"What are you doing here? Where is Mulder?" she shrieked.
"They have him Scully. They want you to come after him so they can take you and then kill you after your baby is born." Krycek said.
"How do you know about my baby?" she asked incredulously.
"Because I know what they know. Please, there's no time for this."
"Tell me where he is. I have to find him—I have no choice."
"Scully, they'll kill him anyway. Go now—tonight—far away from Washington. It's your last hope…your child's last hope."
"I am not leaving him!"
"If you run—I will do my best to get Mulder out of there, OK?"
"No! I don't trust you!"
"Fine, it's your choice—if you must go, if you're willing to take the risk…I'll show you where he is."
"Then show me—let's go," she said firmly.
My legs aren't working. He knew he was awake and experiencing reality instead of a dream, because all of his senses were on high alert. A cold surface, probably metal, was beneath him; and the frigidity sent chills shooting up his spine, since his back was bare. Something was restraining his limbs; when he'd first awakened, he'd panicked, because he had thought he was paraplegic. But he could now feel some sort of heavy strapping material confining him. I want to open my eyes. Why can't I open my eyes? Panic constricted his breathing once more as he realized that his eyes were indeed open, yet seeing nothing. Either his environment was darker than pitch, or he was blind. "HELLO?...WHERE AM I?" he screamed, shocked that he could still produce sound. His voice echoed in the stale, chilly air, revealing that he was in a large space.
"Do calm down, Mr. Mulder. There's no reason to get hysterical. You'll be able to see again in a few hours," a strangely familiar British accent said evenly.
"Who are you?...WHO ARE YOU?"
"We knew each other some time ago. You don't recognize my voice at all?"
"No, you can't be…I watched you die two years ago."
"Oh, Mr. Mulder, how can you really be sure of exactly what you saw? You turned and ran if I remember correctly; there was no body to be found. I showed you exactly what I wanted you to believe."
"But you gave me Scully's location in Antarctica—they killed you because you betrayed them."
"No, 'They' didn't kill me; I've been very much alive for the past two years, I assure you. I staged that little explosion myself."
"But—why?"
"Very well, I suppose you're entitled to a few answers. In short, I was unsatisfied with my colleagues' decisions and plans. I tried to convince them that the project was headed in the wrong direction, but they refused to listen to my suggestions—my answers. So I took the future into my own hands; I chose to help you and Agent Scully, and since I've been 'dead', I have worked on my own agenda—as I should have done long ago. My work has been successful and will soon be complete."
Footsteps echoed nearby, a rusty metal door creaked, and someone approached. "He is awake already? Would you like us to give him a stronger one, sir?"
Mulder recognized the voice of the 'robber' who had injected him with a tranquilizer in the 7-11, though he now had a distinct British accent.
"No, Aaron. You may go. I wish to continue speaking with him alone."
"Yes sir." Footsteps faded away and the door creaked shut.
"Anyway, where were we…oh yes, my new project. You and Agent Scully are very important to my work."
"What are you talking about? Where is Scully? What have you done with her?"
"I have done nothing Mr. Mulder. I hope you'll forgive me, but you've already served your purpose and are no longer of use to me. I'm indulging you in answering questions, but right now, you are merely playing the part of the 'cheese' to Agent Scully's 'mouse'. She'll come looking for you, no doubt, and when she does, it will be time for the next step."
"What do Scully and I have to do with this? Please, if you need someone, take me. Leave her alone."
"For decades, a war has raged between two alien races for possession of this planet: the shape-shifting Greys and what we call the 'fire' race, because of their weapons and burnt faces—"
"I ALREADY KNOW THIS!"
"Now, now, don't be rude. I wasn't finished—I'll get to your answers in a moment. Anyway, the best hope for human survival was to side with the stronger race—the Greys. To begin colonization, humans and aliens must combine to form a single race through genetic hybridization, which my colleagues attempted and failed. The first hybrid cannot be just any person on the planet; it must be a very special and specific individual in order to achieve success.
Before you interrupt again—I am now getting to the part where you and Scully come in. I saved your lives, because I recognized your ability to, together, genetically create a perfect candidate for hybridization. Your irregular brain activity, which you discovered almost a year ago, gives you an inherent sixth sense—even if you don't know how to use it. And it makes you a step closer to Them than an ordinary human. Also, Scully miraculously was the only survivor of the female abductees of Allentown. She defeated the brain tumor and proved the most successful of all the experiments conducted. Combine her genetic potential with yours, and the product would be a child with new strengths and a lack of certain human frailties."
"But…but…We can't even—Scully is unable to conceive. Because of what they did to her—what they took," he stammered
"Ah yes—the ova. They weren't all taken; but we needed her to believe she was barren, so that she wouldn't consider conception a concern when she was with you."
"How the hell do you know…about us?"
"We've been watching you closely, Mr. Mulder—following you. Lake Ninevah really is lovely this time of year, isn't it?"
"You sick fuck!"
"Yes, well… After finally receiving a report from our man who works with her doctor, we're now able to move on with the plan."
"No…you—you're not saying that Scully is…that she's…"
"I'm surprised she didn't tell you."
Mulder drew a shaky breath and felt his sightless eyes sting with tears. Please run, Scully. Just run. Save yourself …and our baby.
The journey south in the car was silent and seemed painfully long. Scully stared out the passenger window blankly, her elbow propped on the ledge under the glass and her forehead resting on her fist. The world became darker as they traveled further and further away from city lights; the only illumination in the countryside emanated from the headlights and the stars twinkling overhead. Open fields stretched on forever framed with blue shadows of mountains on the horizon; and the landscape was occasionally blotted with farmhouses and silos.
"These back roads are taking forever! We're running out of time!" her unsteady, shrill voice fractured the quiet.
Krycek kept his gaze frozen on the two-lane road as he drove.
"It's very close now," he said evenly.
They were somewhere in North Carolina from what Scully was able to gage, and it had taken them over two hours to get this far. Suddenly, Krycek pulled over onto the dirt shoulder next to a wooden fence enclosing a pasture land.
"Where is it?" she asked, frantically looking around at the nothingness that surrounded them.
"You're going to take a right onto that gravel drive up ahead. It leads to an abandoned soap factory. That's where you're going. I'm leaving—you're on your own for now. Here—"
He reached behind his seat, grabbed a flashlight, and handed it to her."—You'll need this."
"A factory…How am I supposed to get in?"
"The main entrances are in the front and back—I'd recommend the smaller ones at the sides. Be careful of the windows. You're probably going to be up against, at most, four others."
Scully nodded, trying to mask her apprehension. She opened the door and looked back at Krycek, unsure if she should thank him or kill him. They locked eyes for a moment before she silently turned, closed the door behind her, and watched the taillights of his rented sedan disappear into the night.
She crept forward as silently as possible in the tall grass beside the gravel path. Her hand was carefully placed over the beam of the flashlight to soften its brightness as she pointed it at the uneven ground beneath her. The only sounds were the chirping of crickets, the occasional hoot of an owl, and her own ragged, frightened breath, which she tried desperately to quiet. The path stretched on into a wooded area of dense trees and underbrush, and every time an animal snapped a twig in the distance, Scully was convinced that the enemy (whoever that may be) had found her.
At last she arrived in a clearing and discovered her destination: a large, dilapidated factory with tall, mill-style windows on each side. An old pick-up truck was parked next to the front entrance of rusty double doors. She turned off the flashlight and remained in the shadows of the trees as she skulked along to face the side entrance of the building, which was merely a small door partially cut into one of the giant windows. After waiting a few moments to check for any signs of life around the ancient factory, she noiselessly scurried into the clearing and crouched below a window, her back against corroded wood. Scully first checked for cameras, and finding none, straightened her knees gradually and turned to peer through the bottom of the window.
A faint violet glow emanated from the darkened room, but there appeared to be no one inside. Slowly and hesitantly, she pulled the heavy door open and jumped as it squeaked slightly on rusty hinges. She stepped into the inky shadows and other-worldly glow of the strange chamber, and dropping to a crouch position, she moved along the walls to explore the room. Several medical tables stood in rows in the center of the space, and the source of the violet glow was a strange lighted sphere that hung from the high, vaulted ceiling. Scully speculated that the light was some sort of warming device, since there was heat radiating from the center of the room. Along the far side by a door were a series of high, metal cabinets that seemed to be interconnected. Out of curiosity, she opened one of the doors to reveal several jars containing multi-colored substances. Taped onto each jar was a label that simply read DNA followed by a four-digit number. Scully glanced up to another shelf and discovered a large collection of needles of various sizes, causing her to shiver.
Her breath caught in her throat when she heard footsteps moving down a corridor in her direction. Two distinct voices became audible as their owners approached the room. Scully searched frantically for a decent hiding place and quickly decided on the cabinets. She crawled into the large lower shelf, moving the jars aside, and hurriedly pulled the door closed behind her. She tried to freeze her breath as the door to the room screeched open. A beam of a flashlight became visible from the other side of the cabinets.
"What the hell do you mean you heard something in here?" a man with a British accent said.
"Look Aaron, I was just walking by in the hall on my watch like I'm supposed to, and there were footsteps."
"You're not buying that this old place is haunted, are you?"
"No…I dunno. I know what I heard, OK? Just wanted to make sure there wasn't an intruder…spiritual or otherwise."
Aaron sighed in annoyance. "Alright, you start on that side and I'll look in the back."
Suddenly, Scully heard a scream that echoed from far away—somewhere below. She recognized it immediately; it was Mulder. The terror she felt caused her to involuntarily suck in her breath and jump slightly. Her knee hit a glass jar beside her, causing it to scoot against the metal door and create a fairly loud scrape. Oh shit. God help me. Get us out of this.
"What was that? Did you hear that?" the other man asked excitedly.
"I heard it. That wall—by the door. Open those cabinets."