Still Out There

by revery

COMPLETED PostTruth, 18 year old William Van De Kamp sets out on a search to find his biological parents, and discovers what they worked so hard to protect him from.

1. Part 1

"Still Out There"

Written by: revery

Plot: Post-"Truth" After the death of his father, 18 year old William Van De Kamp receives a message from a mysterious man saying that his real father, Fox Mulder, has died. William sets out in a search for his biological parents and discovers the truth they worked so hard to uncover.

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Files or anything that has been created by Chris Carter or 1013 Productions. I only worship.

Part 1: "Finding"

Van De Kamp Farm

Outside of Pine Bluffs, WY

May 28, 2019

"Is our universe not just a white blood cell in a human body? As the universe expands and contracts, it's simply the pulse of a beating heart."

A paper airplane crashes into the wall and tumbles to the carpeted floor. From his bed, an 18 year old boy sighed as he ran a hand through his thick auburn hair. He picked up a piece of paper from a stack on his nightstand and began folding another airplane. His room was littered with about twenty more paper airplanes, some smushed at the nose, all lifeless on the floor. The boy held the newly made paper airplane in his hands and began to shake. His shoulders shook as tears run down his face. He balled up the paper in his hand and threw it across his room. Sniffling he wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"Will?" A soft voice called from his bedroom door along with a soft knock.

"What?" the boy replied.

The door creaked open and a young woman with light brown hair and hazel eyes stuck her head in seeing him on his bed. "It's time to go."

William nodded and slid off his bed. He picked up a coat from his bed and put it on. The woman gave him a smile that was meant to be encouraging but her teary eyes made it more sad than helpful. She led him out of his room and down the stairs and out his front door where a black limo was waiting.

"Aunt Bridget?" Will touched her elbow. "Where's Mom?"

Bridget smiled again, "She went ahead with Grandpa Tom and Uncle Peter. I'm going to ride with you."

He nodded mutely and held the door open as she climbed into the limo. Will looked around the farm he grew up on before he followed her.

The hour-long limo ride to the cemetery was uneventful. Bridget kept trying to make conversation but Will's listless one-worded responses made her finally give up 20 minutes in.

Once at the cemetery, Will sat between his crying mother and Bridget. The reverend was speaking but Will didn't hear him. He stared off into space until he saw off in the distance standing next to a tall willow tree, a man in a hat and long coat, staring straight at him. Will frowned and shook his head, returning his attention to the casket in front of him.

"As we commend the body of Jonathan Van De Kamp into the Earth, we are reminded of his enthusiasm and love of life, a hard-working and friendly man survived by his loving wife, Marta, his son, William, his sister Bridget and brother-in-law, Peter, and his father-in-law Tom, as well as a close circle of friends. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the reverend concludes.

Next to Will, his mother let out a long, shaking sob and gripped her son's hand hard. The rest of the standing funeral part began to leave and murmur amongst themselves. His maternal grandfather, Tom, gripped him on the shoulder. "I'm going to take your mother home," he whispered hoarsely into his ear. "Are you coming?"

Will looked up at the man at the tree again. "Um, I'll be there later. I want to stay here for a little bit."

Tom started to speak but closed his mouth and nodded instead, patting his grandson's shoulder. "Come on, Marta," he took his daughter and led her away.

"Are you sure you want to stay, William?" Bridget asked.

Will glanced over her shoulder at the man, "I'm sure."

"We'll ride in the limo home. Here are Uncle Peter's car keys, be careful."

"I will Aunt. Thank you."

Bridget smiled at him one last time before following her father and sister to the limo. Will turned back to the casket and reached out and ran his fingers over it. The polished mahogany wood was smooth under his fingers. Caskets had stopped being made nearly 5 years ago as a result of tree depletion and the fact that mostly everyone who died was cremated. But his father was a traditionalist and his will stipulated that he be buried in the Van De Kamp family plot.

When Will was certain that everyone had left he dared to look up. The man was still standing under the tree. William left his father's casket and began to walk towards the man. Will stood about 5 feet away from the man. "Who are you?"

The man didn't raise his head, but replied, "Are you William Van De Kamp?"

Will glared, "I asked you a question first."

The man gave a small, amused smirk, "You're a lot like he was."

"Who?"

The man raised his head, "Your father."

"Funny, people usually say we aren't… weren't, very much alike."

"No, I suspect they do say that. But I'm talking about your real father."

"I just came from my father's funeral, man. Show some frickin' respect. So unless you tell me who you are and why you were staring at me, I'm leaving."

"First of all boy, you came to me."

"You were staring at me!"

"I know. My name is Shaker, but by the look on your face I know you know that isn't my real name and that I'm not going to give it to you. I came to tell you that your father is dead."

"I think I know that." He gestured to the grave.

Shaker gave another half-smile but didn't stop, "I have come on behalf of a party who believes that your identity has been compromised and that your life may be in danger."

"Hold on, this is... My father's name is Jonathan Van De Kamp and he just died of a brain tumor three days ago… and you're trying to tell me that my real father is dead."

"I may have jumped to a conclusion saying you're like your father."

"What's this about people are coming after me because of who I am? Who am I?

I'm not even that popular at school and there are only 400 kids there."

"It's more like who you were and what you may know."

"Okay cryptic guy, I'm walking away now."

Shaker reached out and grabbed Will's arm. "I'm telling you this so you know what's going to come."

Will shook him off, "Whatever man," and walks away.

That night, Will stood in front of his mother's bedroom. Marta Van De Kamp was sitting on the edge of the bed she shared with her husband, staring at the wall.

"Mom?"

Marta stirred and looked at her son. "Oh Will, when did you get home?"

"A little while ago," he told her.

"Oh, okay. Are you hungry?"

"Not really. What about you? You should eat."

"No, I'm not hungry and I don't think I could eat right now."

"Will you eat later?"

"Sure, hon."

"Mom… was there ever anything about Pop that you never told me about? Like he was someone else?

Marta shook her head, "I know you and your father didn't have much in common, Will, but he loved you very much. Always remember that."

"No, Mom, I know. He told me everyday, I'm just…"

"It's all right, honey," she patted his leg.

Will sighed. He knew she was still too distraught to answer any crazy questions. He stood up and leaned over to kiss his mother on the head. "Get some sleep okay?" He walked out of her room.

Downstairs, Will walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. Bridget brought him a glass of soda and her cup of tea and sat with him.

"Is your mom sleeping?"

"No, she's sitting on her bed staring at nothing. You think she'll be okay?"

"Give her time, William. She loved your father very much," Bridget reassured him but she did seem a bit worried. "And how about you? Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah…" Will replied. He remembered the conversation with Shaker earlier. "Aunt Bridget?"

"Hmm?"

"Some… Is there anything my parents ever kept from me?"

"Like what?"

"Like a secret."

"I'm sure you have things you haven't told your parents," She said sipping her tea. "Say having your friends over when your parents were out of town last year? Something like that?"

"Okay, that's completely different and irrelevant."

"It's a secret."

"I meant something like… about me… a secret they kept from me about me."

Bridget's eyes blink rapidly and she sips from her mug. "I don't know what you mean," she said nonchalantly.

Will noticed the slight tightness in her body movements and decided to press her. "You do know something. Tell me what it is. Is it about my father?" He paused. "My real one?"

Bridget sighed and set her mug down. She looked her nephew in the eyes. "William, I promised your parents I'd never say anything."

"Then it's true," he said, looking down at the table. "My mother had an affair."

"What? No… Now it's not that. Your mother and father, not long after they were married Marta became pregnant. It was a very tough pregnancy and she miscarried. She miscarried four more times before your father said no more and your mother had a hysterectomy…"

William sat back in his chair, "I'm adopted."

Bridget nodded, "Yes. Oh William I'm so sorry."

William chuckled sardonically, "For what? My parents adopted me and they never told me. Then some guy comes up to me after my father's funeral and tells me that my real father died too," he pushed himself away from the table and stood up. "This is like some sick soap opera."

Bridget furrowed her brows, "Some guy? Who?"

Will shrugged, "He called himself 'Shaker'. He was real cloak and dagger without the dagger."

Bridget's expression remained serious, "And he told you about your real father?"

"Only that he died and that I could be in danger because of who he is or who I am… Something like that."

Bridget pursed her lips. They were both silent for a few minutes. "Will, you should go to bed. It's been a long day."

"But…"

"Good night Will."

"Night, Aunt Bridget."

Will had just begun to drift into an uneasy sleep when he heard noises coming from the bathroom in his room. He bolted upright and grabbed his father's old metal baseball bat. He pushed the door open with the end of his bat when Bridget shoved him back into his room.

He stumbled backwards, "What the hell? Aunt Bridget, what are you doing?"

"Shh!" She silenced him and threw a pair of his jeans at him "Put these on."

Will stared at her. She was fully dressed in pants and a sweater, but what Will was noticing most was the gun in her hand. "What time is it?"

Bridget turned to him, "William, you have to listen to me, okay?"

"Aunt Bridget?"

"You need to leave… Now."

"Are you being funny? What's happening?"

"I'm serious here, William. You meeting that man wasn't an accident, they knew Jonathan had died, they probably facilitated it, but that doesn't matter. All that does is that you get as far away from here as possible."

"They? They who? Aunt Bridget, I don't understand..."

"You won't and…"

The sound of squealing breaks cut her off and Bridget went into the bathroom and Will followed her. She pulled back the shower curtain revealing a dead body of a young man similar to Will.

"What the…"

"Grab the shoulders," she instructed him.

Will's face is contorted in a sick grimace but he does as his aunt said and heaved the body up and followed her into his room.

"Set it on the bed," she said to him. "Here," she shoved his father's old duffel bag into his arms and began to pack his clothes into it. She checked her gun and placed it in there as well.

"Now I want you to climb out the window and try not to be seen. Peter's truck is behind the barn. Drive through the field until you hit the road, and keep driving. No matter what happens, don't stop." She pushed him to the window and he climbed through it, she handed him his bag.

"Wait, what about my mom?"

"I'll take care of her."

"I don't… I don't understand…"

"Things will get clearer. I promise." Bridget looked around and grabbed a piece of paper, quickly she scribbled on it. She pressed it into his hand, "And William, don't trust anyone."

Will sped away as fast as the truck would go and when he finally looked in the rearview mirror he could see his home ablaze in the distance.

Navajo Reservation

Two Grey Hills, NM

3:06 pm

Will fingered the piece of paper his aunt had given to him. He looked at the writing then at the address, he was in the right place. He walked up to the old house and knocked on the door. The door slid open and there in the doorway stood a bronze-skinned young woman. She had a braid of black hair that reached her buttocks. She was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and a mildly annoyed expression until Will realized he was staring.

He cleared his throat, "Does Albert Hosteen live here?"

"Who are you?" She demanded.

"My name's Will Van De Kamp, I was given this address and this name."

"Who gave it to you?"

"Someone. Look, does he live here or not?"

"He's around," the girl replied

"Can I talk to him?"

"It'd be kind of hard since he died over 20 years ago." She crossed her arms over her chest and raised her eyebrows. "Can you speak to the spirits?"

"What?"

She sighed irritated, "I asked if you could commune with the spirits, if you can do that then you can talk to Albert."

Will tilted his head, "He's dead?"

"You catch on quick enough," she said. "You said your name was Will, like William?"

"Yeah."

"Come on in then. There might be someone you can talk to."

"Are they alive?"

She looked at him, a smile played around his lips. "Yeah… jackass," she muttered.

He followed her in through the house. A man in his late forties sat in a chair in the middle of the living room. He looked like the girl, the same bronze skin and black hair; only his was streaked with gray and came to his shoulders. The girl spoke to him in what Will could only guess was Navajo.

The man looked up at him with a hint of a smile. "Will, it's good to meet you. My name is Eric Hosteen. You look like him."

"Like who?"

"The FBI man."

"The FBI man?" Will repeated, confused.

The Navajo man nodded, "He came here once, a long time ago. Albert saved his life."

Will swallowed, "What was his name?"

"I knew him only as the FBI man."

"Oh," Will looked down in disappointment. "I came looking for Albert Hosteen. I didn't know he had passed."

"That was a long time ago too. Albert was a great man. He believed in a person's spirit. You can be prayed over only so much, it is your spirit that determines how long you will go on. He believed in the FBI man's spirit."

"He sounded like a holy man."

"Only as holy as the next, he would say. But yeah, I guess you would call him a Medicine Man."

"I was sent here to find answers. I need to find my father."

The girl spoke in Navajo again to the man. He replied and waved her away. He looked at Will.

"Albert told me about the FBI man and his partner before he died."

"Do you know where he is? This FBI man? Can he help me find my father?" "Your father is the FBI man," Eric told him.

"He is?"

"Yes, but I don't know where he is now."

Will's face fell, "You don't? What about his partner? Would he know?"

"I can only tell you that your journey begins here. Albert said that we would help the FBI man again, but I'm not the one that will help you."

"What? Why not?"

He gestured and for the first time Will noticed that Eric didn't have the rest of his legs from the knee down. "Bad accident seven years ago." He then gestured to the girl, "This is my daughter, Madeline. Together you will make this journey."

The girl, Madeline, spoke in Navajo again. This time she sounded angry. Eric replied calmly. He turned back to Will, "You two must be careful because once this journey begins it won't stop until you found what you are supposed to. That includes you, daughter."

Will shook his head, "I don't know where to begin."

"East to where the FBI once held their headquarters. It should be easy to find."

"I don't know where that is."

"Washington D.C.," Madeline replied. "In Maryland. That's where we start."

Eric nodded, "Leave now before it gets dark, it will take two days to get there."

Madeline left the room and returned with a bag. Will looked at it, puzzled. "We knew you were coming, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Will said. He nodded to Eric. "Thank you."

Eric nodded as well, "I hope you find what you are looking for."

Will turned and opened the door. He let Madeline go before him and took her bag.

"Madeline," Eric called to her. Both her and Will looked back. He said something to her in Navajo and she nodded then she and Will left.

Once outside Will opened the truck door for her. "What did he say to you?" he asked before she got in.

Madeline looked at him. She repeated the phrase in Navajo.

"What's it mean?"

Her brown eyes bore through his. "Trust no one," she replied.

Interstate 40 East

10 hours later

1:37 am

Madeline sighed, "Do you want me to drive?"

Will shook his head.

"You've been driving 8 hours straight. And you drove all night from Wyoming to New Mexico. At least let me drive part of the way."

"It's okay, I'm fine."

"No you're not."

"Did the spirits tell you that?" He asked rather mockingly.

"No," she said with a glare. "The fact that you have circles the color of asphalt under your eyes and keep swaying off the road every couple of miles tells me that." She said. "Ass," she added as an after thought."

"At least let me get to Oklahoma City."

"We won't make it to Oklahoma City the way you're driving."

He grumbled under his breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Madeline rolled her eyes and looked out the window. Out of the corner of her eye she caught Will's head drooping down. She shook him harshly.

"What!" Will snapped up and glared at her. "I'm fine."

"Pull over. I am driving."

He growled but complied and they switched places. No more than ten minutes later he was asleep.

Outside of Nashville, TN

May 31, 2019 2:54 pm

They made it as far as Nashville before pulling over for food. Will awoke in the truck in the parking lot of a truck-stop diner. He got out and stretched before heading into the diner.

Madeline was sitting in a booth looking over a road map. She looked up to see Will slide in. "Hey, you're awake."

"Yeah, where are we?"

"Nashville, or just outside of it. I'm trying to see how much further to Maryland. You know it's going to be kinda hard getting into FBI headquarters. I know it's just basically a museum now, but it still must be guarded or something."

Will leaned over and looked at the map. "It's probably another 10 hours or so. Straight driving, no traffic."

The waitress came over and handed Will a menu. "What to drink?"

"Coffee," He and Madeline both replied.

"This is the only place in Tennessee that still serves black bean coffee honey," the waitress said with a proud smile. Will nodded and she left to get their drinks. Will opened his menu, a moment later something hit the menu. Will looked down and saw a tiny paper airplane. Trying to be inconspicuous he palmed it. Madeline was reading the map so he opened it under the table.

Don't turn around. Excuse yourself and walk towards the restrooms. The note read in tiny script.

Will fought every instinct to turn around. Instead, he coughed and excused himself from the table. When walking towards the back of the diner he caught a glimpse of a familiar light-brown head of hair. He walked towards it.

"Aunt Bridget?"

"Quietly, William," She replied in a hushed voice. "Sit."

Will slid into the booth across from her, glancing over at Madeline as he did. She was still engrossed in the map. "Aunt Bridget…"

She held up a finger to stop him. "Listen, after you eat, go to the Rest 9 Motel down the street. Get one room and after you're settled in, come back outside. Here," she passed a tiny plastic baggie with a fine powder in it. "Slip this into the girl's drink."

"What is it?"

"Sleeping aids. She'll be out in an hour."

"But…"

But she stood up abruptly and left.

Will looked down at the small baggie she had given him. He pocketed the baggie and headed back to the table where Madeline was still pouring over the map.

"I'd ask if everything went well only that might be overstepping the boundary since we've only known each other for a few hours," Madeline said not looking up.

"Huh? Oh yeah…" Will shifted uncomfortably. He reached over and took her coffee cup. As inconspicuously as he could he emptied the contents of the baggie into it. He stirred it with her straw.

Madeline looked up, "That's my coffee," she said.

"Oh!" He smiled and gave it to her. "Sorry."

She frowned, "You okay? You look like you just stepped into a snake den."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "You wanna get outta here?"

"Yeah we should get going." She gulped down the rest of her coffee and made a face. "Man that's terrible stuff."

Will faked an uneasy laugh as he dropped some bills on the table. He watched her stand next to the truck, waiting for him by the driver's side. "I'll drive," he offered when he got outside.

Madeline leaned her head against the window as Will pulled into the Rest 9 Motel. She looked up. "What are we doing here?"

Will shut off the truck, "I think we should get a room."

"Why?"

"Because we still got a ways to go and we could both use some good sleep," he said.

She was quiet for a moment then nodded, "I guess we're okay here for a little bit."

"Great," he said.

They grabbed their bags and checked in. The room had two double beds and Madeline dropped her bag and sank into one of them gratefully. She grinned sheepishly at Will.

"When I was younger my dad would take me camping and we'd pitch a tent and sleep under the stars all night and he'd tell me stories that had been passed down from Albert to him." She paused. "Right before he lost his legs he wanted to go camping. I didn't. He told be that I had become too spoiled. Needed TV and electricity and a comfy bed. I told him that he never wanted a daughter, that he wished I was a boy and that he treated me like one. He didn't talk to me for three days afterwards." She sighed and closed her eyes. "When he lost his legs and was in the hospital I slept outside under the stars until he came home."

"My Pops," Will started, "wanted me to be like him. He wanted me to take over the ranch and take care of everything like he did but I didn't want to. I wanted to be a doctor or an astronaut or something. I hated being there sometimes, it was like I knew I belonged somewhere else, and now…"

Madeline cocked her head, "Now what?"

"Now I miss it. I miss him, and I miss my mom." He shook his head angrily, "And if there weren't people telling me that my life was in danger I wouldn't care about finding my real parents. They gave me up."

"You don't think it was for a good reason?"

"I don't care. My parents, they were good parents, and they loved me. I guess that matters more now that I don't have them anymore."

They were both quiet for a long time. Madeline sighed.

"What is it?"

"I think that is the way things are. You don't appreciate what you have until you don't have it."

An hour later, Madeline was fast asleep and Will crept out of the room. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon and Will looked out at it. Suddenly someone tapped him on the shoulder. He whirled around and the desk clerk was standing there. He held out a small computer PDA.

"Here," he said gruffly.

"What is it?"

"Some woman paid me fifty to give it to you, kid. I didn't ask."

Will took the PDA and thanked the man. The man left and Will turned on the device. Right away a message appeared on the screen.

Hello William, it read. I'm sorry I'm not there but something has come up. This PDA is untraceable and you'll be able to contact me through email only if you need me. I know you still don't understand but I promise that you will soon enough. And William remember: don't trust anyone.

William frowned at the last sentence. The same thing she had last said to him back home. The message deleted itself and a new one popped up. An address- 1121 E. Oak Park, Baltimore, Maryland.

3 Hours Later

"Why exactly are we going to Baltimore? I thought we were supposed to go to D.C.," Madeline asked.

William didn't answer right away. As soon as he got back to the room he roused Madeline awake and they left. Now he was speeding along the highway.

"Hello, Earth to William. What the hell is wrong with you?" She asked.

Suddenly William slammed on the brakes and pulled off to the side of the road. He got out of the car and started walking away. Madeline got out and followed him.

He spun around and pulled the gun Bridget had given him aiming it at Madeline's chest. Her body went taut and she stared wildly at him. "Who are you?" He demanded. "Why are you helping me?"

"Are you out of your mind Will?" She said, an edge of alarm in her voice. "What's wrong with you?"

"Answer the question!" He yelled emphasizing the gun he had pointed at her.

Madeline forced herself to calm down as she held his gaze, "You already know the answers, Will. You have to make the next choice."

Will tightened his grip around the gun as it shook in his hand. Slowly, he lowered it. Madeline dared to inch closer. "God, what's wrong with me?"

Madeline's face showed a moment of empathy for him. "Nothing's wrong with you. You got put into a situation you can't control and it's hard to see what the truth is and what isn't."

"Stop it! Dammit!" He yelled. Will squatted on his haunches and put is head down between his knees. His arms were up over his head, his finger no longer hovering over the trigger of the gun. His shoulders shook violently. "I don't understand any of this. What am I doing? Chasing a ghost?"

Madeline did nothing. Her chestnut-brown eyes shone with tears and the frown on her face expressed sympathy for the boy.

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, "Its okay." They got back into the car and started off again. "So," Madeline said after a few minutes. "You want to tell me where we're going?"

"Baltimore. There's someone there who might be able to help us with where to go next," Will replied.

Madeline nodded but was quiet the rest of the ride

Bellevue Rest Home

1121 E. Oak Park, Baltimore, MD

June 1 9:00 am EST

"You're the first people to visit Mr. Skinner since he came here six years ago," a blond-haired nurse said as she led Will and Madeline through the rest home.

"Well, we wanted to see him before we left," Madeline replied.

The nurse turned and smiled at them, "He's a terribly sweet man," she said. "It's a shame though."

"What's wrong with him?" Will asked.

"Why his Alzheimer's of course," the nurse told him. "It was already in advanced stages so the doctors couldn't treat it. Didn't you know?"

Will stammered, "Uh, yeah. I mean, it's been a long time since I've seen, Uncle uh, Walter."

The nurse clucked her tongue, "Oh well, at least you could find time to come down."

Madeline nudged Will. "They get you with the guilt trips here," she whispered.

"How long have you been married?" The nurse asked.

"Excuse me?" Will coughed.

The nurse looked at them. "You two, you're such a lovely couple, how long have you been together?"

"Three years," Madeline answered quickly. "We've been married three years."

"That's wonderful," the nurse said. She stopped at the entrance of a large room. Sunlight flooded in through a large window that looked out into a garden. An elderly man sat in front of the window in a wheelchair. "Here it is," the nurse said, ushering them in. She walked over to the man in the wheelchair. "Mr. Skinner? Your nephew and his wife are here to see you."

Walter Skinner looked up, "Is it dinner time, Sharon?"

"Not yet Mr. Skinner and my name is Valerie. Will and Madeline are here, don't you want to say hello?"

Skinner shrugged. "Why not?"

Valerie turned to Will and Madeline, "Go on and sit with him," she told them and left.

Madeline pushed Will forward and he cleared his throat. "Mr. Skinner?"

The elderly man looked up at him and knit his grey brows, he spoke in a soft whisper, "Mulder?"

Will cleared his throat, "Mr. Skinner, my name is Will Van De Kamp. I need your help."

"Agent, I suggest you cool it for a little while. Go home, there's nothing you can do here," Skinner said to him.

Will blinked back stinging tears. "Um… Mr. Skinner, I'm Will, William."

Mr. Skinner gave a small smile. "You're older."

"You know me?"

"No. But you look like him."

"Who? My father? Who is he? Where is he?"

"I don't know where they went son. I haven't seen them in 18 years."

"My parents," Will breathed, "Please you have to tell me where they are."

Skinner looked at Madeline, "Could you close the window Sharon?"

Will bent down, his hand on Skinner's knee, "Please, Mr. Skinner…"

"I don't know where they went!" Skinner yelled. "I helped them, yes, and I'll accept the consequences but I will not be intimidated into serving your so-called cause. You'll just have to find them on your own."

"Will," Madeline said softly, "He doesn't know."

Will ignored her and kept prodding the older man. "What about someone else?"

"You'll have to ask Agents Reyes and Doggett. I can't answer for them," Skinner said to him.

"Who are they?"

"If that's all you have to say to me Mr. Linde, I'd like to leave now," Skinner turned away from Will.

Will looked as if he was about to cry. He shook it off and spun around stalking away from Mr. Skinner and Madeline.

Madeline looked helplessly at the now vacant-faced Skinner then chased after Will.

Will was outside at the car when she got to him. He slammed his fists down on the bed of the truck. "God dammit!" He shouted.

"Hey," Madeline put her hand on his arm. "you okay?"

Will nodded but didn't look at her. "I'm sorry about that."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, just… Nothing."

"Remember the whole deal with the gun and the trust issues? I thought we were going to start working on that."

"It's nothing. My Pops was like that before he died. He was in the hospital and everyday I went there to see him he… he wouldn't remember who I was. He'd call me Cooper sometimes, who was his younger brother. Or when he would remember me, it'd be when I was a little boy. But most of the time, he just plain wouldn't remember me at all." Will sniffled and wiped his nose and eyes with the back of his hand. "So I guess this was a dead end."

"Not really," Madeline mused. "He mentioned the names Reyes and Doggett, that could be something."

"He was just rambling. They do that."

"I don't know. I looked up his name on the internet with your PDA, while you two were talking. His name came up as Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the Former FBI. He retired after announcing that he had Alzheimer's disease."

"You used my PDA?"

"I didn't think you'd mind."

Will shrugged, "I don't."

"Okay then, anyways. We could look up the names Doggett and Reyes in association with the FBI."

"That's a long shot."

"But the only shot we have. These people may have known your father."

"Because they were in the FBI?"

"Maybe."

It took Madeline a moment to type in the query on the PDA. Seconds later she got a hit. "Special Agent Monica Reyes and Special Agent John Doggett spoke out today at a rally held by Agents of the FBI," she read. "Those in attendance protested the merger of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and the National Security Agency. 'This National Protection and Investigation Bureau is an outrage' says John Doggett, formerly a NYC police officer, 'by merging these two companies together, we as Americans have signed a death warrant.' Agent Monica Reyes added to this citing, 'This is another attempt to hide truths from not only Americans but everyone on Earth.' The two were later arrested and posted bail this afternoon." Madeline read.

"So they were Agents?"

"I guess… Oh listen to this, 'The bodies of Monica Reyes and John Doggett were found early this morning after a fire erupted in their house.' Damn, the date on this was December 12, 2012."

"When was Walter Skinner admitted into the hospital?"

"Um… seven years ago… 2012… what are you thinking?"

"Nothing…"

"You're thinking that's more than just a coincidence."

"Like maybe they weren't killed in that fire."

"Or aren't dead?"

"Then how do we find them?"

"I don't know! He didn't tell us anything."

"Maybe he did. He was an Assistant Director of the FBI. You don't get that just by being a regular Joe. He said the names Doggett and Reyes on purpose. What else did Mr. Skinner say? Any other names?"

"He kept calling you Sharon… he called me..."

"Linde?"

"That's it, Monica and John Linde." Two seconds later, "Here! John and Monica Linde- Schenectady, NY. They aren't that far."

"Great. We'll get another car… I think that you should go along to D.C, without me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"It'll look less suspicious if it's only you going."

"How would it look less suspicious?"

"Well, you're better way at lying than I am." When she raised her eyebrows, he added quickly, "It makes more sense to split up. Besides, someone might recognize me if they knew my father.

"Because you look like him?"

"Right, if you find anything just call me."

Madeline glared at him for a moment then consented, "Fine. Be careful."

"You too."

Linde Residence

Schenectady, NY

June 1 3:45 pm

Will stood shifting from one foot to the other in front of the door. These may be the people who could give me answers about my father and mother. Not just cryptic messages and claims that I look like my father, He thought. Will took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

A moment later, an attractive older woman answered the door. Her dark brown hair was gray around her hairline and her grayish green eyes sparkled youthfully.

"Um, Mrs. Linde?" He stammered.

Mrs. Linde didn't give Will time to finish his sentence, she held her hand to her chest and gasped sharply. "Oh my…" She turned around and called out, "John!" She stepped aside to let Will in. "Please come in."

Mr. Linde, or John, came up behind them. He was an older man, his hair white and gray yet still fashioned in the crew cut that Marines wore in the last 30 years. "What?" He asked in a raspy New Yorker accent. His blue eyes penetrated Will. "Who's this?"

"Put your glasses on."

"Okay, Okay…" He pulled down a pair of spectacles from the top of his head and looked through them, "Oh… well, this is a surprise…"

"Not if you think about it."

"Monica, don't start with that."

"Come on, everything has to come full circle sooner or later. It's a law of nature."

Will cleared his throat awkwardly hoping to regain the attention of the squabbling adults. He succeeded and they looked at him. "Um… is this a bad time?"

Mrs. Linde smiled, "Oh no, he's always like that."

"So are you," Mr. Linde retorted.

She pawed him, "Quiet down, John."

It was the second time Mrs. Linde had called him that, so Will took a chance, "You worked for the FBI didn't you?"

Mr. and Mrs. Linde stared at him for a moment. "How do you know that?" Mr. Linde asked with a quiet threatening.

"I need your help." Will said. "I need to find my parents and so far you two are the only ones I know who might have known them."

Mrs. Linde and Mr. Linde looked at each other for a moment until Mrs. Linde took Will by the hand. "Come on," she said. "We have a lot to talk about."

J. Edgar Hoover FBI Museum

Washington D.C.

June 1 12:12 pm

Madeline wandered with the tour group through the museum. It really wasn't much of a museum. There were mainly photographs on the wall of long dead important people and propaganda for the NPIB. Madeline dimly remembered when the National Security Agency and the Federal Bureau of Investigation merged. She remembered that her father said that they wouldn't have any more Feds on the reservation, but saying that it might not be a good thing.

She remembered a being at a meeting with her dad, a meeting between the Reservation president, the Deputy Director of the FBI and the newly appointed Director of the National Protection and Investigation Bureau. Her people were all angry about something, something having to do with a code. An old code, Madeline had assumed was the Navajo code from WWII. But this was a different code, one that Eric later taught her.

Madeline drifted from the group as they neared the gift shop. She retraced her steps back to the flight of stairs she earlier noted. She descended the stairwell until she got to the basement, where Eric told her the FBI man would've had his office.

She pushed open the unlocked door to the office. She tried the switch on the wall and the fluorescent lights overhead flickered but remained on. There was nothing in the room save for a desk and three filing cabinets. She tried the filing cabinets first, going through each drawer, finding nothing but dust.

She stood over the desk and continued her ransack through the drawers. She came up with two broken, chewed-on pencils and a penny and dime that were fused together.

"Dammit," she swore under her breath. Suddenly, down the hall she heard the elevator ding and footsteps approaching. Quickly, she ran towards the open door and shut off the light; she walked out of the room and turned so that hopefully the person didn't see her.

"Excuse me?" The person called out.

Madeline pretended not to hear and just kept walking towards the stairs.

"Miss? Hey!" the man called after Madeline as she walked away in a hurry.

She looked back and broke into a run. He jogged to catch up to her and grabbed her arm. She struggled against him. "Settle down," he said more forcefully restraining her. "What are you doing down here?" He asked.

Madeline looked at him. He was tall, had brown eyes and dark blonde hair. He was wearing a suit and was good-looking. "I'm…" Madeline looked helpless for a moment. "I got lost on the tour."

"The tour only goes through the first and second floors," the man said, cocking an eyebrow. "We're in the basement."

"Well, what are you doing down here?" She challenged.

"I work for the NPIB," he replied. "Now come on, you're coming with me." He took her by the arm and led her out of the room. "What's your name?"

She answered him in Navajo and he stopped. He sized her up and asked her the question again, only this time in Navajo. "Haash yinílyé?

It was her turn to be surprised. "You understood me?"

He smiled, "A little. I know the words 'stupid', 'white' and 'pig' were in that sentence somewhere."

Her cheeks flushed. "Are you din-neh-ih?"

He shook his head, "No. But I worked in a field office out of the Navajo Reservation in Arizona. Is that where you're from?"

She didn't answer him.

"Look, I know you speak English, so you can't play the 'no habla' card with me," he told her.

When she still didn't answer he sighed, "Fine." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his I.D. "My name is Agent Arthur Roe. Now, if you tell me your name and what you're doing down here, maybe I'll think about letting you go."

Reluctantly Madeline spoke, "Madeline yinishyé."

He let go of her arm, "Do I get a last name?" She gave him a look and he sighed again. "Right, dumb question. So Madeline no-last-name, what are you doing snooping in the basement of the old FBI building?"

She wasn't sure why she answered him but she did, "I'm looking for someone."

He looked around, "Nobody's down here. The last person who had this office is long gone."

She widened her eyes. "Someone actually worked down here?"

"Yep. So who are you looking for?"

"I don't actually know," she confessed. "I don't even have a name."

"But you knew they worked here?"

"Right, more than 18 years ago."

"That's before my time." He leaned up against the wall. "Okay, so what do you know?"

Madeline glowered at him, "Why are you helping?"

"I have nothing better to do at the moment. And if it's important enough to you to find this person who worked here that you're snooping around a dingy basement, then I might as well, right?" Agent Roe gave her a little half smile.

"All right," she nodded.

"Come on, we can sit in the office," he said. She followed him back into the office and he pulled two dusty chairs up. They sat, "So, what do you got?"

"There used to be a man, a woman too I think, they worked here on unexplained cases."

"The X-Files?" Roe widened his eyes.

"I don't know."

"Wow, the X-Files are… legendary, part of the reason why I wanted to join the Agency was because of those."

"You work on those cases?"

"The X-Files was shut down permanently17 years ago. The last Agents who worked on it went on with it secretly before they were formally dismissed."

"What were their names?"

"Um… Doggett and Reyes."

Madeline's head snapped up, "John Doggett and Monica Reyes?"

"Yeah. Wow, those two were something. I got the chance to meet them before…"

"Before what?"

"Before they died," he said a little sadly.

"Hmm," Madeline mused. "How long were they with the X-files?

"Oh wow… um, 2001 through 2004. The X-Files was first opened in 1991, I believe."

"How come you know all this?"

Roe looked away sheepishly, "Like I said, I wanted to be on the X-Files. When they told me that there were no X-Files or plans to reopen it, I did some homework."

"Why did they close down the X-Files?"

"That's the thing," he leaned into her conspire-like, "The X-Files had been closed down before, but it was always reopened. In 2004, when they closed it for good, the order came from so high up in the chain of command that there was no way to dispute it."

Madeline played with the hem of her shirt, lost in her thoughts.

Roe looked at her, "Hey, you wanna grab something to eat? We can talk more if you want."

Madeline looked up at him. His face was kind and offering, "Okay," she agreed. "What's good around here?"

Linde Residence

4:06 pm

Will, John and Monica were seated around the kitchen table. Monica was pouring them all tea and sat back down. She shook her head and grinned at Will. "My God I can't believe how much you look like him."

John nodded, "He has her eyes though."

"Yeah and coloring."

Will gave them a tight smile, "Okay, so I'm just gonna take a guess and say you two are Monica Reyes and John Doggett."

Monica laughed a little, "I'm sorry, William. Yes, we are."

Will knit his brows together, "You know my name?"

"Yes. I delivered you," she smiled.

Will leaned forward, "Do you know where my real parents are?"

John shook his head, "I'm sorry William, but we don't."

"Oh," Will looked down.

Monica smiled again, "You should stay here tonight though. Go on and put your stuff upstairs, the first door on the left."

"Thank you." Will climbed up the stairs.

When Will left, John sighed and sat back in his chair. "We should tell him."

Monica patted his leg. "I don't think they'd want us to. There's a lot he needs to know first."

John heaved another sigh, "We're getting back into it, aren't we?"

"I don't think we were ever really out of it John."

"No, I suppose not. But I'm definitely getting too old for this."

"Not for me," she said coyly. John leaned over and kissed her softly.

J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building and Museum

Washington D.C.

June 3 6:00am

The elevator bell dinged and the man in the coat and hat stepped off. He strode purposefully down the hall and into the office at the end of the hall. The place was as dank and depressing as he has remembered it. A woman with honey-brown hair and green eyes sat waiting for him behind the old desk. Her body went slightly rigid when she saw him.

"Took you long enough, Shaker," she said.

He glared but smirked just the same. "Why'd you want to meet here? This place holds some bad memories for me."

She seemed to get a rush of satisfaction from hearing about his displeasure. "He's coming."

Shaker frowned, some of his amusement draining away. "Are you sure?"

"I know him, he'll be here. And he'll come alone," she assured him.

"Ah, yes," the amusement returned to Shaker's dark brown eyes. "You know him. Your phenomenon of a nephew."

"I looked after him, waited until he was ready to know," Bridget snapped darkly. "You think it was easy for me not to want to take him right away? Right after my "sister" and her husband got him? No, I had to wait for your bosses' command."

"You think taking him earlier would've been the wiser choice?" Shaker asked.

"He's getting more and more curious about him. About his father. I know he is."

"Now listen to me," Shaker's eyes were hard and had an icy malice that she had never seen before. "I know Mulder. I know him better than anyone on this Earth could ever. Taking his only son any earlier would've provoked him out of hiding, and then the boy would've been with him. Now that my bosses say Mulder is dead, we have nothing to worry about. His allies won't betray him, not even for his son."

"And William's mother?"

"Her too."

Bridget was silent, comprehending all that Shaker had just said. "You don't think Mulder is dead, do you?" She asked him quietly.

Shaker locked his gaze with hers, then turned and Bridget watched him stalk back out of the room, he stopped at the doorway. "Mulder doesn't die," He said. That's why I don't."

Linde Residence

Schenectady, NY

June 3 11:06 am

Will startled himself awake. For a moment, in the haziness of post-sleep he forgot where he was. That he wasn't home on the ranch in his bed that he was instead in some strangers' home on a wild goose chase to find his biological father with a girl he barely knew.

Slowly he rose out of bed. He realized he was in his underwear and old t-shirt. He had been so tired that he had fallen asleep pretty much as soon as he had removed his shoes and pants. He looked around and saw at the foot of the bed on an old chest were his jeans, cleaned and folded, a pair of new socks and underwear and a clean shirt. He gathered the clothes and snuck across the hall to the bathroom.

When Will got downstairs he was surprised to see John at the stove, wearing a chef's apron and Monica reading the paper at the table, sipping at a glass of juice. He smiled, thinking to himself that at his house, the roles would be reversed.

"Oh good, the shirt fit," Monica remarked cheerily when she saw the freshly showered Will enter the kitchen. She picked up an empty glass from the table and poured juice into it.

She held the juice out for Will. "I was afraid it might be too big for you. It's one of John's old shirts, and he's gone up a few sizes over the years."

He smiled gratefully as he took the glass and slid into the seat at the head of the table.

"One size, and barely that," John retorted as he brought two plates of eggs, bacon, and toast to the table, setting one in front of Will and the other at the empty space across from Monica.

Will looked over at John. He pretty much already decided that John was ex-military, as far as he could tell the older man still looked somewhat formidable. Will's gaze trailed back to Monica who rolled her eyes.

"You don't eat?" Will asked Monica.

She shook her head, "I ate earlier. It seems that you're like John and sleep-in on Sundays."

Will nearly choked on his juice. "Sunday?" I thought it was Saturday."

"You slept through Saturday, son," John told him. "Had to keep checking on you to make sure you weren't dead."

Will frowned, wondering how he could sleep through an entire day. Then he remembered the sleeping aid Aunt Bridget gave him. He dumped it into Madeline's coffee and then accidentally drank some so that she wouldn't be suspicious. That coupled with two days of driving cross-country with little sleep would put him in a state of exhaustion. Smart move dumbass, he thought cynically.

Monica smiled, "Eat, okay?"

Will looked down at his food and was suddenly very hungry. He said a quick thanksgiving prayer in his head and dug in. They ate pretty much in silence and when the males were done Monica picked up their dirty dishes and unloaded them into the dishwasher.

"So, Will," John said casually when Monica sat back down. "How did you know who we were?"

Will looked back and forth at both of them. His mother had always said that he had a good sense of people and deep down he knew that the Linde's or John Doggett and Monica Reyes were good people. He also knew that they'd probably be able to tell if he was lying to them.

"A man named Walter Skinner."

He caught the slightly alarmed look they exchanged.

Monica spoke first, her voice was even. "Walter Skinner?"

Will nodded. "I got a message that he would know where to find my parents."

"From?" John asked. Will didn't answer and John wasn't expecting him to. "And he just told you like that?" John asked.

"No. The nurse said he had Alzheimer's so I knew we weren't…"

"Wait, we?" John's eyes narrowed.

Will hesitated, not knowing for certain whether he should tell them about Madeline. "A friend. She's still in D.C."

"So you asked Skinner where you could find your parents?" Monica continued.

"Yeah," Will replied. "He said he didn't know but me and my friend were able to kind of decipher what he was trying to tell me with what he was saying."

John gave a curt laugh. "That'd be Skinner, ever the FBI guy."

Will let himself smile. He leaned forward. "Can you tell me about my parents?"

"What do you want to know?" Monica asked. Her brows were knit in concern but her lovely face was placid and soft.

Will knew that asking for their names right away wouldn't work, at least not with these two, they were former FBI agents at the very least. "Anything."

"Your mother was smart. She was a doctor. And your father was… an idealist," John said.

"They complimented each other in the best ways," Monica finished.

Will couldn't stop the next question from coming out of his mouth even if he tried. "Why did they give me up?"

Almost immediately Monica's peaceful face broke and she became visibly distressed for him, as if she knew what he was going through. Will looked at John and the tough-cop expression was gone, replaced by sympathy.

Will's eyes stung with tears but he was going to hear their answer. John's throat muscles were working overtime as the older man stumbled through his words. "It's not that they didn't love you, Will… your mother…" He stopped and looked over at Monica for help.

"Your mother thought at the time it'd be the best thing she could do for you," Monica said. She smiled and tears rolled down her cheeks. "And she was right."

Will nodded and blinked his tears back. "Until now."

John smirked, "Yeah, until now."

Monica wiped her face with a napkin and smiled at Will. "Why don't you get your things and we'll get your friend in Washington."

"Does that mean you're gonna help me?" Will asked.

"I think we have to, Will," she replied. He nodded and bounded up the stairs. When he was gone, she turned to John.

"What do you think?"

John shrugged, "I'm not. I'm still trying to figure him out."

"What are you talking about? Didn't you see how upset he was?"

"He had a good story Monica."

"That we've bought," she pointed out. "What would he have to gain by lying?" she pointed out.

"I don't think its Will whose gaining anything from all this," he told her, his voice becoming gravely serious. "I think he's being used."

Monica's brows and forehead crinkled in consideration, "He went to Skinner."

"And how did he know to do that unless someone is feeding him names?"

"But also know that Skinner knew where we were?"

"Monica," John put his hand on hers, "Skinner's dead."

"What? When?"

"Yesterday. The visitor records show that this kid and a girl were the last to see him. I waited to tell you until we heard what Will had to say."

"John, you don't think…"

"I honestly don't know, Monica. I want to think that it couldn't be true but…" He trailed off. "I mean, what are the odds that Dana and Mulder's son would show up here on our doorstep? Now? Think about it."

"I admit it's improbable but possible."

"Monica we're supposed to be dead."

"Crazier things have happened, John. Plus he looks…"

"I know, I know. But still, how would he know where to find us? Skinner was the only one who knew. What if someone wants to know where we are? Or worse, where Mulder and Dana are."

"John Doggett, I'd never thought I'd live to hear you say 'what if'."

"Hey, I'm just trying to think like they would."

"I know John. It's just…" She looked up at him, "If Dana thought for one moment that Will was her son, she'd do anything to protect him. Besides, I think he is," she added

"I do too, I'd just like to be prepared for anything." John stood up and began pacing. "So the person who's feeding Will names, knows that Skinner would tell him where we were, that we aren't dead and that we are two of three people who know how to find Dana Scully and Fox Mulder," he deduced.

"And this person knew where to find Will."

"Because they knew he is Dana and Fox's son." John shook his head, "Damn. We gotta get outta here."

"Where are we going to go?"

"D.C. first. We can get a hold of a few things there while we're at it." John picked up his cell phone and punched in a number. "It's Dog," John said as the other line picked up. "I'll meet you at ten till 7. Usual place. Bye."

John hung up and looked over at Monica. He gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster, and she returned it, but in both their gestures there was an exchange of foreboding. They both knew what the other was thinking: all their lives had just taken a huge unexpected turn.

While Will was packing his things he picked up his PDA, noting there were two new messages for him. The voice message was from Madeline.

"It's Saturday and I'm still in DC," Her voice was edgy over the phone. "Did you get answers or more questions? The journey's not over yet. I'm at 555-0329. Call me."

Will smirked to himself, thinking of how Madeline could be in a fret over him. He read the next message, this one from Bridget. Will, it read, I'm hoping this reaches you well and that you're safe at the moment. I hope you got all the answers you needed. Meet me at the old FBI museum in the basement at 7:30 pm on Sunday. I'll see you then.

"Will?" Monica's voice called from downstairs.

Arthur Roe's Apartment

Alexandria, VA

June 3, 5:30 pm

Madeline cracked one eye open. Light flooded in from the window across from her and she remembered she wasn't home. She sat straight up and glanced around the room, trying to recognize where she was. Her head ached from fuzziness.

"Hey, good morning," a familiar voice greeted her. "Or should I say good afternoon?"

Madeline looked over and saw Arthur Roe pulling on a lace-up boot. "What time is it?"

"A quarter past five in the evening. You've been asleep for a while. I don't think you moved," he told her.

"What happened?" She asked.

He grinned as he bent to tie his shoe. "Let's see we went to eat, I had a burger, you had fries and half a sandwich before you passed out into it. Then I brought you here so you could sleep it off."

She frowned, glaring at him a little. "I see," she said dubiously.

He hid another smirk by bending and checking his other boot. "Don't worry," he added, "I was a gentleman."

"I have no doubt," she replied with a little smirk of her own.

"Here," Roe got up and disappeared into the kitchenette, returning with a water bottle and two tablets. "For the nasty headache I'm sure you have," he told her as he handed her the items.

"Come on," Roe said. "I found your car and got your things. You should get dressed, we're going to meet someone."

Madeline frowned. "Who?"

Roe brought out two boxes and set them on the bed in front of Madeline. "Remember how I said I joined the FBI for the X-Files?"

"Yeah," Madeline said slowly.

"I found them," he replied. "Well, some of them. When I realized what I had I contacted Agent Doggett, I became his inside man at the NPIB."

"How long were you with the FBI before it became the NPIB?" Madeline asked.

"Two years. My record was good enough for them to keep me in the NPIB, only 25 former FBI agents were transferred."

Madeline studied Roe's face, he couldn't have been older than 30, if he was that. He answered her before she could even ask her question.

"I graduated from high school when I was 14," he explained. "I was 19 when I got my degree in Behavioral Science and Psychology. I applied to the FBI and was denied twice so I traveled for a year. I applied again when I was 20 and was accepted, I trained for a year and became an Agent, that's when I was stationed in Arizona. NPIB took effect in 2013, and I've been working for them ever since."

"So Agents Doggett and Reyes are alive?" Madeline asked after he finished his little biography.

He nodded, "And that's who we're meeting."

She was beginning to understand. "Did you know I was gonna be there in the basement?"

He shook his head. "No, that was kind of a surprise. But I can guess who you are."

"Really?" Madeline asked, daring him just a little. "How do you know who I am?"

"I told you I worked in the field office on the Navajo reservation?"

"In Arizona, I know," she said.

"It was what you said, or more importantly how you said it." When the bewildered expression on her face didn't waver, he continued. "You said din-neh-ih. That's a code word from World War II, a code that's over 75 years old. So I took a guess and now your face is telling me that I'm right."

Madeline glared at him. "How do you know?"

"Albert Hosteen is in some of the files I rescued, he was a World War II codetalker that helped the two agents before Doggett and Reyes. So you're either from the reservation where Hosteen lived or you're related to him."

Madeline's face went slack but she covered it up quickly. "Okay you're smart." She smiled at him. "I'll go get ready." She took her suitcase into the bathroom with her and turned on the shower. She opened her suitcase and there where she had put it after she took it off of Will when he slept in the car was the gun. She took a quick shower and got dressed, she holstered the gun in her jeans in the small of her back and walked out of the shower.

Roe stood up when she entered the room and made to pick up the boxes, Madeline pulled the gun and pointed it at him before he could. "Don't move." She commanded. "Put your hands up."

"Madeline," Roe said slowly, his eyes flickered from the gun to her eyes. He held her gaze. "What are you doing?"

"How do you know who I am?"

"I told you how," Roe said to her.

"Where's Will?"

"Coming with Doggett and Reyes," he replied.

"And you didn't know who I was until I spoke? And you knew about Albert and the code before, from the X-Files?"

"Right."

Her determination began to falter and he took that opportunity. "I haven't lied to you, Madeline."

"Show me," she gestured with the gun to the boxes. "Show me a file with Albert."

He pulled off the top and thumbed through the files in the box. He found one. He opened it for her to read and read from it himself. " 'I arrived at the residence of Hosteen, Albert, at 1300 in Two Grey Hills on the New Mexico-Navajo Reservation. I inquired about the train car and Albert's nephew, Hosteen, Eric, volunteered to take me.' " He stopped when he saw her lower the gun.

She was silent for a moment. Her face screwed as if she was listening for something. Then she relaxed. "Okay," she said, placing the gun back in the small of her back. "Let's go."

"So you believe me now?"

"No, but Albert just told me to," she replied, leaving him bewildered. He picked up the boxes and followed her out.

J. Edgar Hoover FBI Museum

Washington D.C.

6:50 pm

Will followed John and Monica through the hallways of the old building. They had snuck in through a door that had been propped open in anticipation for their arrival. They proceeded to the elevator and took it up.

"Kinda spooky being back here," John commented once they were inside the elevator.

A smile twitched at the corners of Monica's mouth. The joke was lost on Will, but it didn't matter. They got off the elevator, went down the hallway and turned left into an office. Will's anxiety eased as they entered the office. Waiting there was Madeline, other than the troubled look on her face, she seemed all right. Her head snapped around when the three of them came in and it seemed that whatever that had been previously troubling her was pushed aside and relief washed over.

Madeline stood to go to his side but John spoke first. He held out his hand and for the first time Will noticed the other person standing with Madeline. He was tall, had sandy blonde hair and brown eyes, and was handsome. The good-looking man shook John's hand.

"Arthur," John regarded him.

"John," Roe nodded back. He smiled at Monica. "How are you?"

"We're good, Arthur," Monica replied then looked over at Madeline. "You're Will's friend?"

Madeline's eyes darted at Will then back to Monica. "Yeah. I'm Madeline."

Monica smiled, "I'm Monica, and this is John."

"Now that we're all acquainted," John said, "Art, you brought everything?"

Roe nodded, "We're going where I think we're going?"

John sighed, "Yeah."

Will frowned, "Wait a minute, are you gonna tell me what's going on?"

Monica turned to Will, "All of us meeting wasn't an accident. We have to keep you safe now, and the only way we can do that is to go somewhere where now one will find us."

Madeline snorted, "Right, just like they wouldn't find Will."

John and Monica exchanged a look. "Obviously someone found out," John said.

"Why am I so important?" Will asked.

The three younger people didn't miss another look between the older couple. "What aren't you telling me?" Will asked again, his voice warbled with tension.

"Will we can explain everything later, but right now…" Monica started but Will cut her off.

"Explain it to me now!" He shouted making Madeline and Monica take a step back from him.

Monica didn't get a chance to even open her mouth before Roe snapped his head to the door which caused them all to do the same.

"Quiet," he ordered. "Someone's coming."

He, John and Monica all pulled out a gun from the shoulder holsters on their bodies. "Get back," John barked, hushed, to Will and Madeline. Hours seemed to go by before they heard another noise. It sounded something like the muffled static of a two-way device.

Roe seemed to relax, "It's just the night guard, Mitch." He holstered his weapon. "Stay here, I'll get rid of him." He walked outside, was out of sight for two seconds, when a loud pop was heard and Roe flew back across the hall. A beanbag launcher caught him square in his torso. Suddenly a tear gas grenade was thrown into the room, instantly filling the air with fog.

"Run!" John yelled and the four of them ran through the outer office and into the hall, Monica and John began firing as soon as they got into the hallway. Yelps and shouts could be heard through the smoke, indicating that they were in fact hitting humans.

"Downstairs!" Monica shouted over the gunfire.

Will grabbed Madeline's hand and they raced towards the stairwell. They jumped over Roe's body and Madeline skidded to a halt.

"What are you doing?" Will yelled at her.

It took Madeline a second to check and make sure Roe was breathing. Then she jumped up and took hold of Will's hand again. They pushed through the door and Madeline jerked Will back, "Wait!"

They held the door open, watching Monica and John back slowly towards them, still firing. The air was heavy with gun powder, tear gas fumes and ozone. John's gun clicked empty, he ejected the magazine and fumbled in his pocket for another. In that moment, two metallic fangs attached to wires shot out and latched onto the area between John's neck and shoulder. His body froze, convulsed violently then dropped to the floor where he stayed there immobile.

Monica cried out for her husband and made the mistake of turning when another loud pop occurred and a projectile beanbag came at her. It hit her in the back and her body was roughly forced forward and she landed a few feet from John.

Madeline screamed and Will tugged her away. They flew down the stairs, not looking back until they got to the basement.

"Hold on," Will said, before they took the door out into the underground parking garage. He turned and ran down the hall. Madeline chased after him. He didn't slow until he got to the last office. The office Madeline had been in the previous day.

"What is it?" Madeline asked, out of breath.

"Aunt Bridget?" Will called out into the dark room. Madeline flipped on the light switch for them and the room brightened. They saw no one there.

"Will, let's go," she urged.

Will nodded in compliance and they turned to leave but froze in surprise when they saw a woman standing behind them.

"William!" The woman cried out in relief. "I'm so glad to see you're okay."

"Aunt Bridget?" Will looked relieved as well. "What the hell is going on?"

Instinctively Madeline pulled the gun from the back of her jeans and held it at her side, shielding it from Bridget.

"Will," Madeline whispered to him. "We have to go."

"What are you talking about?" Will asked her, his voice louder than she would've liked.

"She's not…" Madeline was cut off by a swift cuff to the side of her head. Neither of them had noticed a person creeping up behind them. They grabbed the gun so rapidly from her hand and hit her with it that she was already on the floor when Will realized what happened.

"I'm sorry William," Bridget said as she took out a gun and pointed it at him. "You have to come with us now."

Will looked at the man now at his side and recognized him as the man he knew as Shaker. He looked back at his aunt wielding the gun and was stunned when she squeezed the trigger.

Instead of a bullet ripping through his abdomen, a dart embedded itself neatly into his chest. He fell back, knocking his head against the cold, hard floor. Stars exploded behind his eyeballs and the world swirled away into black.

To Be Continued…