|
|
|
|
Last
Chance To Turn Around 6:
24
HOURS FROM SCULLY
Blood. On his face, on his
arms.....on his whole torso. He can't see it as his eyes are
refusing to open at the moment, but he can feel it flowing over
his skin; can smell it as it mixes with his aftershave and begins
to dry in patches on his clothes - in fact, it's the only thing
he can feel. He should be thankful that pain isn't ripping his
senses into tiny shreds, but with all traces of knowledge
regarding his location, how he got here, and exactly where he was
wounded evading him, there seemed to be no silver lining in
sight.
*ScullyScullyScullyScullyScullyScully...*
'I'm not going to risk losing you - I've already lost you once
before...I want you to be safe...'
No, she isn't here - she *can't* be here. He'd shake his head if
he could move, but all he can do is wish she were really here
whispering reassurances to him. She'd make him better straight
away - of that there would never be a doubt.
*ScullyScullyScullyScullyScullyScully...*
Suddenly, there's movement above him, and for the briefest moment
he thinks it may really be Scully here to save his sorry ass, but
the delusion passes and he knows the end has come as he blacks
out again.
~~~~~
THREE
HOURS EARLIER
It was a stupid idea - Gibson had certainly been insistent on
making that opinion very clear - but after five-and-a-half months
of exile from his partner and son, he was desperate to do
anything to get back to them. If that included meeting with a
shady source that had promised via e-mail to give the answers
he'd been unsuccessfully searching for since leaving home, so be
it.
"I know the risks," he'd told Praise, reaching for the
trailer's exit. And boy, didn't he - last month's breach of
security and incident at the Manville Quarry had been much too
close. "But I have to take it - sitting around here is gonna
get me nowhere fast and drive me insane at the same time."
So, here he sat in his car waiting for the stranger to pull up
alongside him.
'I know where you are,' the message he'd discovered in his e-mail
box early yesterday had flatly read. An hour later another had
arrived from the same person, this time informing him: 'If you
want to know more about the supersoldiers, be outside the
McDonalds drive-thru in south Crownpoint tomorrow at 11AM.'
A car slowed just past his window, and he instinctively reached
for the gun holstered at his hip, but it turned in to the
restaurant instead and he fractionally relaxed.
Supersoldiers... With grays and bounty hunters and rebels and
clones, he'd stupidly let himself believe that they were already
fighting against everything outer space had to fire at them, but
now there were these human replacements spreading across the
country that were practically invincible (except against a rare
type of metal, it seemed), and the scariest thought was that he
had almost become one, too - that, as one of those 'things' he
would have killed Scully and their child without a second
thought...
"Get out of the car, Mr Mulder."
Swamped so much by his thoughts, he'd become completely unaware
of his surroundings, and when the knock at the driver-side window
snapped him back to reality he almost had a heart attack. He
turned and stared at the hooded figure but didn't respond.
"Don't play dumb, Mulder, unless you want them to die."
That got his attention, and - discreetly double-checking the
concealed weapon - he got out of the car. "You said you had
answers," he barked, tamping down his anger at the threat
the stranger had made. "You better share them now, or you'll
be the one dying."
A cool breeze picked up and blew sand in his eyes. He blinked
several times to clear them of the gritty particles, but at that
same instant the stranger leant forward and quickly, effortlessly
relieved Mulder of the gun.
"What th--"
"I have to protect myself as well, Mr Mulder - your life
isn't the only one being watched." The stranger gave a nod,
then turned to walk to the area overlooking the canyon
twenty-five feet below.
Still wiping the sand grains from his face, Mulder remained by
the car for a moment longer and then slowly followed. "What
do you know about them?" he asked, stopping beside the
figure and looking out at the horizon. "How do I stop
them?"
Fingers slowly wrapped around cold metal as the stranger
remembered his leader's words - Josepho's promise. The survival
of their saviours, as well as the destiny of their born leader,
depended on the completion of this task; meaning he had been the
one blessed with the responsibility. Josepho had promised, then,
that if he brought back proof that Fox Mulder was dead, he could
be the first one to try open the ship as soon as it was
uncovered.
All he had to do was finish off this loner...
"I know They were sent here for a purpose," he remarked
absent-mindedly, focusing on the back of Mulder's head and
raising his arm into the air.
*...For the Power and the Glory...*
"To save and lead us."
Mulder sharply turned, but it was too late as the gun butt came
down and struck against his skull. Before unconsciousness could
claim him, he reached for the fence, but his centre of gravity
was too high and he toppled over it - landing right at the edge
of the ridge.
"They are the messengers, Mr Mulder. They are our angels,
and we shall deliver Their word," the unnamed man explained
enthusiastically, climbing over the fence to stand above the
prone agent. "And your son shall lead us all! He shall rule
this world and make us His protectors against those, like His own
parents, that rebel against His angels."
Tears mixed with blood as a barely-conscious Mulder struggled to
look up through half-closed eyes at the silhouette towering over
him. Scully...William...What had he done by coming out here?
"But for that to happen, you have to die," the figure
continued, bending down to jeer the last words into Mulder's ear.
"If you die, he won't follow in your footsteps, and, I'm
sorry, but that's a sacrifice I'm happy to make."
With the simplest push, Mulder rolled down the canyon wall -
rocks and plants tearing at his skin until he came to a
bone-jarring stop at the bottom.
Three clicks of a disposable camera, and the grinning cult member
was gone.
~~~~~
Voices...indistinguishable voices, but voices talking about him
and his condition nevertheless. Movement somewhere to his right
and...and--
*ScullyScullyScullyScullyScullyScully...*
*There's* the pain! He really should have been more grateful
earlier, because now all he feels like is a big ball of pain.
It's everywhere: in his head, in his arms, in his legs...
"S--" The attempt to groan is cut off by a coughing fit
caused by the dust gathered in his throat. He wonders if the
coughing will finish him off, but suddenly there's the feel of a
cool glass being rested against his chapped lips followed by the
blessed trickle of water cleansing his oesophagus.
"You very lucky," an unfamiliar voice beyond the
darkness proclaims. "One more hour and you might not have
made it."
He doesn't know where he is now, let alone where he was! What the
hell had hap--
'Your son shall lead us all!'
His eyelids fly open as the memory comes back, but the light
blinds him and he's forced to close them again.
"I told you you shouldn't go," Gibson's voice starts
from his left.
"Wh-wh-where.....?" It's nothing more than a rasped
whisper, but he needs to know.
"With some old friends," the first voice responds as a
wet towel is laid across his forehead. "In Gallup."
"Ho--...How...?"
It's Praise's turn to reply again. "I contacted them as soon
as I sensed something was wrong. I told them about the e-mail,
and that was how they knew where to find you." He pauses,
before continuing, "I know what the man said. I know what
you're thinking of doing. But it's not right."
Finally, Mulder's able to open his eyes and he awkwardly shifts
his head to look at the boy. "I...I...was wrong, bu--...I
learn' some...too..."
Eric Hosteen sits down beside the bed and offers the glass of
water to Mulder again, but it's declined. "Your wounds will
heal with time," he begins, casting a cautious glance in
Gibson's direction, "but your soul will not. My father
taught me that sometimes you must go against what seems to be
right to fix the wrongs."
"If he goes back, They'll kill them all!" Praise
exclaims, standing up defiantly.
"There has been another sign - another fallen star found.
More will come."
Too much agony is ripping through his body for much of what's
being said to sink in, but what he does know is that he must get
back to Scully before William's taken or something happens to
them. The fact that somebody - anybody - wants him dead is no
surprise, but the idea of people worshipping his son as a god?
People believing for one second that his son would lead those
murdering, emotionless supersoldiers? That's a *long* way away
from tolerable, and he must stop it.
"They're co-coming," he croaks out, agreeing with
Eric's statement. "They're coming, a-a-and th-they...they
want William..."
"Agent Scully can protect him!" Gibson really didn't
want anything to do with this new plan. It's the right thing to
do, he knows, but he can't stop being worried about the
well-being of his friends.
"It sh-shouldn't be left to her, and...she...she d-doesn't
know what's coming. I-I have to protect m-my family."
With no more argument left in him, Praise stands and storms out
of the cabin.
"He looks to you like a father," Hosteen observes,
shifting to tend to one of the gashes stretching down Mulder's
left leg. "He knows what needs to be done, but he also wants
you to stay hidden and safe."
"I know," Mulder whispers, closing his eyes as whatever
pain medication the Native American has administered begins to do
its magic. "B-but I have t-to be there f-f-for...them...They
need me more and have priority..." A pause, and then,
"How--...How bad are in-injuries? When can...walk?"
"Besides obvious cuts and bruises, you have dislocated knee
and shoulder that I put back, and two broken ribs. Also, badly
sprained wrist. Head injury will need medical attention -
tests." Hosteen smiles. "But we will use our best
treatments; have you ready to travel home tomorrow."
"Re-really?"
"I believe your partner will be able to look after you
better and heal you quicker than we can." Re-taping the
gauze, Eric gives a nod and then leaves to track down Gibson.
Tomorrow he could be home! As his mind begins to drift into
sleep, the widest grin he can manage splits his face in half.
Home, with his family, in twenty-four short hours...It's not the
best scenario, and he has no idea as to how he's going to explain
any of this to her, but...
*Home*. Finally, the chance to really turn around and do what
he's supposed to do, be who he's supposed to be, and stay where
he belongs.
And it is all just one day away.
THE
END ... for now :)
***************************************************************
'No matter
what, no matter where, it's always home, if love is there'
....................................................................................................~P.L. Berger
***************************************************************
DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me - I just like
to pretend to the contrary. Real money, ownership and kudos to
CC, Fox and 1013 of course :)
bravenet.com