Author's note: Sorry this one's a little long, but I needed to get this part out in one go. The quote at the end is from Kahlil Gibran.
These are the End times and the people must know the truth, share what we have taught you. There can be no more secrets now if we are to survive as a thinking species through these times." "This," they say, "must be done because the dream of humanity can only be preserved through the combined efforts of all peoples, and the joining and merging of all cultures into a oneness." --Cho Qosh Auh Ho Oh, a Chumash elder, interprets ancient prophecy.
Elkhart, Kansas
43 days after
"Olli, can you give me a hand out back? We need to chop more wood for the stove."
Katie glanced at Gibson knowingly when he spoke, and then quickly looked away. She grabbed a handful of dry cereal from the box on the table and crunched one piece in her mouth at a time. Despite the fact that it was just past eight a.m., the three of them had been puttering around the house for at least two hours. Rowan was, of course, still in the cellar evidently ogling at walls for all that Gibson knew; he seldom came upstairs save for one meal a day. Katie had spoken to him briefly the day before in an attempt to coax him back to some semblance of normalcy; but she must have given up, because she later explained to Gibson and Olli that they would simply have to wait out this "episode" and leave Rowan his space.
Olli stiffened and pulled his chair back from the table, obviously having some idea of what his friend wanted to discuss privately. Gibson nodded and motioned for Olli to follow him out of the back door.
They walked through the early morning fog in silence, the dewy grasses dampening the legs of their jeans. When they'd reached a fair distance from the house, Gibson stopped, folded his arms, and turned around to face his friend.
"What is this about?" Olli asked defensively.
"What do you think you're doing, Olli?"
"What am I doing?"
"I'm insulted if you think I'm that oblivious."
"Gibson, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Okay, maybe you do think I'm that oblivious, but you seem to have forgotten that I have the ability to read minds."
"Stop it! I hate it when you do that! Stay the hell away from my thoughts!"
"I do, Olli, but there are some things I can't keep from hearing."
"So why don't you just say it?"
"Fine…don't fuck around, and I mean that in both the figurative and literal senses."
"What are you implying?"
"I know you think you love her, but if you act on it, you'll be putting yourself in danger. Whether she's with Rowan or not, he thinks she is, and we all know that he's quite mentally unstable at the moment. And besides, she would hurt you soon enough anyway."
"She has feelings for me. You should know that since you are, as you pointed out, the mind reader."
"I'm not saying she doesn't, it's just that…I want you to be careful."
"Do you not want me to find a little bit of happiness in this fucked-up world? Is that what this is about—misery in company?"
Gibson froze, stunned to silence and deeply hurt. After a few moments, he looked down at his feet and spoke softly.
"Of course I want you to be happy. You're my best friend, and I don't want to see you hurt. That's all."
He turned and began to walk back the way they had come.
"Gibson, wait…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be—I guess I'm just afraid…I promise I'll be careful, okay? And…thank you. I don't think I've ever told you," Olli murmured.
Gibson nodded and continued along the path.
--
Weyburn, Saskatchewan
43 days after
"Mulder!" Dana called as the hunting party crowded into the store carrying bags full of game from the long excursion.
Dana dodged through the group of people and reached out for her husband's arm. He must have instantly recognized the fear in her eyes, because his expression quickly shifted into panic mode.
"Dana, what happened? Is Abigail okay?"
Yes, "Dana" was always reserved for moments of panic.
"She's fine. I'm fine. But I need to talk to you. Can we go outside for a minute?"
"Yeah, sure."
They stepped into the late afternoon sunlight and brusquely walked around the corner of the small brick building.
"What is it?" he asked anxiously.
"Skinner…" she said breathlessly, "It's about Skinner."
"What about Skinner?"
"He's one of Them, Mulder. He's some sort of hybrid or maybe a shape shifter."
"How do you know this? What happened?"
"He had a green stain on his sleeve and I saw a pretty bad cut on his arm."
"So you immediately jumped to the conclusion that he bled green blood?"
"Yes! Especially taking into account everything that seemed strange about him to begin with; now it makes sense."
"Aren't you overreacting a little bit? I'm sure you just saw a grass stain or something, and we all have plenty of cuts and bruises. Why don't you ask him what happened?"
"I did; he said he spilled something."
"Well there you go."
"I cannot believe you're shrugging this off, Mulder! For godssakes, it's me! How can you doubt my instincts?"
"I would never doubt you, Scully. But I think that because we've all been so paranoid about Them, we're likely to see the enemy wherever we look. It's like walking into an old, abandoned house and mistaking a sheet for a ghost; the powers of fear and suggestion control what you perceive as truth."
"No, Mulder, you're the one who's deluding yourself. You want him to be Skinner. You want it be him so badly that you're willing to completely disregard the evidence that's right in front of your eyes!"
Mulder sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
"We're going back to the creek late tonight to fill the rest of the coolers. Skinner volunteered to join us. I'll use that time to observe him closely, and see if there's anything…strange. Okay?"
"No! You can't wander off with him!"
"Three other people are going. Everything will be fine."
"Mulder, don't. Please."
"Scully, I have to go. Look, it'll give me a couple of hours to make sure that Skinner really is Skinner, and then you'll be able to relax about this."
Dana crinkled her brow and pursed her lips out of fear and frustration, and her hands were shaking with nervous energy; he really didn't believe her. I am not crazy!
"Hey," he said softly, "C'mere."
Mulder opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace. For a brief moment, time slowed down as she buried her face in the warmth of his chest. He stepped back slightly so that he could lift her chin with his fingers, and he placed tender kisses on her forehead, nose, and lips.
"Who loves you, baby?" he whispered, "Trust me."
--
Elkhart, Kansas
44 days after
She didn't want to sleep tonight, because she knew she would dream. Every time the night terrors came, she always sensed their presence lingering in the shadows before she drifted off to sleep. Sometimes, she willingly traveled to that place where vision and reality collide, because she wanted to receive the message; but on nights like tonight, she yearned to feel safe. So instead of settling into the high queen-sized bed by herself, she perched on the window seat and gazed out at the darkened, unkempt expanse of fields that must have once been bustling with activity.
I wonder if Olli's sleeping…if he's awake—no, I can't. Rowan will be himself again soon, and he'll need me. It doesn't matter what I want…Some things never change…
As she observed the clear night sky through the little window, she realized that she had unconsciously begun to braid her long, golden hair. Katie smiled in bemusement; when she was a little girl, she used to braid her hair while she was deep in thought. Some habits never die.
The floorboards creaked slightly, so she casually looked back over her shoulder and then instantly gasped and jumped up in surprise. She clutched a hand to her chest and breathed out slowly.
"Rowan, you scared the shit out of me! How long have you been standing there?"
"I'm not blind, you know."
"Excuse me?"
"I've seen you with him. I've watched you…the way you look at him."
"What?"
"You don't look at me that way. Why have you never looked at me that way?"
"Rowan, you're sick. You don't know what you're saying."
"Do you love me, Katie?"
"…Yes."
"You don't. You never have."
"What am I supposed to say?"
"How about—"
He forcefully grabbed her shoulders and hurled her onto the bed before she had a chance to fight back. She tried to knee him in the stomach, but he quickly straddled her body, pinning her to the mattress. With one hand, he held both of her wrists above her head against the wall.
"That you love me—only me. You want to marry me. Make love to me. You want me to fuck you hard," he whispered icily in her ear.
"Rowan, stop. You're hurting me. Please stop."
He reached down between them to fumble with his belt buckle and briefly loosened his grip on her wrists. Katie jerked her arm over, and in less than a second, quickly reached behind the lamp on the end table and snatched the knife. She pointed the tip of the blade into the skin on his throat.
"Get off me," she hissed.
Suddenly, she saw a shift in his focus and a look of terror flash into his cold, blue eyes. He held his palms up and out away from her as he slowly inched off of the bed. The door closed softly behind him, and Katie lay frozen on the bed until she heard the creaking of the cellar door and the descending footsteps.
She stood and smoothed out her long tee shirt, and then dragged a rickety wooden chair across the room, closed the door, and propped the back of the chair against the handle. As she slowly backed away from the door until she fell backwards on the bed, she wept softly.
--
Weyburn, Saskatchewan
44 days after
"Where the hell are they? They should have been back over an hour ago!"
Dana paced the back of the store anxiously, unconsciously piercing crescent shapes into her palms with her fingernails.
"Dana, I'm sure it won't be much longer. Why don't you come back downstairs and wait?" Joe suggested hopefully.
"No…it should have taken two hours at the most, right? Something must have happened."
"I'm sure they're fine. These trips are unpredictable."
"Wait, I see something out front…oh, it's them. It is them. Thank god…" she released a refreshing sigh of release and walked to the front of the store. As she watched the men approach the building, however, fear choked her breath once more. "There's only three…"
Dana began to run and collided forcefully with the glass door as she threw it open.
"Where is Mulder! Where is he!"
Clint, Nate, and Tom exchanged nervous glances.
"We don't know. We split up and went on opposite ends of the creek. One minute, Mulder and that other guy were helping each other get the water into their coolers, and then…we looked up and they were just gone," Clint said flatly.
"What do you mean gone?"
"We spent forever looking for'em. We searched everywhere…all up and down the creek and in the woods. They just disappeared," Nate added softly.
"So you all came back and left him there!"
"We didn't know what else to do," Tom muttered.
"Take me there now. Someone show me the way to the creek!"
"Dana…" Joe said from the doorway.
"Now, goddamnit!"
--
Foreboding dread pounded along with the blood in her ears as she ran. The others shouted her name behind her, calling for her to slow down and wait for them as she approached the clearing. Her brain couldn't respond to their cries; she wasn't thinking—she was simply moving. Ragged holes were ripped in the knees of her jeans from each time she'd stumbled over a root or rock in the thicket of the trees, but the sting only made her run faster. Perhaps she should not panic yet, but this felt so familiar…
--------
"How bad is he? How bad is he hurt?"
"It's too late."
"He needs help!"
"Agent Scully…"
"No…no…This is not happening!"
She ran back to the crumpled body rested in a fetal position on the cold earth with someone's trench draped over him for the sake of dignity. She collapsed at his side and pushed him onto his back. I'll save you…if They won't…if God won't…I will.
"Oh God Dana, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. But you have to stop this. It looks like he's been dead for several hours. We can't bring him back."
"NO! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU ALL I'M GOING TO SAVE HIM…I PROMISED NEVER TO STOP!….there is no me without him……do you see? doyousee…"
There was nothing left to do, nothing to move toward, nowhere to run. She let her body fall limp, and felt a prickling numbness begin to settle over her from her toes to the crown of her head. Skinner held her then. He wrapped his strong arms around her body and rocked them both gently back and forth, their bodies huddled together on the cold wet earth.
--------
As she skidded to a halt in the clearing beside the creek, the memory of the worst moment of her life felt so close and so real that she expected to find him there. Again. Her breathing slowed and she willed herself to return to reality. He's alive and I'm going to find him.
"Dana!" Clint hollered.
"I'm here!" she yelled as she strode up and down the bank of the creek, searching for some kind of evidence. Suddenly, the moonlight caught a tiny glimmer of metal hidden in the grasses. She crouched down and picked up a large needle with fresh blood pooled in the base of the syringe.
--
"He was drugged and abducted."
"Whoa, wait a minute. I thought this Skinner guy was a friend of yours," Joe said.
The small group gathered just inside the front door of the store while Dana paced what was left of the aisles.
"He was…but now he's one of Them. I don't know how it happened, but he's the enemy. And Mulder—Mulder was abducted once before. They wanted him, because he had unusual brain activity… and he was a true believer. It makes sense that They would send 'Skinner' for him now, because They know that Mulder would trust him without question."
"Um, okay…so, where do you think They took him?" Clint asked.
"I don't know…The residents' cars were dumped a bit further south off the road, right?"
"Yeah," Joe answered hesitantly.
"Did any of them have gas?"
"Uh, a few, but I don't think any had more than half a tank," Joe responded.
"Okay, I'm taking a car and going,"
"No! Dana, you can't. It's too dangerous for you to…one of us can go if we can somehow be pointed in the right direction or at least told what to look for," Nate offered.
"No. I have to do this. Can I take some food rations with me? For me and my daughter?"
"Of course, but…if you really must do this, why don't you leave Abby here? We can all look after her until you come back," Joe said.
"I'm not leaving her. I promised her I never would."
--
"Abby…Abigail…wake up, honey," Dana murmured into her daughter's ear as she gently shook her.
The little girl blinked her blue eyes groggily and tried to sink further into her sleeping bag.
"Abby, you have to get up now."
"It's not morning, yet…sleepy," she muttered.
"I know it's not morning, but we have to leave right now. Bring Kitty and come on."
"Where are we going?"
"To get Daddy."
--
Elkhart, Kansas
44 days after
Olli slowly opened his eyes and jumped when he glanced up to see Katie hanging over him, her hair in a loose braid that rested against his shoulder as she gazed into his eyes.
"Katie, what—"
"Come downstairs. Come to bed with me."
"Have you been crying?" he whispered, delicately tracing a finger over her flushed cheeks, "Did something happen?"
"Come to bed with me," she whispered.
--
She pulled her shirt over her head and held him close, relishing in the soothing sensation of skin to skin contact. They rolled together on the mattress until Olli's solid heat covered her body like a blanket, and she tasted the warm sweetness of his mouth.
"Are you sure about this?" he breathed.
"Why would I not be sure?"
"I just…I need to know that…you're doing this because you want to, and not for any other reason."
"Make love to me, Olli…I want this..."
--
Beams of gentle sunlight bathed their bodies in a warm cocoon as they lay together tangled in the sheets. Olli woke first, and he smiled as he watched her face while she slept peacefully. He smoothed his palm over her hair and tenderly tucked the loose wisps behind her ears. In his opinion, she had never looked so beautiful. The bright light of day shined in her golden hair, framing her pale face in a yellow halo. She stirred under his soft touch, and her dark eyes fluttered open. Wordlessly, she brushed her palm over his cheek and ran her fingers delicately through his long, thick hair.
"I think this is the first time I've seen you smile," he whispered.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck and sighed contentedly as he closed his arms more tightly around her.
Neither of them heard the soft footfall on the other side of the closed door.
--
Gibson awoke with the dawn, as he usually did. He crawled out of bed and stretched as he looked out the window at the pink and orange tones splashed like watercolor paint across the sky. After throwing on a pair of jeans, he wandered downstairs and was not surprised to find that he was the only one awake. Olli's door had been shut upstairs, and he assumed that Katie was still sleeping in the master bedroom, possibly with Rowan, if he had finally decided to leave the cellar. He rummaged through the pantry to discover that the food supply was dwindling, so he laced up his boots, grabbed the leather sack behind the back door, and headed outside to see if he could find any fresh vegetables left in the fields.
The misty morning breeze traveled into his nostrils, and he breathed it in deeply. He felt alive and refreshed in a way that he hadn't in months; it almost felt normal…real. This land was his to tend and cultivate, and the light of day left no room for shadows where an enemy could lurk. The warm sunlight heated his bare back as he dug his fingers into the soil, searching for edible roots.
Suddenly, a series of shattering bangs cut through the peaceful stillness and echoed in the air with a menacing ring. Gibson choked in his breath and was unable to suck enough air into his lungs. He knew that sound. Before he could allow the thoughts enough time to pass through his brain, he was on his feet and hurtling down the path towards the house.
--
Gibson stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door at the end of the hallway with glazed eyes. His heart was pounding so intensely that it threatened to explode within his chest; and the nausea swirled in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to see it, but he needed to know. He had to know. With legs made of jelly, he clumsily shuffled down the hall until he reached the door, which was cracked open and spilling gentle light into the darkened hall. Except for a soft sobbing in the room, all was quiet. Gibson drew a deep breath and was startled by the sound of creaking wood as he pushed the door open.
The first thing he saw was the wall directly in front of him. Dark, wet crimson was splattered over the white paint, and it trickled down in little streams to gather in a pool on the hardwood floor. On the bed, two bodies were tangled in the blood-soaked sheets. One had been shot in the face, and there was nothing left but chunks of flesh and white bone resembling soft putty wrapped in a golden mane. The other had a gaping hole in the left side of its head, and the one eye that was left stared up blankly at the ceiling. Long, jet black hair fell across its forehead and nearly brushed the floor, since the body was leaning over the edge of the bed with one arm hanging stagnantly in midair.
Rowan was crumpled in the corner, his hands covering his face as he shook with sobs. A shot gun lay on the floor in front of him. He looked up and saw Gibson.
"What have I done? Oh my god, what have I done?" he choked.
Without a moment's hesitation, Gibson reached into the back of his pants and grabbed the loaded handgun he always wore. He squeezed his eyes shut and fired three shots into Rowan's torso. When he regained the strength to look, he saw the man clutching his abdomen and writhing on the floor.
"Please, Gibson, please," he sputtered.
Gibson pressed the barrel of his gun into the man's forehead and looked him in the eye.
"Forgive me," Rowan wheezed.
Gibson pulled the trigger, and silence fell.
He walked over to the bed, and for several minutes, simply stared, unable to move. Then he lifted Olli's arm, placed it over his chest, and pulled his body up so that he lay on his back on the mattress. Gibson wiped the matted hair off of his friend's face and gazed into the one open eye. He noticed that Olli's lips were curled up lightly in a soft smile.
"What did you see?" he whispered.
He rested his head against Olli's chest and found that he was still warm.
The tears began to flow.
For the first time since he was a little boy, he wept aloud in soft wails.
He sat up, and delicately closed the eye with his thumb.
"Farewell, brother. I'll see you at the eastern gate."
--
For what is it to die,
but to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?