he not been concerned that it might let his mark know he was coming, he would have flashed his badge and screamed " FBI!" to get the milling crowd to clear the way. As minutes ticked away he became filled with dread: he was going to arrive at a crime scene too late for the second time that summer.

Back in the car, Doggett swore under his breath as beeping his horn failed to part the sea of people around the car. Finally, if by magic, the crowds disappeared off the road. Doggett was about to remark upon their good luck to Reyes, when he glanced at the clock on the console: it was quarter of eleven. He pounded his fist on the steering wheel and let out a string of obscenities. He looked towards Reyes, meaning to apologize to her for his out burst, but the grim look on her face stilled his tongue.

**

The man swung his shotgun up against his shoulder and began approaching the house. The first small fireworks were already bleeding against the night sky, so he felt confident that he could make his move a few minutes early without putting the plan into jeopardy. Waiting for a loud firecracker, he kicked the front door open and went in.

Calderon heard one of the nurses scream, and saw the man moving along the floor below. He took a step back from the railing, not wanting to be seen. In an instant Calderon decided that he would sacrifice himself in order to give the children a better chance. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could to the second floor, hoping to be able to hide the children before he needed to confront the gunman.

Screams that turned to wails, then chillingly stopped, drifted even up to the second floor as Calderon entered the first bedroom. Emily was sleeping, so he roughly shook her shoulder to wake her, and covered her mouth with one hand. "I'm going to take you to hide. You mustn't speak. Nod if you understand." Emily nodded, wide-eyed. Calderon hurried her up to the third floor, then pushed her into a closet. A minute later he returned with Georgie, then finally with Brian, both of whom he pushed in beside her. " Whatever you do, do not come out of the closet. There are bad things happening downstairs, and you will be safe here. Understand?" Three blond heads nodded before he firmly shut the closet door.

Calderon hurried down the stairs to confront the shooter.

**

The three children sat in their pajamas, with their knees drawn up, trying to make themselves as comfortable as possible in the cramped space. Eventually they couldn't hear any more screaming, and in their naiveté thought that the bad man had gone away; they didn't realize that he'd just run out of nurses and caretakers to make scream.

Brian, the eldest of the three at nine years old, was also the most headstrong. He suddenly stood, making the other two children cry out in dismay. "Where are you going? Doctor Calderon said to stay here!" Emily hissed at him.

"Listen. I don't hear anything anymore, do you? I think that whatever the bad things he told us about are all over. I'm gonna go see if he's ok." Brian said stubbornly.

"But we're supposed to stay here." Georgie whimpered.

"Stay here, then. I'll find Doctor Calderon and have him come back and tell you two chickens that's everything is all right." Brian scoffed. He pushed open the door, slipped out, and shut it behind him. Emily and Georgie wrapped their arms around each other and began to cry soundlessly.

**

Mulder felt a sickening sense of déjà vu as they stepped over the first body that blocked the opening of the broken door. It was still three minutes to eleven, but they could see that the shooter had been quick and efficient as well as early. Mulder suggested they split up as they searched each floor so they could cover the mansion more quickly, and with dire nods they agreed.

Mulder touched the piece of magnetite that hung from a chain around his neck, and hoped that what Scully, then Doggett and Reyes, saw happen to replicants as a result of being in contact with the metal would happen every time, and were not fluke events. Before they split up, he whispered to Doggett and Reyes "You have the magnetite, right?"

They both nodded, and Doggett pulled down the edge of his pocket to show the ends of the capped syringes. "I feel like the freaking main character from Blade." He complained.

Mulder gave him a grim grin. "Just bear in mind that Blade survived to be the focus of a second movie." His grin disappeared as he thought about the dangers they faced. " Be careful." He commanded. They nodded and headed to different parts of the basement, hoping to find survivors and the replicant.

** Mulder held a gun in one hand. Although he knew it wouldn't stop a replicant, he hoped a few well placed slugs would buy him the time he needed to plunge a syringe into it. He swung open the door and found himself standing inside a lab.

A cursory glance located a pair of feet lying on the ground. He reached into his pocket and took out a syringe just in case, and cautiously made he way towards the prone figure behind the work bench. At last he stood over him, and blinked in surprise. Dr. Calderon lay at his feet.

Mulder wondered what a man who had once withheld life prolonging treatment from Emily would be doing in the same house as her now. Calderon didn't look like he was in any condition to explain, Mulder decided as he noticed a puddle of green oozing from a wound in the man's neck. But Calderon wasn't dead, which surprised him, since in his observation, clones died quickly after they were stabbed in the neck. He didn't think there was anything he could do for the man, but he did lean down when Calderon weakly motioned for him to do so.

Calderon's breathing was labored but he spoke to Mulder in an urgent tone. "I remember you...FBI. You must save the children." Calderon's eyes roamed over the room, and Mulder felt sure that he was trying to determine if they could be overheard. "They're in a closet in the third floor. They're almost normal, almost, almost. It's their bone marrow. Transplants someday. "

Mulder was tempted to tell him not to talk, which seemed like common advice for the dying in movies or on shows, but he didn't, because the man needed to speak. Suddenly Calderon reached up and grabbed Mulder's wrist." You will save them?"

"If it's the last thing I do." Mulder assured him, and the man's grip loosened.

Calderon sank back to the floor. "My papers. In that closet." His eyes rolled back into his head, and the green puddle expanded rapidly as his body dissolved. Mulder backed away from the toxic puddle, and ran for the stairs, hoping that he'd find the children's hiding place before the replicant did.