Title: He Belongs to Me
Chapter: Nine – True Colours
Summary: Post-Truth – Mulder claims to have found a way to save anyone who is willing to listen from the upcoming alien invasion – but things do not go according to plan. Light MSR, set mostly in England.
Note: I wrote part of this at a friend's house, and this is probably my second favorite chapter (the best one is the last one). Hehe, you didn't think that photographer was just a character thrown in there, did you? Oh no, he is very important to the plot, MUAHAHAHAHA.
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Files or any characters in the X-Files. All I own is the plot and Mr. Stein. Muahaha. I love Mr. Stein. .
Archive: It'd be an honor. Truly emotional. Just contact me and I'll most likely give you permission.
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LONDON, ENGLAND
NOVEMBER 13, 2003
EVENING
Scully pounded down the narrow alleys and back streets, lost but knowing she was headed in the right direction. If she were not mistaken, this path would soon take her to the River Thames. Behind her and quickly gaining was the hunter, his steps making only the slightest disturbance while her's were bumbling, unsure. She could almost feel his foreign breath on the back of her neck, oddly calm despite all this running, never increasing in its frequency.
Rounding another corner she broke into the open, past confused locals and tourists, some with small Japanese cameras staring in awe. Ignoring them, focused only on the river, she put on an extra burst of speed, letting the bystanders do the moving – she didn't have time to be polite. Not like the man following her wasn't enough incentive.
She reached the rail and kicked off her shoes, dropped her trench coat, and plunged into the frigid waters below.
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The bounty hunter followed her to the river and watched her vigorous swimming – odd, that she swam in the direction of Canary Wharf. Perchance some hidden instinct told her that her partner was there, or soon would be. In any event, he no longer had any need continue this charade, this meaningless beating around the bush. He had the information he needed, the information his race needed for survival. As of yet the humans had still not discovered a "cure", were too foolish to realize that sometimes to live one had to die. The human woman had failed, the one called Scully, another method unsuccessful. What other reason to kill her? Destroy any evidence that any alien life forms existed. As always, with these pathetic humans.
But enough of that. Pocketing his weapon, he slid into a form he was more familiar with, though unfortunately it could not be his natural form – how he longed for the supple grace of his elongated fingers, his large, all-seeing black eyes set in a smooth skin of grey…
Running a hand through his hair and almost wishing for the camera to fill it, Mr. Stein stepped away from the river, meandered down the street. The people here would remember nothing of what they had just seen, as it should be.
Either Scully or her partner had best be informed of the recent death in the family, and best it come from him rather than those who would pervert the truth. The death had been a necessary one – the woman had wanted so badly to survive and had had the means to do it, had been one of the few who had discovered the "cure", even though it had been unknowingly. He had taken her while he could, taken her before they could get to her and corrupt her, taint her, prevent her from going on after death. He had a feeling her daughter would understand that, suspected her daughter might in the future also know the cure – but she was still too rooted in logic and science to accept the possibility, and thus neither she nor her partner could move on as of this time.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he set his steps into their familiar rhythm, steps which would soon lead him home, to the stars, and beyond…
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Mulder struggled with his captors, kicking futilely at the one nearest him while his arms remained tied, useless behind his back. The man he had been attempting to kick returned it in kind, except he didn't miss. Mulder's legs were knocked out from under him and he was dragged across the floor of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.
How had he gotten here, anyway? The last thing he remembered (shamefully) was falling asleep in the airport, having something waved under his nose when he started to wake, and now ending up here, wherever that might be, held captive. Talk about the hero being shot down in his quest. He nearly snorted at his fantasy but decided it would be in his best interests not to.
His thought process was interrupted when he was thrown to the floor at the far end of the warehouse and the three men surrounding him looked at each other, then at the agent, before proceeding to follow their orders: beat up the agent.
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The sun was an artist, painting the sky with red and gold, a faint tinge of purple here and there. The sunsets in England were far from astounding, but they were admirable all the same. It's a shame that Scully had not the opportunity to admire it, as she was currently shivering from hypothermia whilst swimming in the River Thames.
Where am I going?
Back to CanaryWharf.
Why?
Because your partner is there.
Scully started at the unknown voice inside of her head, one she had never heard before and which was most definitely not hers.
Oh no, I'm going schizophrenic…
No you're not.
Then who was that? Voices don't just pop into your head! It's impossible; it defies everything science has proven –
Yeah, just like aliens –
Stop arguing with yourself and move! That bounty hunter isn't going to wait forever…
Resuming her strokes, she swam toward Canary Wharf, back to the place she had just escaped.
Talk about ironic.
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Walking barefoot and shivering into the building, she withdrew her gun, hoping against hope that the water hadn't damaged it. She examined the magazine and the gun itself and cursed under her breath. If push came to shove, the gun wouldn't work.
Stupid Dana, stupid stupid stupid, you should know better than to jump in the bloody river with your gun.
She tossed the weapon into a dark corner in exasperation and began pacing, trying to work out some semblance of a plan, mumbling out loud.
"What am I going to do? How am I going to get in there? A bluff won't fool them, no way it would fool them, I need a weapon…I can't get one here, I don't have a license, I'm not even a citizen, what am I going to do?"
She growled in frustration just as a darker shadow detached itself from the corner where she'd thrown her gun, gliding toward her as she stood warily, ramblings ceased.
"Who are you?" she called to the figure.
He walked further into the light cast by one of the abundant street lamps of the city, revealing a familiar face. She narrowed her eyes as the photographer who had been following them came to stand before her, arms held up in a gesture of peace. His camera was nowhere to be found, though she supposed it could be in the depths of his tan trench coat.
"I am afraid that my true form would not be accepted and I have no desire to have my image caught on tape." He gestured to the camera mounted on a building behind them.
"What do you want? Who are you?"
"All I want is to speak to you. And if it will assuage your curiosity…I am…" He held up an arm, in front of his body and therefore out of sight of the camera and slowly shifted it to his natural hand, supple and grey, long fingers curling in bliss at the release.
The woman's mouth moved but no words emerged until finally she shut it and took several deep breaths. Reluctantly, he returned his hand back to that of Mr. Stein's, let it drop to his side.
"What do you want to tell me?" She spoke the question as a statement, no inflection in her voice as she fought to control her thoughts.
"It's about your mother."
"What have you done to my mother?" Ah, now there was inflection.
"She has moved on – it was made to look like a suicide - "
He paused as her eyes began to flame with unconcealed hatred and he took a moment to appreciate the fact that she no longer had a weapon before continuing.
"You must understand, Miss Scully, that she knew the cure. She is in a better place, truly, she will survive the coming invasion."
"How can she survive the invasion if she is no longer alive? And who are you to make that choice? It should be her decision, not anyone else's."
"Please, what's done is done, Miss Scully. But please, you must believe me when I say that she will survive."
He could plainly see the tears she was struggling to hold back, to keep in check. A lone one escaped and he noted it with a twinge of guilt as he pulled from his coat a gun, handing it to her with the barrel pointed at him. She took it and studied it, opening and examining the magazine before turning sorrowful and confused eyes back to him.
"Go – your partner is in there."
She wavered, confusion and curiosity keeping her in place as tears still threatened to spill over.
"Why are you even helping me?"
"They performed experiments on you, awakened your alien DNA – you are now one of my own."
"What…?"
"You will understand when you are ready to understand - but now you have to go."
With those final words he turned back into the shadows, vanishing without a trace. Scully allowed several more tears to slide down her cheeks as she took several moments to grieve, though she knew that the true process would have to come later. Wiping away her tears, she removed the safety on the gun, took a deep breath, and walked barefoot and soaking into the warehouse.
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EEP! I love this so much…Don't worry, the tenth chapter should be up today as well! I hope you enjoyed!!
Word Count: 1,564