Redemption (10/26)       
by GeorgeHale

Rating: R
Feedback:

Classification: Colonization/Mythology/MSR/William, post
I.W.T.B. Canon.
Spoilers: Left, right, & center. This is best served if you
REALLY know your X-Files.

Disclaimer: I wish I made this. This has been my catharsis, five
years in the making. Maybe it can be one for you, too.

Warning: Violence, Gratuitous employment of the 'Our little
sailor' clause (swearing,) Fluff with two 'f's, Cheesy dialogue,
Friendly Ghosts, Melodramatics, Plot devices, Fiji Mermen
(no, not really,) Angst, Blasphemy, Dehydration via crying,
Scientific Whammies, Plams, Lots & Lots & Lots of...Bees,
Magical Growing Scully Cross Chain, Red Herrings. It's going
to get strange and ugly before the end.

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X

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"I can conceive of no nightmare as terrifying as establishing
such communication with a so-called superior or, if you wish,
advanced technology in outer space."

- Issac Asimov, NASA Symposium Boston University,
November 20, 1972, Gethsemane

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In the armory, Skinner was checking weapons and had body
armor and extra gear laid out for both of them. Frohike and
Langly brought them the dry rations while the vehicle was
being prepped with extra fuel and water. Skinner debated
taking a third wingman but thought he and Mulder might do
better on their own. They quickly outfitted themselves and met
the few soldiers stocking their Jeep in the garage. They would
leave the bunker the same way Mulder and Scully had entered a
few short weeks ago. A young soldier passed a sheet of paper
to the senior officer wordlessly, and with a nod to his men,
Skinner turned the ignition and took them into the unknown.

Mulder had never appreciated non-artificial light or
non-recycled air the way that living in the bunker had taught
him. His senses seemed to come alive as he breathed fresh air
for the first time in over a month and the irony of the images
meeting his eyes as they drove up the ramp into the world were
not lost on him. While the resort had been leveled in an attack
several days after they had arrived, it had been easy to deny as
the explosions barely affected the bunker deep below. Only the
grainy still images Mulder had seen the day they visited the
Gunmen gave any view of what the outside world had looked
like in the aftermath of the destruction.

What met his eyes now was real, and the beautiful dark blue
sky punctuated with stars and constellations, scenic white
clouds, freshly fallen snow, and breath-taking moonlight stood
in stark contrast against the decimated ruins of the resort that
had served as the bunker's cover for decades. It disappeared
behind them slowly as Walter deciphered where the road was
beneath the snow. Fortunately, the blizzard had only dumped a
few inches on the ground and it laid in a soft powder that
contoured to the ground. The Jeep would have no trouble
navigating as long as Skinner could keep them out of a ditch
and on the road.

From the dash where he had laid it, Skinner shoved the
hand-drawn map with directions into Mulder's hands. "This
came from intelligence and it's our guide to Smith. Help me
navigate."

"How sophisticated." Mulder examined the paper closely,
committing it to memory as he drank from the bottle of water
he had brought with him. "Technology these days knows no
bounds." Though his adrenaline was now pumping, he still felt
miserable. "Do you really think we stand a chance out here or
was all that stuff you said about the snowfall and traveling by
night just some happy bullshit you made up to make it sound
less suicidal?"

Skinner glared at him momentarily before turning his eyes back
to the road. "Christ, Mulder, how the hell should I know? I
hope it wasn't. You think this is some joy ride for me? You
think I want to be out here? You're out of your goddamned
mind." He shot Mulder a look of disdain. "Truth is...I'm
scared shitless. Happy now?"

"Sorry." Mulder looked out the window, wishing there was
something that out there that could return his lost sense of
hope.

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The journey was slow as Skinner crept along; petrified he
would puncture the tires on some debris he would not be able
to spot. He did not know if they would manage to keep the
vehicle the entire way to the other compound, but the further
they could use it the less they would have to travel on foot.
While the former Marine was fit for his age, he was sixty and
his joints no longer cooperated the way they once did.

They traveled all night, switching once Skinner grew tired of
driving and Mulder appeared sober enough to. They spoke
little, concentrating on watching the road and for anything that
moved. With an automatic rifle perched against one leg,
Skinner noted the deer and a bear they saw and how the
hunting opportunity might have been some dream of his when
he was a boy. That they were not skittish to their presence
concerned Skinner, as it meant there were not any survivors in
the area using them as a resource. He hoped their deaths had
been quick and painless. Noting the absence of any
otherworldly predators, perhaps their local impact with the
altered bees had been better than he dared hoped. Alternatively,
the Colonists may have already killed anyone left in the area
and moved on. Their new age was one of uncertainty.

Nearly every building they passed had been razed and they had
to improvise and divert several times when the road became
impassible due to a fallen tree or cars blocking the route. It
added several long hours to their journey that neither of them
wanted to waste. They both feared that even if they were
successful in bringing the healer to the bunker, they might only
arrive too late. Mulder did not want to think of the possible
consequences that would bear for him, Scully, or to their
relationship. If Skinner's intelligence was correct, they had a
few more hours until they reached their destination and would
arrive there in the early hours of the morning. Distance and
time had become everything in post-Apocalyptico.

"We need to stop and refill the gas." The diversion around the
roadblocks had cost them valuable fuel. Fortunately, they were
prepared for the likelihood. The irony was not lost on Mulder
as he pulled into the remains of a gas station to complete the
task and half-chuckled at the realization. "I guess old habits die
hard, huh." Outside, the sun was just cresting the horizon.

Skinner took his rifle and headed for the building still
half-intact. "I'm going to take a piss and see what's left."

Mulder chuckled at the unintended double-entendre as he
removed one of fuel containers from the back of the vehicle. If
they weren't in such a rush, he would see about pumping some
from the gas storage tanks beneath them, but that would take
extra time they didn't have. They could return in the future, he
hoped, if needed. "Don't get your hopes up too high, old man.
Hey, grab me some sunflower seeds if you see any!"

Skinner waved Mulder a single-finger salute over a shoulder as
he disappeared behind the station.

Entering the small convenience store, Skinner grabbed the
small entry bells taped to the top of the door and held the rifle
in front of him as he visually searched for anything
extraordinary. It was then he saw the eyes peek from behind a
sandwich-counter toward the back of the building and
immediately disappear again. While the gaping hole in the roof
had allowed some sunlight and snow to filter in, the light was
still too dim to tell exactly what he saw.

"Who's there?" he bellowed. Every fiber of his body was on
high alert and he briefly flashed back to a time when he
confronted a young boy in the streets of Vietnam. He pushed
the images from his thoughts and focused on the point where
he had seen the eyes. "Come out with your hands up! I know
you're back there!" He waited, but nothing moved. 'Shit.' 

Slowly, cautiously, he approached the entrance behind the
counter with the rifle raised. Then he saw it. The girl screamed
bloody murder at him at the top of her lungs as she tried to
climb over the countertop, but Walter grabbed her by the arms
before she could escape, dropping his weapon in the process.
As he restrained her, he heard Mulder crash through the
entrance coming to his aid. "Skinner!"

"It's okay, Mulder! It's just a girl!"

The girl fought him ferociously, but she was small and Skinner
spun her into a pressure hold easily. "Calm down, it's okay!
We're not going to hurt you!"

Mulder joined them and surveyed the carnage on the body that
lay nearby. The person had been infected with the virus and had
incubated. The remains of the woman had been covered with a
blanket.

Mulder bent down in front of the girl, the lone survivor they
had encountered after hours of traveling. "Is that your Mother?"
He had gathered as much as soon as he saw the way the body
had been paid attention to so kindly, but was hoping the girl
might add additional information.

The girl, appearing seven or eight, nodded, crying silently.

"I'm sorry...How long ago did this happen? Is it still around?"

The girl shook her head no, refusing to speak. She appeared to
be in shock.

Cautiously, Skinner released the hold and took her firmly by
the hand as he retrieved his rifle. The girl, still silent, appeared
to want to go to her Mother and avoid her at the same time.
"Come on. You should come with us. We'll take you where it's
safe."

Mulder quickly took a bag from the sandwich stand and
grabbed some snacks and drinks. He filled another with
assorted items for bartering. His heart leapt when he found a
rack with sunflower seeds and those wound up in a third bag.
As he joined Skinner in the Jeep, he saw the girl was wrapped
in his blanket on the back seat and that Skinner had turned the
heat up. She faced away from them, and there would be little
that could be done for her until they arrived back at the
compound. Mulder had already popped open the first bag of
seeds and had one between his teeth. The crack it made when
he split it open gave him the finest kind of satisfaction.

"You're terrible, Mulder."

Looking innocent, rooting through his hoard, Mulder seemed
indifferent to his admonition. "Root beer?"

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It was almost noon when they finally reached the other
compound. Jeremiah Smith waited for them near the outer
gates. Skinner, driving again, had hoped to have the girl looked
at by someone with medical training but could see now the
people running this group of survivors were not nearly as
organized as they were. Guards stood in camouflaged
makeshift towers armed with shotguns. It gave Skinner an
uneasy feeling he didn't like and his finger tightened around the
trigger of the gun concealed beneath the dashboard.

"Unless you've come with something to trade, we're not to let
you in!"

Mulder stepped slowly from the vehicle, arms clearly where the
guards could see him unarmed. "We've only come for Smith. If
you have any antiepileptic meds, I've got some items to trade."

"You! Stay right there! We've heard about you! We know
you're one of them! One step closer and I'll blow your neck
out!" The guard was but a kid, sorely lacking in the maturity
department, scared shitless, and extremely dangerous. His face
reminded Mulder of Darin Oswald, and Mulder estimated that
he couldn't be much older, if not younger than the hellion had
been when he and Scully had dealt with him long ago. "We
don't have any...whatever you said."

Mulder froze and Jeremiah made his way quickly to the Jeep
joining the young girl in the back. Mulder got back in the
vehicle slowly once Jeremiah shut the door.

"Please, speed away from here." Jeremiah looked horrified.

Disgusted by the treatment they received, Skinner turned the
Jeep around and tore out on the tracks they had made coming
in.

"We need an explanation, Smith. Why now? After all this
time? Why here? I need you to make it make sense for me."
Mulder sounded desperate. "My son is laying in a bed dy-" A
brief whistling distracted him overhead before a giant fireball
engulfed the area of the former compound. They had traveled
less than half a mile but the shock wave from the explosion
rattled the vehicle's windows and frame as it passed. Mulder
lowered the window for a clearer view of the destruction
behind them and couldn't help but gasp at the sight of the
destruction behind them. "Step on the gas, Skinner!"

"Why? What's happening?" Skinner, eyes on the road, had only
seen a glimpse of the explosion in the rear-view mirror and the
reflection of the glare from the windshield. He hadn't seen the
ship that materialized above their recent location.

"Bad company!"

Skinner floored the accelerator, pushing the Jeep to its
threshold. The snow had begun to melt as the morning Sun
warmed the earth, and Skinner fought to keep the vehicle from
fish-tailing in the slush.

"We have to lose them!"

Jeremiah suddenly had him by the shoulders and Walter felt an
exotic tingle travel down his spine. "They're tracking us using
the nanites in your bloodstream. They have used you to find
me!"

"What the hell are you doing?" The Jeep swerved left as
Skinner reacted to the foreign touch before he was able to
correct its path. "I'm trying to drive!"

"Concentrate on the road then! I am healing you. They will not
be able to track us then."

The stretch of road blew up behind them. The little girl began
silently sobbing as chunks of asphalt rained down on the roof
of the vehicle. Mulder ducked back inside, covering his head
instinctively. While the road was now easier to discern, it
offered little in options for evasive maneuvers.

"I'm open to any suggestions, people!" Skinner briefly debated
driving them off the road into the woods.

"The forest!" Mulder pointed to a roadside sign pointing out the
wonders of the nearby George Washington National Forest.
While the route they had taken to the other compound had
mostly kept them out of the woods, it might serve as their
saving grace now. The sky had turned a murky dark grey, the
ship now blocked from their view. "Go south!" The first large
pines loomed in the distance. "It's the best option we have!"

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Deep below the remains of the Greenbrier Resort, Scully
mentally reviewed surgical procedures for the temporal lobe as
she silently sat with William and Gibson. Gibson had collapsed
in his room earlier and was brought to join his young friend in
the infirmary. Other than trying to keep him comfortable,
Scully was afraid there was nothing she could do and that he
had little time left. She had argued with Threadgoode over
surgery, but while there were clinical trials being performed on
stem-cell therapies and even brain prosthetics, neither had
access to any of the advanced materials or equipment needed to
even consider or attempt such a procedure. Too much of the
boy's brain had been removed in that botched operation long
ago, and the young man would die for it as his body quit
acknowledging the synthetic hormones that Threadgoode had
been treating him with. The injustice filled Scully with rage,
and she wondered hopelessly if she would need to perform
some similar procedure soon on William just to buy him time,
and at what terrible cost to his mind and body.

She did not know if she could handle operating on her own son,
didn't think her hands could possibly remain steady. Though
Threadgoode was an amazing doctor, he was far beyond his
prime as an operating surgeon. Brain surgery was such a
delicate, risky procedure and so much could go wrong, so very
easily. One small slip could result in the loss of higher mental
facilities, so much as the ability to tell right from wrong. She
couldn't possibly bring herself to play a game of
hide-and-go-seek with her son's frontal lobe, could she, even if
it could save his life or delay the unthinkable? Images of a
younger Gibson with his head shaved and stitched shut flooded
her brain. Scully shook her head without meaning to. She could
never risk harming his beautiful, intelligent mind the way that
Gibson's had been butchered.

Absently, her hand traveled to her neck where her cross usually
laid, and her thoughts turned to Mulder. Always thinking of
Mulder. Was that why God was forsaking her now? *'Where are
you, Mulder?'* She prayed for his and Skinner's safety and that
they would be able to bring Jeremiah back in time to help. She
prayed for William and Gibson, she prayed for a miracle. She
prayed for God to listen.

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Evading the best he could, Skinner sped them toward the
opening of the forest on the off-ramp he had taken toward its
entrance. He couldn't help but feel they were being toyed with.
An explosion ripped the ground apart directly behind them and
the vehicle was literally pushed into the dark cover of the
woods as the road narrowed. The glass window of the back
hatch shattered from the force and they landed so hard on the
front two wheels that the vehicle felt like it bounced forward.
The force of the impact pushed them dangerously close to the
guard rail over-hanging a thickly veiled mountainside but
Skinner narrowly managed to keep them from going over. For
now, they were hidden. Jeremiah lost his grip on Skinner as
they shot forward, but regained it and resumed his silent
ministrations.

Mulder, beyond pale and amazed at his friend's driving
abilities, was thankful to be alive. Regaining his sense of
momentum, he gaped with the realization that it was not snow
falling from the now-black sky illuminated by their headlights,
but ash.

Their pursuers had either been forced to turn back or were
watching them silently as they continued through the forest.
The feeling of not knowing was unnerving and a reminiscent
sense of paranoia descended, twisting a knot in Mulder's
stomach. He turned in his seat so he could directly evaluate
Smith who was resting against the seat, exhausted with the
conclusion of his healing work.

"As I was saying earlier before we were so rudely interrupted,
why now? Why there, at that compound? You disappear eleven
years ago and now you're suddenly back and ready to help out?
I think you're a few years too late!" Mulder heard his voice
rising with anger but didn't care.

Smith seemed unmoved, nonchalant. "I have been on the run,
Mr. Mulder. I think you understand how that works. I came to
the compound because it was the closest my ship could travel
to the magnetite source that rests below the Springs and the
surrounding forest. It is the real reason the bunker was built
there and that this area was designated for your leaders. It is
also the reason why it has escaped the annihilation you just saw
executed on those innocents. The ships cannot get close to it. If
they could, none of you would be alive."

"That's not true. The resort has been destroyed," Mulder
replied.

"It was, but not by the Colonists. The clones can travel where
the Colonists cannot using your own armed forces against you.
Other hybrids and replacements, like yourself."

"My name's Mulder, you bastard. I'm not anyone's
replacement."

"Not yet and only thanks to Dana Scully, but she was only able
to prevent the final part of the transformation. If the right virus
were to be reintroduced to your system, you would be theirs in
a very short amount of time, despite your immunity to the other
viral agent. I am back as I was before at the risk of my own
safety because I believe in your Resistance and what it stands
for. Annihilation was wrought on my own race in a similar
destruction, and I will do what I can now to assist in the fight
against them. Right now, that means making sure your son
survives."

Mulder felt himself sigh as his anger began to abate. "I know
my son is special, but from the time he was conceived he's been
sought after by groups I never even knew existed. Just what is
it in him they want?"

The otherwise infallible healer seemed stunned for a moment.
"The nature of the prophecy...certainly you have seen it as he
has matured. True telepathy, telekinesis, and the prospect of
much more. More human than human, as human as the first
souls who walked this planet, before the great extinctions. The
warning was written on the ships for you to find.

You are aware that the Census Bureau had been tracking
individuals with certain genetic codes over time, targeting
certain strains for experimentation. The Project had multiple
facets. You have seen the evidence in the clone chattel. You
have also seen alien-human hybrid supersoldiers, much like
yourself. There are also the replacements, husks of bodies now
controlled and kept alive by the Purity virus itself. These
elements of the Project were with the Colonists, an effort to
ensure that both species would survive, one in service to the
other."

"While others used the time bought to research a vaccine,"
Mulder added. "Men like my father who wanted to resist and
fight the future."

"Yes. While the Purity virus was the original inhabitant of this
planet, it was not the pillaging war machine it has evolved into.
The prophecy spoke of one who could lead life on this planet to
a new age if a certain fail-safe were to be tripped, entrusted to
history by the ancients who could not foresee the results of
their own experiment in spreading their offspring through the
universe. We are in what so many of your kind call the
Apocalypse. Some of you would call it the Sixth Extinction.
Nahui Ollin, Yawm ad-Din, Ragnar”k. It has many names."

"What failsafe?" Mulder had embraced some intense
conspiracy theories in the past, but the depth and breadth of
what Smith was telling him perplexed him.

Smith shook his head. "I wish I knew, but that is why your son
must live."

Even as a fine layer of ash accumulated inside the vehicle, their
detoured route took them deep into the forest on a southbound
course before they were able to turn west and follow another
former highway back toward their new home. They were
almost derailed once when a large pine laid across most of the
road, but Skinner was able to skirt the edge of the road toward
its higher branches and was able to coax the Jeep across the
obstacle. Shortly thereafter though the vehicle became
inoperable, the gas line severed by the debris they had been
covering.

Mouths and noses covered by makeshift cloth breathing masks,
Skinner and Mulder bent to examine the broken line to see if
there would be anyway to repair it long enough to get them
home. They were less than fifteen miles from the base but
visibility was reduced severely by whatever disaster had taken
place. They hadn't taken time to speculate, busy navigating the
camouflaged landscape until their latest mishap. The ash had
coated everything by this point, making the Earth before them
appear a dark blizzard. It did not take them long to realize the
car was done for now. Mulder swore, kicking the broken
vehicle in rage.

Unloading what essentials they could carry as quickly as they
could, they set off toward the base on foot along the highway
relying on a flashlight, Skinner's compass, and Mulder's sense
of dead reckoning. Few words had passed between them, but
Skinner needed to distract himself from his disillusioned joints.

"What do you think happened?"

"An attack, maybe? But really, what buildings are left that
would be worth destroying?" Mulder examined some of the ash
on his hands as closely as his own flashlight would allow. The
girl and Jeremiah trudged slowly behind them hand-in-hand.
"It's fine but coarse. Could be volcanic."

"Seriously, Mulder." Skinner thought his old friend was jesting.
There were no volcanoes in this part of the country.

"What do you think it is, then?"

"No idea. Wildfire, perhaps. Don't get me wrong, Mulder, I'd
prefer your theory if I had to choose. I just don't think it's
likely." The older man briefly removed the t-shirt he was
wearing as a facemask to douse it with water.

Behind them, Jeremiah tried to calm the young girl who was
crying silently again. Ash-stained tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Let us talk about something else," he implored.

Silence overtook them again as the temperature fell and actual
night made their navigation home that much more difficult.
Mulder was determined they would not rest until they made it
back to the base. Wet t-shirts would only do so much to filter
the fine particles they were breathing into their lungs.