She stares across at me, and I'm too tired to meet her eyes any longer. I want
everything to go away. Everyone.
"Tell me what happened."
I meet her bright blue eyes, and shake my head. It's been too much. I just want
to curl up and die. It seems it's only the two of us left.
"You have to tell someone."
I know she's right, but I don't want to tell her. I've done some things in the
path of the past few days that I'm not proud of. I wish I hadn't done them, but
it's too late for regrets.
After a few more minutes, I look up at her again, and sigh.
I do have to tell her
Otherwise they have won.
I must resist.
We're in the car the night it begins. I'm sitting in the back seat, Jordan
shotgun to Frank driving. She's talking about something. Admittedly, I'd tuned
out a long time ago.
She's in the middle of her story, gesturing wildly and talking in an animated
tone, when everything stops. Turns off.
The car goes dead, all the instruments, all the lights, the engine. I check my
watch and see it has stopped.
Shit!
There were a few other cars on the road, and I jump out to find that the people
are staying in them. If I could warn them, I would, but I have myself and two
others to think of already.
I don't like caring for others. I'm not at all used to it.
I jump out of the car, and Frank looks over his shoulder at me.
"Hey. What are you doing?"
"Frank, you've got to get out of the car," I reply quickly, flinging open
Jordan's door. "I know what this is."
Luckily for me, he complies, getting out and looking at me over the roof.
"Alex, what is it?"
I want to tell him, but we don't have the time and I don't want to try. It's too
complicated.
"We've got to run."
Jordan looks up at me then. "Why?"
I don't dare look up, in case my fears have confirmation. I don't want to see
the ships, hovering above like large, solid black clouds.
"I can't tell you now. But we've got to get out of here. Out of sight."
Frank comes around to my side of the car. "Tell us what's happening."
"I don't have the time!" I exclaim, suddenly growing anxious. "They're coming.
They're already here. If we don't go, they'll take us."
"Who are they?"
I sigh. Sometimes I wish Frank knew what was going on. "Them. Aliens,
extraterrestrials, whatever name you give them. The colonists."
"How do you know?"
Frank looks somewhat suspicious. I don't blame him.
"Remember how I told you about the syndicate? They're working with them."
"They're working with aliens?!"
I snap. "Yes!"
He reaches down and picks Jordan up. "What can we do? Where could we go?"
"I have no idea," I reply honestly. "We've got to keep on the run, though."
His eyes search mine, and I know he's trying to understand. "Okay. Lead."
Simply, I nod. I've been prepared somewhat for this; I knew it was coming. I
just didn't expect it so soon. The dates have all been pushed forward.
"Don't look up," I advise, and run. I hear Frank following me, and I wonder
where the hell we're going to go.
There won't be any DC. I know that without needing to see the remains of the
city. There won't be any cities left. Just ruins.
Eventually, we stop in the middle of the woods. I hope we'll be safe—but
there's no way of telling.
I look at Jordan. Out of the three of us, she's the one who's going to get
tired.
"You okay?" I ask slowly. She nods, but doesn't say anything, which is enough of
a indicator that she definitely needs a break. I sigh, but look around.
It isn't even a clearing—as dark as is possible. The trees loom overhead,
reaching down to claim us.
Or are those the ships?
I shrug. "I think this is as good a place as any."
Jordan just drops, and I sigh. She is incredibly tired—we've been running
straight for about an hour, and she's probably run about half of that, Frank
carrying her for the rest of the time.
She curls up in a foetal position, and I just watch her.
Frank does the same, and when I look up, he simply says, "Tell me what you know,
Alex."
I lean back against a tree, and slide down it to the ground.
"This has been coming for a long time. They've planned for it, you realise. The
aliens. They've been slowly breeding themselves in, by DNA insertions."
At that point I look at Jordan. On a whim, I crawl across to her, and pull the
left sleeve of her shirt up. Upon not finding a vaccination scar on her, I look
up at Frank.
"Has she been vaccinated against Smallpox?"
He frowns. "I don't think so."
I don't say anything to that, simply continuing my story. "And now they're here
to take over totally. We can't do anything but run. And keep on running. And
resist."
"Resist?"
"Or serve," I finish for him. "And believe me, you don't want that. For her."
His glance flickers to Jordan on the ground, and I watch a multitude of
expressions play over his face.
"I have to find everyone else. Mulder, Scully—"
My voice trails off as Frank looks up at me, a new light in his eyes. "What's
going to happen?"
"I don't know," I answer honestly. "We run... but beyond that, I can't see, I
can't tell."
We're silent for a while, until he shivers, and looks up into the sky. "What do
they look like?"
"The ships?"
"Yeah."
"Like nothing you can imagine."
He drops his gaze. "And them?"
"Like anyone."
He raises an eyebrow, and I elaborate.
"They can shapeshift, and could turn up in any form. You can't..." I trail off,
then echo Mulder's words, a phrase he had used a lifetime ago. "Trust no one."
He stares at me for a while. "Then what chance do we have?"
"What is there to live for?"
He nods slightly, finally understanding.
"You should sleep," I tell him. "We've got a long journey ahead of us."
Frank looks down at his daughter, looking young and vulnerable in her sleep.
Almost without me noticing, he nods a little, and lies down next to her.
I don't plan to sleep. How could I?
The night is long, but neither of them wake up. I keep my eyes trained on my
watch, as the seconds tick away, turning into minutes, and then hours.
At five, I realise I should wake them, and reach over to shake Frank awake.
He stirs, and looks up at me. I motion that we have to get going, and he stands.
Jordan's still asleep, and neither of us want to interrupt her peace. I envy her
that peace.
I know that today will be the day to find people. I want to find Mulder, and
convince myself that he is actually as all right as I think, as I hope.
Frank leans down and shakes her awake. She looks up at me with eyes still mostly
asleep, and I wish we didn't have to do this.
But we don't have a choice.
Well, there is one, but it isn't much of a choice. Resist or Serve.
Frank picks her up, and I realise, surprised, that he intends to carry her.
We'll move faster, but he'll tire quicker. There's no way I could carry her all
that way. And it is going to be a long way today.
I shrug, and check the compass on my watch. We need to travel vaguely north, to
get to a highway. I kept a basic track of the direction we were running in last
night, and if we head in a northerly direction, we should find ourselves on a
highway before dark.
Of course, we can't follow the highway; they'll find us easily. But if we
keep an eye on it, and don't deviate too far, we should be fine.
I don't think we should run for the first while. There's no reason to, so I
indicate for us to walk.
Frank takes the opportunity to let Jordan walk for herself, and she does. I
watch her carefully, aware that she'll tire easily.
By ten o'clock, I realise it is about time to begin running, and pick up the
pace, not daring to speak. It's getting light now, and I don't want to think
about what may be watching us, or listening.
The one thing I hate about running is the way my phantom arm heats up, and
itches. I used to do a lot of running—of course, it was partly due to the fact
Mulder runs, but since Russia, I haven't liked to.
There's a noise from in front of us, and I stop in my tracks, not even daring to
think about what it might be.
Frank and Jordan stop, too, and look at me. I indicate for them to crouch down,
and slowly inch forward, drawing my gun out.
The sounds stop, and I realise they're probably watching me at the same time.
I'm about to step forward, when something comes out at me from the bush, and
knocks me off balance.
I catch hold of the man's shirt to keep from stumbling, and manage to steady
myself enough to let go of my grip, and hold my gun up in his face. His eyes
focus, and I realise that his face is bleeding from a cut.
Red blood.
He's human, thank god.
I take him in again. He's arrogant looking, although rough, and he has a sneer I
wouldn't mind being able to pull off. His hair's curlier than Jordan's, and for
a man, that's an accomplishment.
"Who the hell are you?" he asks, trying to appear tough, although my gun
shakes him a little.
"The one with the gun, and therefore the one asking the questions," I reply.
"Who the hell are you?"
He looks me up and down, and chuckles a little. "Come on, give me a break. You
couldn't beat me. You're a cripple."
Deftly switching my gun to my prosthetic, I grab him by the collar and push him
up against a nearby tree.
"Watch it," I growl. "I could take you easily."
He cocks an eyebrow, and I feel like smacking him across the face. "I don't
think so. I'm a federal agent."
"I'm an assassin," I reply shortly, getting right into his personal space—the
best way I know to dominate a situation, and watching as he turns whiter.
Suddenly, I drop him, and step back, taking the gun back and keeping it trained
on him.
"Who are you," I repeat, and he finally gives in.
"Jeffrey Spender."
I know that name—Mulder's mentioned him a few times. He looks at me, that
sneer back on his face again, and I know he's expecting my name.
"Alex Krycek."
Recognition dawns on his face, although I don't know where he could have
heard my name before. My real name. At the Bureau, I'm "Alex Black". Not Krycek.
What the hell's going on?
"Agent Mulder," he says, and the way he spits Mulder's name, you'd think it was
a curse. Has he been talking about me? Not like him.
I don't say anything, simply glaring at Spender in a hint to continue.
"My father gave me directions to a place I'll be safe, okay? I don't even know
what's going on."
"Then how does your father?"
It's all in the family, one gets the feeling.
"I don't know how my father knows anything."
I'm starting to get an awful feeling about this guy, branching from things that
Mulder has told me, and who he looks like.
I realise where else I've heard his name.
The Cancer Man. This is his son.
Don't ask me why we let Spender tag along with us. I had no part in the
decision, and I didn't particularly want him along.
"Krycek," he begins conversationally. I ignore him.
"Alex?"
I continue ignoring him. I wonder offhand what he was going to say, but don't
let it bother me for long. He gives up, and I stop, hearing a sound.
"Down," I hiss. Jordan's walking at my side by that time, and I get her down
under my arm.
Spender doesn't pay my warning any attention, and I hear the distinct crack of a
gunshot, and watch as he falls to the ground, hit.
I don't want to know if the shooter is human or not. I prefer to assume the
best.
There's no time to stay and mourn, especially if there's a shooter in the area.
I have a gun—but that will only work if the shooter is human.
I look behind me to find Frank looking at Spender's body, in shock. It doesn't
affect me so much—I've seen a lot of death in my lifetime. So has he, but I've
instigated a lot of death.
And I've been prepared for the carnage we have to go through now.
Springing up, not daring to look in the direction the shot came from, I grab
Jordan by the back of the shirt to pull her to her feet, and run.
It's a good half hour before I stop running, and then it's only because I can't
hear anything behind me.
Both Frank and Jordan are gone.
Shit.
I backtrack for about ten minutes, wondering if I should call out. I don't want
to, for fear they'll hear, and find me.
"Alex?" I hear Jordan call, and just about fall over with relief.
I run towards the sound, and thankfully catch sight of her. However, she's
looking in the other direction, and I see a woman there.
Frank's standing right up with the woman, who's reaching out towards him. I
freeze, and she looks towards me, her face wavering and changing a little.
It recognises me.
And I, it.
"Frank," I hiss. "Look out."
Jordan turns around to me. "It's Mommy."
Oh, god. They've gotten clever.
"It's not," I insist, more to Frank than to Jordan. "Look at the eyes."
The woman looks towards me, and her eyes instinctively cloud over with the
black. Frank sees, also, and cringes back. He steps away, seeing that it's not
her.
However, we're not safe. The woman leans down, and beckons to Jordan. "Come
here, honey."
Jordan steps forward, all innocence. I lunge out to stop her, but the woman
fixes me with a glare.
"Jordan!" Frank calls, but she hardly notices.
The woman reaches down and picks Jordan up. I realise that we're going to lose
Jordan if we don't get the woman in the back of the neck.
I know they can often have slow reaction times, so I swiftly go around to her
back, and flick out a sharp point I've carried for a while.
I stab it through the base of the woman's neck, then step back as the green
slime-ish liquid bubbles out.
Frank darts forward to catch Jordan, who's staring at me wide-eyed. Perhaps the
last half day has held a lot of revelations for her—her brother's not the
squeaky-clean innocent she thought.
I step away from the body which is disintegrating rapidly. I meet Frank's eyes,
finding them full of unanswered questions.
I don't know where to start, so I simply state, "She was a clone."
And turn my back on where the body was, seconds ago, and walk off.
Dusk is falling.
It's getting a bit colder, and I can see Jordan shivering. We've stopped. I fear
that we've lost our way—we should have reached the highway hours ago. When we
were shot at, I think we panicked and ran, not noticing what the direction was.
Frank's been shaken badly by Catherine turning up, and I don't blame him.
That's what is going to make this battle hard to fight. They don't have any
morals. I mean, I only have a few—but they have none.
I don't think we should try to go any further tonight—it'll be easier when
it's light, and we can at least see something.
I sit down first, and Jordan takes that as her cue to collapse. I feel bad for
taxing her so much, but it can't be helped. Frank sits down too, and I suddenly
wish it was safe enough to start a fire. It's certainly cold enough.
Unfortunately that sort of light would give us away quickly.
I can't hear anything, and that is part of what is currently spooking me.
Usually at night there are some sounds at least; although not human.
No, I lie. There is a sound at the moment—a very low humming. I just want to
ignore it. I know it's a ship.
A distant part of me wonders where the consortium are. If, as I expect, the
aliens have gone back and turned against everyone, I think they'll have taken
the easy option, and killed themselves.
Jordan's fast asleep. It doesn't take long. One part of me wants to sleep, but I
silence it fast. There's no way I'll sleep now.
I've been preparing for this for so long, and now it has come, and I don't know
what to do, where to run.
Frank's looking past me. Through me.
"We're not going to live, are we?"
It's more of a statement than a question, and I'm glad he left it until after
Jordan's sleeping to ask it.
I shrug. "We might."
"Why?"
I could take that monosyllabic word to mean a few things. `Why won't we live' is
one of them. `Why would we want to' is another. I don't answer, and I suppose it
was rhetorical, because Frank doesn't pursue the issue.
He's watching her again, somewhat sadly. It is sad—if she lives, what sort of
world is it going to be for her?
I want to find Mulder. I want him. I want to know that he's safe.
He will be. I don't think they'd kill him—he's too valuable. Not like me. I
don't think the colonists will give a damn about a two faced, one armed Russian
assassin like me. The thought is kind of disturbing.
Frank's eyes are shut. Time to keep watch again.
Tell me before I seek worthier pastures
The day dawns clear, but a fine day makes no difference now. The sun is bright—even if half of it is blocked by shadow. The trees filter out a lot of the
remaining light, but it still casts quite a sun on us. However, slowly the sun
is being taken over.
I must have slept sometime, but neither of the other two are awake.
I don't want to say anything, but I'm worried about Jordan. With the clone, how
close she got.
After a while, they both wake up, Jordan first. I take the opportunity to look
closely at her, and when she gives me a strange glance, I simply ask, "Are you
feeling okay?"
She nods. "I'm okay."
Frank awakens soon after, and I wonder if either of them are hungry. There's not
much I can do about it, but I hope they're not.
We have a lot of walking to do today, to make up for yesterday's muck up.
I check my watch, and without saying anything, start walking north. The other
two follow me.
We make a path for ourselves, for the most part very quiet, and making good
time. By midday, I couldn't say how far we'd gone, but it was a fair way.
Frank had Jordan on his back by then, and she was asleep, from what I could see.
I was offhandedly wondering why she was sleeping so much, but came to the
conclusion that it was due to her being overworked—which she definitely was.
I see a break in the trees a little bit ahead, and walk a bit quicker, dodging
the trees rather than pushing at them, and come out on the main road.
Falling to my knees, I grin widely, as Frank comes up behind me. He moves beside
me, and looks at my expression.
"Why is this so important?"
I shake my head. "They haven't bombed it. It's still here."
He thinks I'm manic. I don't blame him—I guess I'm not making much sense to
anyone but myself. It doesn't matter much any more.
We've found the road. I know where I am.
All we have to do, is travel along the west side, and we'll come to the shelter
the syndicate had set away for plan B.
I stand up, and look at my watch. West is to my right.
I stop, and glance at my watch. To my right? Shouldn't west be to my left if
I'm facing north?
Shit.
Damn.
Hell.
We've gone the wrong way. South. How the fuck could I make that sort of mistake?
How fucking stupid am I?
I fall forward, and smack my head several times on the road. Frank stops me,
holding my head back. I slam a fist down. If there was ever a time that I felt
like throwing a tantrum, this would be it.
Violently, I stand up, rip off my watch, and hurl it at the ground, angered. I
kick the stupid thing. Stand on it, while all the time Frank is giving me an
entirely strange look.
I glance up at him. He reaches out a hand, and I shrug it instantly off my
shoulder.
"Alex, what is it?"
"We've gone the," I say quietly, then shout as loud as I can, "WRONG GODDAMN
WAY!"
Jordan startles awake, and stares at me. I sit down there and then, and put my
forehead in my palm.
"Stupid fucking fool," I tell myself. "Doesn't take much intellect to tell north
from south. Fucking idiot."
Frank breaks into my thoughts. "Hey," he says, "Don't worry. Don't beat yourself
up over it."
Oh yes. How do I beat myself? With one hand, don't I, Mulder?
"We can just walk back."
"And we've lost one whole fucking day!"
"Nothing can be done about it, Alex," he tells me patiently. I know, I know, but
it's still goddamn idiotic.
I don't bother replying, until I hear a motor.
It can't be a car.
It sounds like one.
Dismayed, I raise my eyes to the skies, and see what I dread—a ship.
One of the smaller ones, this one is—small, black, and speeding towards us at
a great rate.
"Get off this," I hiss, and spring towards the side of the road. Frank and
Jordan follow my example, and we end up crouched behind a clump of bushes.
Something shining on the road catches my eye.
My goddamn watch.
Instantly, my mind runs through the possibilities. They don't see it. They see
it and take it. They see it, take it, and decide we're around. They see it, take
it, and use the DNA prints on it to make a cloned army of me.
Or I run out and get it.
Deciding on the last option, and ignoring Frank's exclamation of surprise, I
jump out and sprint out onto the road, grabbing it and wishing the buzzing
wasn't as loud as it actually is.
As I jump back behind the bush, I hear the buzzing stop. Crouching low again,
and attempting to slow my breathing, I peek back at it.
The ship—which I see is smaller than I expected, not half the size of the jeep
- is hovering over the spot I was only a minute ago.
Slowly, it turns, until I swear, it is fucking well facing us. Something
on the end comes out, retracts back in again. A laser is suddenly beamed down
onto the ground at the edge of the road, and slowly moves forward.
God. It's tracking us.
A feeling of dread building up inside me, I pick Jordan up and run, trusting
that Frank will catch on and follow.
I don't turn back for five minutes, until I realise I can't hear the buzzing any
longer.
I wildly look all around, but the ship is nowhere to be seen. I set Jordan down,
and look back through the section of forest we've come crashing through.
Nothing.
No one.
Where's Frank?
I shiver. It's cold in the middle of all the trees. Jordan's standing close to
me—needing my body heat.
I look down at her, not wanting to say anything, but still unwilling to go back
to look for Frank, for fear of the ship.
Silently, I crouch down to Jordan's level, and indicate for her to be silent.
There's no sound whatsoever.
I don't know what to do. Luckily, Jordan decides it for me.
She simply starts walking back along the makeshift path, and I follow her.
"Frank?" I call, the question mark obvious in my voice.
"Daddy?" Jordan echoes me.
There's no answer, and no buzzing. Nothing.
We're back beside the road again, but there's nothing. I know Frank saw the path
we took—it'd be impossible to miss, we made such an extreme mess of it. So
what had happened?
Jordan walked out on the road, and I followed her lead, trying to find a vantage
point to see where he could possibly be.
He couldn't have just disappeared.
Right?
Jordan's face changes suddenly, which is what basically tells me we're not going
to find him.
"He's gone," she states simply, looking blankly into the forest.
I step over to her. "What do you mean?"
She looks at me, her eyes suddenly focussing. "He's gone. It took him."
I don't bother questioning. I know by now that she just... knows these things.
So I simply take her hand, and the two of us walk down the road. West.
By the time dusk falls, we're in a city. Well, what used to be a city. I don't
know where we are. I lost track of where we were quite some time ago. I failed
Geography anyway.
Everything seems to be black. The burnt-down buildings are only ashes now, most
of which are in the air due to winds. The sky is darkened with clouds—at least
I hope they're clouds.
I haven't seen any people. The entire city seems to be completely devoid of
life.
I see a car. It's dead, of course, but it's a car. I go over to it, Jordan
following.
It's Mulder's. Well, I don't know for sure, but it's the correct type. He's
nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if he's looking for me in the same way I'm
looking for him.
I run a finger along the top of the car, and it comes off mostly black, from the
ash. I blink, realising that he's gone. Assuming it is his car.
I wish there was sun. Warmth. Because Jordan's beginning to shiver, and I don't
know how I'm going to keep her warm—without a fire.
"Are you warm enough?" I ask distractedly.
She simply shakes her head, and I pick her up.
"Where's Fox gone?"
"That's what I want to know."
"He's not very far away," she says, looking at the ground.
I wonder how she knows that, and glance down to where she is looking. Footprints
in the ash. Two sets.
Fox Mulder's.
And Dana Scully's.
In idiotic hope, I walk off in the direction the tracks lead. Hoping they're
both alive, together, and themselves. Sounds strange, but it's true.
Jordan's too cold. I shrug off my leather jacket to give to her to wear—it
covers most of her body, but it should be warm. I'm no longer warm enough, but
that doesn't matter as much. I'm used to the cold. She isn't.
I don't know how long we walk for, I don't look at my watch. I'm wondering if
Frank's still alive. I have serious doubts. I almost hope he's not. Because he's
certainly been captured.
It sounds like we're now animals, running away from capture. That is what it's
like. I don't know what we can do; where we can go.
Eventually, there is a mixture in the tracks. They cross, mull around—like the
two broke into an impromptu waltz or something similar. Then they go off in
opposite directions—down the left and right forks of the road.
I think they thought the two roads would meet up somewhere along the line, but
they're wrong. What is the difference between the two? Life or death. Resist or
Serve.
My instincts tell me, as Jordan drops to the road beside my feet, that Scully
has taken the safer road. Life, resistance, safety. Mulder, my Mulder,
has taken the other road. The road less travelled.
Who am I supposed to follow?
What should go first?
Instinctive safety of Jordan and myself, even though I have my own private
demonic suspicions about her state, or my need to find Mulder, perhaps for the
last time?
It's typical. He always is the less logical one. He probably got a feeling on
one of the forks, and went along it. Or made Scully. Or perhaps he just picked
at random.
But it leaves me with a hard decision.
A damn hard decision.
What do I put first? Our safety, or my feelings?
A year ago, I would have followed Scully's fork, no hesitation. Always caring
for Alex Krycek, no one else. Now I also have Jordan to care for—but I need to
find Mulder.
I'm fooling myself. I know my decision. It's already made.
Dragging Jordan to her feet, and picking her up, I walk along the left fork.
Mulder's.
By seven, according to my watch, we haven't found him. His tracks fade in and
out—we're in bush again, and the ash doesn't cover everything. I'm afraid of
losing the tracks.
Jordan hasn't stirred, on my shoulder, for a good hour, and I'm half-worrying. I
don't like worrying. I hate caring. I hate knowing that if something happens to
her, I'm actually going to give a damn.
Then, and I can't believe it, but there's a flashlight shining through the
trees, and the words, "Freeze! Federal Agent, I'm armed."
It has to be him. It's his voice. God, let it be him and not a clone.
"Federal Agent," I reply easily. "I'm one-armed."
The flashlight suddenly moves, and he comes around the corner. I quickly set
Jordan down, and Mulder catches me in an embrace.
"What the hell was that for?" I ask, glad to finally find him.
"This is it, isn't it."
"Yeah."
He looks down at Jordan, who, miraculously, is still asleep. "Where's Frank?"
"I don't know. Gone."
"How'd you find me?"
I simply look at him, glad I took this fork. He looks totally rundown. I don't
blame him. He's unshaven, his clothes are torn, and his hair sticking out in all
directions. His eyes are tired. "We followed the tracks," I tell him, not taking
my eyes off his face, "And found you."
"What's going to happen?"
I watch him, how he's suddenly, childishly afraid. "No one knows."
He turns around. "I lit a fire."
Despite the danger it poses, I'm instantly grateful. Despite myself, I'm cooling
off quickly, and wishing for the warmth of my jacket. He picks Jordan up—thank
god, I'm getting tired of lifting her with one hand—and we walk over to his
small fire.
A tingling feeling immediately hits my right hand, as the warmth creeps through,
eradicating the cold. I cringe, as it's almost painful. The warmth snakes its
way up my arm, and into my shoulder. The flames dance around, and I watch them,
intrigued. I've always bordered on being a pyromaniac.
Mulder sits opposite me, and he lays Jordan down next to the fire. Not
surprisingly, she doesn't wake.
"Have you slept?" I ask Mulder.
He shakes his head. "I don't know how long it's been, though."
"Sleep. I'll stay up."
Mulder looks at me closely. "You haven't slept lately either."
He's right. I haven't. Since this whole thing began. But I don't want to sleep,
either. I have to stay awake for him. And her.
Jordan stirs, and sits up. "Fox?"
He looks at her. "You okay, Jordan?"
"Mmmhmmm. I'm hot."
I don't bother exchanging a glance with Mulder; I know he's looking at me. "Are
you feeling all right?" I ask Jordan. "Not sick?"
"No, just hot," she replies, shrugging off my jacket. Then she immediately
shivers, and I move over to put it back on her. She sits and stares at the fire
for a while, and I watch her carefully.
My attention is suddenly drawn to a movement on her forehead, and I startle.
Did I imagine it?
Did I just imagine a fucking black cancer worm crawl, under the skin, across my
sister's forehead?
Mulder suddenly glances at me, and I know I must be pale. "You okay, Alex?"
I blink. Must have been my stupid imagination again. "I'm fine."
Jordan seems fine. She curls up again, closing her eyes with obvious intention
to sleep. Damned if I'm going to sleep—if she has the fucking virus, I'm gonna
be the first goddamn person to know about it.
Memories of the silo wash through me, coughing up the oil out of every orifice,
pain overcoming every nerve. Incredible fear. A want to die, to just stop
everything. The knowledge that the oil is always going to have a hold on me.
Claustrophobia. Darkness. Fear.
She can't have it.
It wouldn't be fair.
Mulder's staring through the fire, oblivious to my thoughts. He's a million
miles away, and I don't want to disturb him. His eyes are hollow, and the fire
reflects in them, dancing light. I reach over to touch his shoulder, and he
turns to me.
"You've got to sleep, Mulder," I tell him. "We'll try to get something done
tomorrow."
He nods blankly, but doesn't reply, and makes no movement to sleep. I watch him
for a while, then sigh, mostly out of frustration.
"Alex," he begins shakily, "What's going to happen to us all?"
I don't answer. I don't know the answer.
Accepting my response, or decided lack of response, Mulder lies down, and goes
to sleep. I stay awake, eyes trained on Jordan, until I see the worm crawl back
across her forehead.
It can't be true. There has to be a way that I'm imagining this.
She can't have it. I keep telling myself that, and I suppose it's to fool
myself. What else could it be?
I don't want her to have to go through what I did, or even worse—I wouldn't
wish it on her, ever. I'd wish it on a few of my worst enemies, but not on
Jordan. She hasn't done anything to deserve this.
Without realising, I've moved around the fire to her side, and am gently
stroking her hair. When did I become such a goddamn basket case, may I ask? I
don't care about anyone.
Story of my life.
If Jordan has it... and there's no point in denying that fact any longer...
then, what am I going to do? Much as it pains me to admit it, I care for her.
That wasn't in my great "How to survive life without giving a fuck about anyone
but yourself" plan. Of course, Jordan didn't fit into that at all.
She's too young. It's not fair.
Hang on, Alex, what the hell happened to not caring?
I care. I don't believe it, but I care.
Damnit.
There must be something worth living for.
No, there is nothing.
I open my eyes, realising immediately that I've been asleep again.
Jordan appeared to have been sleeping, cuddled into my chest, and my arm's
around her. I wonder when we got like this.
Suddenly, I notice that Mulder's no longer around.
I gently disentangle Jordan from me, and leave her by the fire. I'm about to
call out for Mulder, when I catch sight of him, standing up, about ten feet away
from me. He's staring at something.
"Mulder," I call softly, not wanting to wake Jordan. "Hey, Mulder."
He doesn't turn, and I doubt he's heard me. I walk up to him, and notice he's
completely blanked out.
"Mulder, what is it?"
I finally see a shift in expression, and he doesn't look at me, as he whispers,
"It's her, Alex, it's her."
I follow his line of vision, and see a girl, standing between the trees, looking
at us as we are her. She's taller than Jordan, and has long braids. I don't
recognise her, but then, I'm not supposed to.
"Who..." I begin to ask, then stop, at the expression on Mulder's face. It's
impossible to describe, I wouldn't even know where to begin.
"Samantha," he whispers in reply. "It's her, it's my sister."
He walks forward a few paces, and bends down. "Samantha, it's me, Fox."
She blinks a few times, and I step back, suddenly unnerved.
"Fox?"
I can see by his body language how hard this is for him, and I don't know what
to think. From behind me, I hear my name called. Speaking of sisters...
I turn around to Jordan, and she comes up to me, taking my hand in hers. "Who is
that?"
"Samantha," I reply, but my voice comes out strangely. "Mulder's sister."
She shakes her head, and I frown. "I don't like her."
I want to reply, but before I can, Samantha runs forward, glancing behind her as
if she's expecting to be pursued, and straight into Mulder's arms. He embraces
her tightly, and I wonder for a little bit, if all is as it seems.
"What's happened, Fox?" I hear her ask, and step back, realising Jordan, for
some reason, is behind my legs.
He lets her go, studying her face. "God, Sam, so much has... what happened to
you?"
I watch as she shakes her head, then answers, "It seems like... last night I was
playing Stratego with you, and now..."
Suddenly, her attention is diverted, and she looks at me. Her eyes...
something's strange about them. "Who's that?"
He turns, and I barely recognise the face. I knew that Samantha was his weak
spot, but... "Alex. That's Alex."
She looks at me, but doesn't say anything, turning back to her brother. "What
happened to you, Fox?"
His face... it's so desperate. He smiles sadly. "I grew up, I guess."
I don't see or hear her reply, because Jordan's tugging at my shirt. I turn to
her, bending down so we're on the same level.
"I don't like her, Alex."
"Why not?"
"She's going to hurt Fox."
I study her face for a minute, and she looks back just as seriously. "She won't,
she's his—"
Fuck.
Shit damn hell.
Jordan's eyes just clouded over with the black oil.
I stand up, taking my eyes off hers, and going over to Mulder.
"Mulder, come on, you've got to..."
He looks at me, and it's such a distant, faded version of my Mulder, that I
don't know what to say. Wordlessly he turns back to Samantha, who takes his
hand.
"What the hell's happening?" I ask, but neither of them notice me. Mulder stands
up, and Samantha leads him off.
"Mulder?"
He doesn't hear, and is lead away by the girl.
"Mulder!" I shout suddenly, sprinting after them and grabbing his arm. "What the
hell is this, Mulder? What are you doing?"
Samantha glares at me. "Leave him."
I look back at her, then realisation dawns on me. It's not Samantha. I talk
sideways, to Mulder, not daring to take my eyes off her. "It's not her. Mulder,
it's not her, it's them, they're doing this..."
I trail off when I notice he's not listening any longer. Samantha walks, and he
goes along with her. I scream his name, but suddenly can't follow them any
further.
A force hits me hard in the chest, throwing me backwards and knocking me
unconscious.
"Mulder," I mutter, regaining conciousness. Suddenly I snap upright, hand
immediately going to my head as dizziness strikes. "Where's Mulder?"
I notice Jordan a few feet away from me, curled up. She looks at me momentarily,
and I'm relieved to see that her eyes are back to normal. "I feel sick," she
practically whimpers. "How come people get sick?"
Shit!
I move over to her. "How do you feel sick?"
"I feel like throwing up."
Suddenly, I remember the silo again. I don't want her to go through that, the
way I did. She doesn't deserve such a fate. I watch her, and her eyes suddenly
cloud over again.
"Jordan?" I ask tentatively. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," she replies—or whatever it is that has taken her body, replies. I
don't know what to do.
"Come on, I know the way, Alex," she tells me, standing up. She blinks, and the
oil is suddenly gone. I freeze, watching her.
"Alex?"
I shake my head, dispelling the images that suddenly came to me. I motion to my
lap. "Come here, Jordan."
I need to hold her, even if it is for the last time.
She turns into my chest, and I cradle her with my hand, stroking her hair. I
know what I have to do. I can't let her go through with this. I don't want to
watch her suffering. I don't want her to suffer.
I hold her close, wishing I didn't care so much for her. When did I grow so
attached? Whatever happened to not caring?
To hell with that.
Jordan turns her face up to look at me. "Why are you crying, Alex?"
I shake my head, then bend down to kiss her lightly on the forehead. I stand up,
leaving her on the ground.
"Goodbye, Jordan," I whisper, then, as she blinks and the oil clouds her eyes
over again, I take out my gun, take off the safety, close my eyes, and shoot.
She will not serve.
I wish there was time for a proper burial, but time is an invaluable commodity
now, and I have to keep running. I simply pick up Jordan's body, and cover it in
the nearby branches that are lying about. I look at it for a minute, and wish I
hadn't, because I'm quickly overcome with memories.
Frank placed his daughter on the ground. "How was school?"
She didn't reply, instead pointing past him, at me. "Who's that, Daddy?"
Frank turned around, and gave me a strange look. I think he was waiting for me
to say something, but I couldn't. I was caught up in watching Jordan... my
sister?
I became aware that I must have been staring, but Frank obviously gave up, and
introduced me himself. "He's a friend of mine, Jordan."
"Does he talk?"
I'd never been around children before, so was unprepared for such a question. I
suddenly decided to talk. "Hi, Jordan."
"What's your name?" she asked.
I smiled at her. "Alex."
"Alex?" Jordan ventured from the doorway.
I turned, momentarily, to look at her, then back down again. "Go away."
"I'm sorry, Alex."
"Jordan," I replied without looking up, "You don't know what the hell you're
talking about. Go away."
For a while more, she was silent, and then she said quietly, "I drew you
something."
"I'm not in the mood."
She didn't reply, and when I looked up, she was standing there watching me.
"Don't be angry, Alex."
"I'm not angry," I replied quickly, then looked back at her again. "Okay, maybe
I am."
She stood in the doorway for a while longer, until I relented and motioned to
the bed beside me. "Come on."
I was rewarded with a quick smile, and a running jump onto the bed beside me.
"It's time for you to sleep."
"Why? It's not even dark!"
"That," I began melodramatically, "Is because the lights are still on."
She grinned, and I went over to the light switch.
"Is your girlfriend coming over, Alex?"
I had to laugh at that one. "I don't have a girlfriend, Jordan, we've
been through this."
"I know," she replied. "So is Fox coming over?"
I clapped a hand to my forehead theatrically. "You're not supposed to know about
him. And don't call him Fox."
A giggle. "Why not?"
"Because he doesn't like it. Call him Mulder."
"I want to call him Fox."
I turn away, unwilling to show any more emotion. Placing my jacket beside her, I
leave. Do svidaniya, Jordan. Ya myaso ty.
I've been running for god knows how many hours, but I've finally found
something. A place. Civilisation. I pound on the door, hoping, needing someone
to answer. I'm desperate.
It's a bomb shelter, I suppose. I don't really know. I wait for a minute longer,
then pound on the door again, mentally willing the person inside to answer.
Suddenly, it's opened a crack, and I almost fall over from relief.
"Who is it?"
A female voice. God. I try to see through the slit, and catch a glimpse of blue
eyes. Another person. I don't believe it. "Alex..." I start, then hesitate,
unsure of which last name to use. "... Krycek."
The door is opened to its extent. "Krycek?"
It's Scully. Thank fucking god. She's not dead. Despite all that's happened
between us in the past, we both step forward and hug, drawing comfort. She draws
back first.
"Is Mulder...?"
I shake my head, looking down. When I raise my gaze again, she's paled visibly.
I speak, "Anyone else here?"
Dully, she replies, "They're all dead."
She lets me in.
We will not serve.
I raise my eyes to meet hers, again. I'm not crying this time... emotions have
all run dry. I don't have any energy left. She's looking at me, and I don't know
what she's thinking.
"Krycek," she says softly, "Why did you hesitate in telling me?"
I search her face, trying to find some comfort there. "I... I didn't do things
as I should have. I'm sorry."
"Did you realise you were speaking in present tense?"
I shake my head, wordlessly. I didn't know. Perhaps it was because I was
reliving it, but I didn't notice. It must mean something. I wish she could tell
me... but Mulder was more that way inclined. To analyse things.
Mulder. So many have gone now, one more is... not quite meaningless, but still.
I can't believe how my world has fallen apart.
She moves to lightly touch my shoulder with her hand, and the gesture is so
delicate, yet means so much.
There's a knock at the door. I know exactly who it is. Or what it is, as the
case may be. I don't say anything to Scully, but I know what it is. She gets up,
then looks at me.
I'm staring back, wondering how I could have changed so much in such a short
time. She bends down, and kisses me lightly on the forehead.
The simple gesture means so much to me now, that I bury my face in my knees and
sob. I don't believe it.
When I hear the gunshot, I know it's happened. I expected as such. That is why I
didn't stop her from answering the door, why I didn't tell her. There was no
point in her knowing. Nothing she could have done about it. And now there's only
one thing left for me to do.
The world has ended, on December thirty-first, Nineteen-ninety nine.
I take out my gun, and click the safety off, pointing it at my head.
I will resist.
The End
Unshakeable Memories
by Fleur
Who am I, who dares to keep
His head held high while millions weep..
And thereby restore self esteem..
How can you be so short-sighted
To look no further than this week or next week
To have no impossible dream?
There must be something worth trying for.
I don't believe it's so.
Even some things worth dying for
If just one man could stand tall
There would be some hope for us all
Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man.
