Labyrinth - Part Two
by Raj Sisodia

E-mail: seek2reveal333@aol.com 


April 26th 2012 
Great Plains, Wyoming 
12: 41 a.m. 

Slowly, consciousness returned. Dana Scully forced her eyes
open. Her mind was a chaotic swirl of thoughts and feelings.
Her chest felt very tight. For a moment she had no idea where
she was. But then the memories suddenly resurfaced with awful,
piercing clarity. Oh God   she was hanging upside down in the
overturned rental car, restrained only by the seatbelt digging
against her chest. The fact that she was still alive didn't fill her
with hope. A flickering orange light bathed the wreck. Fires
were burning outside. Scully began to feel a growing sense of
inertia. Hanging upside down like this was frightening. 

She managed to turn to her left and saw Mulder hanging next to
her, but his eyes were closed. 

*"Mulder...?"* She managed to reach out and grab his arm,
tugging at it. *"Fox...?"* A surge of panic went through her, her
insides twisting. In the driver seat, Danielle Archer was also
suspended upside down by her seatbelt, her face resting against
the deployed airbag. 

*"Archer...?* Can you hear me?" 

Scully realized her voice sounded muffled and dissonant in her
own ears. She realized it was the after-effects of the missile's
detonation. She didn't have time to worry if her hearing was
permanently damaged. 

She grimaced, reached down and pressed a hand against the
upturned interior of the roof, braced her legs in the foot-well
above and used her free hand to disengage the seatbelt. Slowly,
awkwardly, she managed to wriggle her way down onto the
roof's interior. She struggled into an upright kneeling position. 

Immediately she reached for Mulder, dread like oil swirling
within her. She checked his pulse. It was strong, very strong.
The dread dissolved, replaced with grim determination. She had
to get him out of there. She grabbed hold of Mulder as best she
could and unclipped his seatbelt. He slumped forward heavily
onto her. Scully gritted her teeth as she twisted, turned and
slowly manoeuvred her partner down onto the roof. 

Sweating now, Scully carefully backed out of the shattered rear
window onto the scrubland and dragged Mulder after her.
Breathing heavily and grinding her teeth, she succeeded in
eventually removing him from the car completely. 

The right side of his face was marred with a few scratches and
cuts, and thin trickles of blood had rolled down from his
hairline. She quickly pulled open his coat and pulled up his
sweater, checking for wounds and broken ribs. She silently
thanked the Lord when she found nothing. Mulder was
unconscious but ok. 

For the first time, Scully looked up and peered around her. *"Oh
my God..."*
 
The entire scene was bathed in flickering orange light from
dozens and dozens of tiny fires burning. Scully realized the
upturned car was resting only a few feet away from the lip of a
smoking, burning crater. Clumps of scrub vegetation were
burning everywhere inside it. The crater was at least thirty feet
deep and maybe fifty feet across. The place looked like a
warzone, like something she expected to see in news footage
from Afghanistan or Iraq, not the short-grass prairies of
Wyoming. 

Scully peered down at Mulder and gently slapped his face a few
times. He stirred and groaned.  "Mulder?" 

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he sat up immediately,
scrambling backwards on his hands and heels until he
recognised Scully peering at him. He stopped and just stared at
her, his chest heaving. 

The shock in his eyes seemed to fade. "Ok...ok, that was wild,"
he said finally. 

Scully gestured at the lip of the smoking crater. Mulder peered
at the tiny fires burning, with wide eyes. 

"Is Archer...?" 

He turned and scrambled round to the driver side of the
upturned rental car. Scully quickly joined him and together they
managed to drag Danielle Archer out of the wreck and onto the
scrubland with them. She was breathing. Her pulse was good.
The airbag had protected her from smashing her rib-cage on the
steering column. 

Scully stared silently at Mulder and then looked back at the
wreck. From this angle she could see that the front left corner of
the car was completely buckled and smashed. She realized that
the car falling at such an angle had absorbed most of the impact
and along with the seatbelts had quite possibly saved their
lives. 

"Why...why aren't we *dead,* Scully?" 

She peered at him. "I don't know..." 

"It had us in its sights. It could've obliterated us if it wanted to.
It didn't miss. I think ...I think it was some kind of warning
shot." 

Mulder was peering wildly up at the night sky now, searching
this way and that, but the drone prototype was already gone. 

* 

12: 58 a.m. 

Images and feelings from the vision the drone had shown him
were still buzzing darkly in Mulder's mind. All he could do was
sit there and let the wind ruffle his hair and play across his face.
Danielle Archer had regained consciousness, her back propped
against the wreck of the overturned rental car. She was still
groggy but stared in horror at the burning crater that began only
a few feet from where the three of them were sitting. 

*"Jesus,"* muttered Archer and peered at Mulder. "It's a miracle
we're still alive." 

Mulder glanced at Scully, then back at the CIA agent. "No, not a
miracle. That thing was making a statement." 

Scully moved across the scrub on her hands and knees towards
Mulder, and touched the tiny cuts on the right side of his face. 

"Flying glass," she said quietly. 

He reached out and gently touched the left side of her face.
"You too." 

"Is it bad?" Scully asked. 

Mulder shook his head. "Still gorgeous." 

But Scully couldn't bring herself to smile. "How's your
hearing?" 

"Better," said Mulder. "You?" Scully nodded. She moved over
to Archer and tried to check her again for injuries. 

"I told you I'm ok," said the CIA woman, but she still let Scully
inspect her. 

"The car's wrecked," Mulder said quietly. "We're stuck out
here, in the middle of nowhere." 

"Well," Archer began, "maybe those shapeshifter things will
find us and put us out of our 
misery." She laughed, shaking her head. 

Scully fixed Mulder with an intense state. 

"*William* crashed the drone?" 

Mulder closed his eyes and nodded. The vision was still
painfully vivid in his mind's eye. He realised he couldn't quite
process what he'd seen. 

"That thing showed me, Dana. It put thoughts and feelings and
images into my head. It wanted me to know. I think...I think it
knew that we were William's parents. It knew exactly who we
were." 

Scully gritted her teeth and said, "*How*...how did it show you
these things?" 

"I don't know. It's like it was able to download information
directly into my mind." 

"Did you see William? Did it show you our son?" 

Mulder peered back at her, seeing her fear and anger, and
nodded. 

Scully took a deep inhalation of breath and closed her eyes.
"What...what did he...look like?" 

Mulder could see this was agony for her. It was agony for him
too -  their son, out there somewhere. But Mulder could sense
pre-cognitively the kind of dark thoughts that were running
through Scully's mind. 

She had given William away to protect him. Mulder understood
that. But he also understood that she had never quite forgiven
herself for it. He knew what it was like to have an open wound
that you pretended had healed. He knew about the quiet, secret
hell she had put herself through because of that choice. She
thought she had hidden most of that agony from him, to protect
him, but Mulder knew. 

Quietly, Mulder said, "He looked like a normal, dark-haired
little kid. He looked a bit like me but he had your eyes. Dana,
I'm so sorry..." 

*"Don't,"* Scully said fiercely, seeming to tremble with a
thousand emotions. "Not now. That can all wait until we get out
of this goddamn desert alive." 

Mulder nodded. He could see the torment in her expression, and
it frightened him. 

"You hear that?" asked Archer, and then more forcefully. "Shut
up and listen!" 

A low throbbing sound was filling the air. It only took Mulder a
moment to recognize the sound as the rotors of an approaching
helicopter. Danielle Archer immediately climbed to her feet,
hope in her eyes as she began scanning the sky. Mulder and
Scully also got to their feet beside the overturned wreck. 

"There!" Archer exclaimed, pointing to a place in the sky. 

A pinpoint of white light came into view, and then the beams of
searchlights sweeping the scrubland. As the craft got closer
Archer squinted and said, "I think that's a Pave-Hawk; a search-
and-rescue chopper. I think these guys might be Air Force." 

"Let's hope so," Scully said darkly. Mulder glanced at her. The
throb of the chopper's rotors got louder and louder until it filled
their ears. Searchlights moved within the burning crater, swept
over the overturned wreck and then fixed on the three of them.
They squinted and lifted their arms to shield their eyes. 

The helicopter was moving in a semi-circle in the sky above
them. Finally it began descending about forty feet from where
the three of them were standing, kicking up clouds of dust and
grit. 

"I don't see any insignia on this chopper, no serial numbers,"
Archer said quickly, a note of panic in her voice. "Ok...this
might be bad." 

A skitter of fear made Mulder turn and look at Scully. His
partner was peering at him. He could see that she was afraid too.


The helicopter touched down and the door immediately slid
open. Men dressed in black utility-clothing and carrying assault-
rifles began pouring onto the scrubland, marching towards them
with weapons drawn. Mulder felt the dread rising in his throat.
Scully and Archer instinctively raised their hands above their
heads; gestures of submission. Mulder grimaced and did the
same. 

"Identify yourselves!" the nearest man barked at them, as the
others quickly surrounded. 

"CIA!" Archer called out over sound of the helicopter's idling
engines. She slowly reached into her coat and removed an ID.
She held it up for them to see. "We're here on a matter of
National Security! Identify *yourselves*!" 

"AFSOC," the leader barked at them. "Air Force Special
Operations Command. You're trespassing on a classified USAF
retrieval-site. My team will have to escort you to F.E. Warren
Air Force Base for questioning." 

Mulder saw genuine terror in Scully's eyes. She knew as well as
he did that these men were not United States Air Force
personnel. They were ex-military mercenaries employed by
Labyrinth. The knowledge filled him with a cold, black fear. 

He turned back to the armed men and shouted, "Where's your
insignia? Where are your patches?" 

One of the men interrupted Mulder by raising his assault-rifle
and firing it into the air. The rapid-fire gunshots made all three
of them flinch and cower. 

"Get in the chopper! *Now!*" 

Suddenly the armed men were all around them and one of them
nudged the barrel of his weapon into Mulder's back. In the next
moment Mulder, Scully and Archer were being marched at
gunpoint towards the waiting helicopter. 

A feeling of adrenalized horror was rising within Mulder, at the
apparent severity of their situation. He tried to catch Scully's
eye, to comfort her with a look, to let her know that somehow
they would find a way out of this, but she was peering at the
ground as the man with the assault-rifle forced her forward.
Mulder tried to let the hotter emotion of rage overtake the dread
within him. 

"We're part of an NSA-CIA taskforce!" exclaimed Danielle
Archer, her voice trembling. "We're here on the authority-" 

The mercenary behind her slammed the rifle into her lower
back. She screamed and fell instantly, but was immediately
hauled onto her feet again and dragged towards the chopper. 

This was bad. Mulder knew this was very bad. Scully glanced at
him. Mulder hadn't seen that look in her eyes in a long, long
time. She looked hopeless. A fist seemed to close around his
heart. 

They were forced aboard the idling Pave-Hawk with the armed
mercenaries, and shoved down into seats that ran along the
interior edge of the craft. The sliding door was dragged shut.
Mulder's pulse was racing, and he realized he was sweating in
fear. He managed to glance at Scully, then at Archer. Both
women were terrified. Archer was still grimacing in pain from
the weapon slammed into her back. There were at least eight
men in the darkened cabin with them, two with weapons still
drawn. 

"Take it up!" the lead mercenary barked at the pilot, and the
throb of the rotors increased rapidly. Mulder felt the cabin lurch
slightly and realized they were airborne. He wanted to say
something to these men, to try reasoning with them, but he was
afraid. If he got himself injured or killed he would be of no use
to Scully or Archer. 

"It was here, wasn't it?" asked the lead mercenary, in a
surprisingly calm voice. 

Mulder said nothing, breathing deeply. 

"Did it speak to you, Agent Mulder?" 

Mulder had the distinct feeling that failing to answer this
particular question would end badly. "Yes," he said, scowling at
the man. 

"What did it communicate to you?" 

Mulder grit his teeth and glanced at Scully again. She had her
head lowered, not making eye contact with any of them for fear
of reprisal. 

"I can't explain it. But you men you're all ex-military, right?
Army, Air Force, Marines, whatever...you swore an oath to
protect this country...and now you want to destroy it to
somehow fight aliens? To glorify some wrathful God? This
can't just be about money. Which lie are they using to control
you?" 

The leader peered at Mulder, saying nothing. 

Archer suddenly growled at the lead mercenary, "I'm a twenty-
year veteran of the Central Intelligence Agency. Counter-
terrorism. I'd say you sons of bitches qualify as terrorists. You
disgust me..." 

Mulder felt a stab of panic at her outburst. 

The lead mercenary chuckled and said. "Well...someone at
Langley obviously thinks you're expendable, Agent Archer." 

The chopper door was slid open and a growling, howling wind
filled the cabin along with the roar of the rotor-blades. Mulder
knew what was about to happen. He tried to lunge forward but
the mercenary beside him snatched his arm and pressed the
barrel of the assault-rifle into his side. 

*"No!"* Mulder cried instinctively. 

One of the men grabbed Danielle Archer and dragged her from
the seat. She began screaming, clawing desperately at him, but
he spun her round and hurled her out of the chopper door and
into the howling wind. 

"You *sick bastard!*" Mulder screamed, and struggled against the
man beside him. The mercenary just shoved the weapon harder
against his side. Mulder peered in horror at the open chopper
door. Danielle Archer was gone. Scully was silently crying now,
struggling to hold back the tears and failing. 

The leader turned and peered at Mulder. "I hope you're willing
to take me seriously now," he barked, over the roar of wind and
rotors. 

"You didn't have to kill her," Mulder growled at him. 

"There's nearly three thousand square miles of open desert in
Laramie County alone. They might not find her for a long, long
time. She was expendable. You two are not. Not yet. Now, tell
me what Gabriel showed you." 

Scully had finally succeeded in stemming her silent tears. She
raised her head and peered at the lead mercenary, with a vicious
expression. 

"You might as well kill us both," she said through clenched
teeth. "Because we're not going to tell you *anything.*" 

One of the mercenaries beside Scully grabbed her arm and the
back of her neck, and half shoved her out of the open door. 

*"Stop!"* cried Mulder, his heart hammering in his chest. 

Scully screamed as she was pitched forward from the side of the
chopper, and held there as the howling wind battered her. She
peered helplessly at the scrubland whipping by nearly two
hundred feet below. 

*"I'll tell you whatever the hell you want to know!"* Mulder
screamed. *"Just pull her back in!"* 

The mercenary holding Scully pulled her back into the Pave-
Hawk and threw her into the seat again. The cabin door was
finally dragged shut. Scully's eyes were filled with horror and
streaming with tears. She was shaking badly. Mulder clenched
his teeth, grimaced and attempted to swallow his rage. He
wanted to kill every single man aboard the chopper. 

"Let's hear it, Agent Mulder," the leader said calmly. 

"It showed me our son," said Mulder, trembling. "Our son can
communicate with it." 

The lead mercenary nodded. "So it *was* the Van De Kamp boy
who brought down Gabriel? You need to explain to me how an
eleven year old kid was able to crash a black-budget UAV." 

Mulder glanced at Scully. She was still shaking, wild-eyed. "His
*physiology,*" growled Mulder. "His physiology is part
alien...and the power-source of this UAV is alien. Somehow
they communicated telepathically. That's all I know, you *son of
a bitch*..." 

The leader nodded again, apparently satisfied with Mulder's
explanation. "See, Agent Mulder, that wasn't so hard, was it?" 

Scully suddenly peered at the lead mercenary with an almost-
insane expression. "We're going to *kill* you..." 

The leader chuckled and looked at Mulder. "Wow, your woman
is one tough chick, huh? I'm impressed." 

"You don't know the half of it," Mulder hissed at him. He
looked over at Scully. "Are you ok...?" 

She peered at Mulder and then turned her attention to the lead
mercenary again, staring silently. 

"You're not taking us to an Air Force base, are you?" Mulder
asked, attempting to control his burning hatred for these men. 

"No, we're not." 

Mulder risked another glance at Scully. She had a hand closed
around the little gold cross at her throat and was murmuring
something over and over. Her eyes were dark, filled with an
unbearable intensity. Mulder realized that Scully was praying. 

*

Corbeau Trading-Post 
Great Plains, Wyoming 
1:38 a.m. 

The tall, thin man took a long breath and peered around. The
temporary hub-site was a collection of derelict buildings sitting
in the vast, empty scrubland; an abandoned fur-trading post. It
suited their purposes just fine. He glanced at the other three men
and all the computer-tech they had set up along the decaying
walls of the main building. Corbeau had traded with the larger
Fort Laramie in the east of the county back in the 1800's, but
while the remains of its famous sister-post had been protected as
a historic site by the National Park Service, the little-known
Corbeau Post was allowed to fall into anonymous ruin. 

Anonymity was all-important for their work. They had various
kinds of tracking and telemetry equipment; all of it maintained
by state-of-the-art nitrogen-cooled generators. So far most of the
tech had proved useless in locating and retrieving their target.
Also, some of the men in this unit were lying to him and had
their own agendas. Such was the way when you had to work
with guns for hire. 

The thin man in the white jumpsuit smiled sadly and peered
down at the black spirals tattooed on the backs of his hands. 

He knew what secrets these men had, but they didn't know that
he knew. He needed to keep it that way for as long as possible.
Once he acquired the drone prototype he would be given orders
to dissolve the unit of mercenaries. At all costs Labyrinth's
assets within the Air Force and Army had to be protected. Most
of the wet-work for this target was subcontracted to ensure that
protection. 

The thin man knew all too well how important this mission was
for his employers. The timetable was set. They were at war. 

The thin man glanced up at one of the walls of the derelict
building, at a crumbling mural of the Virgin Mary. 

Money could be used to tempt and control most men. But for
men who saw themselves as honourable, religion was a far
sharper tool. Carefully manipulating someone's religious beliefs
was a source of great power. It could be used to reorganize the
thinking-processes of even the most hardened intelligence
veterans. No man was an island, after all. It was all a matter of
context. 

The thin man turned when he heard Markham re-enter the
building. The tall, muscular team-leader was scowling at him.
He had a pistol clenched in his right hand. 

"I'm starting to think that you have no idea how to acquire this
target. I'm starting to think that you're stalling for time." 

Markham was ex-Special Forces, a very capable and intuitive
former Green Beret. He'd presented something of a problem
since they were first given their mandate by the thin man's
handler at DOD. Unfortunately, Markham was necessary. 

"Look, Lucas...I *will* reacquire Gabriel. I just need a few more
hours." 

Markham sneered, eyes narrowed. "You said that six hours ago.
Wyoming is crawling with military...we need to cut our losses
and pack our gear." 

The thin man scowled at him. "Have you lost your mind? Who's
going to tell them that we failed? *You?* It certainly won't be me.
Give me another two hours. We're on the brink of greatness
here, Lucas." 

Markham's gun was suddenly raised, pointing at him. "I don't
know who you really are, but you're not who you told me." 

"No," said the thin man, "I'm not. I'm something much greater
than that. That's why my handler gave me this mandate. Listen
to me our scout crew tracked the energy-pulse to a location
northeast of here. They found a crater, and Danielle Archer and
her two friends. One of them is *weaponized.*" 

Markham frowned, and slowly lowered the pistol in his hand.
"Are you certain?" 

The thin man nodded. "I can use him to link into the prototype. I
just need two more hours." 

A look of recognition moved across Markham's face. "You're a
conduit...?" 

The thin man nodded again. "You didn't think they'd rely on
simple hardware, did you? They intend to make history, Lucas.
That's why I'm here." 

Markham shook his head and re-holstered his pistol. "Two
hours," he said pointedly. "Or we dissolve this operation before
it's too late." He turned and stalked from the building. 

The thin man took a long, deep breath, and glanced at the
crumbling mural of the Virgin Mary high on the wall. 

* 

Great Plains, Wyoming 
1: 47 a.m. 

The Pave-Hawk finally touched down beside a dirt road and a
waiting car, its headlights like eyes in the darkness. Scully
glimpsed it through the widows. One of the armed mercenaries
slid open the cabin door and ushered she and Mulder out of the
helicopter and onto solid ground again. She didn't know what
was happening, but she just wanted to get the hell away from
that chopper. The sky glimmered with stars against the darkened
horizon.
 
Mulder glanced at her, concern in his eyes for what these men
had just put her through. She peered back at her partner and nodded 
gently. 

She wanted him to think she was ok. But she wasn't ok. They
had murdered Danielle Archer right in front of her, and then
threatened her with the same fate. They had dangled her from
the side of the airborne helicopter like she was nothing more
than a toy, a tactical manoeuvre. Her insides were still
shimmering from the fear. 

The dark car was waiting maybe twenty feet away, and the
engine was running. The sudden roar of the helicopter behind
her made Scully flinch and spin round. The chopper lifted into
the night sky, kicking up a cloud of dust and grit that enveloped
them. Scully squinted and pressed her mouth closed. In a matter
of moments the Pave-Hawk was lost in the darkness of the
night. 

They were alone beside the dirt road and the waiting car, as its
engine gently growled. 

"What do you think?" Scully asked finally. She noticed that her
voice sounded blank, unlike the fear and rage that was glowing
like an ember in her stomach. 

"Do we have a choice?" Mulder said quietly. 

"Not unless we want to trek three thousand miles through open
desert." 

"Are you really ok, Dana?" 

"No." 

"I'm going to try to get us out of this..." 

"I know, Mulder. I know." 

"Something's changed since they sent that kid with the gun to
our motel room. They had an opportunity to kill us and they
didn't take it. I need to figure out a way to exploit that..." 

Scully peered at her partner, her lover and her best friend. She
had more faith in him than she did in God right now. She had
made the most awful choice a mother could make. She had
given away her child. And still...this darkness had found him
anyway. Every day she secretly regretted it, hated herself for it.
But she told herself over and over that her son's life would be
spared all the horror. 

She realized now that her awful choice had been for nothing. 

It felt like God was laughing at her. She peered intently at
Mulder as tears rolled down her cheeks. She didn't know what
to say to him. She just looked over at the waiting car and said,
"Let's go." 

Mulder was silent as they trudged towards the ominous vehicle.
She could feel that he wanted to comfort her, and suddenly he
gripped her hand and squeezed it. They walked hand in hand to
the car and realized the back door was already open. There was
only one occupant; the driver, but their view of him was
obscured by the glaring headlights. They both stopped for a
moment, peering silently at each other before climbing into the
backseat. 

The man in the driver seat turned round and peered grimly at
them. It was Michael Oren, the NSA agent they had met with
Danielle Archer in the Deputy Director's office. 

"You two are seriously lucky that I exist," he said. 

For a few moments Scully tried to process her shock, and then a
wave of cautious relief began to spread through her. *"Jesus
Christ,"* she muttered, "I thought..." 

Mulder peered darkly at the driver. "They...they think you're
working for them?" 

Michael Oren shook his head. "Those guys in the chopper think
they're working for *me.* Just shut up and listen. You're both
lucky to be alive right now and sitting in this car with me. The
game is still in play. Labyrinth thinks I'm an asset. They've
thought so for the last eleven months. They're the ones who
manoeuvred me into Vigil, but NSA is using me to gather intel
on Labyrinth." 

Scully saw in Mulder's eyes that he couldn't quite believe they
were safe, that this man's story was true. "That's a dangerous
play," Mulder growled. "Why do they trust you? Why are ex-
military guys taking orders from you?" 

Michael Oren peered at him like he should already know. "This
is a deep-cover operation. I've been authorised...to do
whatever's required to earn their trust. Get it?" 

Mulder grimaced and nodded, and a moment later Scully
recognized what the NSA agent was saying. 

"Have you murdered people for them?" asked Scully, in anger. 

Michael Oren glanced away. "Sometimes you have to fight fire
with fire." 

"Really?" said Mulder, "Because they just threw Danielle
Archer out of a moving helicopter. Almost did the same thing to
Dana..." 

The NSA agent didn't look him in the eye. "I'm sorry about
that...I was hoping to get to all three of you before any of you
got hurt. But Archer was a veteran; she knew how dangerous
this play was." 

Mulder peered intently at the man. "That's a lie. She had no
idea. You withheld intel from a federal agent and it got her
killed. Her blood is on your hands, and that's the truth." 

"I've got a lot of blood on my hands, Mr Mulder. Innocent
blood. I was authorised." 

"Yeah, you mentioned that already," Mulder said, the disgust
clear in his tone. "And how do you feel about that? About
murdering innocent people for an intel operation?" 

Michael Oren ignored Mulder's question. He simply fastened
his seatbelt and took the wheel, pulling the car out onto the dirt
road. Once they were driving he glanced at them in the rear-
view mirror and said, "Listen to me, there's something you need
to know. You need to listen closely, ok?" 

Scully was glad to be alive, but she was shimmering with anger,
fear and shock. She didn't trust this man either. 

"What I'm about to tell you is beyond Top Secret. It's what we
call black intelligence - completely off the grid. Certain groups
within the NSA believe that this X22 Reaper prototype contains
an energy-source that's extraterrestrial in nature - a piece of
alien technology that can literally bend Space and Time. But this
free-energy core is now fuelling an autonomous A.I., a machine
with access to state of the art missile and pulse weaponry. So,
Labyrinth wants to use Gabriel as a weapon against the United
States. But NSA just wants the prototype's core, its heart. We
believe that the X22 was a project conducted by private black-
organisations; unknown by those with even the highest security-
clearance." 

"Wait," said Mulder, "So you're saying Gabriel isn't a black-
budget Air Force project?" 

"No. All the funding, R & D and engineering came from an
unknown ex-military source but a source that seems to believe
it's protecting the United States from an alien invasion. All we
know is that the project is referred to as the Archangel Initiative.
And it's unlike any technology we've ever seen before. You're
in very murky territory here. Groups within groups." 

Scully listened silently, trying to absorb the information.
Mulder's eyes were ablaze. 

"Look," Michael Oren continued, "I'm going to play you a
recording now. It's going to disturb you, but I need you to
remain calm. I'm not kidding when I say I'm the only ally
you've got right now, whether you trust me or not." 

He switched on an iPod that was clipped to the dashboard and
connected to the car's speakers. He scrolled through to
something and pressed play. 

The sound of a woman's voice filled the moving car. 

*"This is Dr Rachel Steiger...DOD Special Access: X-13864.
Initial interview.....Hi, my name's Rachel....I'm supposed to
tell you again that you're not in any trouble...I just want to talk
with you for a minute...I know you must be really scared right
now, but it's ok...I'm only here to help, ok?"* 

*"Ok."* A young boy's voice. 

Scully inhaled sharply as mixed feelings of joy and fear and
panic rose within her. Joy at simply hearing his voice for the
first time, and knowing it was him. Fear at what this would
mean. Panic at what might be coming. 

*"They told me that I'm supposed to find out how you got inside
this building. Would it be ok if you helped me to figure that
out?"* 

The boy again. *"I don't know if I can explain it."* 

*"We can work it out together, I think. Right?"* 

The sound of the boy fidgeting. *"Ok. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to
break any rules."* 

Scully turned and peered, trembling, at Mulder. His dark eyes
were wet with tears. 

*"You didn't break any rules, William. It's ok. Do you know
where you are though? Do you know what this building actually
is?"* 

*"Uh-huh. The Pentagon."* 

*"Do you remember how you got into this building?"* 

There were more sounds of fidgeting before the boy answered.
*"I came through my dream. I know it sounds crazy, but I came
here in my dream and then I was here for real."* 

Scully pressed her eyes shut, trying to block out the world so
that all that remained was the sound of her son's voice. 

*"Why did you want to come here in your dream?"* 

*"Because I was scared. I wanted someone to protect me."* 

*"From what?"* 

*"From the angel."* 

*"There was an angel in your dream?"* 

*"Yeah, Gabriel. He's been in my dreams for months now. And
when I wake up I'm so tired...can hardly stay awake at school."* 

*"Why are you scared of Gabriel if he's an angel? Angels are the
good guys, right?"* 

*"I think he is a good guy, but he's still scary. He keeps telling
me that I'm not human. That I'm something else."* 

*"What does Gabriel say that you are?"* 

*"A god."* 

*"You just want your life to go back to normal, huh?"* 

*"Yeah. I'm scared to tell my Mom and Dad. They worry about
me all the time."* 

*"Why do they worry?"* 

*"Because sometimes weird stuff happens when I'm around."* 

Scully waited, aching inside like an exposed nerve, but the
recording just ended. She didn't open her eyes. She just sat there
trembling. She felt Mulder slip his hand into hers, and squeeze -  
but she couldn't squeeze back. 

All these years she tried to tell herself that she'd made the right
choice, that William was safe now, free from those that would
harm him. And all those years she'd never really believed it.
And now here was the smoking gun; the proof that the most
horrific choice of her entire life had been for absolutely nothing.

How could she ever call herself a mother? 

She couldn't protect Emily...she had let that little girl die. 

And now she knew she had failed at protecting her son too. How
could Mulder ever look at her the same way again? How could
she look at herself in the mirror and not see her own shame? A
faint pain in her stomach made Scully wince. She pressed a hand
to it. She tried to tell herself the pain was psychosomatic, but it
didn't help. She was afraid to open her eyes because if she did
she would have to look at Mulder. 

"Dana, it's not your fault," he said softly, as though reading her
mind. 

"This is *all* my fault," she said, her eyes still closed. "I told you
to leave, to go underground because those things were hunting
you and I couldn't protect him..." 

"I never should have left," Mulder said quietly. "I never should
have left either of you." 

Scully forced her eyes open and peered at him. Tears were
rolling down his face, but his expression was stern and focused.
"It's not your fault, Dana. *It's mine.* Don't ever let these
bastards convince you that you were a bad mother. You *hear
me?*" 

Scully was silent, just peering darkly at him with a hand pressed
to her stomach. 

"You *hear* me, Dana Katherine Scully?" 

"I hear you, Mulder. But I don't believe you." 

Mulder grimaced and focused his attention on Michael Oren in
the driver seat of the moving car. 

"Where the hell is he? Does DOD still have him?" 

The NSA agent glanced at them in the rear-view mirror. "No.
The boy was being transported to a secure location outside of
the Pentagon by an armed covert unit, approximately fifty-six
hours ago. But they were ambushed by an unknown assailant.
Three DOD operatives were killed in the attack, and the fourth
is on life support at Arlington Memorial. Whoever carried out
the hit was a highly-skilled professional. It was quick and clean
and DOD never saw it coming." 

Mulder leaned forward and hissed, "Are you saying that the
Department of Defence *lost* our son...?" 

"I'm sorry, but whoever killed DOD's security-team has the boy
now." 

"I don't believe this," murmured Mulder, leaning back in his
seat and closing his eyes. "You knew about William from the
start, you son of a bitch. It's the reason you recruited us into
Vigil in the first place..." 

"It's only part of the reason. Everything else you heard is true.
I'm truly sorry, but compartmentalization is just part of the
intelligence community. You didn't have clearance." 

"Clearance?" Mulder said quietly. "We're his parents." 

"No, you *were* his parents. And if what this boy said is true, then
he poses a massive threat to National Security. Apparently, he
managed to dream-walk himself into the Pentagon and bring
down a UAV with the power of his mind. Think about that.
Think about the implications." 

There was silence in the car for a long while. 

"This is insanity," Scully said blankly, and then, "Where the hell
are we going?" She felt empty. She felt broken. She felt like she
wanted to slip away into a perfect darkness. 

"You've got a choice now," said Michael Oren, glancing at
them in the rear-view. "I've got a backpack in the trunk of this
car. It contains two semiautomatics, food, water, and a GPS
satellite phone. You can take it and try your luck out there in the
desert. Maybe you can get the FBI to come get you. Or, you can
come with me to the hub-site, as my prisoners." 

"You must think we're stupid," muttered Scully. 

"If I'm not at the hub-site in the next 30 minutes I'll be putting
this whole operation in jeopardy, Dr Scully. But if you take the
backpack, you need to know something else. A small group
within the NSA believes there might be other things out here
also searching for Gabriel. Things that look like men but aren't
men. This group refers to these entities as Chameleons. They
believe these Chameleons can adopt the form of anyone they
choose." 

"The bounty hunters," Mulder said quietly. 

"No," said the NSA agent. "We've read all your case-files. I
think they're something similar but different. They bleed red,
not green. But they seem to be lethal, and unstoppable." 

"Yeah," said Mulder, "We had a little run-in with two of them
earlier, before we found Gabriel." 

The NSA agent chuckled and glanced at him in the rear-view.
"And you're still alive? The legends are true then. You *are*
Spooky." 

"So why does Labyrinth want us as prisoners?" Mulder asked
quietly, his eyes keen. "Why didn't those mercs just kill us back
in the chopper?" 

"Because they need you." 

Mulder grimaced. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

"They've figured out that you're weaponized, Mr Mulder." 

Mulder glanced at Scully. She could see the anxiety in his eyes,
but she felt empty. She could only listen silently. 

"And what does *weaponized* mean?" 

Michael Oren glanced at him again in the rear-view. "In the
mid-nineties, during your time with the FBI, you were exposed
to an evolved pathogen codenamed  Purity'. You refer to it in
your case-notes as the black oil. This pathogen altered your
DNA in subtle but highly profound ways. You have no idea.
You and your son and the energy-source powering Gabriel are
all connected now. Do you understand?" 

"Are you saying Labyrinth wants to use me to *talk to it?*" 

"Yes. They think it was your presence that reactivated the drone,
Mulder. You're the reason we have a rogue bird in the sky now.
If I take you in as my prisoner, they'll try to use you to connect
with Gabriel try to hack its flight-path through establishing
some kind of psychic nexus. Once we have control of the
prototype NSA has authorized me to blow my cover and
dissolve the unit. We can't let them use Gabriel as a weapon." 

"This is madness," said Mulder, clenching his hands into fists.
"How exactly do they plan to establish this  nexus'?" 

"Labyrinth has a DOD asset heading the retrieval. He works for
their Special Access programs, and he's a very powerful
conduit. He was involved in highly-classified Remote Viewing
and ESP experiments as a teenager back in the early seventies.
He can connect with you, and through you he'll attempt to
communicate with the prototype. It's their last shot at
reacquiring this thing." 

Scully could see Mulder's mind working furiously behind his
eyes. "That creepy son of a bitch with the spiral tattoos on his
hands? The guy who intimidated me and Scully back at
Kelverton?"
 
"Yes." 

"Wait," said Scully, as an intuition surfaced in the back of her
mind. "Just wait a second. You're saying they're all linked now -
this drone, Mulder and William? So, in theory Mulder could
use this psychic nexus to communicate with *William* as well as
the prototype?" 

Mulder glanced at her. 

Michael Oren nodded. "Theoretically, yes. But listen to me...if
you come with me, I can't guarantee your safety. I can't
guarantee anything. It feels like no matter what play I go for this
whole thing is going spin out of control either way." 

"We're coming with you," said Mulder. He turned and looked at
Scully. *"Right?"* 

The love that Scully felt for Mulder at that moment was so
intense that she actually shuddered. She was unspeakably glad
that Mulder said what he did. She peered into his brown eyes,
took a long breath and nodded. 

She was terrified, still reeling from the events onboard the
chopper, but her fear was irrelevant. Someone had murdered
Defence Department officials and kidnapped their son. The son
she had given away over a decade ago in a futile attempt to
protect him. She had failed in that attempt. Whoever had him
now could be hurting him. The thought of his fear made Scully
resolute. She saw the same conviction in the eyes of the man she
loved sitting beside her. Even if there was only a slim chance
that the NSA agent's bizarre tale was true, they had to take it. 
                    
* 

Corbeau Trading-Post 
2: 14 a.m. 

Mulder's mind was blazing with possibilities and questions and
fears. Everything had happened so fast since they arrived in
Wyoming. He was having trouble processing it all, accepting
that it was really happening. He couldn't bear to think what
Scully was feeling after hearing William's voice on that
recording, or how she was trying to deal with the fact that their
child was now officially missing. 

Suddenly he thought of the boy's adoptive parents, William's
real Mom and Dad for all intents and purposes   the people who
had loved and nurtured and raised the boy for the past eleven
years. What the hell were they going through? Had William
simply vanished from his bed in the middle of the night?
Thoughts of Samantha's abduction from all those years ago
surfaced in Mulder's mind. He was certain that no government
source had bothered to inform William's adoptive parents that
he'd been kidnapped while under federal custody. 

They would have nothing but agony and questions, and a gaping
hole at the centre of their lives. Mulder knew all too well how
that felt. 

He glanced at Scully in the backseat of the car with him. That
strange vicious look was in her eyes again. It frightened him; a
depth of darkness in her expression that should belong to
someone else, not his sweet Dana. 

All reason and sense suggested they get as far away from
Wyoming as possible - get back to D.C. and officially report
Danielle Archer's death to Vigil. But he knew they couldn't do
that. This wasn't about finding the drone prototype anymore.
This was about William. Mulder had considered the possibility
that Michael Oren's story of William's abduction was somehow
a fabrication; that the recording was faked, but he knew in his
gut that it was real. He could feel it. He knew Scully could feel
it too. That's why they were about to walk into the lion's den. 

What other choice did they have? 

There were two military trucks parked beside the collection of
derelict buildings that had once formed the Corbeau Post. In the
largest of the buildings lights were glowing. 

"Ok," said Michael Oren from the driver seat, "Remember, none
of us make a move until they have Gabriel's guidance-system
locked. We need to land the drone before they can redirect it.
These guys are not screwing around - they'll send the UAV on
an immediate bombing-run if they get the chance. And that
means we can kiss a big chunk of Washington D.C. goodbye.
I'm guessing the White House and Congress so, I think we all
realize what's at stake here. Right?" 

"Just get us inside," Scully said quietly. 

The NSA agent got out and ordered them out of the car at
gunpoint. Mulder and Scully got out of the car, and the chill
prairie wind began tugging at their clothes. They walked
towards the main decaying building with Michael Oren
following behind them, his gun raised. Neither of them had to
fake the fear and anger they were feeling. 

There was only a rectangular hole in wall where the doors had
once been. Inside the building there were all kinds of
sophisticated computer technology lining the interior walls, and
men in black combat-clothing manning the equipment.
Electrical cables snaked above their heads, most of them feeding
into what Mulder realized were three sleek-looking generators
sitting in the far corner. One of the men was tall and thin, clad in
a white jumpsuit. He turned at the sound of them entering, and
offered a sallow-faced smile. Mulder glanced down at the black
spirals tattooed on the back of his hands. 

The thin man approached them and said, "I told you we'd be
seeing each other again, Fox." 

"Yeah," Mulder said quietly, "Well, the pleasure's all yours." 

"The clock's ticking," Michael Oren said brusquely. "If we're
going to do this we need to do it now." 

For a few moments the thin man just peered into Mulder's eyes,
and then, "I need to get inside your mind, Fox." 

"This better work," said a tall, muscular man standing over by
the generators, a pistol clenched in his hand. 

"It'll work, Lucas," the thin man replied. "I'm very good at what
I do." 

Mulder managed to glance at Scully and saw the dark resolve in
her expression. The thin man in the white jumpsuit suddenly
grabbed Mulder by the arm and marched him over to two plastic
folding-chairs sitting in the corner. He shoved Mulder down
onto one, and took a seat on the other. 

"Is this going to hurt?" Mulder asked through clenched teeth. 

The thin man chuckled. "No, this isn't like the movies. A mind-
to-mind connection can be very disorienting, but it's painless.
Luckily for you." 

Mulder expected the thin man to take his hands or touch the
sides of his head, but he didn't. Instead, Mulder's eyes were
suddenly forced closed - as though the thin man had willed
them closed. And then an image in Mulder's mind suddenly
exploded into crystal clarity. Mulder inhaled sharply at the force
of the mental image. 

It was the black oil, rolling and seeping into what looked like
advanced forms of microcircuitry. The dark fluid was being
literally absorbed into the mainframe of some highly-
sophisticated machine. And then another image burst to life in
Mulder's mind. An image through the night-vision lens of a
high-altitude camera. Flashing and scrolling numerical
sequences intercut with strange glyphs he'd never seen before.
In the centre of the night-vision image were the cross-hairs of a
sniper-sight. 

"I think I've got it," Mulder heard the thin man say quietly.
Mulder tried to force his eyes open but couldn't. It was as
through the thin man was overriding his intention. He tried to
fight it, but it was useless. He could feel sweat beginning to
gather on his forehead and trickle down his back. 
Mulder realized he couldn't fight this guy on his own terms.
Instead, Mulder tried to focus his mental energies into a single
point at the centre of his consciousness, just behind where the
third eye was supposed to exist. He imagined a bright light
gathering into a single pinprick of trembling potential and then
he screamed a single word inside his mind as he let that
potential explode outward again. 

*William!* 

The thin man grunted as though Mulder had physically hit him.
Mulder felt a surge of hope course through him and suddenly his
eyes snapped open. The thin man sitting opposite sneered and
shook his head. Mulder's eyes were immediately forced closed
again. 

*William!* Mulder screamed it in his head once more, but the
night-vision sniper-sight burst into his mind again. And Mulder
suddenly realized he was seeing through the on-board cameras
of the drone prototype. He was looking through Gabriel's eyes. 

"Target is in parallel," Mulder heard someone say. "But it won't
be for long. You've got a twenty second window." 

Mulder could hear the thin man begin muttering something over
and over. The night-vision image in Mulder's mind began to
glitch and flicker. More sweat began running down Mulder's
face and back. It wasn't painful but it felt like a rising pressure
in Mulder's ears. Suddenly the night-vision image was gone
from his mind. 

"You did it!" Mulder heard someone shout almost joyously.
"The target is lo-" 

The sound of gunfire suddenly erupted all around him. The pit
of Mulder's stomach suddenly fell away at the jarring shock.
Adrenaline flooded his system. Without being able to open his
eyes he shoved himself off the plastic chair and hit the ground
shoulder-first. Mulder grimaced in pain but kept his head down. 

"You crazy *bitch!*" he heard Michael Oren scream. There were
two more gunshots, and the sound of someone moaning in
agony. 

*"Where's my son!"* Scully's voice, wild with rage. 

There were three more gunshots in rapid succession. Mulder
could only flinch at how close they sounded. "You must be
suicidal, Dr Scully!" barked a man's voice. 

And suddenly Mulder was able to open his eyes again. 

The derelict building around him was in darkness, punctuated by
stuttering bursts of illumination from the damaged lighting-rig.
Mulder's heart was slamming forcefully in his chest. He
scrambled over to the nearby generators, on his hands and knees
in the flickering darkness. It would provide him some cover, but
he didn't know how many men were still alive and armed. 

Mulder suddenly remembered that he was armed too. He pulled
open his coat and tugged the semiautomatic from the back of his
waistband. The gun was one of two pistols that Michael Oren
had given them back when they were driving. Scully had
insisted on it. She'd said she wasn't about to walk into the
enemy-camp without some kind of protection, and the NSA
agent had reluctantly agreed. It was only then that Mulder
realized Scully must have done something crazy. 

"Scully!" he screamed, as the lights flickered and dimmed all
around him. "Scully, *talk to me!*" 

There was no response except a gunshot that slammed into the
metal casing of the generator beside him and ricocheted only
inches from his face. Mulder shoved himself to the floor, lying
flat on his belly. In the sporadic illumination from the stuttering
lighting-rig, Mulder saw the thin man in the white jumpsuit  
slumped awkwardly against an overturned desk. He was still
alive, but a scarlet bloom was quickly spreading across his
chest. He was peering right at Mulder. 

Mulder averted his gaze and cried, "Scully! Answer me,
*please!*" 

But there was no answer. The realization that one of the
mercenaries had taken her down was too awful to contemplate. 

And then Mulder gasped as a faint bluish glow began to gather
in the centre of the room, amidst the flickering lights. The glow
seemed to gather itself into a humanoid shape. The shape of a
young boy. 

*"Oh my God..."* Mulder murmured involuntarily. 

The faintly glowing figure was semi-transparent, like an astral
or spirit being, but it was an image of William. The luminous
figure had the same face that Gabriel had shown him in the
vision just hours ago. The luminous boy glanced left and right,
and then began walking towards him. Mulder's breath caught in
his throat as the apparition peered down at him on the floor of
the derelict building. 

There was anger and confusion in the boy's expression. Mulder
opened his mouth to speak but there were no words. The
apparition turned and walked away towards the other side of the
building, taking the bluish glow with him. 

Suddenly two gunshots blasted through the strange quiet and
someone fell, crashing into something and collapsing onto the
floor. All trace of the luminous, ethereal figure was gone. The
silence was all pervasive for a few moments. Mulder was
suddenly aware of the sound of his own shallow breathing. 

"Mulder!" It was Michael Oren's voice. "Mulder, where are
you? It's...it's all clear..." 

He wasn't sure if he believed that, but the thought of Scully
lying injured or dying filled him with resolve. Mulder crawled
carefully through the flickering darkness towards the sound of
the NSA agent's voice. 

Three mercenaries lay dead nearby. A fourth one was still alive,
peering at Mulder in terror as he gripped his own neck, trying to
stop the blood pumping from a hole in this throat. Mulder
ignored him and kept crawling. 

Michael Oren came into view, illuminated by the lights of a
bank of computer equipment. He was propped against the wall,
cradling Scully in his arms. A powerful dread filled Mulder
instantly. He scrambled as fast as he could towards them. 

"She shot two of them," Oren said shakily, "Which forced me to
take out the other three. But she's alive..." 

Mulder shoved the NSA agent aside and took Scully in his arms.
There was a ragged gunshot wound in the right side of her
stomach. Mulder gasped, grimaced and pressed his hand against
it to stem the blood. 

*"Oh Christ,"* Mulder murmured, *"Oh, Jesus Christ..."* 

"You need to get her out of here," Oren said pointedly. "If you
don't get her to a surgeon she's gonna die..." 

"We're in the middle of *nowhere,*" Mulder said as his voice
broke and tears welled in his eyes.
 
"I'm sorry," Oren said, glancing around, "But I need to see if
some of the equipment is still online. They locked Gabriel's
guidance-system before she started shooting. I might still be
able to force the drone to land." 

Mulder ignored him and pressed Scully's face to his chest. "I'm
not gonna let you go, Dana. *You hear me, baby?* This isn't
over..." 

As Michael Oren climbed to his feet and limped over to the
banks of computer equipment, Mulder gently placed Scully on
the floor. He tore off his coat and pulled his sweater over his
head, and carefully tied it around Scully's waist as a makeshift
compression bandage. He pulled his coat back on, tried to
swallow his panic and checked her pulse again. Her pulse was
slowing down, and the dread within Mulder clutched like fist
within him. 

She was dying she was dying right there in front of him. This
couldn't really be happening, could it? 

*"Oh God oh God Oh God..."* Mulder murmured as he gripped
Scully and lifted her, carefully struggling to his feet again. He
carried her towards the rectangular hole in the wall where the
doors had once been. Christ, she was still bleeding. Mulder
could feel it seeping through his t-shirt and onto his own skin. 

"Stay with me, baby," he whispered in her ear. *"Stay with
me..."* 

Just before he reached the opening another gunshot cracked
through the building. Mulder froze there with Scully in his arms.

"Agent Mulder!" someone screamed in rage. It wasn't Michael
Oren's voice. Mulder hurried through the opening into the vast
darkened prairie, heading towards the NSA agent's vehicle. His
heart was pounding as he fumbled to get the door open. He
placed Scully as gently as he could across the length of the
backseat and glanced back at the derelict building. 

Someone came staggering through the opening. The thin man in
the white jumpsuit, a gunshot wound in his chest, a pistol
clenched in his hand. 

"You ruined everything, you stupid *son of a bitch!*" the thin man
roared. 

Mulder tore open the driver-side door and threw himself into the
seat. The keys were still in the ignition. He twisted them and the
engine growled to life. A gunshot spider-webbed the windshield
and slammed into the headrest of the passenger seat. An
incandescent fury swelled within Mulder and he shoved his foot
on the accelerator. The car lurched forward suddenly and
Mulder aimed the vehicle at the opening of the main building, at
the thin man framed in its centre. Mulder screamed with anger
as another two shots came through the windshield, one of them
whistling past Mulder's ear and shattering the back window. 

For a moment Mulder saw the look of horror on the thin man's
face, illuminated in the headlights, before the car ploughed into
him and slammed him face-first against the hood. The vehicle
went crashing through the interior of the building, tossing aside
desks and computers and dead bodies. Mulder realized he was
still screaming. In a sudden moment of lucidity he slammed his
foot on the brake and the car ground to halt seconds before
slamming into the back wall. 

Mulder's throat felt raw. He could hear his own ragged
breathing, the sound of blood rushing through his ears, the purr
of the car's engine. He peered at the bloodied upper half of the
thin man lying flat against the hood. He glanced into the
backseat at Scully lying there. 

"Stay with me, Scully," he told her and put the car into reverse.
The thin man slid away across the hood and slumped to the
floor, out of view. Mulder slowly reversed back through the
building, back through the opening and onto the scrubland. He
was about to bring the car around when all the dashboard lights
flickered and went black. A moment later the engine died. The
car rolled to a stop. 

"No,' Mulder whispered to himself, *"No, don't do this to me..."*

Scully was bleeding to death in the backseat. He glanced at her
again. Tears were rolling down his face. He felt sick inside. He
didn't know what to do. 

He glanced out at the empty Wyoming wilderness and saw the
two Army trucks parked roughly forty feet away from the main
building. He shoved open the door and hurried out of the car  
just as someone grabbed him by the edge of his open coat and
hurled him round. Mulder was thrown to the ground and grunted
in pain. He whipped his head round and saw the thin man
looming over him, pistol in hand. His white jumpsuit was
drenched in his own blood, but somehow he was still standing. 

"Stupid son of a bitch..." 

He went to kick Mulder in the stomach, but Mulder grabbed his
leg and pulled before he had a chance to make contact. He hit
the ground beside Mulder, kicking up a small cloud of dust. His
gun went skittering away across the scrub. Mulder lunged and
slammed his elbow down onto the man's throat. He made a
horrible gagging sound but Mulder repeated the action, harder
this time. The thin man's hands flew to his throat, eyes bulging
in agony. Mulder felt like he had fire flowing through his veins.
He straddled his assailant and threw a savage punch into his
face. 

"You think you can *take her away from me?!*" Mulder screamed
at him, and punched him again, then again. "You think you can
take *everything and everyone I love* away from me?!" Each
strike felt better, hotter, more satisfying. "Samantha! My father!
My mother! I don't care what you are, you hear me! I don't care
if you're made of stone! *I'll kill you!* She's everything! She's
*everything I have!*" 

Mulder kept punching and punching, slamming his fist into the
face of the monster beneath him. The thin man's face was now a
bloodied mess. He was coughing up blood and teeth, but he was
laughing. Mulder's fist froze mid-strike at the sound of his
laughter. 

In a wet, broken voice the thin man said, "They haven't taken
everything...away from you. Not...yet." His laughter was the
most awful thing that Mulder had ever heard. 

He glanced at his own bloodied fist and then clambered off the
monster beneath him. He scrambled away from the thin man,
who turned his head and peered at him. One of his eyes was
already swollen shut, but the other was open and fierce. 

"Oh, little Fox," he gurgled, "You still don't understand, do
you?" More wet laughter. "Every single thing you've ever
done...you've done because they wanted you to. She's dying,
Fox. You failed and she's dying...and you'll need a miracle to
get her back this time..." 

Mulder clenched his teeth to keep the hate at bay. He turned
away, peering around for the thin man's fallen pistol. He saw it
nestling in the scrub just behind the car and moved on his knees
towards it. He gripped it, climbed to his feet and turned. 

"That's the kind of hate that I like to see," the thin man
murmured. 

Mulder shot him six times, and then let the gun slip from his
hand onto the scrub. He tilted his face skyward, closed his eyes
and took a long, deep breath. 

When he opened his eyes again he hurried to the car, pulled
open the back door and climbed into the backseat with Scully.
There was blood all over the upholstery. He swallowed his
horror at the sight and hauled her into his lap. He cradled her. 

He checked her pulse, half expecting her to already be dead. Her
pulse was there, but very faint. She was dying, but she wasn't
dead yet. 

Mulder felt like he had slipped into one of his own nightmares
from his days back at the Bureau. Back then, he often had awful
nightmares about losing her while they worked a case together.
He had almost lost her so many times.

This had to be a nightmare. Any minute now he'd wake up. 

"Dana," he whispered, "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, baby..." His
tears were splashing onto her cheek, finding their way into her
red hair. He kissed her hair. "I don't know where we are, or how
far the nearest town is...I'm I'm lost, Scully...I'm lost..." 

A brilliant white light suddenly illuminated the prairie and the
derelict buildings beyond the car. Mulder gasped, flinched and
squinted. The powerful light was coming from above as it
silently searched the landscape. Something incredible was out
there. 

A small glimmer of hope flared within Mulder. Did this
mean...did this mean he still had a chance? 

Into Scully's ear he muttered, "It's not over. Stay with me...*just
hang on*..." 

He took a deep breath, lay Scully down on the backseat again,
and got out of the car. He peered up into the sky, half-expecting
or hoping to see a ship, but beyond the glare of the light Mulder
recognized the outline of a huge bird of prey hanging in the
night sky. 

It was Gabriel. 

The drone prototype was hovering high above the main
building, sending searchlights down into the structure. 

"Please help us!" Mulder called out to it. 

It spun on its axis in the sky with impossible speed, suddenly
facing him. Mulder inhaled sharply and squinted as he was fixed
by the UAV's lights. 

"I know you can understand me," Mulder said quietly, raising
his arm to protect his eyes from the glare. "I know you could've
killed us with the missile back there if you wanted to but you
let us live. I know...I know you're not just a machine..." 

The light seemed to flicker and in the next instant the eighty-
foot drone prototype was hovering only ten feet above the car.
Mulder flinched at the seemingly-instantaneous movement. The
drone was now almost low enough to reach out and touch its
underside. Mulder crouched a little in fear as the huge drone
hung directly overhead. 

Suddenly a distorted, crackling voice boomed in his ears - his
own voice. 

*"Dana, I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, baby. I don't know where we
are, or how far the nearest town is. I'm...I'm lost, Scully...I'm
lost..."* 

The voice was coming from Gabriel. Somehow the drone had
recorded or synthesized Mulder's words to Scully from just
moments earlier. 

The white beam of the searchlights flared into a neon red,
bathing Mulder and the car in a crimson glow. A high-pitched
electronic shriek suddenly filled the air. Mulder immediately
dropped to his knees and slapped his hands to his ears. He
grimaced against the pain and tried to block out the sound. After
a few moments the sound faded, and Mulder realized his eyes
were closed. He opened them and took his hands away from his
ears. There was a faint ringing. He peered up at the night sky. 
Gabriel was gone. Mulder could see the stars glimmering. He
swallowed and shook his head as 
more tears spilled down his cheeks. 

It was over. It was all over. His life was no longer worth living.
He doubled over as he began to cry, an awful hollow keening,
pressing his face against the dust and grit on the ground. 

"Mulder...?" 

His head snapped round and he saw Scully sitting up in the
backseat of the car, peering darkly at him. "Mulder, what the
hell just happened?" 

She shoved open the door and scrambled out of the car towards
him. She held his face in her hands and peered at him with wild
eyes. "Why are you crying, baby? What just happened? Are you
injured?" 

Mulder peered wide-eyed and dumbfounded at her. 

"Say something, Mulder. You're scaring me..." 

He could only stare in disbelief, his mouth agape. He glanced
down at her clothes, covered in blood. "Look," he managed to
say. 

She peered down at the blood-soaked sweater that Mulder had
used as a compression bandage. *"Jesus Christ,"* she murmured
in confusion. 

Mulder grabbed the sweater and pulled it up. Her stomach was
smeared in blood but there was no gunshot wound, only smooth
undamaged skin. Mulder peered into her eyes and said quietly,
"You were dying, Scully...Oh my God, you were dying in my
arms..." 

*"What?"* 

"I thought...I thought I'd lost you..." 

Scully suddenly hugged him fiercely. "I'm here, Mulder. I'm
right here with you. I'm not going anywhere..." 

When she finally pulled away Mulder reached for her neckline
and took the little gold cross that was hanging at her throat. He
was smiling and laughing and crying as he kissed the tiny cross
resting on his palm. And then he kissed Scully, and he didn't
want to pull his lips away ever again. 

But she finally forced them apart, looked into his eyes and said
darkly, "I lost it, Mulder. I couldn't take it anymore I just
started shooting. I wanted...to *kill* every last one of them. That's
the last thing I remember..." 

Mulder took a long, deep breath and pressed his forehead
against hers, gripping the back of her neck. "Satellite phones,"
he said quietly. "We need to get the satellite phones out of the
trunk. Let Washington know where we are...or we'll freeze out
here..." 

"Did they...was I really dying...?" 

Mulder nodded, unable to process everything that had just
happened. He realized he was trembling. "It felt like...like the
end of the world." 

* 

Thirty-six hours later 
Vigil Taskforce Headquarters 
Washington D.C. 
April 27th, 2: 53 p.m 

They were six floors up in the makeshift conference room. The
large bay windows filled the space with greyish daylight.
Mulder listened to the fifty-something woman at the head of the
conference table as he eyed the men sitting either side of her.
There were twelve other people in the room, men and women
watching them curiously. 

"...furthermore, nobody here can make heads or tails of these
reports. These accounts of shapeshifters, and the spontaneous
regeneration of human tissue following a gunshot wound. We're
all on the same team here, Mr Mulder, Dr Scully. So perhaps it's
best if we hear your own personal take on this, all formalities
aside for the moment." 

Mulder nodded and glanced at Scully sitting in the seat beside
him. Her eyes were dark, distant. It worried him, but first they
had to get through this. 

He got to his feet and addressed the senior Vigil members. 

"I've been here before," he said. "I've been in this exact place
before held liable for other people's inability to accept
extreme possibilities. Turned into a scapegoat..." 

The woman at the front of the table shook her head. "I assure
you, Mr Mulder, no one here is trying to scapegoat you for what
occurred. You were recruited because of your work with the
FBI's X Files unit. We're just trying to understand. That's
Vigil's mandate. We have far too little time to argue about what
is or isn't possible." 

"Good," said Mulder. "I hope that really is the case. But a lack
of information-sharing within this taskforce resulted in the death
of Danielle Archer, and very nearly Dana Scully. You lied to us
and it nearly got us killed. We've been used like this before.
You come to us, you beg us to help you and then you lie to us.
About Michael Oren's deep-cover assignment, about the
Archangel Initiative and about our son, William." 

Concerned, nervous glances were exchanged around the room. 

The woman at the head of the table fixed Mulder with a stare.
There was real concern and fear in her eyes. It seemed their
accounts of events in Wyoming had terrified her. 

"We had no knowledge of what the National Security Agency
was involved in prior to the creation of this taskforce, Mr
Mulder. Michael Oren was lying to all of us. And nobody at Fort
Meade seems able to give us an accurate account of his
activities. Look...I was with NSA myself for twenty-seven
years. Almost all of the senior members of Vigil are ex NSA or
CIA. That was the whole point so that we would have full
access to the information we need to combat the threat that
Labyrinth poses to the United States. But based on your
accounts it seems these agencies have been compromised to an
even greater degree than we feared. I think we're looking at a
worse-case scenario here." 

Mulder shook his head. He was tired, and he didn't know who
to believe anymore. 

"Look, you came to us...and we agreed to help you. We're still
agreeing to help you, but you need to help us too. That drone is
still out there. It could've killed us but it didn't. Somehow it
healed Scully. I've seen that kind of power before. Those
shapeshifters, whether you believe me or not they're still out
there too. And so is our son. Kidnapped while under federal
custody. It's all right there in that report." 

The woman at the head of the table frowned, her eyes creasing
with what seemed like compassion. "In the last twelve hours
Vigil has uncovered nothing except the Missing Person's Report
that was filed by the Van De Kamps with the Laramie County
police. There's no other official intel on the boy anywhere in the
system. I'm...I'm sorry..." 

Mulder was about to speak when Scully suddenly got up out of
her chair and stalked from the conference room. The people in
the room glanced at each other. 

"Is Dr Scully all right?" the woman asked. 

Mulder scowled at her. "What the hell do you think? Excuse
me..." 

He got up and hurried down the aisle after Scully. In the corridor
he spotted the door to the nearby Ladies restroom clanging shut.
He jogged over to it, pushed open the door and went in. A
young blonde woman drying her hands at the sink peered
curiously at him. Mulder ignored her and went over to the stalls.
He tapped on the only one that was locked. 

"Dana..." 

She didn't respond. Mulder glanced again at the young blonde
girl at the sinks. She glanced at the locked stall and then raised
her palms in a  whatever' gesture. She quickly left the restroom.
     
"Dana, we'll find him..." 

"I never deserved him, Mulder. I *abandoned* him..." 

"No you didn't, you tried to protect him." 

"What kind of mother abandons her own child...?" 

"Baby, please don't do this to yourself. Whatever we have to do,
we'll find him. We'll use Vigil's resources and we'll track him
down somehow. We'll save him..." 

From within the locked stall Scully's voice was trembling. She
sounded spectral, haunted. "You couldn't save Samantha. I
couldn't save Emily. Just because we've survived all these years
doesn't mean we're alive inside..." 

Mulder felt the tears in his eyes. He was too tired to try holding
them back. He pressed his forehead against the door. "Baby...if
you carry around this wound inside you, it'll eat you and eat you
until there's nothing left..." 

"I've been carrying this wound for eleven years, Mulder. I
thought you were a genius...you haven't figured that out yet?" 

The anger and bitterness in her tone made Mulder wince. "I
know, Scully. I've always known." 

"What the hell do you know, Mulder? Aliens and goblins and
ghosts - that's what you know. You don't know about how I
was practically suicidal for three months while you were buried
in the ground and Doggett was the only one who kept me
sane..." 

*"Baby..."* 

"You don't know how hard it was to admit that I let Emily
die...you don't know how alone I felt when you went
underground and I was left with William..." 

"I knew." 

"I'm not like you, Fox, I can't just keep going and going while
little pieces of me *die* along the way. I thought I could...but I
can't." 

"Scully, you're my best friend, my partner. I love you more than
you will ever know. Everything you feel, baby, I feel it too...I
just don't always tell you because I love to see you smile. I don't
want to see that smile crushed under the weight of all this
darkness." 

For a long time there was no response from within the locked
restroom stall. Finally she said, "But we *are* the darkness,
Mulder. And everything we touch turns to shit. You should've
let me die out there in the desert." 

Mulder didn't know what to say to her. It felt like his heart was
breaking. He simply pressed his palms to the door and let the
silent tears roll down his face. 

************************************************