Exit Wounds (4/4)
by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow

Email: Ifmuldercouldseemenow@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13

Note:  This is the last chapter. Thank you for following my
story. Please pay special attention to the changes in pov :) 


Chapter Four
What Have You Done?
     
March 21st, 2008
Baltimore, Maryland
4:30 pm

Marita Covarrubias could feel them crawling on her skin.
They'd found her, after so many years. So many years living in
safety, just to ruin it all. It was over.

But she had to protect the boy.

But she- well, it was her time now. She had tried desperately to
remain conspicuous as she hacked into medical records, created
a fake death certificate- leaving them codes, hoping they would
find the clues. She should have been more direct, but at the
time she feared the aliens figuring out her plan. She should
have taken him when his adoptive parents died, returned him to
those who could have protected him. She was selfish. She was
a coward. And look where it got her.

She wouldn't make it.

But he- William still had a chance. The article was too indirect,
and she knew they wouldn't reach the boy in time. She felt
familiar slugs slither under her skin, but felt lucky. They hadn't
killed her in the laboratory explosion, where she worked
tirelessly on a vaccine. They'd simply infected her. She'd been
too concerned with her life at the time to call Mulder. To tell
Scully the secrets she knew. Too afraid that she'd be speaking
to a shape shifter and not the real thing. The woman she'd sent
in her place to deliver the newsprint was long dead. She'd
hoped they hadn't already killed Mulder and Scully.

She had to believe they didn't.

She was out of time. She had nothing to lose. She would take
him to the safest place she knew. The house that was in her
name, belonging to her parents when they still had high hopes
for their daughter. Back when they had dreams that she would
marry and have children and- things she would never do. The
house was old, but it was off the maps. It was safe for the boy.
She'd put the address in the article, just in case. They would
hack her code.

She hoped that it would be enough for them to find him.

Speeding up to the house she knew belonged to the Van de
Kamp's she slammed the breaks. A boy dashed in front of her
car, screaming and running with the full force of his body. He
ducked between houses across the street and ran.

William. They had come for him. She looked at herself in the
rearview mirror, seeing black quickly move over her eyes. She
didn't have much time.

The magnetite that kept the boy safe for so long was gone and
she'd stolen two precious samples from the lab before it was
destroyed. She fingered the one that was trusted for years. The
sample Jeffrey Spender had injected into the little infant.

It would wear off shortly in his larger body. But it should
protect him.

She couldn't inject him with the other sample, the thick liquid
only tested on the infected. She wouldn't make him into a
guinea pig, even if the World depended on it.

It was now or never.


March 23rd, 2008
12:30 am

Two cars sped down the road, Skinner leading with Monica
right behind. The roads winded and twisted as they sped to 60
and 70 and then 80, taking each curve as it came, luckily for
their emptiness

"Do you have surveillance" Mulder questioned into his phone,
the sound of Langly's voice echoing back in his ear.

"We have cameras roughly a mile from the location, but
nothing past that."

Mulder sighed and disconnected. He looked at his wide-eyed
partner sitting beside him, her hands shaking.

"Mulder, what if it's t-"

"It's not. He's alive," he affirmed grabbing her hand.

The tires of the range rover squealed to a stop on the side of the
road and Mulder looked ahead into the darkness. He couldn't
see anything. The GPS said their destination was nearly a mile
ahead. "We should walk from here," Skinner spoke, turning off
the ignition.


March 21st,2008
Baltimore, Maryland
4:40 pm

*William," she commanded, pulling him from his daze and
down the stairs. The alien was a pile of green goop, it's skin
still aflame. Did she do that? This Marita Co woman? Did she
have powers just like him? He had so many questions, but first
he worried. Had his mom died? He couldn't hear her
anymore?* 

*"Where's my mom?"* 

*"She was supposed to be here," the woman mumbled
throwing a car door open and pushing him inside.* 

*"Is she dead?"* 

*The woman laughed, a sick cackle escaping her throat. When
he looked at her skin he could see her veins pulsing as if
something was crawling underneath. "Not even death could
keep them from you." The boy bristled at her indirect answer.
Them? His arm hurt and the place she injected him started to
swell. What did she give him? And why couldn't he hear his
mom? He fidgeted in his seat and looked over the woman who
had apparently saved his life. Was she good?* 

*Her blonde hair was pulled in a bun at the base of her skull,
but hair was slipping from the clip in small, frazzled tendrils.
As William looked closer he noticed other things about her
appearance. There was a long run in her pantyhose, something
that would make his adopted mom shout with frustration. A
small tear in her skirt and a tiny bloodstain on her wrist. Her
nails were broken and chipped and she was missing an
earring. He was terrified. Just as she saw him try the lock on
the door, she pressed the automatic lock.* 

*"Listen carefully and don't interrupt. I don't have much
time"* 

*He looked right into the woman's eye as a black line briefly
swirled over the white of her eye. He didn't interrupt* 


Rural Virginia
March 23rd, 2008
1:23 am

Mulder POV 

The gun was cold in her palm as she walked briskly, tried to
keep up despite the splitting headache she was facing. Mulder
glanced over at her and took her hand in his. She offered a soft
smile but his face remained downturned in the darkness. She
could never fool him. In the distance they saw an unremarkable
house, a house that at one point must have been beautiful. Now
it stood with broken shingles and shutters.

Skinner, Monica and John jogged to the side of the house. In
the distance there was a barn and a back entrance they couldn't
ignore. Mulder eyed his red-headed partner who was beginning
to visibly shake. He looked down at his own hands and saw
them shaking as well. They could smell decay from outside.

Climbing the steps he pushed the creaky door open. He could
feel her back pressed to his quickly as she covered him. Some
things never died. Her heeled boots clicked softly on the wood
floors and when he walked into the dining room, leaving her in
the den, he immediately began to wretch.

There, paved in blood lay the body of his son. It was William.
He had lied to Scully. It was too late. The boy lay splayed
across the floorboards of the living room, his blood oozing and
seeping into the wood. His blue eyes were wide and began to
develop white milky film. His face was twisted in agony and
his shirt torn open, stomach ripped apart. This could have
happened to Scully, years ago. He thought he saved her when
he removed the tubes and given her the vaccine. Instead, their
son paid the price. There was no saving him. He was dead.

A sob escaped his throat and he fell to his knees, taking the
limp and heavy body of his child, his one and only son, in his
arms. The boy looked up at the ceiling, unseeing, and Mulder
pushed a lock of brown hair from his blood-covered brow. The
picture was true. He had his nose, but Scully's mouth. He ran
his thumb over the pale, cold lips-looked down at the
Spiderman shoes hanging from his mangled feet. He was just a
boy. Just a boy.

Just then he heard screaming. In his peripheral he saw gray skin
spontaneously combusting. He blinked.His son wasn't in his
arms. There was no blood, no carnage on the floor.

*Hallucination* 

The alien being's blood spread across the floor like acid as it
dissolved, it's thick, black blood oozing and tearing through the
durable hardwood floor. Flames danced on the floor before
extinguishing themselves.

"Mulder!" Skinner shouted. The two military men ran into the
house, drawn by the billowing smoke and lifted Mulder from
the floor, dizzy and dazed. The gun that was pressed to his face
by his own hand suddenly dropped to the floor with a clang.

"We gotta go," Dogget commanded, seeing the lights that now
shined through the windows. Cars blended together through the
dirty glass of the windows.

It was just like before. *They* had come

"Where's Dana?" Monica said with a cough, covering her face
with her arm to cut out the smell of the rotting alien corpse.
These were definitely not super soldiers.

Scully. Scully. Where was Scully?

*Had they trapped her in one of these hallucinations as well?* 

Just then the front door of the house flew open and he was
greeted by his son. Alive.

"They've got her," he spoke, running up the steps


Rural Virginia
March 23rd, 2008
1:10 am

The magnetite wore off, just as Marita said it would. He wasn't
safe.

*"When I tell you to run, you run. If I come looking for you, it
isn't me. Run."* 

He could feel the aliens; feel these things that weren't human.
They were coming. He remembers bolting from the car when
the woman who he knew once was very pretty lady swerved off
the deserted road, her eyes swimming in blackness. He shakes
his head of the memory, of the tears that are springing in his
eyes. Had that happened to his mom too? Was the kind woman
with long red hair who called him  Willie' now gone too? Was
he next?

*"They want to use you."*

He was dumb. An idiot. He fell asleep last night, so exhausted
from the hours of running through the forest. Now his arm no
longer ached and he could hear them coming. But he couldn't
hear his mom.Marita told him the shot would stop his
 abilities.' He didn't want these superpowers anymore. He
didn't care about being Spiderman or Superman or
*Spookyman,* the name he'd created for himself. The kids at
school called him spooky.

He was afraid.

*"There's a house with broken shutters. This is your last
resort,"* she'd said, pushing a syringe with thick, grey
substance inside it into his palm.

*"What will it do?"* he questioned as he watched the
woman's hands clench on the steering wheel, attempting to
remain in control. They were still nearly 25 miles from the
location. She wouldn't make it. Her heeled foot pressed heavier
on the ignition, pushing the tiny car as fast as it could go.

*"It'll eliminate all the work but-but it may be your only
chance"* 

His lungs ached as he jogged through the forest. His Spiderman
watch said that it was nearly 1am which meant that he'd been
out here for a full day. Did this house ever exist? He would
never find it. He was going to die. He wanted to cry.

*"Find Mulder and Scully."* 

He felt a deep pressure in his head, as he jumped over
branches. His long legs carried him over branches and through
groups of trees until he reached a break in the forest, a road.
Two cars were parked on the side and he ran towards the house
in the distance. When he finally saw the broken shutters, just as
Marita described, his head swam.

*"William, my son"* he heard in his head. *He could hear
again.* It wasn't his mom. It was a deep, pained voice and he
stumbled to his knees. The man was wracked with guilt and
William could see himself, lying on the floor, being held in
strong arms. He saw himself through his eyes. Mulder. His
father. He could sense something else in the man's head,
though, and his eyes widened in horror when he realized what
it was. An alien. They were trying to get his Dad. *No. No. No.
No. No.* They couldn't have him! He closed his eyes and
squeezed tightly. *Die. Die. Die,* he screamed in his head. He
hoped they would catch fire like Rodney.

His Dad was inside. Elation swarmed across his body but was
suddenly destroyed when he heard another voice in his head.

*"It hurts, oh god, it hurts"* his mother's cries of agony ached
in his head *"Leave him alone, please."* 

He ran up the stairs to the house, suddenly illuminated by
bright lights. Turning around he saw cars. So many cars.

*"The prophet has returned."*

He needed to save his mom. He threw open the door to the
house.

"They've got her,"

His little feet ran up the stairs and he felt the footfalls of his
father behind him. The two men and women he knew from his
dreams pushed the door closed, shutting out the bright light and
creatures.

"Hurry, Muldah!," he heard the spiky haired one shout


Rural Virginia
March 23rd, 2008
1:23 am 

Scully POV 

Mulder finished looking over the kitchen and living room,
looking over to his partner who was picking up empty photo
frames and old things that once were. "C'mon, Scully" he said
softly, gesturing with his head to the stairs. His feet creaked on
each steps, her own following hesitantly, hoping that neither of
them fell through the floor. She didn't feel right about this; her
stomach felt sour. She briefly sees a flitter in her eyes and a
buzz in her ears. She swears that Mulder was just sitting on the
floor. She stumbles up the step, her head pounding and
continues. It wasn't Mulder. Her mind was playing tricks on
her. Mulder was creaking up the steps in front of her.

Three open doors were at the top of the hall. She glided into the
first one on the left and assumed that Mulder would take the
right. Her heeled shoes reverberated throughout the silent
house as she walked , gun drawn, into a room that at one point
was a master bedroom. Large, heavy drapes hung from the
windows, dingy and yellow from old age. Books scattered the
floors and dust accumulated like a new finish on the furniture.
The sounds of him entering the room were drowned out by her
revelation. A closet door. A closet, like in her dream. Ripping
open the door her heart sank and she let out a sob. It had been
too much to hope for. Mildew clothing that went out with
President Bush Senior hung on hangers with rotted holes in the
fabric. Boxes littered on the floor. No William. Her hand
tightened around the door knob. Tighter. Tigher, until her
knuckles were white and it pained her to keep holding on. It
was a trick. William wasn't here. She had been wrong. He was
gone.

She heard the bedroom door click shut and she turned just to
see his fingers turn the lock.

"Mulder?" she questioned, her eyebrow rising to her hairline.
Her palms became sweaty and the gun suddenly felt heavy in
her hand. This wasn't Mulder. She should have known. How
long had he been gone? They got him.

*"Where is he?"* The being spoke. She felt no breath. It didn't
breathe. The eyes staring at her with disgust didn't belong to
Mulder, she thought. It was a hallucination.

"I don't know," she responded.

*"You can hear him. And we can hear you."* Just a dream.
Not real.

*"It's not a dream,"*  Mulder' spoke, pulling a gun from his
waist holster. His face twisted in concern and his eyes looked
confused. She saw the gun raise and she raised her own
                                        
"Scully?" he asked, confusion etched on his face. As if to ask
what was going on.

And she blinked

And she heard a shot. And she screamed. And Mulder's brains
were on her face, and on her clothes and he fell to the ground.
One of her worst nightmares come to life. His head was a
mangled mess of -

*Hallucination* 

Her rational brain worked fast. His brains couldn't be on her.
He was facing her. She felt a buzzing in her head, a sharp pain
there and at the base of her neck. It hurt. Pain seared in her
temples and she knew that William hadn't caused the seizures.

*It was them.* 

They were breaking into her brain to find him. Her gun was no
longer in her palm. She had nothing to defend herself

She felt a hand tug at her pants and looked down to see Emily
staring back at her, large blue eyes and eager dimpled smile.

"C'mon, Mommy" the little girl spoke and she followed.
Scully's eyes widened in her sockets and she took her eyes off
the girl. "Tell me where my *brover* is" and tears sprung in
her eyes. It's a life. Emily is dead. Emily is dead. And her
hands reached out for the bedpost, trying to steady herself-to
get away. She felt dizzy and it hurt when she breathed. The girl
distorted and her skin began to melt. Her voice became deep
*"He is the destroyer."* She could feel her heart pulsing in her
head- felt them digging.

*"The mother bore the prophet,"* voices sprung from the
walls as she stumbled, falling to the floor. The room was
illuminated. It was just like before. They had come for him.
*"The mother will lead us to the prophet again."* They knew
where to find him because she thought it.

They were going to use him. Her baby. He would never be safe.

*You can hear him,* the creature had said. She led them here,
the coordinates echoing in her head. It was her. Her. Her. Her.

She could barely lift her head as she felt them shifting, sorting
through her thoughts trying to find anything of use. She
suddenly saw William turning a mobile. Unable to stand, she
crawled across the floor, their voices echoing off the walls and
her skull.

She reached out to the broken shards of the mirror, picking up
the largest one with long, agile fingers. God would never
forgive her. The ultimate sin. But she could never forgive
herself for ruining her son's chance at life. She needed to
protect him. If he was still alive, she would always endanger
him.This was the best way. If she felt him in her head again,
heard him in her thoughts, they could find him. They couldn't
if she no longer had thoughts.

*He'll never be safe when they can find him in your thoughts.* 

*"The prophet has returned,"* she heard the voices echo. 

The door flew open. The aliens screamed and howled as they
caught aflame just as Dana Scully slid the glass across her
carotid


Rural Virginia
March 23rd, 2008
1:40 am

"Mom!" The boy screamed in horror, running over to the
woman who now spewed precious life-blood onto the floor, a
slow pool accumulating. She lay flat on the floor.

"Wil-Wil" she gasped, her eyes fearful and wide .Her boy. Her
son. He was alive and safe with Mulder. He'd called her mom.
She was a mother. Finally. If even for a moment again. She
reached her blood covered hand up to his face, touches his soft
skin with shaking fingers.

"Scully," Mulder was by her in a second, his breath hitched.
His hand pressed tightly against her neck as blood spurted
between his fingers. "Dana," Mulder moaned. The aliens once
surrounding her were heaps of oozing thick blackness on the
floor, their blood set fire like gasoline before doused by some
unforeseen force.

He was reading her thoughts, and she smiled, remembering her
fondest memory. Her last thought before she died. Holding her
son after his birth, Mulder kissing her on the lips. Baby soft
skin and fine hair and big blue eyes.

Her son was crying as he kneeled next to her and tears sprung
in her eyes. He son wouldn't be safe if she lived. They could
read her thoughts. Find him through the connection

"I'll save you," William spoke through tears as he pressed his
hands over Mulder's bloody ones

"N-no"

Her eyes snapped shut as pain erupted across her whole body. 

Mulder held his hands in place and let out a muted sob as he
felt Scully's skin ignite. A blue glow erupted over her as she
twisted and jolted in pain, before becoming completely limp.
His son's eyes were deeply closed in concentration, tears
slipping onto his cheeks as he felt his mother's pain. But he had
to save her. He needed her.

Suddenly the oozing stopped and Mulder removed his
bloodstained hands. Her neck was healed, despite a thick
jagged line seared across the skin.

"She told me not to save her, but all I saw in her mind was all
of the ways I could. So I did," he whispered solemnly. Her
breaths were shallow but present. He didn't know if she would
live. If she would wake up and hug him. Or tell him she loved
him. Or sing him the bullfrog song.

He heard the woman shout from downstairs

"We can't hold them off for much longer."

"They think I'm the prophet," the boy pressed his palms to his
eyes, "I don't wanna be a Superhero," his sobs echoed "I just
want my mom."

Mulder grabbed his son and pulled him to his chest, his own
tears falling. He rubbed his bloodied hands over the boy's hair
as his small body wracked with sobs. He felt his son stir and
realize he had something in his hand

"You have to" William whispered, pushing the syringe into his
hand.

*Magnetite, Magnetite, Magnetite.* Echoed in his head. *It
kept him safe before.*

He didn't tell his father that it was controversial. That Marita
had told him he could die; that it was never tested on people.
His Dad didn't need to know that. The aliens wouldn't leave if
they thought he was the prophet. His parents would die.
Everyone would die. He didn't want these powers. He wanted
the aliens to go away.

*"Magnetite makes aliens go away- but this is permanent,"*
her voice reverberates

He wouldn't be able to hear his mom anymore. But she was
with him now, he hoped. 

Mulder slid the syringe into his son's arm, watching as the
thick substance bubbled under his skin. He cried out in pain,
and Mulder held him tightly, comforting his son.

William stumbled to his feet. He had to show them he wasn't
what they thought he was. That's what echoed in his mother's
head before he lost all contact. Before the magnetite burned in
his head and in his veins.

He couldn't hear anyone. It was just like before, when he lived
with his old Mom and Dad near the mountains. His head didn't
tingle. He stood on wobbled legs for a moment, lightheaded, as
his father lifted his Mother's limp body. Her long red hair
tumbled over his strong arms and he cradled her close to his
chest as if he was anchoring her to the Earth. He reached up
and grabbed his father's arm, steadying himself.

He was terrified.

He wasn't a hero

He was William

What if what his mom said wasn't true? What if he was still
what they thought he was? What if they took him? What if his
mom never woke up?

He reached the bottom of the stairs, the door braced by Skinner,
couches pressed up to the windows by Dogget and Reyes.
William let go of his father's arm.

He touched Skinner's arm lightly and the man stepped back.
His hand felt the knob. This was it. Opening the door he saw
countless human faces staring back at him, their bodies still.
His eyes widened when he saw a particular face.

She looked pretty; elegant. Her clothes weren't mussed, as
they'd been before, and her hair was pinned tightly. This is
what she must have looked like before. But he no longer saw
the blue of her eyes, eyes which were now completely black.

The body of what had once been Marita Covarubias
approached him, her steps calculated and poised. She was one
of them now.

*"It isn't me. Run"* Her words repeat in his head. But he
couldn't. Not now. They would just look for him again. Come
after his mom again. They had to see

He wasn't what they thought he was. Not anymore. Not ever
again.

Her now healed nails, shining with nude polish slid under his
chin as he shook. She lifted his head, and he looked into the
pits she had for eyes, unknowing if she was staring back at him.

She dropped her hand and turned from him, joining the bodies
of humans that once were in their march.

*"The prophet is false. There will be another. He will rise
again"* voices spoke in unison. The cars roared with life once
again and drove from the house.

He wishes he could have saved her, as she gets into the Honda
and backs away, the gravel crunching under her car tires. Her
black eyes stare unfocused and he hears her last words echo in
his head.

*"You're only a boy. Do not fight the fight of dead men."* 

He hears his mother whisper "Wil-liam" and his ears perk

Mulder releases her from his arms, settling her on her feet. She
stumbles on shaky legs, as his father's arms brace her. Protect
her. William stands stock still, finally staring at his mother, at
the woman who had his eyes and lips. A small smile graces her
lips, reaches her exhausted eyes. She drops to her knees in front
of him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"Willie, my baby," she whispers, a sob escaping her throat. He
feels his father's arms around them both. Feels his mother's
tears. Feels his own. He feels safe. She loves him. They love
him. "we've missed you so much," she whispers. "My
William"

He wasn't what they thought he was. He was no superhero. He
was no prophet. He was William. Willie. Her baby.

He just wanted his mom. He just wanted his family. And they
wanted him.

The fights of dead men could wait.