Title: AND THERE WAS A WAR IN HEAVEN
by aka "Jake" & Brandon D. Ray
MSR - Colonization - Rated R 

BOOK ONE continued.

Previously in War In Heaven:

Agents Doggett and Reyes met up with Mulder to investigate a 
secret lab at the Washington Navy Yard. In the lab, they found 
evidence indicating a link between covert military activities 
and William's conception. Before they were able to learn more, 
the facility was attacked by Faceless Rebels and was set on 
fire. Doggett, Reyes and Mulder escaped, and headed to 
Alexandria to find Scully and William.

Meanwhile, Scully was desperate to save William from alien 
kidnappers at St. John's Church. She gave the baby to Tara and 
begged her to take William to Mulder at his secret hideout in 
Old Tavern, Virginia. Then Scully created a diversion, leading 
two of the Faceless Rebels disguised as deacons into a nearby 
7-Eleven...

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

CHAPTER TWO

ST. JOHN'S CATHOLIC CHURCH
ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

Reyes steered her car off King Street and onto Columbus. Two 
blocks north, flashing lights ricocheted off St. John's 
Church. She counted three fire engines, half a dozen black-
and-whites, and two ambulances crowding the road in front of 
the church. Several media vans with raised satellite antennas 
parked as close to the scene as they could get. Camera crews 
and reporters pressed to get past the police barricade. 

"This can't be good," Doggett muttered from the passenger 
seat. Mulder sat behind them, saying nothing, his eyes focused 
on the rotating beacons.

Reyes slowed the car. She spotted two familiar FBI agents 
among the local law enforcement. "Is that Perry and Delgado?"

"Damn. Yeah. Like I said, this can't be good," Doggett 
repeated. Agents Jack Perry and Paul Delgado worked in 
Forensics and their presence could only mean that somebody had 
died.

"I think that's A.D. Skinner's car, too." Reyes pointed to a 
blue Crown Vic parked across the street from the church. 
Keeping her distance, she pulled over to the curb and parked.

Doggett turned to Mulder. "You stay put while Monica and I 
check this out."

"Not a chance."

Mulder's hand was already on the door handle when Reyes hit 
the switch that locked them all inside.

"It's not safe," she warned, turning to look over her shoulder 
at him. 

"Unlock the door." A muscle twitched along Mulder's jaw, 
giving Monica the distinct impression he would use force if 
necessary to get out of the car. "Scully's in that church," he 
said.

"We don't know that."

"Open...the...door." Each word growled from his throat.

"Your life--"

"Open the damn door!" he shouted, leaning forward in his seat 
and locking eyes with her.

It was clear he wasn't going to sit here and wait. Arguing 
would only waste time. She glanced at Doggett, who shrugged. 
Although she didn't like it, she released the door locks.

Mulder was out of the car and striding down the sidewalk 
before Reyes could unbuckle her seatbelt. "Stay with him, 
John," she said.

Doggett slid from the car and jogged after Mulder. Reyes 
turned off the headlights and pulled the keys from the 
ignition, stopping the windshield wipers in mid-swing. She 
hurried from the car and ran straight through the sidewalk's 
slushy puddles to catch up.

"You can't help Agent Scully or William if you get yourself 
killed," Doggett was saying to Mulder when Reyes reached them.

"I can't help them by hiding anymore either. The situation's 
changed." He didn't slow his pace, continuing toward the 
church.

They passed an open ambulance and Mulder's eyes raked the 
back. Reyes glanced into the ambulance, too. Good. It was 
empty. Even so, she couldn't shake the feeling that something 
dreadful had happened here tonight, something more than a 
typical fire or even a homicide. The knowledge pressed hard 
against her nerves, vibrated her skin in the way it always did 
whenever she sensed an unknowable truth. These feelings of 
hers were more than mere hunches; they made her flesh crawl, 
hollowed her gut, pummeled her breastbone -- just like the 
feeling she'd had back in the lab when she saw the faceless 
men.

"Who were those men?" she'd asked Mulder as soon as they'd 
escaped to the car and she had caught her breath. She drove 
them in the direction of Alexandria and St. John's.

"Alien Rebels."

"What happened to their faces?"

"Self mutilation. Jesus Doggett, didn't you explain any of 
this to her?"

"Hell, I don't understand it enough to explain it," Doggett 
said.

Exasperation hissed from Mulder's nose and Reyes glanced at 
him through the rearview mirror. "Why do they do it...seal 
their faces?" she asked.

"To prevent infection by the black oil, the virus. You have 
heard about the virus, haven't you?" Mulder aimed another 
glare at the back of Doggett's head.

"Yes," Reyes answered. "It's what almost killed you. Turned 
Billy Miles into a replicant."

"Now you're catching on."

She wasn't, not really. She had a thousand unanswered 
questions, but decided they would have to wait until after 
Mulder reached Dana, after he made sure she and William were 
safe.

"Give me your cell," Mulder demanded, just as Reyes thought of 
trying to call Dana herself.

She reached between the seats, grabbed her phone from the 
console, and passed it back to Mulder.

He dialed...then redialed. "Shit, she's not answering," he 
said and tried again. "Damn it."

Reyes anticipated Mulder's next words -- "Go faster" -- so she 
pushed the accelerator to the floor, ran a few red lights and 
got them to St. John's in fewer than twenty minutes.

Now Mulder's apparent urgency pushed him up the church steps 
two at a time. Reyes kept pace, matching him step for step. 
She could hear the slap of Doggett's shoes right at her heels. 
Mulder made it to the top and was starting across the stone 
landing when A.D. Skinner appeared in the open doorway. 
Skinner's eyes rounded at the sight of Mulder.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Skinner asked through 
clenched teeth. He thrust out an arm and stopped Mulder 
with the palm of his hand. Mulder tried to dodge around him, 
but Skinner moved to block his way. "This is the worst place 
for you, Mulder."

"Is Scully inside?" he asked, pushing against Skinner's hand.

"Yes, but--"

"Let me in." He tried again to bully his way past Skinner.

The A.D. grabbed his upper arm, and shot Reyes and Doggett 
accusatory looks before hustling Mulder from the door. "Get 
out of here. Right now."

"No, sir. Not if Scully's inside." Mulder struggled to loosen 
his arm, but was unable to break Skinner's solid grip.

Reyes sensed Mulder was about to throw a punch with his free 
fist, so she stepped forward, placing herself in his way. 
"What happened here, sir?" she asked Skinner in a low voice.

Skinner glanced suspiciously at the knot of police officers 
just inside the church and herded Mulder and Reyes out of 
earshot. "I'm still trying to piece it together," he said, 
keeping his voice low.

"Where is Scully?" Mulder all but shouted, not caring if 
anyone overheard.

"She's inside. She's not hurt," Skinner said. "Mulder, you 
can't stay. I don 't trust the agents Kersh sent--"

Paramedics appeared on the landing, interrupting Skinner's 
warning. They carried two body bags. At the sight of the bags, 
Mulder jerked his arm free and bulldozed between Skinner and 
Reyes into the church.

Reyes didn't wait around to hear Skinner's entire string of 
epithets. She hurried after Mulder, as eager as he was to find 
out what had happened here.

Inside the church, the smell of burnt flesh clogged the air 
and Reyes had to breathe through her mouth to keep from 
gagging. Water dripped from the choir loft, smoke fogged the 
arched ceiling, and a few scorch marks blackened the polished 
floor.

Beneath the dripping loft, Scully crouched over one of the 
black stains. She wore latex gloves and was scraping something 
into an evidence bag.

Skinner had told the truth: she wasn't hurt. Mulder slowed his 
steps.

"Scully..." he said when he stood not more than a yard or two 
away.

She looked up from the mark on the floor. Tears filled her 
eyes at the sight of him, and she rose to her feet. Swallowing 
once, she managed to nod at the stain and ask, "Look 
familiar?"

Scully's restraint flabbergasted Reyes. If she had been in 
Dana's shoes, she would have leapt on this man, hugged and 
kissed him, to hell with protocol, to hell with the onlookers. 
Christ, it had been months since they'd last laid eyes on each 
other.

But whatever Scully was feeling, she kept her emotions in 
check. She allowed herself only one nervous glance around the 
room. Reyes guessed she was worried about Mulder's safety, the 
same way he was worried about hers.

Reyes took a quick look around, too. Firefighters, police and 
paramedics walked overhead in the loft. Agents Delgado and 
Perry directed a forensics team, which combed the loft, the 
nave, and the pews for evidence. Just inside the church's 
entrance, Doggett talked quietly with Skinner; their eyes 
never left Mulder and Scully.

Reyes glanced again at the mark on the floor. "What is it?" 
she asked.

"It was caused by a biological toxin, arguably 
extraterrestrial," Scully answered. She turned to Mulder. "I 
need to speak with you...outside...right now."

"Let's go." Mulder slid an arm around her shoulders and 
steered her down the side aisle to the door. Reyes fell into 
step behind them. At the door, they joined Skinner and Doggett 
and all five exited the church.

Outside, sleet was coming down hard and snow was beginning to 
collect on the landing and sidewalks.

"The car is this way," Reyes told Scully. She pointed, 
squinting against the sting of sleet.

They avoided the crowd of reporters and walked quickly past 
the fire engines and police cruisers. Once out of earshot, 
Scully leaned close to Mulder and asked, "You're here sooner 
than I expected. Did Tara find you?"

"Tara?" He stopped walking. Sleet hissed past their ears and 
firefighters shouted instructions to one another on the street 
behind them. "Your sister-in-law Tara?"

A look of dread paled Scully's face. Her eyes filled with 
fresh tears. "I sent her to find you...she has William...oh, 
God...there was an attack..." She gestured weakly at the 
church.

"An attack?" Reyes asked. "By who?"

"Aliens. The faceless men...the rebels."

Mulder showed no surprise. "They're after William," he said.

"Yes. I gave him to Tara, asked her to take him to you." 
Scully clutched Mulder's hand and she looked into his eyes. 
"We have to go after them."

He nodded. "Come on. You can tell me what happened on the 
way." He gripped her hand and headed once more for the car.

A wave of panic rolled through Reyes and she wasn't sure if 
the feeling came from Scully or if it was her own sense of 
unease. The scarred men at the lab -- what Mulder called 
faceless rebels -- they scared the crap out of her. Jesus, to 
think they were after William, maybe had him already. No 
wonder Dana looked afraid. This felt like an instant replay of 
the night William was born, when the replicants arrived in 
Democrat Hot Springs, seemingly intending to kidnap Dana's 
newborn son.

They neared the car and Reyes fumbled through her coat pocket 
with numb fingers for the keys. Her hands trembled when she 
tried to insert the key in the door.

"What the hell...?" she heard Doggett ask. He moved past her, 
gun drawn and aimed at the rear seat window. Someone sat 
slumped in the back seat, hidden by shadows.

Skinner drew his gun, too, and circled to the far side of the 
car. "Out of the car!" he ordered. Then, "Jesus...it's 
Cassandra Spender."

Mulder elbowed Doggett out of his way and tried to open the 
locked rear door. "Cassandra? Open the door."

"What if it's not really her?" Scully asked, backing up a 
step. "It could be one of them in disguise."

"Open the door, Cassandra," Mulder repeated.

The woman inside shook her head and slid out of the shadows to 
the farthest corner of the seat where a streetlamp exposed her 
face. She appeared as fearful and distrusting as Scully 
looked. And she was hurt. Burned maybe. Large blisters mottled 
one cheek. Her eyes were swollen, red and watery. Missing 
patches of hair exposed areas of raw, peeling skin on her 
scalp.

Mulder held out his hand to Reyes for the keys. She handed 
them over and he unlocked the driver's door, then reached 
inside to release all the locks. Skinner and Doggett remained 
positioned on opposite sides of the car, their weapons trained 
on the small woman in back.

Mulder slowly opened the rear door. The snick of the handle 
startled the woman inside. Trembling, she began to cry openly.

"Cassandra?" Mulder asked, peering into the car. "What 
happened to you?" He slid into the seat beside her.

She leaned as far away from him as possible. Glancing over her 
shoulder through the window, she gasped at the sight of 
Skinner's gun pointed directly at her head. "They want to kill 
me," she whimpered.

"Who wants to kill you?" Mulder asked.

"The aliens. They were here tonight." She pointed to the 
church. Then she laughed a sharp humorless guffaw. "But I 
escaped. To warn you." Fatigue sagged her shoulders. She 
closed her eyes.

Scully leaned into the car and reached past Mulder to check 
the injured woman's pulse. "She needs to be in a hospital."

Cassandra's eyes flew open, the whites showing all around. 
"No! No hospitals. The aliens...they'll find me. Please...you 
have to hide me. They' ll kill me!" She struggled to sit 
straighter, clutched at Mulder and shook his arm. "I know 
their plans. I know why they want William."

Scully sucked an audible breath of air into her lungs. 
"Where's William?" she demanded. "Where's my son?"

Cassandra's head swiveled as she studied Doggett, Skinner, and 
then Reyes, each in turn. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm not 
talking to anyone but Agents Scully and Mulder. I don't know 
if I can trust you other...people." She said the last word as 
if she didn't believe they were human. Her mouth closed and 
her trembling lips thinned.

Doggett lowered his gun. "Look," he said, "while we're 
standing here yakkin' and not trusting one another, whoever's 
after William is getting a helluva head start. Agent Scully, 
Mulder -- I suggest you take this woman somewhere safe and 
find out what she knows. Monica and I will find William."

Mulder and Scully exchanged glances and seemed to come to a 
silent decision. "We'll need a car," Mulder said.

"Take this one," Reyes offered.

"And you take mine," Skinner said to Reyes. He fished his keys 
from his pocket and tossed them across the roof to her. "I'll 
catch a ride back to HQ with Perry and Delgado."

Reyes turned to go and Scully grabbed her arm. "Please, find 
my baby. Bring William back."

"We will. I promise."

With an uncertain nod, Scully released Reyes's arm and slid 
into the driver 's seat. Mulder closed the rear door, shutting 
himself in the back with Cassandra. He passed the keys over 
the seatback to Scully who started the engine. The wipers 
slapped to life and cleared a skim coat of sleet from the 
windshield.

As Scully pulled out onto the street, Reyes and Doggett took 
off at a jog for Skinner's car.

"Keep me in the loop," the A.D. shouted to their backs.

Reyes raised her thumb and kept on running.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

OFFICE OF ALVIN KERSH
FBI HEADQUARTERS

"Did our Invisible Man show himself tonight?" Kersh asked the 
speakerphone. He paced the dim office, keeping one eye on Brad 
Follmer who leaned on the edge of the room's oversized desk. 
The young A.D. tried to affect a false show of confidence, but 
twice Kersh caught him chewing on a ragged thumbnail. 
Follmer's nervousness both pleased and annoyed Kersh.

//Right on schedule,// said the voice from the speakerphone.

"Was he alone?" Kersh asked.

//Let me put it this way, sir: not a creature is stirring in 
your basement right now.//

The news came as no surprise. Kersh saw Follmer try to hide a 
small smile, and shot him an angry look, as much for the smile 
as for his inability to control his damn emotions. "What are 
you bringing me for Christmas this year?" Kersh asked the man 
on the phone.

//Two charbroiled songbirds.//

"Anything else?"

//'Fraid not. The place was swept clean before we arrived. And 
the Invisible Man took off with his Basement Buddies.//

"You sent a tail, I presume."

//Uh, yeah...but the group split up. We're on top of it 
though, sir.//

"Damn well better be. You know how important the child is. 
Especially now."

//Yes, sir.//

"I want another report in one hour. And it had better be good 
news." Kersh walked to the phone and punched a button, 
disconnecting the call. He looked at Follmer. "It's time to 
make our offer."

Follmer's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "But we still 
don't have anything to trade."

"Jesus, Follmer. You'd make a hell of a lousy poker player." 
Kersh dialed a new number. Looking back at the young A.D., he 
said, "When your hole card is a deuce, that's when it's most 
important to show no weakness."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

WESTBOUND ON INTERSTATE 66
PASSING CENTREVILLE, VA

It took longer than it should have for Tara to make her way 
clear of the city.

The traffic wasn't too bad, once she got out of the immediate 
neighborhood of the church. The biggest problem was the 
freezing rain that continued to fall, coating the pavement 
with a glaze of ice. She saw two fender benders in the first 
twenty minutes, and once her own vehicle slid out into the 
middle of an intersection when she tried to brake for a yellow 
light.

The other problem was her own unfamiliarity with the area. 
She'd met Bill after he graduated from Annapolis, when she was 
a civilian employee at the Navy base in Naples, Italy. Since 
their marriage, they'd moved so many times that Tara had to 
stop and think to get Bill's duty stations in the right order, 
but Washington was not among them. Which meant that her 
knowledge of the local geography was limited to what she'd 
picked up on those rare visits with her in-laws.

Eventually, though, she found her way to the Beltway, and got 
headed in the right direction. She made a quick stop at a 
convenience store to see if William needed changing and to buy 
a super sized cup of coffee. Then she strapped him into his 
car seat and got ready to hit the road. She stood and stared 
at the pay phone for a full minute before getting back into 
the car, trying to decide whether to call Dana. But the 
hideous face of the man who should have been Father McCue 
assaulted her memory, and her sister-in-law's words were too 
fresh in her mind to ignore. Find Mulder. Don't call anyone. 
Go.

Tara went.

The traffic had almost completely disappeared by the time she 
merged onto I-66. It was, of course, Christmas Eve, and most 
people were at home with their families. She saw a battered VW 
heading the opposite direction, but after that, there was 
nothing. William whimpered briefly in the back seat, but then 
was quiet again, apparently asleep, despite the cold wind 
blowing in through the shattered window. Thank God for small 
favors. She cranked the heater all the way up, in hopes that 
it would compensate for the cold at least in part.

Was this what Dana's life was like all the time? Tara couldn't 
help but wonder. She didn't know how anyone could stand it. 
Tara didn't consider herself to be completely innocent and 
sheltered -- she'd spent one summer during college, before she 
met Bill, beatniking around Europe, and she'd done some things 
during that sojourn that her husband was probably better off 
not knowing about. But there was nothing in her past 
experience to prepare her for this.

//My baby's life is in danger.//

Tara shivered, and not just from the cold, as Dana's words 
echoed through her mind. She tried to imagine how she would 
respond, if it were Matthew or Sarah who were being 
threatened. Would she be able to keep her cool the way Dana 
had? Her sister-in-law had been afraid, but she'd still been 
in control, and she'd taken quick, decisive action. What would 
Tara do, if it should happen to her?

Her coffee lasted all the way to Gainesville. She considered 
stopping for more, but then she saw a highway sign that 
informed her that her exit was only another ten miles, and she 
decided to press on. Fifteen minutes under normal conditions. 
Allowing for the weather, and she'd still be there in half an 
hour. She could turn her charge over to his father, and maybe 
then she'd get some explanations for what she'd seen tonight.

Or not. Tara wasn't sure she wanted to hear about it. What she 
really wanted was to race back to Mother Scully's, make sure 
her own children were safe, and curl up in bed and go to 
sleep.

The muffled sound of a cell phone chirping startled her so 
badly, she almost put the car into a ditch. She took a deep 
breath to calm herself, slowing the vehicle still further as 
she waited for the phone to ring again. Glove compartment; 
that's where it was. And it must be Dana's, because her own 
was back at Mother Scully's.

Without thinking about it beyond that, Tara opened the glove 
compartment and pulled out the cell phone, just as it rang for 
the third time. Flipping it open, she saw "Monica Reyes" on 
the display. Tara shook her head. She'd been hoping it would 
be Dana, perhaps calling from her apartment, or even a pay 
phone, to tell her it had all been a big mistake. But Tara 
didn't know this person -- and again, Dana's words echoed in 
her mind.

//My baby's life is in danger .... Don't call anyone.//

Tara closed the phone and tossed it back in the glove 
compartment, even as it continued to ring. It finally fell 
quiet -- only to start up again a few seconds later. This 
time, though, she had no trouble ignoring it. Her instructions 
were clear, and she was almost at her destination, in any 
case.

The freezing rain turned to snow just as she was exiting I-66. 
The new highway was a two lane blacktop, and even slicker and 
more treacherous than the Interstate; luckily, it was only a 
mile or two from the exit to the outskirts of Old Tavern.

William started fussing as she entered the town. Tara risked a 
glance over her shoulder, and saw that he was moving his arms 
restlessly as he whimpered.

"Almost there, William," she said, hoping her voice would 
soothe him. "It's been a long day, hasn't it, honey bunch? 
Well, you'll get to see your daddy soon. Won't that be a nice 
surprise?"

Evidently not, as the child continued to fuss. Tara fought 
back against her maternal instincts and peered out through the 
windshield, trying to read the street signs. He could wait 
five more minutes. What was the address again? Pinkwater? No -
- Pinkham Street. 49 Pinkham Street, apartment 6. She recited 
it under her breath to be sure, and could almost hear Dana's 
voice again as she did so. The town looked like it was about 
five blocks square; how hard could it be to find this place? 
There was something called Old Winchester Road ... and there 
it was! Thank you, Jesus.

Number 49 turned out to be a dilapidated old farmhouse that 
had been converted to a boarding house. Even in the dark and 
in the growing snowstorm, Tara could tell that it had seen 
better days. There was a security light in front, looking 
decidedly high tech and anachronistic, and revealing peeling 
paint and a broken window covered over with plywood. When she 
got out of the car, she saw that the sidewalk was cracked.

William's fussing turned into a full-blown howl as she lifted 
him out of his car seat. Tara brought him to her shoulder, 
patting his back and speaking to him in low tones, as she 
reached back into the car to grab the baby bag.

"Come on, big boy," she said. "We're here now. You're going to 
see your daddy! You probably don't remember him, but I bet 
you'll like him. He's a pretty nice guy."

She couldn't keep herself from wincing as she spoke those last 
words. Well, Bill wasn't around to hear it. No harm, no foul. 
Besides, Tara wasn't about to bad mouth a man to his own son. 
Not even Dana's strange, inscrutable ... well, partner was 
probably still the best word for it, in spite of everything.

She left the keys in the ignition with the motor running and 
carried William up the front walk, through a gate with a 
broken latch. The sidewalk was slick, snow over ice, and Tara 
had to step carefully, lest her feet go out from under her -- 
and William kept crying, every step of the way. She had just 
reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the house, when 
the front door flew open, and Fox Mulder stepped out onto the 
porch.

"Fox," she said, squinting up at him through the snow, and 
raising her voice to be heard above the baby. "Thank God. Dana 
sent me. She said to bring William to you." She bounced the 
child on her shoulder, trying to calm him, but it didn't seem 
to do any good. "Fox?" she repeated, after a moment's silence.

"Tara," he said, giving a little jerk of his head. "Sorry. I 
wasn't expecting you. Is everything okay?"

"Yes. I think so." Tara felt relief flooding through her, 
despite the baby's continued tears. "Now it is, anyway. There 
was some trouble at the church, and Dana said --"

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" He came down the steps to 
stand in front of her. "Tell me what happened."

Tara hesitated, wondering if she should offer to let him hold 
the baby, and further wondering why they weren't all going 
inside, out of the weather. But Fox made no move to take the 
child. That seemed odd, but she knew that some men weren't 
very comfortable with babies. Bill had been a natural father, 
but she knew guys who weren't, and had had to grow into it. 
And besides, poor William wasn't making a very good 
impression, crying the way he was. But they really should get 
inside --

"Tara," Fox repeated. "You need to tell me what happened. You 
said Dana sent you?"

"Yes," she replied, and started to tell the story.

It sounded silly now that she was hearing the words out loud, 
even coming from her own lips. Silly and bizarre. She wouldn't 
believe a story like this coming from someone else; how could 
she expect Fox to believe her? He barely knew her. But he did 
seem to be taking her seriously. When she got to the point of 
telling him about the horribly disfigured priest, her voice 
faltered, but he simply nodded, a grim look on his face, and 
told her to go on.

"There's really not much else to tell," she admitted. "We just 
got on the highway and drove, and now ... well, here we are." 
She gave a nervous laugh.

"I see." He fell silent again.

"Fox?" Exasperation and weariness were making her short 
tempered. "Can't we go inside? The baby must be getting cold." 
That was probably why he was crying, she thought. She'd kept 
the heat turned up the entire trip, but that had only helped 
so much, because of the broken window. She started trying to 
edge around Fox towards the steps. Maybe if she started 
moving, he'd just follow her --

Tara gasped as Fox reached out and grabbed her upper arm. 
"What? Fox--"

"You're in danger," he said. He moved closer, and lowered his 
voice. "So's William." He began to walk towards the car, still 
gripping her arm, and Tara had to either go with him, or fall. 
"We'd better move," he went on. "I know a place where we'll be 
safe."

"No, wait," she said. She tried to pull free, but only 
halfheartedly. So much had happened so quickly. She wanted to 
do the right thing, but she wasn't sure what that was. Her 
feet slipped on the ice, and she stopped resisting, as she 
realized she needed to concentrate on maintaining her balance. 
The baby bag slid down off her shoulder, and in order to keep 
from dropping William, she had to let it fall to the ground. 
The baby continued to scream.

"Fox ... Fox, you can take William -- you *should* take him. 
That's what Dana wanted. But I need to get back. I need to ... 
Matthew and Sarah are at my mother-in-law's house. Fox --"

"Get in the car," he said, urgency plain in his voice. They'd 
reached the car, and he opened the back door and pulled her 
forward. "It isn't safe for you to go back. You'll have to 
come with me."

//I don't trust anyone but Mulder.//

Once again, Dana's words floated across her mind -- and Tara 
found herself making a decision. She didn't know what was 
going on; she didn't understand. But she did know her sister-
in-law, and Dana did not bestow her trust lightly or without 
thinking.

She found herself climbing into the back seat and turning to 
strap William into his car seat once again, even as the child 
continued to cry. It occurred to her that she should go back 
for the baby bag, still lying on the sidewalk just inside the 
gate, but Fox had already slammed her door and was around to 
the driver's side and sliding in behind the wheel.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

SCULLY'S APARTMENT
ALEXANDRIA, VA

"Will we be safe here?" Cassandra scanned the four-story brick 
building with suspicious eyes.

Scully unlocked the front door. "I don't know," she said 
truthfully.

Mulder eyeballed the place, too, as he helped Cassandra inside 
the front hall, one arm wrapped around her thin shoulders. She 
swayed on unsteady legs. Emaciated and trembling, she looked 
ready to collapse. Her skin was cracked from dehydration and 
bruised from abuse. Radiation burns mottled her face and neck 
and the backs of her hands. She needed more care than Scully 
could give her here; she needed to be in a hospital, hooked to 
a saline I.V. and receiving antibiotics.

"I moved here a few weeks ago," Scully explained, leading the 
way to the elevator. "I wanted to live in a...quieter 
neighborhood."

A place without surveillance cameras and hidden microphones.

Scully's run-in with the NSA had shown her how exposed she'd 
been and how vulnerable her exposure made William. She moved 
two days after meeting the Shadow Man, after hearing him 
recite the details of her life -- private things about her and 
Mulder, things that no one else had a right to know.

Her new residence was located on a tree-lined street in 
Alexandria, not too far from Mulder's old place. It was larger 
than her old apartment and was on the third floor. She found 
she preferred being above street level. Visions of Duane 
Barry's break-in still haunted her, even after seven years.

Scully thoroughly inspected her new home twice a day for 
surveillance devices, once in the morning while the coffee 
brewed, and again at night before going to bed. Her vigilance 
had become as routine as brushing her teeth. The Gunmen 
visited several times a week to sweep the entire apartment, 
double-checking her own meticulous inspection. So far, they'd 
found nothing: no hidden cameras, no microphones, no recording 
devices. Her computer logs remained clean, her files 
untouched. No one appeared to be watching her from the street, 
hacking into her email, or monitoring her calls. Just the 
same, she didn't believe she was free of surveillance, not 
after learning how far her enemies would go to keep tabs on 
her.

When the elevator doors opened onto the third floor, Scully 
led Mulder and Cassandra down a short hall to apartment 34. 
Brass numbers gleamed against the door's shiny coat of paint, 
and as she unlocked the door, she hoped Mulder would find the 
place to his liking. She wished they had been able to go 
apartment hunting together. Jesus, she wished...she wished 
they could be alone together right now, just for a few short 
hours, so she could tell him how much she had missed him, show 
him how much she loved him.

That would come later, after Doggett and Monica brought 
William safely home. And after Cassandra told them what she 
knew.

Mulder guided Cassandra into the living room and onto the 
couch. She winced when he lowered her onto the cushions. Tears 
filled her bloodshot eyes.

"Could I have some water, please?" she asked through gritted 
teeth.

"Of course." Scully shrugged out of her coat and dropped it 
into a chair on her way to the kitchen. When she returned with 
a glass of cold water, she saw that Mulder had covered 
Cassandra with the afghan that usually lay folded over the 
back of the couch.

Cassandra drank the water greedily, as if she hadn't had a 
drop in days. Maybe she hadn't.

"Thank you," she said when she finished. She held out the 
empty glass and Scully took it and set it on the end table 
beside the couch, and then turned on the table lamp to get a 
better look at Cassandra's wounds. Perspiration dotted the 
injured woman's blistered forehead, her cracked upper lip. A 
large bruise darkened her right cheek. A drop of fresh blood 
trickled from her right ear.

"Cassandra, what happened to you?" Scully asked, and sat down 
on the couch next to her.

"It was the aliens. The aliens did this to me."

"We thought you were dead," Mulder said, "burned with the 
others at El Rico Air Base." He remained standing, hands on 
his hips.

Cassandra shook her head. "No, they took me back to their 
ship. I wish they' d killed me."

"You've been with them for three years?" Mulder asked, 
sounding incredulous.

Scully wondered how much of his own captivity he remembered. 
He had never said much about it, never described the torture. 
She pictured the terrible scars that had marked his body when 
they discovered him dead in the woods. The wounds on his 
cheeks, the damage to his soft palette, holes through his 
wrists and ankles, and that terrible incision running from 
larynx to groin. Jesus.

Cassandra's wounds were different. No surgical incisions. No 
holes bored into her arms or legs. She had been mistreated, 
certainly, but not in the same manner Mulder had.

"At first, they were nice to me," Cassandra said. A tiny smile 
tugged at her lips. Her eyes seemed to focus on something 
faraway. "That's when I learned about their plans."

"What plans?" Mulder asked.

A bitter laugh chuffed from Cassandra's lungs. "I once thought 
I was the one, you know, a hybrid, *the* hybrid, a peacekeeper 
created to prevent the war. Now I know, I can't stop what's 
coming."

"What is coming?" Scully asked, although she thought she 
already knew. She'd seen them for herself: Billy Miles, the 
Shadow Man, others.

"Super beings. Perfect aliens combined with perfect humans. 
That's why the invaders want your baby and the others." 
Cassandra blinked at her, sadness in her eyes. "These babies 
are the key."

"The key to what?" Scully asked.

"The invaders' victory. The Colonists aren't worried about 
defeating *us*, Agent Scully. Their real enemies are the 
faceless men, the Rebels."

Scully felt several pieces of the puzzle suddenly shift into 
place, and she began to understand the events at the church. 
There were two alien factions, fighting against each other! 
That's why the faceless men set fire to an alien in the choir 
loft, and why one of the deacons stabbed another in the back 
of the neck with an alien weapon. But what was William's role? 
How could her baby ensure victory for either group of aliens?

Scully was almost afraid to ask. This was a nightmare. A 
terrible, terrible nightmare.

Mulder cleared his throat. He kept his voice low and gentle. 
"Cassandra, how did you get into Reyes' car?"

"I was supposed to be helping the Rebels kidnap William at the 
church tonight. They threatened to kill me if I didn't go 
along with their plan. Maybe I should have let them." She 
started to cry. "Several of them disguised themselves as 
deacons and the priest. I-I don't know what they did with the 
real priest or the other men. I was told to wait outside, and 
one of them stayed with me to make sure I did what I was 
told." She looked through watery eyes at Scully. "I-I was 
supposed to pretend to help you if you ran out, while my 
guard--" Cassandra swallowed and a look of anger flared in her 
eyes. "Then I heard screams inside, and I grabbed the alien's 
weapon and set him on fire. I ran away, down the street, and 
hid...until I saw you, Agent Mulder, with the others, going 
into the church."

"That's quite a story." Mulder looked doubtful.

"I can prove it." Cassandra pushed the afghan to the floor and 
fumbled with the lapels of her coat, trying to reach an inside 
pocket. She struggled for a minute and then withdrew a slender 
black wand. "This was his weapon." She handed it to Mulder.

He turned it over a couple of times, examining it on all 
sides.

"Please, be careful," she warned. "The mechanism is at the 
bottom. It's very dangerous."

He set the wand carefully on the coffee table. It looked 
identical to the ones Scully had seen in the church.

"The Rebels need William and the other babies to win the war,"
Cassandra explained. "They believe the babies will provide 
immunity against the Colonists' virus -- a natural vaccine or 
maybe some sort of genetic cure."

"The Rebels seal their eyes, noses and mouths to keep out the 
Black Oil," Mulder said, nodding.

It made sense. If the Rebels had no protection against the 
virus, they would be trying to develop a vaccine the same way 
human men searched for a cure. "We've got to find William," 
Scully said, "and hide him."

Cassandra grabbed Scully's hand and held it tightly. "You 
can't go after him."

"Why not?"

"You're being watched...tracked."

"Tracked? By who? And how?"

"By the aliens. The chip in your neck tells them where you 
are. If you go to William, they'll find him through you."

Oh God. She was a danger to her own baby; she probably had 
been all along. Was her chip the reason the aliens hadn't 
taken William in Georgia? Because they knew they could find 
him whenever they needed him? "Cassandra, if the Rebels have 
always known where I am, why this elaborate plan? Why take 
William tonight?"

"Because it's beginning."

"What's beginning?"

"A war. A war between two alien races over ownership of the 
planet...and us."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

WESTBOUND ON INTERSTATE 66

"Still no answer," Doggett said, punching the END button on 
his cell phone. He glanced at Monica, and she nodded, but most 
of her attention was focused on the highway, which was rapidly 
glazing over with freezing rain. He waited in silence while 
she merged onto I-66, then resumed speaking.

"You know, Monica, I wasn't holding out on you."

She glanced over at him, a look of surprise on her face. "I 
never thought you were."

"I mean about the ... the faceless aliens, and like that." He 
grimaced at hearing his own voice saying those words. Faceless 
aliens. God in heaven. Had he really come this far, this fast?

"John, it's okay," Monica said, once again staring out the 
windshield at the highway in front of them. The freezing rain 
was starting to turn to snow, and of course, that was just 
going to make the driving more treacherous than it already 
was.

"It's okay," she repeated. Her face was serene, her voice 
calm. "There's a helluva lot buried down there in that 
basement. We can't be expected to be up to speed on 
everything."

And that was true enough, Doggett thought. Shortly after being 
assigned to search for Mulder, Doggett had informed Scully 
that he'd read every single X-file from start to finish. He'd 
done it in a long weekend of marathon reading and note taking, 
and truth be told, he'd skimmed a lot of them, trying to hit 
the highlights, and focusing most of his time and energy on 
cases that seemed like they might be relevant to Mulder's 
disappearance.

But he'd never had time to sit down and try to assimilate it 
all into a coherent narrative. The urgency of the hunt for 
Mulder, followed by the frantic swirl of events surrounding 
his -- Doggett winced, but there was no other way to put it -- 
death and resurrection, had left little time for reflection.

When Monica joined the X-files, right after William's birth 
and Mulder's second disappearance, she had insisted that they 
attack their assignment systematically. The upshot of which 
was that the two of them had met for dinner every Monday and 
Thursday evening for the past seven months, reviewing past 
cases and discussing their implications. So far, they were up 
to the G's ....

"Stop worrying about it, John," Monica said, breaking in on 
his thoughts. "What's done is done -- and I want to repeat, 
you did nothing wrong. We need to concentrate on the future. 
And right this minute, we need to concentrate on finding Tara 
Scully -- and William."

Doggett couldn't argue with that, either.

The snow kept on falling as they drove westward, and Doggett 
continued to brood. Cassandra Spender. He recognized that name 
from the X-files -- there'd even been a couple of photographs 
in one of the files. Among those presumed dead at the El Rico 
Air Base, nearly three years ago -- but her body was never 
positively identified, because no DNA records existed on her, 
and her dentist's office mysteriously burned to the ground two 
days after El Rico.

*That* should have set alarm bells ringing somewhere, Doggett 
thought. His lip curled in grim amusement at his own new-found 
paranoia. How far he'd come in the last year and a half.

*Was* the woman they'd found in Monica's car really Cassandra 
Spender? And if she was, could they take her claims at face 
value? His first instinct was to reject it all out of hand. 
He'd never believed all that gibble gabble about aliens and 
abductions, despite the fact that Agent Scully and A.D. 
Skinner appeared to take it very seriously.

But there was no denying that *something* out of the ordinary 
was going on. Cassandra was probably confused or deluded -- 
the file on her had made it clear that she was even more "out 
there" than Mulder -- but that didn't mean there wasn't a 
problem. A *big* problem. The lab set-up they'd found at the 
Navy Yard was solid evidence -- or had been, before the fire, 
God damn it.

At last they reached the Old Tavern. The snow was falling 
thick and hard, and the wind blew it in unpredictable clouds 
across the highway. Fortunately, the town was small -- not 
even a village, really -- and they had no difficulty finding 
Number 49 Pinkham Street.

Doggett was out of the car before it had come to a full stop, 
and Monica was only a step or two behind. The street was dark 
and quiet -- so quiet that you could hear the snow falling, 
and the crunching underfoot as the two agents strode up the 
walk sounded like gunshots in the cold winter air.

They stopped for a moment at the battered old gate, and looked 
around. Tara had had a good head start -- at least 45 minutes 
-- and she should have arrived long since, but there was no 
sign of her. There were several cars parked on the street, in 
addition to their own, but Scully's Camry, which Tara was 
driving, was not among them. Doggett put his hands on his 
hips, and shook his head.

"Could we have got here ahead of her, somehow?" he wondered 
aloud.

"No," Monica replied. "The highway was empty -- you saw it 
yourself. We didn't pass any other cars."

"I know," he admitted. "I'm just thinkin'." He shook his head 
again. "Maybe she's come and gone," he suggested. "Maybe she 
got here, found no one waiting for her, and decided to go 
back."

"We didn't see any cars going the other way, either."

Doggett nodded. Then, for lack of any better alternatives, he 
pulled out his cell phone and punched Scully's speed dial. 
This time, he got the out of area message. "I don't get it," 
he said, slipping the phone back in his pocket. "Where could 
she have gone that would put her out of area? Do you suppose 
there's a tower down somewhere?"

"The storm's not that bad." Monica stood still for a moment, a 
look of frustration on her face, then started to turn in a 
slow, 360-degree circle, scanning the neighborhood. As she 
came around to face the house once again, she stopped 
abruptly, her gaze fixed on something further up the walk. She 
stepped past Doggett and through the gate, and a few seconds 
later she was scooping something up out of the snow. A bag of 
some sort. Doggett recognized it just as she spoke again.

"It's William's baby bag," she said, her voice flat and 
uninflected.

"Why would she have left the bag?"

"She wouldn't." Monica dropped the bag; her weapon was already 
in her other hand. "Someone must have been waiting for her."

Without further discussion, Doggett and Monica moved up onto 
the porch. Like the rest of the house, it was old and rickety. 
Doggett tried the front door, and found it unlocked. The two 
of them stepped inside.

They found themselves in a short, narrow hallway, lit by a 
single light bulb dangling from a wire, with doors opening on 
each side. Monica looked up at him and mouthed, "Number six." 
Doggett nodded, and they proceeded on down the hall.

Number six turned out to be the last door on the right. 
Further back in the gloom there was a staircase, suggesting 
more rooms on the second floor. Glancing down, Doggett saw no 
light coming from beneath the door to apartment six. Monica 
cautiously pressed her ear against the door, then drew back, 
looked at Doggett, and shrugged. She reached out and twisted 
the knob -- and the door swung open.

It took less than a minute to determine that the room was 
empty. An unmade camp bed stood next to one wall, with a 
tired-looking bureau against the opposite wall. There was a 
hot plate on top of the bureau, with a small pot of congealed 
... something ... sitting next to it. The only other furniture 
was a decrepit wooden chair, with one of the spindles on the 
backrest missing. There was no luggage, and the bureau drawers 
were empty.

And nowhere was there any clue as to the whereabouts of Tara 
Scully and William Mulder.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

WESTBOUND ON U.S. HIGHWAY 50
NEAR WINCHESTER, VA
2:41 A.M.

William had finally stopped crying. Thank God.

Tara had tried everything in her parenting arsenal, without 
success. She'd played with his toes, she'd sung to him -- she 
would have offered him food, but his bag was still lying on 
the ground back in Old Tavern. Even the rocking motion of the 
car, which was usually a sure-fire cure in her experience, 
hadn't helped. He'd finally seemed to just wear himself out, 
and now, at last, he was asleep.

Fox seemed remarkably undisturbed by his son's unhappiness, 
she thought. She tried not to be disapproving; she knew 
William and his father hadn't spent much time together. They 
probably just hadn't bonded yet. Besides, Fox obviously 
believed it was important they get away as quickly as 
possible. That was probably why he was being this way.

Her attention was diverted from the sleeping child as the car 
swerved and began to slow. Peering out the windshield, through 
the swirling snow, she saw that they were approaching an off-
ramp, with the glowing sign of an all-night truck stop dimly 
visible at its far end.

"We need to get gas," Fox said, before she had a chance to 
ask. The car slipped a little bit on the ice, and he grunted 
as he steered it back on course. "We'll only be a few 
minutes."

Tara nodded, heedless of the fact that he couldn't see her, 
then waited while he guided the car into the service station 
and brought it to a stop next to one of the gas pumps. She 
grabbed her purse, popped her door open and got out, heading 
for the small convenience store attached to the cashier's 
cage.

"Where are you going?"

"We need a few things," she explained, turning and walking 
backwards a few steps. "William needs some diapers, and I want 
to see if they have anything he can eat. I won't be long." She 
turned around again and stepped into the store without waiting 
for a reply.

She found what she was looking for, and was out to the car 
again in under three minutes, fully half that time having been 
taken up at the cash register, waiting for her credit card to 
clear. She paused, looking at the sleeping baby, then shrugged 
and climbed in front. She'd learned long ago, when Matthew was 
an infant, to grab every available opportunity to spend time 
with other adults. Besides, maybe Fox would be able to explain 
to her what the hell was going on.

She was still waiting for him when she heard Dana's cell 
phone, still in the glove compartment, start to shrill. She 
hesitated, remembering once again her sister-in-law's 
injunction not to call anyone. On the other hand, who would be 
calling Dana at this time of night -- on Christmas Eve, no 
less? She opened the glove compartment and pulled out the 
phone, still considering it. She was about to flip it open to 
check the display when it was snatched from her hand.

"Fox?" She squinted up through the snow at the shadowy figure, 
back lit by the lights of the store. Yes, it was definitely 
him. "Dammit, you scared me." The phone rang again. "Do you 
think we should answer that?"

"No phone calls," he said.

His voice sounded odd -- it sounded deeper than it had been a 
few minutes ago. And then Tara's eyes bulged in shock and 
surprise, as his hand closed around the cell phone and crushed 
it, as easily as a child destroying an egg carton. He dropped 
shattered bits of plastic and electronics to the ground, then 
yanked open her door and pulled her out of the car.

"Fox? Fox, what the ... what the ...." Tara's voice trailed 
off as the man opened the back door and shoved her into the 
vehicle next to William. His face ... no, it couldn't be. It 
was a trick of the light ... but it wasn't. It was real. The 
man's features were changing, even as she watched. His 
forehead widened, his lips thickened, his nose transformed 
before her eyes, all in a scant few seconds. It was 
impossible. It couldn't be happening ....

"You will take care of the child," he said, his voice now low 
and sinister, and nothing at all like Fox's. "You will remain 
quiet. If you follow these instructions, you will not be 
harmed." Then he slammed the door. A few seconds later he was 
in the driver's seat, revving the engine to life. A minute or 
so after that, they were back on the highway, once again 
heading west.

-x-x-x-x-x-x- 

CONTINUED IN BOOK ONE, CHAPTER THREE