CHAPTER TWO: The Sickness of Truth

"Though I don't know how I feel,
But I'll know I'll do the right thing,
If the right this is revealed...
Because it's always raining in my head,
Forget all the things I should have said."

-Epiphany by Staind

Mulder dipped a thick sugar bagel into his steaming cup of black coffee. He didn't care if people were glancing at him from time-to-time because he was actually drinking coffee in a country that preferred tea. No one should care anyway, since drinking tea with the situation he was about to encounter was not something tea alone could cure. If he didn't have to drive, he would be at a random bar drinking bourbon until he hissed alcohol.

He watched closely as half of the donut's body disappeared beneath the black liquid, then reappeared as a mass of soaked wheat. He brought the pastry towards his mouth, bit at it, and remembered how he was once obsessed with these donuts when he was in university. He had fairly discovered during his second year at Oxford that he couldn't survive studying way past midnight without ordering a box of freshly-baked donuts from Bocalo's, a bakery that was a good block away from his dormitory. Today, when he passed by the old bakery, he couldn't help but stop by and at once decide that he would just wait for the rain to stop until he started driving once more. He still had a lot of time on his hands – sure, he wouldn't want to keep her waiting, but he was pretty sure that the advanced two hour travel time he allotted for himself would not keep her waiting.

Somehow.

Maybe he wasn't as familiar with the English roads as he wanted to think he still was. Or maybe he wasn't as familiar with her, anymore.

"When customers of ours drink coffee during the October rain, it usually means they are about to make a really big bloody decision. What are you doing all alone here?"

Mulder lifted his head from his coffee and chewed slowly at the forgotten piece of bagel in his mouth. The new owner of the shop, Bocalo's son, tapped at the wooden counter in between them. His thick English accent coated his every syllable and Mulder was tempted to also speak the same way – to attempt what he used to do back in Oxford. What this lame attempt of his got were endless laughter from the cruel seniors, and a personal pledge to never try hard in being "English" again.

"I'm going to meet someone," he said, trying hard to smile politely at the blonde gentleman. Mulder wasn't in the mood to discuss the evening that was laid out before him. It was raining, his spirits were dampened, his composure a wreck, and hey, there he was chilling out in a café a few hours from a meeting that could potentially change his fucking life. What kind of man was he?

I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to discuss that, he thought, making him stifle a snicker.

"Ah, I'm correct!" Eduardo, as his father called him back then, placed a hand on his bright yellow fisherman's cap. "You seem … pretty excited about this meeting. Why so?"

"Ha. I feel like I'm on my way to my execution."

"Who are you meeting with, bloke? If you don't mind …"

Mulder dipped his half-eaten bagel back into the coffee, but this time he didn't pull it out. He watched the dark liquid claim the light, fluffy pastry. "I'm meeting with the past I had to run away from."

"A colleague?"

"Not really."

"A woman?"

The Agent allowed himself to secretly flinch, before replying a cagey, "Yeah."

"Well, lad, you get the best luck of your life, all right?" Eduardo grinned and tipped his cap off towards him. The Agent appreciated the guy's good natured attitude, but that conversation really didn't help him at all. If it did anything, it only forced his nerves to become more fragile that he felt like he was about to swoon.

"Oh, and hey, sir, here's your change!" Eduardo handed Mulder two golden coins, and thankfully, Mulder was alert enough to take them. The owner's son beamed for the last time and then moved to the far end of the room where there were other customers waiting on him.

Mulder squeezed the coins in his palm, feeling the coldness of the metal against his skin …

"Your hand's gotten a lot colder, Scully," he mentioned as he gently gripped her hand to help her out of the car. The umbrella she held on the other hand hit his own and he had no choice but to let go of her. She raised an eyebrow at his concern.

"I feel a little dizzy, that's all," Scully slowly said, already weighing his reaction and anticipating his next move. "It was a long car ride."

Mulder closed the passenger side's door with a loud thud. "Do you want to stay here? I could go on and …"

"No, I'll be okay," she assured him, ending the subject at once. Mulder gave her a small pat on the back of her head to signify that he respected her decision and if that was what she wanted, that was what he wanted, too. Side by side, they walked towards the barn-like house of the Cromwell's.

The yard itself was like one big rice field – without the rice. They had to jog in quick steps to avoid their shoes from getting stuck in the rain-softened mud underneath the thick grasses. It was particularly difficult for Scully, who had her four-inched booths on to match her wardrobe (and his height, too). Mulder escorted his partner the best that he could with a hand on her waist, all the while trying his best to avoid the droplets of rain that threatened both of them. Soon, they were inside the wooden foyer of the house. They stomped at its front steps, trying their best to remove the caking mud on their heels.

Mulder closed his umbrella, as did Scully. He rasped on the hard wooden front door and gave her a look when no one answered. He knocked again, this time shouting, "Mr. Cromwell? Jeremy Cromwell? This is Agent Mulder and Agent Scully of the FBI. We're here for your interview."

When Mulder finished, they at once heard some hurried running, then the door burst open. A twenty-something young man examined them through the mosquito net that was blocking the entrance. After he probably assured himself that they were government people with the confident flash of their badges, the young man removed the mosquito net and stepped out of his dark house. Mulder immediately sympathized with the guy's obvious fright at being outside. He wore dark, shapeless oversized t-shirts and gray sweatpants. His hair was messed up and eyes dilated. As his profiler's training clicked like puzzle pieces in his head, Mulder deduced at once that this was a man who had no intention of leaving his property ever again because of something he was deathly afraid of.

"Are you okay, sir? You don't seem well. I can take a look at you; I'm a medical doctor," Scully began as she took a step forward. The man shook his head as his eyes scanned the wide yard before him over and over again.

"No, I'm fine, Agent Scully." He offered her a toothy grin. Scully returned the smile with a smaller one. Despite only hearing their names a while ago and seeing them for the first time, it was no surprise for him to know them by their surnames already. The Lone Gunmen had the opportunity to encounter Jeremy Cromwell when they happened to pass by California one random Sunday and took the opportunity to brief Jeremy on which one was Mulder and which was Scully. Upon returning to DC, Mulder had never seen the three stooges that excited about their random trip.

"If you don't mind, we prefer to talk inside, sir." Scully motioned towards the slightly-ajar door of his house. Cromwell raised his hands up to signify that he didn't want to.

"No, I'm sorry, I would like it better out here. I have not left my house for days now and having federal agents around me here, outside, makes me feel safer. Please allow me to enjoy the rare luxury of the outdoors."

Scully caught Mulder's eyes. He gave her a small nod to indicate that he was thinking what she was thinking: this man was more than frightened; he was freaking out.

"You were, are, Stephen Dorman's close friend, is that right, Jeremy?" Mulder started. Cromwell smiled.

"Yes, Stephen and I shared this house together. We grew up together, you see. We did everything together … down to the last moments of his life."

"Mr. Cromwell," Scully said.

"Jeremy, please. Call me Jeremy just like your partner does," he interrupted. Scully took this with a respectful gesture.

"Okay, Jeremy," she corrected herself, "according to local PD reports, you were a key witness to his murder that took place inside a twenty-four hour convenience store just outside Saint Catherine. You were inside, then you were outside, before the explosion happened. You have also mentioned that they were all intent to kill your friend before you ran out to call for help. Can you relate exactly what had happened?"

"There were customers inside the shop, Agent Scully. Stephen and I had to grab some stuff to fill our empty cupboard. We were clowning around while picking stuff up. There were customers that were also shopping, but I noticed that they were gazing intently at Stephen. When we were about to pay for what we grabbed, we were seventy-five cents short. I told him to stay inside while I go out and grab from the coin purse in the car." Jeremy paused, dropping his eyes down to his feet. "I was barely out the door when I looked back and they were … hitting Stephen on the head. Viciously. Before I could do anything, I saw one of the shadowy people opening his coat and he was strapped in rows and rows of dynamite! I suddenly sprinted from the shop just before a huge explosion took place. I was thrown far from the shop and when I came to, the owner was also beside me. He seemed to not know how he got there or what had happened, too."

Mulder inched closer to Scully, carefully taking note of each piece of information they were receiving. "Deputy Tom Cross told us that you have an idea on why they killed your friend and who these shadowy people were. Could you share that with us?"

Jeremy scratched the top of his head absentmindedly. "It's all because of what Stephen and I have been through."

"What have you been through?" Scully insisted. Jeremy seemed to respond jerkily to the sound of her voice. When he looked at her, he focused on her face with blankness in his eyes.

Mulder didn't like the way he looked at Scully; he cut in before Jeremy could answer. "Is it the vaccine, Jeremy?"

The man didn't seem surprised that Mulder had an idea of the vaccination. He reluctantly looked away from Scully's pale face before bobbing his head up and down. "Yes, I am. I'm one of the sole survivors of an alien sickness, as I have termed it. I was afflicted with it two years ago." His eyes widened in anticipation. "The only reason why I am still alive is because of my father …"

"Who's your father, Jeremy?"

"Conrad Strughold."

Mulder swallowed hard. He couldn't believe it. This man before them was actually the son of a well-known leader of the Shadow Government. It was becoming stranger and stranger. "How is that possible?"

"My father changed my last name to protect me. I still don't understand why he did so. It's like … he made a deal with one of my uncles to give him the vaccine. So that he could keep me alive. My father said, before he died last year, that there were only three of us that survived that terrible misstep …." Jeremy's voice was suddenly interrupted by a gurgle of pain. Mulder turned to Scully and found her losing her balance. She was about to collapse.

Mulder quickly caught her before she could fall to the ground. Scully turned away from his chest as she rubbed her fingers against her temple. He lifted her off of the ground, one hand around her waist and the other underneath her knees. Even through their clothing, he could feel how cold her skin was. Mulder quizzically looked at his partner. What was happening to her?

Before them, Jeremy stood frozen as he gazed at them.

"Scully, are you okay?" Mulder wanted to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear or wipe away the cold sweat that broke on her forehead. He couldn't do that as he carried her, but he hugged her closer, hoping that it would keep her warm somehow. Scully kept her eyes close.

"I-I don't feel too good, Mulder. I think I should go back to the car. You could finish the interview. I apologize, Jeremy," she whispered in a monotone. She struggled against him and he allowed her to find her footing once more with his arm still around her waist. He then offered to help her back to the car, while shooting Jeremy a look of concern. Jeremy nodded silently.

Scully agreed after she made sure that Jeremy was okay with it. Jeremy assured her that he would be waiting for Mulder on the foyer until he came back.

When Mulder positioned Scully inside the car, he gave her a light kiss on the cheek before reclining her chair to give her better circulation. He then opened the air conditioner for her to rest better. When he was done, he returned to her face and found her smiling apologetically at him.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I ruined this …"

"Shh." A finger founds its way atop her lips. "It's okay, Scully. You look like you have a fever coming. You rest here and I'll wrap this up. I won't take long, I promise you." He assured her once more by kissing her on the other cheek. Then, before he could even think about what was happening to her, he jogged back to where Jeremy was. When Mulder reached the man, he was lost in deep thought.

"Jeremy?"

The man's eyes flew up and interlocked with Mulder's. The Agent stopped in his tracks. Jeremy's eyes were watery. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut short.

"Don't pretend, Agent Mulder. We both know the truth."

Mulder raised his eyebrows. "What truth is that, Jeremy?" He climbed the stairs leading to the foyer, until they were both face to face.

"Agent Scully … she's the third person to have survived … you were the person who injected that vaccine into her yourself!"

Mulder shrugged, cautious. "Yeah. Small world, eh?"

The man straightened his back, and for the first time since meeting him, there was a sense of bravery within Jeremy. And nervousness. Mulder shivered when he realized this. He moved his shoulder across his cheek to dampen the sensation.

Jeremy looked at him straight into his hazel eyes without flinching. "Agent Mulder, my life is in danger. I'll be dead within the next forty-eight hours."

"Protection is …"

"There is a new breed of rebels, Agent Mulder. They were given a choice two years ago: to resist or serve. They have chosen to resist. You must never underestimate the power of resistance! And those of us who had no choice but to serve have to suffer the necessary consequences."

"These new rebels you're talking about – what exactly are they? They aren't human, are they?"

"Yes, they are." Jeremy placed his hands over his face in anguish. "That's where you're wrong, Mulder. They are human. Ordinary humans with capabilities born out of their collective fear - out of their resistance."

"So they could be stopped?"

"No."

Mulder recoiled and resisted the urge to grab a nearby ledge beside him. "What do you mean they couldn't?" he demanded.

"They may be as sloppy as domestic terrorists, Mulder, but stopping them means exposing yourself – and Agent Scully – to what they are capable of." Jeremy sighed deeply, a sound that seemed to come from his deepest gut. "Often times, Mulder, the enemy we underestimate is the one who can kill us in the end."

"But, you said –"

"Yes, they aren't many. They don't have much strength or capabilities. When the Shadow Government's members were murdered last year, the new rebellion that formed to clean up their mess couldn't be as strategic as the original one. They just couldn't be. No one could back them up now."

"That's why they're as sloppy as domestic terrorists."

"That's where the explosions come in. They think they could clean up their mess with big explosions – as a decoy, as a way of erasing evidence, another process to obfuscate the truth. Their plans are kindergarten in the grand scheme of things – however, it is momentarily effective. But that's where they're wrong." Jeremy eyed him carefully. Mulder shook his head, before placing a finger on his chin.

"They have no connections with the administration; they don't have sophisticated technology to use …"

"There is something else, Agent Mulder."

Their eyes met again. Mulder felt another shiver as he felt the seriousness of the matter, now.

"Stephen and I haven't been friends since childhood. We met each other a year ago, when we found out that we were both survivors of that bee sting. Stephen is … the grandson of another syndicate member."

"Don't tell me that it's that black-lunged son-of-a-bitch …"

"No, not Uncle Spender. I- I couldn't tell you, Mulder. If I do, the information may kill you, too. Let's leave it this way and discuss more important matters instead."

"Like colonization?"

"No," Jeremy's voice dropped to a whisper, "like the life of Agent Scully."

There wasn't much explaining to do, not much reasons to be said – it was all clear. As Jeremy talked, Mulder saw the pattern inside his head as if in a diagram. When they all connected, he felt like he was about to suffer an aneurysm. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, but he tried his best to remain stoic in front of Jeremy. However, the young man sensed the battle within the Agent and placed a light hand on his shoulder.

"I understand, Agent Mulder," he said, still softly. "I could see that you love her."

Mulder still remained as stoic, making sure that his face didn't betray what he felt. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's okay. You two clearly are in a relationship."

Mulder shrugged Jeremy's hand away from him, suddenly afraid. "How did you … are you an …"

"No, of course not. There's … umm, a minute smudge of lipstick on your," Jeremy motioned towards his upper lip and Mulder quickly reached up to brush it away, "mouth. Same shade as hers."

It was absurd now, thinking that this man could be more than what he was. At once, Mulder felt angry and ridiculous. I'll kill the Gunmen. I'll cut their computers in half and burn their hard drives.

"I apologize for the Lone Gunmen's ridiculous assumption of your identity, Jeremy …"

"They are not really assuming anything, Mulder. They are closer to the truth than they ever thought they were."

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think do these new rebels want the three sole survivors of that alien sickness dead?"

"The only reason I could think of is the same reason why the other rebels wanted Cassandra Spender dead."

"That's what they are fighting against. We three people could be the only species in this planet who may survive the incoming apocalypse. The first breed of rebels didn't consider us. They assumed that by killing most of the syndicate and Cassandra Spender, they could retreat, stop, and wait for colonization. But there are others, unfortunately, who have known better. They realized that this government vaccine that was injected within me could potentially save the human race. And they don't want the human race to survive, Agent Mulder. Resist or serve. If they resist, then so must we all. No one should serve."

"How did that happen?" Mulder gasped, reeling from the information he was receiving.

"I don't understand how. I don't want to think of anyone betraying me … like Uncle Spender. But I've seen him do stranger things. You see, Stephen and I started living together to protect each other. We have been informed of our possible demise and for the past year, we have been trying to find who the third survivor is. We all have a special connection." He turned his back to Mulder and tugged his t-shirt down to reveal a small thin scar on his nape – similar to the one Scully had. Jeremy pointed to it. "I, too, almost died of terminal cancer. I, too, was given the cure. I'm sure Agent Scully has been through the exact same situation."

"Yes," Mulder replied, astonished, "she has."

"That's how I … felt Agent Scully. I felt it tingle when I talked to her. I knew it was her. She's sick right now because she felt it, too. She just doesn't understand what it is that she's feeling." Jeremy faced him once more. "I've tried so hard to find you, Agent Mulder. I've heard bits and pieces about who you are and what kind of work you do, but I've always been intercepted by the Bureau."

"It's probably your Uncle Spender who intercepted you, Jeremy."

The young man waved a hand to dismiss him. "I don't want to dwell on that."

"W-What about those rebels, Jeremy? I couldn't let either of you die!"

"There's nothing left here for me, Agent Mulder. I am tired of running. I'm tired of hiding. They know who I am and they know where to find me, wherever I go. But they don't know Agent Scully yet. She has a chance to escape them. Maybe, she's meant to escape them."

Mulder's heart flip-flopped in his chest. "How?" he asked.

"Make her leave the country. These rebels do not have diplomatic connections – they're undocumented; hence, it has been difficult – or nearly impossible – for them to procure passports or entryways into other countries. And these rebels, once they think they've finished us off, they would kill themselves, too. Again, resist or serve. They would rather die than face the incoming colonization."

"What if they find her out?"

"Then protect her, the best way you can, Mulder. You have to. Force her to leave the country, change her identity, and do not let her come back to the country until it is safe. She's the truth now, Agent Mulder. You must protect her." Jeremy reached a hand out to Mulder.

He could only stare at the outstretched hand before him. He felt doubt taking over his body, overpowering his need to believe in what Jeremy was telling him, overpowering his desperation. I couldn't doubt this right now. Not like this – not when Scully's life is on the line. However, he needed proof. He needed something real to hold onto to prove that Scully's life was in danger again. There had been so many times that they have been deceived, ridiculed, betrayed; now, Mulder had to be cautious. This was all too unbelievable – he could practically hear Scully whispering in his ear, telling him to trust no one.

"What if I don't believe you, Jeremy?"

Jeremy dropped his hand and he strained to look at him. Mulder also lifted his head to lock eyes with the young man.

"What if you're lying to me? What if this is plain bullshit?"

"Then how do you explain what I know, Mulder? How do you explain what I've just old you? I'm not one of them." He suddenly reached up to shove the bangs cut across his forehead and a wide, reddish gash appeared. Mulder studied it from afar and found that it hadn't been treated – it still had dry traces of blood and dirt around the wound's reddish core.

"You have to get that cleaned up."

"If I do so, there may be more collateral damage in a public place if in case the rebels decide to kill me. Here, here, is safe. I'd rather wait for them here." Jeremy hid the cut once more behind his hair. "I was wounded during the explosion. If I was an alien-human hybrid, Agent Mulder, then you would be scratching your eyes out now."

"I understand."

"So you believe me now?

"No, I couldn't. I apologize, but I couldn't easily accept this. I need more proof."

"Then you want and see, Mulder. Within the next forty-eight hours, I will be dead."

It was all a blur for Mulder when he turned his back on the man who claimed that his partner would be dead in less than a week. He couldn't remember walking across that muddy field, stepping inside the car, and driving away from the property. There were no goodbyes, not even a last look at the man who could lead him to the truth he had been searching for all his life.

They were at least a mile away from Saint Catherine when Mulder finally snapped out of his bewilderment. It was Scully who did so – she had been sleeping all that time and was suddenly snapped awake when they were away from Jeremy's property.

"Mulder?" Her soft fingertips grazed his tense jaw. "Are you okay?"

"I-I'm fine, Scully."

Of course, that didn't stop her. She straightened up her seat and unclasped her seatbelt. "Can you tell me what's wrong? What happened back there?"

"Nothing. I just, maybe … I think the rain got to me, too. I don't feel well."

"I could drive."

"No. I'm fine."

"Maybe you could just tell me what's bothering you, huh?"

"You're sick, Scully. You should rest."

She still was dizzy, he took note of that. They were approximately a few miles away from Cromwell's house, and little by little, he could see that her color started returning. However, it wasn't enough for her to put up a fight. Scully reached over to kiss Mulder on his neck and positioned herself back on the seat. She knew when he needed space – when he needed time to think – and when she needed to step back. She could leave it alone, for now. Anyway, she trusted him to tell her in his own good time. He had too. They promised to never keep secrets from each other ever since they started becoming intimate.

Her head rolled towards the window and before she knew it, she was asleep again.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The sun had even started peeking through, and it gently traced the contours of Scully's face. A small smile found its way on her lips when she felt the heat against her skin. Mulder couldn't help but glance at her – at how beautiful she was – and the way the sun highlighted her auburn hair. He couldn't help but gaze at that small, innocent smile that he only saw on the rare moments he woke up before she did. During those mornings, he would spend a few minutes just watching her smile in her sleep.

If what Jeremy Cromwell said was true …

He had lost Scully too many times to actually bear the pain of it again. First, it was her abduction, the one she had consistently refused to believe in. Then came her cancer – the most painful threat of them all. During that time, whenever he gripped her frail hand inside of his, he had the constant reflex to cry because she was so vulnerable. Scully was never vulnerable – consciously or unconsciously. And then, Antartica and the bee sting that stopped their intimacy. They both almost died, then. The moment he injected that fucked up vaccine into her, the whole chamber collapsed and luckily, they had a chance to escape. But barely so.

Scully had suffered much for his crusade –a crusade that now, didn't seem to go anywhere.

He couldn't lose her now. Not now, not ever.

So there was no truth to what Cromwell had said. There shouldn't be.

He gingerly took one of Scully's hands and placed a kiss on it.

As he started speaking, he felt that his voice was coming from a different person. This person was not her Mulder: this was the person who became inhuman profiling the hardest serial killers under Patterson years ago; this was the Mulder who discovered those files in the basement; the same boy who watched Samantha being abducted …

"I won't let anything bad happen to you, Scully. I will not lose you …"

"… should go now, bloke. The rain has stopped."

"Huh?"

"Your woman must be waiting."

"Oh," Mulder's voice sounded faint in his ear, and he refused the reflex to shake his head. His legs buckled as he tried to stand up, and to cover up just how startled he was, he brushed his chocolate brown hair away from his eyes with his fingers. He nodded towards Eduardo.

"Thanks."

Eduardo flashed him another bright smile that made Mulder want to punch his face. Mulder ignored this impulse and drank a fourth of his coffee. He tucked his trench coat over and out one arm and held the paper cup in the other. He politely thanked Eduardo on his way out.

Mulder hissed with his teeth clenched when he discovered that it was still drizzling outside. Apparently, the rain hadn't really stopped. Thanks to Mr. Eduardo, he was ruining his suit and his coffee. Sure, the moon was already visible against the sky (which meant that the rain would eventually stop), but it was still windy and cold. Luckily, Mulder made it to his car without getting soaked. As for his uncovered coffee …

He studied the ruined liquid. I really wanted you to keep me company tonight. Then without giving it any thought, he threw it into the nearest garbage can. He looked quickly at his watch and berated himself when he realized that he had spent more than half an hour inside the restaurant. He should get the hell out of there now if he didn't want to keep her waiting.

He turned the engine on, turned the volume up on the radio, and whizzed off, leaving behind a trail of tire tracks on the wet cemented ground.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

A/N: Thanks for the follows and reviews! I didn't expect to work hard on this repost – I'm practically rewriting the whole thing! Hope you guys like it so far.