Transference

Part 3

by Trycee

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Files, this is written for fun not profit.

Sequel to Transmission, Transcendence

***I apologize for taking so long to add Chapter 3. I'm having computer problems. So hopefully, it'll continue to work for a while bit so I can add more chapters and write more stories.

After searching through phone books and the local Vancouver police data-base, John and Monica found what they were looking for, the address of Gibson Praise alias Jacob Netu. After waiting outside of his apartment for a half an hour, they decided to knock on the doors of the neighbors to get information. Reluctantly, one tenant answered the door and after they identified themselves, the neighbor, a young woman about Gibson's age, directed them to the hang out spot for most of the young adults of the community, The Watering Hole. Doggett and Reyes quickly raced to the corner and opened the door to the darkened bar with a few pool tables. They glanced around searching for Gibson but couldn't find him.

"He's here, I can feel him," Monica stated.

"You can feel him?", John asked, curiously.

"He knows we're here looking for him."

John motioned for a table close to the door and they sat down. A few minutes later, they saw a man come out from the back room where the bathrooms were and walked straight up to them. He was taller than they expected but yet still small statured as he'd been the last time they saw him.

"I know why you came," the man said, his voice deep, his eyes bloodshot and a dark beard covering his face. "I can't help you or them."

"Gibson, " John began.

"Jacob," Gibson said. "No one knows me as Gibson and I'd like to keep it that way."

"We came along way," Monica stated.

"You think I owe it to them. To Mulder and Scully," Gibson said, looking at Monica. "And you think this is a waste of time," he said, looking at John. "I agree, because I can't help you."

"Gibson," Monica said.

"You're feeling guilty about leaving me in a foreign country with a foster family. You wanted to keep me safe. You did. But I have my own life now. And if its time for the world to end, then its time."

"You can't be serious," John said, surprised. "You've given up?"

Gibson glanced around and then seated himself at the table with them. He motioned for three beers to be brought to the table. "Do you have any idea what its like to read everyone's thoughts? I've known no other way. My entire life I've done what was expected of me. I've been a chess champion because that's what my parents wanted. They were murdered because of me. I've lived in a home for the deaf with no one to talk too and I've been in hiding more years than I want to remember," he said, as the waitress placed three beers down in front of them each. "I'm tired of it all. I deserve to be happy. I deserve to have my own life."

Monica glanced over to John. "You can't convince me," Gibson said, looking at them both. "So don't even try."

"William," Monica said. "What about William?"

Gibson took a swig of his beer. "He sent for you to find me."

"Yes," John answered.

"And Mulder and Scully are waiting for us all to return to their house in Virginia."

"Yes," Monica said, nodding her head.

"Think of it this way," Monica began.

"That if I sacrifice now and help, I will help William to save the world, and then I can live my life in peace."

Monica smiled. "Exactly."

Gibson stared at his beer and then picked it up and downed the rest as quickly as he could. "You're thinking I'm drinking too much," he said, turning to John. "Self-medicating..."

"That's what you're doing, isn't it?", John said, matter-of-factually.. "To stop the voices in your head."

"The constant conversations from everyone, yeah!", Gibson said, standing up on wobbly legs. "Fine, let's go. But I need to pack some things first."

Monica and John shot a look at each other. Doggett placed some money down on the table next to there untouched beers as they walked behind Gibson, out into the chilly night air. They followed him to his apartment and wasn't surprised to find it a mess with clothes strewn everywhere and beer bottles about.

"I'm not an alcoholic," Gibson said, turning to look at Monica. "I'm young, and having fun..."

"Alright...", she said.

The front door swung open and Gibson's friend, Lizard walked in. "Hey, whats going on dude, whose the suits?"

Monica smirked. "I'm Monica and this is John."

"You in trouble?", Lizard said, looking at his friend.

"I'll be back whenever, man," Gibson said, to his buddy. "Until then, you have to pay all the rent."

"Shit!", Lizard said, heading for the fridge and grabbing up a beer. "What they get you for?"

Gibson glanced at Monica and John and then back at Lizard. "Weed."

Lizard looked sickly as he glanced nervously around the apartment, trying to see if his weed stashes were visible to the officers. Gibson chuckled slightly as he quickly packed his bags with clothes he grabbed up off the floor. He shook Lizards hand and walked back out the door with Monica and John trailing behind him. John shot one more look back at Lizard whose eyes were bulging as the door closed behind Doggett. They pulled off from Gibson's apartment and headed towards the airport.

Scully laid a blanket over her son as he lay on the couch in her office.

"You're worried about them coming back. They will come back, mom. They will."

"William," she said, kneeling down in front of him. "I just got you back," she said, with tears in her eyes. "I don't think you can understand what its like to have had to give you up. I didn't want too. I never wanted that," she said, as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I loved you, I will always love you. And the thought," she said, as her voice cracked. "Of never seeing you again, which is what I thought, nearly crushed me. I have you back and I'll do anything to protect you."

"I know," he said, reaching up and hugging her. She tightened her hug and closed her eyes feeling her son against her.

"I love you," he heard her say inwardly.

"I love you too..."

A strong hand touched her shoulder and she glanced up to look at Mulder. He motioned for her to go into their bedroom, leaving him alone with William. She stood up and kissed the top of their son's head and then headed into the room. When she was gone, Mulder knelt down in front of William. "Tell me what they're saying to you son."

"They're telling me I can control the entire world," William sighed. "They're showing me the way the planet looks outside of here. They're showing me the other worlds."

"I need you to know," Mulder began. "That they want to enslave us."

"I know."

"They want to use our bodies as incubators for them. No matter what they say, you have to fight against them, son. You're mother and I have been fighting for the truth for so long. And knowing the truth, we know now you are the key, the one they want, the one they want to turn on to their side. But they can't win, son. They can't. You have a mother and a father that love you. Your grandmother and uncles and cousins all love you too. That's who your fighting for. "

Mulder bent down and kissed his son on the forehead. "Sleep well."

"You too."

Mulder switched on the lamp at Scully's desk and then turned off the overhead light, closing the door. He padded his way into the bedroom where Scully had already changed into her silk nightgown and was under the covers, reading a book when he came in.

"What was that about?", she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Father and son time," Mulder smiled.

Scully glanced up to him. "Mulder..."

"I already know what you're gonna say, Scully. But we can't keep the boy in a bubble."

Scully tossed the book to her nightstand. "Mulder, It won't be too much work."

"It took forever to move all that stuff in there."

"Well, I don't care. He needs to be closer to us. That's too far away."

"You don't care because its not you lifting it."

"Mulder!", she said, sternly.

"Scully!," he said, staring back at her. "Its wall to wall bookshelves and heavy ass desks and all those books."

"Are you complaining that you're too old now?", Scully said with a smirk.

"I'm still in shape," he said, slipping into bed bare-chested and in his boxer shorts.

"You are," she said, admiring him. "But Mulder, this is our son. Its too far away up in the attic."

"I just finished working on that room," Mulder complained.

"We'll just move my office stuff into your office, like old times."

Mulder rolled his eyes. "As tempting as that sounds. Having you type constantly and talking all that medical jargon on the phone, isn't exactly what I want to do in my office, even if its like old times."

Scully glared at Mulder. "Thats what I want."

"Well, you need to come up with another plan. We just finished his room. I was about to paint it. You bought all the stuff for it."

"Please, Mulder," she said.

Mulder sighed. "Okay, fine. But you're office goes upstairs."

"Fine," she huffed. "Besides, I prefer my own office now too. As much as I love sharing that office with you for almost nine years, having you toss pencils in the air and throwing spit balls at me, isn't my idea of what I want to do in MY office."

"Fine, it's settled then."

"Fine," she said, slipping under the covers.

Mulder groaned. "Damn, I still have to move all that shit upstairs though."

"I could help you."

"You couldn't lift even a corner of this heavy ass antique furniture you bought."

"If I'm strong enough to lift you, I'm strong enough to help," she said, aggravated.

"Scully, you have NEVER lifted me. You might have helped me walk but you never lifted me. While I can toss you over my shoulder with one hand."

"Not any more you couldn't," she said, turning her back to him.

"Are you calling me old, Scully?"

She sighed loudly. "NO, Mulder. Forget it. You've won."

"That's right I've won," he said, flicking off the lamp beside him.

"What's that supposed to mean?", she said, as their room was masked in darkness.

"Nothing," he said, sliding under the covers.

"No, what does that mean?", she said, turning to face him. "IS it because you always get your way, Mulder?"

"I said, nothing. Now, drop it."

Scully flipped over onto her side and huffed. Mulder too turned his back to her and the room was quiet with only their breathing. William could feel the pain his parents were having after their argument. He had heard it all in his mind though he could hear nothing through his mother's office door. He closed his eyes trying to sleep but he could see as clearly as if he were there, the images of John, Monica and Gibson on an airplane, first class, as Gibson continued to drink which worried the two FBI agents. He shook the images out of his mind and closed his eyes to sleep. The shadow figure stood above him and with a wave of its hand, images and thoughts were transplanted into William's mind, before the shadow man disappeared into thin air.

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