Machines of Freedom (4/12) 
by Amal Nahurriyeh
  
Email:  amalnahurriyeh@gmail.com
Pairing: On the gen/MSR border, with mentions of slash
pairings.
Rating: R (non-explicit sex, language, adult subjects)
Warnings: None for major triggers, but includes some
descriptions of violence (in a R-rated movie kind of way).
There are also people under the age of 15 in this story; be
forewarned.

Summary: The end of the world is coming. And they're
doing everything in their power to stop it.
Timeline/Spoilers: Post-IWTB, seasons 8 & 9 compatible;
exists in my post-IWTB universe, which also includes
Whiteboard, The Keeping of Secrets, and Five Times
Mosley Drummy Wishes He Never Met Fox Mulder, but not
necessary to have read those first.
  

Chapter Four

December 10, 2012 
9:07 AM Mountain Time 
Kaycee, WY 
 
Scully froze for just a moment, and she could hear Mulder's 
indrawn breath behind her. The man with the shotgun, who 
she was guessing was Paul Van de Kamp, advanced on them 
very slowly. His hands shook on the stock, which made her 
feel slightly better; at least he didn't want to shoot 
them. She raised her hands gradually, palms open and facing 
him, to make clear she wasn't reaching for a weapon. "Sir, 
we don't mean you and your family any harm. We're from--" 
 
"I do not give a damn where you are from, and who you are," 
Van de Kamp shouted, and took another step forward. "I'm 
not letting you have him, so you just get back in your car 
and drive back to wherever you came from, and tell them 
they can't have him either."  
 
She licked her lips and thought. It's been so long since 
her time in law enforcement; the instincts are faded, but 
still running there beneath the surface. Mulder seemed to 
be following her lead rather than reaching for his weapon, 
so that was a small victory. "We just want to help you 
protect your family. We're no threat to you. I assure you 
of that."  
 
He stepped forward again, fully out of the bushes. He 
seemed about to say something, but paused. He looked first 
at Scully, and then at Mulder, then back at Scully. She 
watched as he, very carefully, put two and two together. 
"Shit," he said quietly. "You're them, aren't you? You're 
his birth parents."  
 
She felt the ripple of Mulder's energy behind her, but 
ignored it, and stepped closer slightly. "Yes." 
 
Van de Kamp's hands tightened on the gun. "Are you why 
they're after him?" 
 
Scully kept her eyes on him, but couldn't restrain the 
wince. "Yes. That's why." She watched as his mask of anger 
flickered, and worry and tension shot through it. "Please," 
Scully said. "We're just here to help."  
 
Van de Kamp lowered the gun. "When are they coming back? 
What do we have to do?" 
 
Honesty seemed the best policy, now that the guns were all 
away. "We don't know," Scully said. "We don't know what's 
been happening. We just got a message that William--" She 
couldn't stop her voice from breaking slightly as she said 
his name. "That he was in danger. We came as soon as we 
could." 
 
Van de Kamp looked back at the house in the distance. "Last 
week," he said. "That's when they came first. Men in suits. 
They said something had happened with Will at school, some 
sort of strange incident, and they had to investigate. They 
asked us questions about him, about his adoption--it didn't 
make sense. He's just a kid." He turned back to them. "Then 
the next day, they said they wanted to take him to a 
facility, where they'd run tests. They told us we couldn't 
come. We told them where to stuff it. And the next day, 
they sent the FBI. But something was wrong with them--I 
don't think--I don't think they were real." 
 
"They weren't," Scully said. "You did the right thing." 
 
"What do we do? I'm not letting them take him," Van de Kamp 
said. 
 
Scully took a deep breath. "We have a place that's safe. 
You can come, all three of you. It's not far, about a day's 
drive." 
 
Van de Kamp laughed bitterly. "Oh, and just because you 
look like him you get to tell me just to get up and go." 
 
Mulder stepped forward slightly. Scully looked back over 
her shoulder at him. His jaw was set, and the slight 
narrowing of his eyes spoke more clearly than his mouth 
could have. *I think we'd win the argument,* he'd said in 
the car. She held out her hand to him. He dug his hands 
into his pocket and turned away from her, away from Van de 
Kamp. She exhaled. "Mr. Van de Kamp, I realize that you 
have no reason to trust us right now. We just want to make 
sure that you're safe--all of you. Please. If you let us 
come up to the house, we can tell you--" She realized 
suddenly that she was about to tell the entire story to a 
civilian, a civilian who might be bugged, who might not be 
friendly. "We can explain to you where we would be going. 
We can offer you some options." She started trying to 
figure out how to explain that the world was about to end 
without sounding crazy. Mulder would be better at that 
part, if he could speak without shooting anyone.  
 
Van de Kamp stared back at the house. His wife was probably 
there; she worked on the ranch with him, his tax returns 
had said. And William--they probably weren't letting him go 
to school. Her heart twisted a little tighter. They had to 
get up to the house. 
 
"Let me unlock the gate." Van de Kamp walked over to it and 
undid the chain.  
 
"Thank you," Scully said, as a wave of relief washed over 
her. 
 
Van de Kamp opened the gate. "I'll drive along with you." 
 
"That's fine." She was going to see him. She was actually 
going to see him again. 
 
"Scully," Mulder said suddenly.  
 
She looked over at him. He pointed, simply, to the sky to 
the east. "We have company." 
 
She turned to look. Three black helicopters were appearing 
over the horizon. 
 
"Shit," she said. This was the elimination. 
 
"What is it?" Van de Kamp said. 
 
"Get in the front seat," Scully said, and ran to the 
backseat of the car. 
 
Mulder jumped into the driver's seat and started up the 
car. Van de Kamp followed, a little hesitantly. As soon as 
all three of them were in, Mulder slammed on the gas, and 
the car broke through the half-open gate and barreled up 
the driveway. 
 
Scully pulled down the backseat and grabbed the gun case 
out of the trunk. "Mr Van de Kamp, can you shoot anything 
other than that shotgun?" 
 
He looked over at her, and gaped slightly at the line of 
handguns. "I've shot a pistol at the range before."  
 
"What about your wife? What about William?" She pulled her 
gun off her waist and checked the clip, then slipped two 
extra clips into her jeans pocket. She put extra clips in 
Mulder's coat pocket, and handed Van de Kamp a gun and a 
fistful of reloads. 
 
"Um. I mean, they can hunt. What's happening?" He turned to 
look at the helicopters. "Do you know who they are?" 
 
"We don't need to," Mulder said. "Do we have anything anti-
aircraft in the trunk?" 
 
Van de Kamp paled a little. 
 
She poked around in the boxes. "No, nothing. Well, a few 
grenades, but no launchers. Do we have shotgun ammo?" 
 
"Blue box." Mulder pulled up in front of the porch and 
threw on the parking brake almost before he stopped the 
car. He climbed out of the car and went around the side of 
the house, towards the helicopters. 
 
"What's happening? Please, I don't understand." Van de Kamp 
was turned around in his seat. 
 
"Mr. Van de Kamp, listen to me," Scully said, as firmly as 
she could. "These people coming in the helicopter are 
dangerous. They probably mean to kill you, and they most 
certainly mean to take your son. We are not going to let 
that happen. I need you to reload your shotgun with this 
ammo." She pressed the blue box into his hands. "Go give it 
to your wife. She needs to take William and get into the 
cellar, the attic, somewhere protected, somewhere that will 
take a while to get to. I need you to cover the door to the 
house." 
 
"There's a back door too," he said weakly, staring at the 
ammo in her hands.  
 
"We'll take the back door, but you should lock it and put 
something heavy in front of it. Anyone who tries to get 
past you, you shoot. No threatening, no warning, nothing, 
just a bullet to the chest. Don't think about it, don't 
hesitate. You will kill people today. Get used to that fact 
now. Can you load your gun?" 
 
He looked down at the handgun she had handed him. "Yes, I 
think so." 
 
"OK then." She climbed out of the car.  
 
He followed, and started up the stairs. A woman opened the 
door. "Paul? What's going on?" 
 
"Get inside, Ginny, get Will. Something's happening." He 
climbed the stairs, and then stopped and turned around. 
"Ma'am?" 
 
"Yes?" The helicopters were closer now, close enough to 
hear their blades. She had to hurry. 
 
"What if it's you trying to get in the house?" He was 
reloading the shotgun with shaking hands. 
 
"Don't let me." She turned her back to him and walked to 
the side of the house. 
 
Mulder was crouching behind a woodpile, checking his clips. 
She slid in next to him, and leaned against a second 
barrel. "Three helicopters. I've got the grenades. Could we 
call in air support from the compound?" 
 
"I don't think they're prepared for this. But when we're 
done, we should be able to get a pick up somewhere nearby--
we probably can run for a little while before they track 
us." He poked his head around the woodpile. "Hay bales that 
direction, and a tractor over there. Some water barrels. 
God, is this a Hollywood set?" 
 
The wind was starting to buffet the house. They must be 
almost here. "There's a back door to cover. I told him to 
shoot us if we tried to get in the house." 
 
"Good plan." He leaned back in behind the woodpile. "So, 
throw a grenade as soon as they're down, once it goes off 
run for the next piece of cover?" 
 
"I'll take hay bales, you take tractor." She moved to a 
squat and held her gun as loosely as she could.  
 
The helicopters were descending. She leaned around the edge 
of the woodpile just far enough to see where they were 
landing. Two of them were coming down; the third hovered, 
back far enough that she was fairly certain it couldn't see 
them, but watching. "Two landing. Ten seconds." She didn't 
even turn around to look at him, though she felt the ghost 
touch of his hand on her hair. Please, she prayed for just 
a moment, don't let us die here. And don't let them get 
him. 
 
The helicopters touched the ground, twenty feet apart from 
each other. She pulled the pin, counted to three, and 
threw. 
 
Just as the doors to the nearer copter opened, the grenade 
exploded. As the smoke went up, she turned and ran towards 
the hay bales, firing for cover as she went. The near 
copter looked finished. A man in black with a submachine 
gun lay on the ground in front of it, but she didn't look 
at him, and fired into the body of the smoking copter as 
she ran. (It's been so long since she was taking lives and 
instead of saving them. Don't think about it, she told 
herself, just shoot.) She could hear Mulder firing into the 
open door of the other one, the return fire from inside it. 
Dammit, she should have given him one of the grenades.  
 
Here were the hay bales; she ducked behind them and stayed 
as low as she could. The sound of feet running--she peered 
between two bales and saw more figures in combat gear 
running towards the front door of the house. A bullet from 
Mulder tipped one of them backward, but another turned to 
shoot at him. She aimed for his neck, fired twice, and he 
was down. Another commando ran past Mulder, and she 
expected him to follow, but then there was a new barrage of 
fire, maybe from one of the helicopters, and he was pinned 
down. She counted to three and began running back to the 
woodpile, shooting as she went. Her clip ran out halfway 
through; she skidded to a stop behind the pile and 
reloaded. 
 
Another peek through the holes between stacked wood. The 
third copter was landing, which meant more soldiers. The 
pilot of the copter she had hit with the grenade was dead; 
there were bullet holes through the windshield of the other 
copter, and she thought she could see a slumped body 
through the glass. Someone inside the other copter was 
trading fire with Mulder, at least two someones, based on 
the frequency of shots. Seven bodies on the ground, maybe 
dead, maybe not, but not shooting, that was what mattered. 
The copters weren't big, probably only had a capacity of 
five plus a pilot, which meant one person unaccounted for; 
fuck, the guy who'd gotten past Mulder. She dug the other 
grenade out of her pocket, judged the distance to the other 
copter, and maneuvered herself closer to the edge of the 
woodpile. She could make it to the tractor in the time it 
would take for it to explode. She took a deep breath, 
counted, pulled, and ran. As soon as she was clear, she 
threw the grenade, and made a frantic dive for the tractor. 
The explosion came just before she hit the ground. 
 
Mulder was braced against one of the tires. "Nice slide."  
 
She crawled up against him and ran her hands over his face. 
Little shrapnel nicks, but nothing serious. "The guy who 
got past--" 
 
"Van de Kamp got him." He nodded towards the house. "Anyone 
survive that blast?" 
 
She leaned over and peered out under the tractor. No motion 
from the newly grenaded copter. "I don't think so. But the 
new copter is coming in between them."  
 
"Fuck." Mulder reloaded and slid over to behind the other 
tire. "Do you have more grenades?" 
 
"That was it." She leaned back against her tire. The new 
copter hit the ground with a thud she could feel. "Let's 
go," she said.  
 
Together, they rolled onto their stomachs and looked under 
the tractor. Three sets of boots jumping out of the copter 
and heading towards them. They pulled back and stood, 
crouching behind the tractor. She held up an hand and 
counted with her fingers--1, 2, 3.  
 
And she and Mulder rolled up above the hood and around the 
bumper of the tractor and started firing.  
 
Three soldiers, face shields down. She aimed for the arms, 
and then the space where the neck was exposed under the 
chin. Four shots, and one of them went down. The next 
turned towards her, and there was an opening in his 
underarm; she nailed it, and he fell. Mulder had gotten the 
third, and was trying for the pilot when his clip jammed. 
He swore and bent his head to unstick it, which was why he 
didn't see the fourth soldier jump out of the copter and 
take aim for his head. She didn't take the time to warn 
him, just tried to aim for the new guy, who suddenly swung 
around and was pointing his gun right at her. She pulled 
her trigger, which clicked--she needed to reload--she 
opened her mouth to call for Mulder-- 
 
Suddenly the soldier collapsed, a spurt of bright blood 
exploding from his neck. Scully startled at it; Mulder too, 
looking away from the jammed gun in his hands. A hand 
holding a silver handgun had emerged from the door of the 
copter. The hand retreated, and then a whole person 
appeared and disembarked. 
 
The girl from the alleyway stood over the body of the man 
she had just shot, and tapped his shoulder with the pointed 
toe of her pump. She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her 
trench coat pocket and tapped it against her palm, looking 
around at the smoking helicopters, the crumbled bodies 
piled around on the ground. She opened the pack, pulled a 
cigarette out with her lips, and put the pack away again. 
As she pulled out her lighter, she looked directly at 
Scully. "Do you have him?" 
 
"What the hell are you doing here?" Scully stepped out from 
behind the tractor, barely able to stop from shooting her 
without waiting for an answer.  
 
"I'm the back-up plan," the smoking girl said dryly. "Do 
you have him?" 
 
"What is that supposed to mean?" Mulder growled. "Why did 
you use us if you were just going to parachute in and take 
him? What game are you playing?" 
 
"My interests, I assure you, are in alignment with your 
own." She flicked ash onto a body as she walked towards 
them. "But in any case, I think you'll find that Mr. 
Mulder's gun is terminally jammed, and that Dr. Scully is 
out of rounds. Which leaves you two in a rather weak 
negotiating position. So I'll ask again. Do you have him?" 
 
"We aren't letting you take him," Scully said, and moved to 
stand between the girl and the house. "You can kill us, but 
the Van de Kamps are armed, and they won't let you 
through." 
 
She chuckled. "How resourceful of you. Perhaps this is the 
moment when I should point out that I have rockets on the 
helicopter? This house could simply be eliminated." She 
slipped the cigarette between her lips. "Obviously not my 
ideal plan, but beggars can't be choosers." 
 
"Just try," Mulder said, and stepped up behind Scully. 
 
"No," said a voice behind them. A young voice, a boy's 
voice. 
 
They both turned to see him, standing on the steps of the 
house, holding a backpack in one hand. His parents were 
behind him, both clutching their weapons, but he must have 
talked his way past them, because their faces were set in 
desperation, and his was still and confident.  
 
William. William was standing on the steps. She couldn't 
breathe, she realized. 
 
William looked over at them, briefly, and swallowed. "I'll 
come with you," he said. "It's OK." 
 
Regina reached out and grabbed his arm. "Will--" 
 
He turned back to her. "No, Mom, really, it's OK," and 
Scully felt hollow hearing him say that to this woman she 
had never met. "I'll be fine." 
 
Mulder snorted, just barely. If she could have moved her 
eyes off of William, she would have given him a look.  
 
William turned, glanced at her and Mulder quickly, as if he 
was trying to avoid been seen doing it, and started walking 
over towards the girl. He slung his bag on his back, and 
Scully saw the fear in him that he was suppressing, and the 
excitement he carried next to it. But he walked past her to 
stand in front of the smoking girl, who appraised him 
silently and smiled the barest ghost of a smile. 
 
"Then we're coming too--" Paul Van de Kamp said, starting 
to walk determinedly towards them. 
 
The smoking girl pulled her hand from her pocket and 
pointed her gun over William's shoulder, directly at Van de 
Kamp. "With all due appreciation for the work you have put 
in up until this point," she said blandly, "you are no 
longer necessary. I have no desire to shoot you, Mr. Van de 
Kamp, but I have no qualms about it either." She glanced 
down at William. 
 
He turned back around and shifted on his feet. "It's OK, 
Dad. I'm going with them." He looked up at her, suddenly, 
and she was shocked to meet his eyes. They hadn't changed 
color since his infancy, were still the clear blue she 
remembered, but his eyelashes were longer, and he hadn't 
had the freckles then. He glanced between her and Mulder 
for a moment, and then looked back at Van de Kamp, and 
smiled, just a little. "I'll see you soon."  
 
The smoking girl pulled her cigarette out of her mouth and 
threw it on the ground. "A cleanup team should be along in 
forty-five minutes to deal with all this," she said to the 
Van de Kamps, gesturing to the battleground in their yard. 
"I suggest you be elsewhere for a few hours." She glanced 
over at Mulder and Scully. "Come along, Agents." 
 
"Why should we come with you?" Mulder said sharply. 
 
She smiled. "To protect your son." She put her hand on 
William's shoulder and steered him towards the helicopter.  
 
Scully looked at Mulder for the first time since William's 
appearance. *Think for me,* his eyes said, and she could 
practically feel his itchy desire to shoot everyone 
standing in the yard. She nodded, just barely, and turned 
towards the copter to follow them. Mulder pressed his hand 
to her back, probably as much to keep it busy as anything 
else. But after a step she stopped, and turned around.  
 
Regina Van de Kamp had stepped up beside her husband; she 
was crying openly but silently, and Paul was watching his 
son climb into the helicopter with a look of barely 
contained grief. Scully swallowed; she knew that palette of 
emotion too well. "We'll bring him back," she said without 
thinking about it. "We'll make sure he's OK, and we'll 
bring him back to you." 
 
The Van de Kamps said nothing. Mulder said nothing. She 
turned back to the helicopter. 
 
William was sitting in the back seat. The smoking girl was 
fitting a helmet around his head and checking his seatbelt. 
She smiled at him, flicked the visor down, and patted his 
shoulder. Then she looked up at them. "I assume you can 
take care of yourselves," she said, and moved up to sit 
next to the pilot. She pulled her gun out again and pointed 
it, very simply, at his head. "Any questions?" she asked. 
He shook his head and glanced at her nervously. "Excellent. 
North," she said, and reached for her own helmet. 
 
Mulder slid the door of the helicopter shut and took the 
seat next to William. Scully sat facing them, unable to 
take her eyes off the two of them together. Mulder adjusted 
his seatbelt and then poked at William's; she remembered, 
suddenly, him putting Sadie in her car seat, and had to 
fight back the wash of tears. William looked up at him, 
considered him for a moment, and then smiled. "I've never 
been in a helicopter before," he said. 
 
At that moment the helicopter rotors kicked to life, 
drowning out any speech. Scully slipped on her helmet and 
looked out the window as the helicopter lifted off and 
swung around sharply. On the ground, the Van de Kamps 
watched as they flew away.