CLANDESTINE
\klan-ˈdes-tən

adjective

marked by, held in, or conducted with secrecy

"We call it the miracle of life. Conception - a union of perfect opposites - essence transforming into existence - an act without which mankind would not exist and humanity cease to exist. Or is this just nostalgia now? An act of biology commandeered by modern science and technology? God-like, we extract, implant, inseminate... and we clone. But has our ingenuity rendered the miracle into a simple trick? In the artifice of replicating life can we become the creator? Then what of the soul? Can it, too, be replicated? Does it live in this matter we call DNA? Or is its placement the opposite of artifice, capable only by God. How did this child come to be? What set its heart beating? Is it the product of a union? Or the work of a divine hand? An answered prayer? A true miracle? Or is it a wonder of technology - the intervention of other hands? What do I tell this child about to be born? What do I tell Scully? And what do I tell myself?"

- Fox Mulder, "Existence"

CHAPTER 1

January, 2012
Hoboken, New Jersey

The end was in sight; he could almost taste the delicious, savory accomplishment. It was a victory that would end all victories - for when he obtained the evidence he needed, the waiting would be over. He wouldn't be out in the cold anymore. He could finally begin his work.

Drumming gloved fingers on the steering wheel of a dark sedan, he sat quietly with a knowing smirk on his face, watching the building he had watched for days. Sleep wasn't a concern, nor eating - only the promise of what was to come concerned him.

In the silence, he contemplated why all the fuss, all the charades. After all, wouldn't it be easier to handle things quickly, smoothly, unseen? It wasn't his decision, though. Things never were. He wished just this once he would be able to do what his dark instincts directed him to, nothing above him to stop him. He was hardwired for this kind of thing, a switch that couldn't be turned off. The restraint, at times, nearly killed him. Yet, he knew this one instance required restraint. Thankfully, he would only have to wait a short period of time to escalate the situation to his satisfaction. Otherwise, he might not be able to stand the silence.

His smirk crept up the side of his face as he watched him exit the building. He leaned forward slowly, aiming at the subject of his attention, capturing images rapidly in an impossibly small camera. Click, click, click. His focus shifted to the vehicle the subject climbed into. Click, click, click.

Satisfied, he leaned against the driver's seat and smiled, pressing his Bluetooth purposefully.

"We found him," he said, after a moment's pause. "He's here."

April 2009
St. Paul, Oregon

She wasn't exactly sure how he had convinced her that Saint Paul, Oregon was a choice destination to escape the terrors of their lives before, but Dana Scully knew Fox Mulder had her best interest in mind when he presented the idea several months after the Father Joe case. Given her mother's recent passing, she had nothing left to hold on to of the east coast, so she said yes to his proposition. They trekked across the country to their new home in a town with a population of less than 400 people.

Scully had lived many places, but never anywhere quite as tiny as Saint Paul.

It was two months after the move that Scully woke from a restless sleep, shoving an elbow into Mulder's side, receiving an annoyed and confused grunt in return.

"I can't believe it!" she exclaimed, her voice accusing. "Mulder! You wanted to move here because of Bellefleur!"

"Did not," Mulder grumbled, pushing his pillow into a more satisfying shape and repositioning his head.

"Yes, you did!" she insisted, glaring down at him. She jabbed him again, and he protested, sitting up and meeting her eyes with his. "Yes, you did," she repeated, the gears turning wildly in her mind. "Because you think this is the epicenter."

"Why would I want to move to the epicenter?" Mulder murmured, trying to downplay her discovery.

"Why wouldn't you?" she retorted. "You said we were going to get away from all of that, not land smack in the middle!"

"Honestly, that wasn't my intention!" Mulder said in defense, now fully awake. "I wanted to take you somewhere far away. So I played around with Google Maps and this is what I got."

"You played around online to find our home?"

"...Yes."

The silence was deafening.

"Mulder?"

"...Yes?"

Her mouth hung open; she was trying to find the appropriate words to exactly describe her state of annoyance and confusion, but was having trouble pinpointing the perfect set. "I don't believe this," she said to herself, turning over angrily in bed away from Mulder, who now was staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

"I also chose it because it was less than a 24-hour drive to Casper," he commented softly, brushing long strands of auburn hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. He saw her face turn slightly, her body showing she was registering the significance of the Wyoming city.

She turned to face him, propping an elbow on her pillow to support her head. "Mulder …" Her eyes were glassy; he could see the tears forming, even in the dimly lit room. "We don't know-"

"You're right, we don't," he interjected, his fingers back in her hair, following the length and curve of the strands. "But it's where you said they were."

"Even if so … Mulder, he has his own life. He'd be-"

"Seven."

"Yeah."

"A little man."

"...My son."

"Our son."

It was now clear to Scully - he wanted to try to find their son, William.

"So that's why we're here?" she almost whispered, grasping his hand in her free one as he tenderly played with her hair.

"Yes. I want to find William."

"Mulder … he's not safe with us."

"None of us are safe for much longer."

"We can't just go to Wyoming!" Scully said, the fear thick in her voice. "I mean … he has a life now. He already has parents."

Mulder pulled her toward his chest; she took comfort in his embrace. "He has a right to know before …"

"There's still time, and we don't know about what will happen. What if he doesn't want to listen?"

Mulder shook his head. "He wouldn't be our son if he was easy to convince."

Scully smiled, chuckling. "I guess."

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?" Mulder looked down into her eyes. "It's worth knowing?"

"Yes," she replied softly. "Yes it is."

"Then it's settled. We begin the search for him tomorrow."

They had started the search that very next day, at least Mulder had while Scully worked her shift at Salem Hospital. All the leads they discovered fell dead in the water at one point or another. Over two years of searching would commence - even a drive to Wyoming itself - but nothing turned up. William was gone and they didn't know where he had gone to. He left behind nothing of himself, and Scully feared the worst, crying herself to sleep most nights as Mulder dealt with his anger by emptying countless bottles of vodka. The whole wretched plan caved in on top of them, and by the end of 2011, they began to accept the cards fate had given them, resigning to live the rest of their days in quiet to wait for an inevitable end.

2012
Hoboken Police Department
New Jersey

"Well looky-here, a mighty fine piece of… hello, Officer Cara English!"

"Piss off, Tony."

The burly snitch laughed, shaking his head and clucking his tongue. "Tisk tisk, Cara. That's no way to speak to a colleague, is it?"

Cara English whipped around, glaring up at Tony Reynolds, the department snitch, though she stood at an impressive five feet nine inches tall. Tony stepped in closer. "Really, Tony? You really want to dance this number again?" She closed the gap brazenly. "How about I take care of Righty this time, since Lefty is probably still hurting."

Tony licked his lips absentmindedly, grinning at Cara. "You can take care of me any time you want."

How in the hell do people still get away with this bullshit these days? she thought. "Back off, or I report you. Your luxury accommodations are over."

"Oooh, telling the principle. Go ahead, baby. Make my-"

"Back off, Tony."

The deeper voice behind her was familiar, yet took her by surprise as she spun around. Her partner, Officer William Van De Kamp, was glaring at the snitch, his eyes narrowed in focus as if he was restraining from decking the guy himself. Not moving his focus off of Tony the Snitch, Wiliam placed his hand at the small of Cara's back, pushing her away toward his desk. When he finally looked at his female partner, he saw her with her hands on her hips, angered.

"Seriously, Will? I can handle my own."

"Trust me, I know you can," Will said, sitting at his desk; Cara's eyes were fixed on him. "It's Tony I'm worried about. We still need him for the Fetterman case."

"I don't need you saving me," Cara said crossly.

"Listen, if anyone knows you can kick ass, it's me," Will said, pulling her to sit. "But right now, I need that energy of yours on this." He tossed a folder at her on the desk, and she reluctantly opened it. "Missing persons case. Daniel Riggs, age 47. Chemistry professor at Stevens Institute of Technology. Last seen at the Terminal two days ago when he and his colleague returned from a business trip. His coworker took a cab home, and thought Riggs was doing the same. No one's seen or heard from him since."

Cara pursed her lips, confused. "I thought I was doing background checks for Rich?"

"Not anymore," Will replied. "Read the highlighted portion."

Cara glanced down at the selection of text from the case file on the desk, tucking an errant strand of blonde hair that escaped her braid behind her ear. After a moment, her eyes shot up, searching out Will intensely. "Is this a joke?" she murmured. "I know you always make fun of me for this crap, so if it is-"

"It isn't," he reassured softly. "It's what the witnesses are claiming."

"I mean …"

"Cara, I need your background on this. Incase it's some kind of occult thing."

Will's heart tightened in his chest a bit as his partner peered up at him with her impossibly intense blue eyes. They had known each other for over seven years now, first meeting in the academy as eighteen-year-old recruits who were greener than grass and in for big surprises. He admired Cara in her tenacity, the way she persevered through teasing because of her admiration for all things unexplained. He also defended her numerous times, sheltering her under his wing as a big brother would a little sister. Yet, as he studied her face in this moment - the gentle curves of her cheekbones and the fullness of her lips - his thoughts were creeping elsewhere, away from simple brotherly love to something more intense, something which he immediately locked away out of fear.

"What?" she said abruptly, questioning the examining expression on his face.

He laughed lightly, brushing off the almost awkwardness of the moment they just shared. "Nothing, just thinking." He shifted his focus to the file she held. "Anyway, did you see what I was referring to?"

"The acid burn marks on the floor?"

"Yeah. The cleaning crew found it and reported it."

"Okay … so what's the significance?"

"Other than acid isn't something people usually schlep to a terminal?"

Cara pursed her lips slightly at his dry humor. "You might if you teach chemistry. But my guess is, you think this is related to Rich's case?"

Will nodded. "Rich's case has a guy who was killed last week at the Terminal, now another guy is missing. Both from SIT."

"Could be a coincidence," Cara suggested. "Besides, Rich's victim was murdered. The body was found with bullet wounds to the chest. Plenty of witnesses who described the same shooter … yet we can't seem to track him … Anyway, this guy just disappeared, his body hasn't been found."

Will leaned in. "The lab reports are inconclusive as to what type of acid left the burns."

"I still don't see it."

"Both victims are chemists."

"So you're thinking he was transporting something?"

"I would venture to guess that Professor Riggs is supplying someone with homemade goodies. Maybe the other guy refused to and paid the price."

"For what purpose?"

"Not sure."

Cara leaned back in her seat. "What you highlighted … what the witnesses said …" She shook her head. "You're really taking it as a lead?"

"Listen, I personally don't think it has anything to do with this." Will's tone was almost defensive. "I'm more interested in the potential chemical warfare angle. But I thought you'd want to know."

Cara grinned. "You are interested in their theory, aren't you?"

"That a person can shape-shift? Pffft." Will leaned back and folded his arms. "It sounds like something out of Hollywood. But if the chemical compound, or 'acid', they are analyzing has hallucinogenic properties, that might explain things."

Cara was not convinced. "Where is the location in the terminal where the acid was found in relevance to the witnesses?"

"Let's take a trip and I'll show you."

Hoboken Terminal

"So that is where Rich's victim was found?" Cara pointed to the marked area that she cross-referenced with the case file she held in her hands.

Will nodded. "Not too far from the information counter."

Cara peered up from the file at Will and noticed behind him the employees of the Terminal, two females around their age, smiling at their newly acquired view. Cara's eyebrow arched unconsciously, mulling over what thoughts were dancing around in their heads. It was easy to see why the opposite sex, and even on occasion the same sex (given the right circumstances) was so drawn to William Van De Kamp. He always had a way about him that was mysterious, though she knew he was a bit of a recluse and that it was most likely that aspect of his personality shining through. He was pretty tall - she estimated just over six foot - with smouldering brown eyes, matching brown hair that was usually kept cropped (otherwise, it was an unruly mess) and a charmingly crooked smile. The one thing she had always noticed about Will was how incredibly fit he was, complete with broad shoulders and large biceps that seemed nearly perfect. Perhaps his nose was a tad big for his face, but it added character and sort of a "realness" to what otherwise seemed … for lack of a better term, inhuman, to her.

"Cara?" Will repeated, gaining her attention with his questioning tone. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she replied nonchalantly. "Just wondering how those women could notice you from the instant you walked in, but no one got a clear image of the supposed 'shape-shifter's' face?"

It was Will's turn to cock an eyebrow, glancing at his newly acquired fans. "Uh, maybe they were busier that day?"

Cara's eyes narrowed at her partner. "Anyway," she said firmly, "Rich's guy dies there. Our guy disappears from the counter area where the co-workers parted company. Supposed Shape-Shifting Mystery Guy is somewhere in between. People see one rough description and then a completely different man seconds later. Why?"

Will paused; Cara could almost hear the gears turning wildly in his mind. "Maybe they were hiding in plain sight." Cara watched as he approached the large open area where people milled about, his focus on the security cameras in place. "Cara, stand right where Rich's guy was found. Wait for my call."

A slightly confused Cara obeyed his request as she watched him dash to the security booth. Her iPhone rang a moment later. "Wave at me," she heard Will say over the phone. She waved, pausing midair as Will said suddenly, "Stop!"

Another few moments later, Will returned, smirking. Cara's hands rested on her hips, awaiting an answer. "They knew this Terminal's security views and its limitations," Will said triumphantly as he crossed toward her. "They were on the inside."

"The killer and the Shape Shifter?"

"If they are two separate people, then yes."

"You think they're one?"

As Will took a step forward, close to the site of the murder and the resulting burns from the unidentified acid, he yelled in pain as a sharp internal blow to his head knocked him to his knees. "WILL!" Cara rushed down to the floor as Will crouched in agony, holding his head and yelling. "Will! Will! What's wrong? Are you hit? Will?!"

Cara's heart stopped when he looked up at her, his eyes glassy and his face taunt against the struggle of the extreme pain he felt. She examined him, looking for any signs of injury as the security guards rushed toward them.

"Cara ... It's ... Caraaaaaaah!" Will wailed, moving violently away from where he knelt, nearly knocking Cara and a security guard over as he fled.

Cara shot up from the ground, chasing after him. "WILL!" she yelled in a panic, unable to process what had just happened. "Will, wait!" She breathed heavily as he finally came to a halt, her stopped a few yards away from him, the security guards not far behind.

"Keep them away!" Will screamed, still clutching his head with his back to Cara. "Just stay away!"

"Will! What is-"

"I said BACK OFF!" Will turned around quickly, his Sig Saur aimed at Cara squarely. She gasped, her hands instinctively raising at her sides.

"Will?" Cara said gently, still reeling in shock at what she was seeing. Her friend and partner was holding a gun on her, with what looked like an intent to kill. She heard the guards yelling at Will to drop his weapon, and she raised her arm at them to stop them from approaching him. "Will, what happened back there?"

He was silent as he stared at her, his eyes filled with intensity. She stepped cautiously forward, showing him her hands at her sides as reassurance of her trustworthiness as he cocked his gun. "Will, it's me. You can trust me." She was barely above a whisper as she closed the gap some more, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Out of nowhere, he screamed in pain again, holding his head and crouching. The gun was still firmly in his right hand, aimed at Cara. As she stepped forward to help him, he raised his gun on her. The rest happened quickly, and she was unable to stop it.

Cara heard the all-too familiar sound of a round escape a gun chamber, traveling hard with purpose. She expected pain; she expected blood - she even expected death. However, as she realized that she was still able to expect things and that she hadn't died, she saw that it wasn't Will's gun that had been fired, but a guard's that was fired at Will. She felt like she moved in slow motion toward Will's slumped body, bright red blood escaping a bullet wound to his shoulder. His gun landed with a thud on the ground, skittering away as he continued to clutch his head in agony.

"Will!" Cara took him in her arms, trying to stop the bleeding with his shirt. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she screamed at the guard who shot him.

"Step back," the guards commanded, tearing her away from Will, who was still crouched in agony. The guards roughly hoisted him up, not seeming to have any concern for the strange events that just occurred.

"Let him go!" Cara screamed, now being tightly held by the guard who shot Will, struggling against her captor's grip. "He's an investigating officer! He needs help!"

She continued to fight against the large guard who held her roughly, watching as EMTs now flooded the scene. "Where are you taking him? Where are you taking him?!" No one answered her, and she fought harder against her captor. "Where, damnit?!"

"Officer English, you need to calm down," the guard behind her said sternly. "He will be in good hands."

"What the hell is that suppose to mean?!" She screamed, turning to him and finally breaking free as he let her go. She watched as the EMTs and other guards took Will away on a stretcher, strapped down and crying out in agony. "Where are you taking him?!" She nearly spat in the guard's face with her demand.

The tall guard's jaw was tight, his eyes peering at her in distain. "University Medical," he replied coldly.

As soon as she heard his reply, Cara sprinted back to the squad car she and Will drove over to the Terminal in, flicking on the sirens and barreling out of the terminal parking lot with crazed speed.

He observed the scene with pleasure, though he was able to keep any outward, telltale signs of such hidden neatly away. His finger gently pressed the button on the device in his ear.

"See to it that he is locked up," the steely voice said over his Bluetooth after he placed the outgoing call. "Maximum security."

He smiled slightly, palming a dark rock fragment in his hand nearby where the scene had first begun, strolling toward the door. "And see to it she doesn't get in the way."