Disclaimer: Chris Carter's and Ten Thirteen Productions. All rights reserved.
Reviews:
Gothic Spook: Yeah I know. In the episode where John got run over with the car I screamed NO! Not kidding. And then in the episode John Doe I felt so bad when Monica told him Luke was dead and he started to cry. *sniffles*
Author's Notes: This chapter took me way longer than expected. I'll try and stay on top of updating every day or two!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't give into the pain,
Though they're screaming your name,
God knows what lies behind them,
Never sleep, never die…"
~Evanescence, Whisper from Fallen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 9: The Second and a Surprise
Walter Skinner wasn't very happy about the current situation. It was one thing for Brad Follmer to become involved with David Ridder. Quite frankly if Brad Follmer wanted to keep close contacts with high government officials and controllers of the conspiracy as long as he was not involved. He had spent too much time playing both sides of the X-Files and the government, and had long been kept as a personal slave to those with higher positions than he. But he had turned from that path a long time ago, and just because Brad Follmer went and got himself killed didn't mean Skinner was inclined to.
He had stowed into the office without an excuse. No one wanted one. Skinner was an AD, and a fairly powerful one that was still edging on promotion. He wasn't planning on ever reaching it of course. The FBI gave promotions to those who deserved them and didn't turn away from the controllers of the conspiracy, and he was getting close to being assassinated himself.
The agents on duty said nothing about files found. Walter groaned and went back to his office.
He was shocked at the raven haired agent standing in the room, casually moving through the room and looking around. She was tall and slender in a black coat and pants, not classy but definitely not casual. She looked up at Skinner through a pair of dark sunglasses.
"Can I help you?" He asked her. She didn't smile, but turned and looked right at him.
"Yes if you can tell me about the Brad Follmer case." She said, assuming Skinner would simply tell her.
"And who are you?" He asked, still standing by the slightly open door. The woman said nothing, hands hanging at her sides by the pockets of her coats.
"Just a concerned party." She replied simply, putting it bluntly. "I'm actually here about his assailant."
"You're concerned about the state of government property too?" He said sarcastically, moving to his desk.
"I don't think you get the severity of the situation here Mr. Skinner." She said cruelly, voice twisted and disgusting, as if it were suggesting killing someone. "800 billion dollars of government property is now missing and my employer is getting very angry. I don't think you understand…"
"What I don't understand is why you think I know something about this." Skinner said, voice amplifying and cutting her off mid-statement. "I'm not a little rat for David Ridder or anyone else in that building anymore so stop suggesting that I know something about the condition of his property."
"I find that very hard to believe, Mr. Skinner." She said, unmoving like a soldier should. "I think you know something about the state of our cargo and you're not saying anything because you're protecting someone."
"And what if I am? Are you going to kill me too?"
"I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Skinner. I haven't killed anybody."
"But you know the person who did this."
"Person?" She said, repeating the word so Skinner could hear how wrong he was. "She's not a person, Mr. Skinner, she's property. That's all she is. If you are implying that there is a shred of humanity left in her than you are sorely mistaken."
The words burned into Skinner's mind, and the dark haired woman stared at him a moment more, thin lips pursing from the growing anger that she was beginning to feel.
"I'll be in touch, Mr. Skinner." She said, walking out of the office and straight past the secretary who had now returned. The blonde haired secretary looked a little shocked at the dark haired woman, who shot her a look of pure venom. They said nothing, and within a moment, Skinner's uninvited guest was gone.
He grabbed his car keys and coat, booking off for the rest of the day. He had to go talk to John Doggett before Ridder started sending spies to his house.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The black haired woman was not part of the same experiment. Her name was Morgan Warren, another of the government's personal hit-women. She had been trained in the same program as the other, but had earned her name and hank much more quickly than her red haired counterpart had. She was more important that Ridder's corporation, running errands for the Federal Emergency Reserve instead of smaller departments like Ridder's. Everyone was so quick to assume that Ridder was at the top, but he was just a piece in a much larger puzzle.
The second she was on the street she grabbed the cell phone from her pocket and dialed the private line to her employer, Senator Ryan Trent. He was another man like Ridder, far less manipulative, and wider in the waist and shoulders. He was a big man with dark hair and a mustache and blue eyes. She hated him about as much as she hated Ridder. But he held the power on her paycheck, and he also handled the rest of the assassins under his power, including the red haired one.
It was their fate that they had held grudges against one another since the beginning. Morgan was more adept at hand to hand combat, while the other was better with weapons. When they met for the first time they were eight, ready to kill. By the time their fight had ended, they were at an impasse, each with their hands around the others' throat, each with the evil look in their eyes as they prepared to end the other's life.
But they never did, and now they were trying to prove who should really have won.
Morgan left a few identifiable marks on the other, but she was sure they were gone now. Unlike her other, Morgan was not a part of 'the breed' experimentation on humans. She didn't need it. She was cunning and deadly enough as it was.
"Trent." He said in his gruff voice. She was sickened by the thick sound in his throat, made worse by the large cigars he would smoke when he thought he was alone. Morgan continued walking, bypassing the Agents coming back from lunch or just coming in for the day.
"He doesn't know anything, but I think the Agents do."
"What are you going to do about it?" He asked, coughing with his gooey sounding choking. She didn't show her disgust, but inside her organs were convulsing at the sound of the phlegm.
"I'm going to lay low for a little and keep an eye on him. Eventually the file will turn up." He coughed in response.
"What about the agents?" He finally said. She looked around.
"Don't worry about them. Just have my check ready for when I come back in." She shut the phone and shoved it back in her pocket. Things were going to get messy, she knew that. And she was beginning to think her other and she would have another run-in, and this time, there would be no teachers to impress and no governments to live for. It would come down to Morgan and the other, a single gun and bullet, and one of them wouldn't walk away so safely.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Monica was silent in the car, sitting there and wondering what to do. She knew this man D.R. had something to do with Brad. She was very aware that he was hiding away and buying his time in that building, plotting things about other people and intending for other people's deaths. But without cooperation from snotty little receptionists, she and Scully were stuck on the sidelines waiting to get back into the game.
She had tried to call John. He said he was a little busy at the moment and would call her back when he could. He had hung up pretty quickly. At least he didn't sound mad anymore, she thought to herself, putting the phone away.
Dana had pretty much the same thoughts as Monica. They were stuck at the beginning. What would she and Mulder do in the same situation? She thought, looking back at the building.
They were parked across the street now, watching who was coming in and out, and waiting for the secretary to go out for lunch and try again to reach D.R. It was coming close to four o'clock. Great, only 2 more hours of waiting, Monica thought bitterly, still watching.
It was four-thirty when the angular receptionist emerged in a long coat and her hair down. She met a man in a convertible with a smile, her glasses replaced with contacts and her whole appearance changed. The man opened the door for her, dressed in his Armani clothing including sunglasses, and walked around to the driver's door. They waited until she and her friend had taken off and went back inside.
This time the atmosphere was growing more quiet, the scientists inside the labs working quietly and the technicians moving secretively in and out of the lobby. The front desk was controlled by a man this time, young and brunette. He was maybe 25 or 26, but definitely did not look like he was working at the desk. He had a laptop out and was charting things silently, head phones in his ears and music coming out from the volume. He was boyish almost and nicely dressed for someone so young.
Monica tapped on the desk, the man immediately alerted. His brown eyes focused on the two women and he switched his music off, pulling the head phones from his ears.
"Sorry, I'm just supervising so I don't think I'll be much help." He said. The two women pulled out their badges.
"We're Agents Reyes and Scully from the FBI and we're looking for a possible murder suspect in the building." His eyes widened.
"Well, it's not me I hope." He said.
"I could be if your initials are DR." Scully said.
"No, I'm a JS, actually, Jason Sharp." He replied. "But I can't help you there. There must be plenty of DR's in the building."
"Could we maybe talk to your supervisor?" Scully asked again, suddenly working at getting back into business. Reyes suddenly felt stuck on the sidelines.
"I'm not sure. He usually doesn't take visitors." He replied. "I could call up and see if he'll talk to you. I'm not promising much."
He grabbed the phone and dialed up, his fingers moving quickly over the number pad. Reyes already knew he was a technician. He had to be. He was too young to be a scientist and too open to be a full member of a government division. He was probably just a hired computer tech: someone who knew nothing but how to organize data in computers.
There was no answer again, as Jason had suspected. The two Agents were bumped back to their mental sidelines again, stuck there until the supervisor of the building started showing up at work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Reyes walked into her house, finding Meredith exceptionally happy to see her.
"MOMMY!" She shouted and ran to Monica. Meredith was greeted by her mother, hugging her tightly and laughing giddily, grabbing her hands and yanking them upstairs. "Come on, I have to show you something!"
"Not now, Meredith, where's your father?" Monica pulled herself from the grip of her daughter, only to have the seven year old snatch her wrist again and yank her twice as hard. Monica groaned. "Meredith I have had a very long day, please tell me where your father is?"
"NO! I have to show you something!" She pulled Monica into her room and sat her down on the bed. Stepping away she stood in front of her and took a deep breath, readying herself.
"Okay. I will now touch my nose with my tongue." She said loudly, and proceeded to stick her tongue out as far as it would go and tip it up to her nose. It was too short and barely touched the tip, hovering about half an inch from it. Monica would usually be amused with such antics from her daughter but now was not the time. She and John needed to have a heart to heart. She got up to leave.
"No mommy wait! I can do it!" Meredith yanked her back to the bed and sat her down, trying once again to touch her tongue to her nose. Monica shook her head at the persistence on her daughter.
"That's great Meredith but I need to talk to daddy." Monica started walking out the door as Meredith fainted on the ground. She looked back at her daughter, lying with her hand to her forehead and sighed deeply.
"Fake."
"Was not!" Meredith shouted, sitting up.
"You locked your knees." Monica said, crossing her arms. "Now, no more games Meredith, where is your father?"
"He's dead." She blurted out quickly.
"He's dead?" Monica asked. Meredith gave her a sincere nod, starting to cry slightly. Monica knew she was faking when she buried her face in her hands and started to sob. "Fine, I'll just find him myself."
"No! Wait mommy! I'll tell you where daddy is." She said, wiping the crocodile tears from her cheeks. "Daddy is outside taking in a walk in the woods."
"What's he doing in the woods?" Monica asked, tapping her foot. Meredith was reaching to answers. Monica started to walk away.
"HUNTING!" Meredith shouted. "He's hunting."
"Oh really." Monica said. "What's he hunting?"
"Ummm….badger! See, I asked him for a pet badger and he said that if he could catch one, he'd give it to me." Monica didn't look convinced. Not even Meredith's acting could save a sorry lie like that from being ignored. She walked away from her daughter's room. Meredith met her at the top of the stairs.
"No, wait. You can't go down there."
"And why not." Monica said, backing Meredith down the stairs, one stair at a time. Her daughter was thinking faster now, reaching for excuses, and Monica knew why. John was up to something, and she was going to be fooled about what it was. He would tell her, or she would find out.
"Daddy has a surprise for you." She said, still backing down to the foyer. Monica didn't look convinced. "He said you had to wait upstairs for it to be finished."
Meredith over shot the last step and landed on her butt, Monica checking to see that she was alright before walking away. Meredith thought about fake crying and getting her mother to pay attention, but that hardly worked anyways. So she relied on the only thing that always got someone's attention.
She screamed.
Now Meredith had taken singing lessons since she could talk, and she had a fairly nice ranger. The 'scream' range was almost three octaves above middle 'C' and made her mother turn around and look shocked at her daughter. Meredith stopped screaming and got up off the ground, running out of the room and through the living room entrance.
"DADDY, MOMMY'S COMING!" She shouted, bolting through the living room to the kitchen and down into the basement. Monica chased after her but found the door held shut by something. It took a moment for her to finally twist it enough that Meredith let go, but by the time she had the door opened Meredith had ran off into the empty basement.
The basement was fairly empty. It had a laundry room and a furnace room and a guest room connected to a large main basement area. Inside were a television and a couple weights, a ratty couch and some DVD's. The lights were pretty dim, even for fluorescent bulbs.
It was then that she saw John, standing outside the guest bedroom with Meredith holding the door handle and pushing herself against the door.
"Do you want to tell me why you're keeping me away from here?" Monica said, hands on her hips, not amused by being dragged around the whole house. John looked at Meredith who let go of the door and allowed her mother to come through. He didn't say anything as he opened the door, allowing her to look inside.
There was little light in the room; John had made sure of that. There was a single window that had been boarded up recently. The door was equipped with a lock now, one that locked from the outside. There were several packages on the ground that told Monica he was adding more.
But she could see it even without the light, hiding in the shadows of the wall in the corner, dressed mainly in black. It was breathing rapidly, coughing every now and then with its knees bent to its chest and arms wrapped around them protectively. The red hair was stained with black and red liquid, pasted to her scalp.
Monica stepped back and looked from John to Meredith, who had stopped smiling. She felt sick to her stomach again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Please review!