Title: AFTERTHOUGHTS Author: aka "Jake" Rating: R (Language) Classification: V Spoilers: This story follows Requiem, so everything up to Season 8 is fair game. Summary: Requiem posed a thousand questions that now circle unanswered in our minds. In the wake of Mulder's disappearance and Scully's unexpected announcement, we X-Philes are writing, reading and thinking of little else. But what about our favorite heroes and their enemies? What might be going on inside their heads following the events in Requiem? Disclaimer: The characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Margaret Scully, Alex Krycek, Marita Covarrubias, and CGB Spender are the property of Chris Carter, FOX and 1013 Productions. No copyright infringement intended. This is forfun, not profit. AFTERTHOUGHTS (1/1) By aka "Jake" - - - - - - - - - - - - - MULDER: Want to know my first mistake? Thinking life on Earth is as bad as it gets. Would you believe I once told Scully, "I've seen life on this planet and that's exactly why I'm looking elsewhere"? Shit, I can be such an ass. Chasing a dream that in reality was a nightmare, I walked away from Scully and the other six billion inhabitants of our quaint little planet in order to do what? Come here? And 'here' would be...? An alien spaceship? A top-secret military aircraft? A figment of my overactive imagination? All of the above? None of the above? I can't say for sure but I know this much: this place is not Heaven despite the apparent location. I may be floating high in the sky among the stars but without a doubt I'm living in Hell. I'm definitely not in Kansas anymore. Not even in Oz. I've learned too late Dorothy's lesson of home, sweet home. And believe me, the Faceless Rebels make the Wicked Witch of the West look like a fucking guardian angel. My second mistake was thinking the truth is out there. Apparently the truth is in me and I'm not speaking metaphorically. The Aliens dig at my flesh like 49ers prospecting at Sutter's Mill. They dissect my DNA believing it holds the answers to all the questions of the universe -- a goddamn Rosetta Stone of life. Little do they know I don't have any answers. Hell, I don't even have that many questions. My top two -- not necessarily in order of importance -- are will the Yankees repeat and is Scully okay? Meanwhile the Rebels continue their damn slicing and dicing while I struggle like drosophilae pinned beneath a geneticist's microscope. So far, my very own Dr. Frankensteins have left all my limbs attached and they have yet to alter my mitochondria in such a way that I'll be sprouting extra eyes out of my shoulder blades or growing another head up my ass. But I guess there's always tomorrow for the real fun to begin. My third mistake -- and man, oh, man, this one's a biggie -- was to believe I wanted to believe. I found out the hard way you need to be damn careful what you wish for because some sadistic fairy godmother might just decide to grant you your lifelong heart's desire and you'll wind up wishing like hell for another wish. I erroneously assumed EBEs would be smarter than us, more tolerant than us, and more enlightened than us, like some sort of Gene Roddenberryesque ETs living in a peaceful Mr. Roger's Off-World Neighborhood. Instead I got Sigourney Weaver's fiendish archenemies with the added bonus of a grand plan to take over the universe and the hi-tech opposable thumbscrews to do it. Shit, we're in trouble. How could I have been so off the mark? It wasn't that long ago I arrogantly asked Scully, "How often have I been wrong?" and then went on to answer my own smug question with the pompous claim: "I turn out to be right like 98.9 percent of the time." A tad self-righteous and narcissistic of me, wasn't it? Well I guess this little field trip into space must be the 1.1 percent of the time when I'm not so right. I'm hoping like hell I'll eventually get the chance to hear Scully say, "Mulder, everyone knows following Bounty Hunters onto alien spaceships only gets you into trouble. Didn't your mother teach you not to talk to strangers?" Sorry Scully, but if Mom ever dished out any such practical advice, I was too busy looking at the stars to listen. I've got to tell you, I'm scared, Scully. Scared for me and scared for you. I thought I was protecting you by coming to the ship at Bellefleur, leaving you behind. God help me, I hope that wasn't mistake number four. - - - - - - - - - - - - - CGB SPENDER: Life is a never-ending surprise, is it not? Glorious even at its worst. Mulder is on the Rebel ship -- a loss to be sure -- but I'm still alive thanks to Greta. A little mouth-to-neck resuscitation brought this old dead devil back to life. For now. And I have reason to hope for many more long years. You see there's a promising little rumor circulating that Agent Scully is pregnant. And her unborn child carries in its tiny skull my cure...among other things. Obviously Scully's chip worked exactly as it was supposed to, as I had planned, and amid a flood of engineered hormones, Scully ovulated one of her few remaining eggs right on cue. The surveillance I'd installed in Mulder's apartment let me know exactly when to flip the switch on her little biotech device. How good of Mulder to oblige me by impregnating her on the first try. I've certainly waited long enough for the moment. Who would have guessed it would take the two of them seven years to copulate? If I'd been a gambling man, I'd have bet on Mulder bedding Scully within the first year she was assigned to the X-Files. Maybe even within the first month or two! But obviously I underestimated the willpower of our diminutive red-haired agent. Despite her predictable liaisons with several other rather commanding men, she was curiously immune to Fox Mulder's masculine charms. Fortunately, I'm a patient man. And life often rewards me for my patience. I must say I enjoyed watching the two of them finally consummate their rather indefinable relationship. It was appropriately climactic. Yet mercifully free of sappy confessions of undying love. Tender, however. Almost reverential. No hint of unbridled bestiality and animal heat. They're both too mature for that now. And what a delight to see Scully exit her paramour's apartment the following morning without so much as an attempt at romantic discussion, leaving Mulder to blissfully finish his dreams. She's so practical, our Scully. The perfect birthmother for my grandchild. Mulder and Scully...my son and his mate...how proud I am of them and their role in the future of mankind. How important a gift they are giving us all. Before long their baby, my grandson, will be delivered to me and then the future will truly begin. - - - - - - - - - - - - - MARGARET SCULLY: My baby girl is having a baby. Under ordinary circumstances, the news about Dana's pregnancy would fill me with nothing but joy. Unfortunately the circumstances of her life have been anything but ordinary for a very long time. And although I know she's a strong and capable woman, as her mother I can't help but worry about her future and the future of her child. My grandchild. Of course it was a shock to find out she was pregnant at all. She'd told me she couldn't conceive; treatment for her cancer had left her barren. Obviously she was mistaken. Or perhaps this baby is the miracle she believes him to be. I've prayed to God for answers, but He's keeping His reasons to Himself. Always the scientist, even in pregnancy, Dana has undergone every test imaginable to determine the health of her unborn baby. Ultrasounds, amniocentesis, PCRs -- you name it and she's done it, investigating every possibility thoroughly. I know she's thinking of Emily, although she hasn't said as much. What she has told me is good news, however. The baby appears healthy and normal. He's a he and he'll be born shortly after Christmas. Dana's son. My grandson. "Who's the father?" I finally had to ask her. She hedged, flustered or maybe embarrassed by my question. She's a very private person, even with me. Even with herself, I think. Her answer was both simple and complicated at the same time. "Mulder." That's all she said. No explanation of any kind, only the familiar surname of her long-time FBI partner. Mulder. For goodness' sake, I've known Fox Mulder for years. And I know Dana and he are extraordinarily close, even for partners. Yet she's always insisted there was nothing romantic between the two of them, adamant that they were no more than professional partners and personal friends. If she's loved him beyond that, she's never come out and said so. As for Fox, I've certainly come to respect him for his dedication to Dana's welfare. They don't often share the details of their job with me, but I know he's risked his life several times for Dana and he's never given up on her when she's needed him most. I can only hope that's true now. So where exactly is Fox? If Dana knows, she's keeping his whereabouts to herself. Perhaps she doesn't know. It's clear she's worried about him; I've never seen her so on edge. I pray he returns home soon. Dana will need him. So will their child. - - - - - - - - - - - - - MARITA COVARRUBIAS: CGB Spender called me today. Imagine my surprise. He said he has a job for me. He wants me to bring him Agent Scully's baby. Spender told me Dana Scully's baby won't be born for several months, but he has no intention of waiting that long. Death is knocking rather persistently at his door and CGB is no cat. One life or nine, he's facing his mortality at last. So what's to be done? He suggested I kidnap the unborn child. "How?" I asked him, wanting him to say the words, detail his unspeakable plan out loud. It was the least he could do. "You're imaginative," he told me. True, and years ago, before the Black Oil and all the terrible tests, his compliment would have immediately won my creative collaboration. But now I need more incentive before I rush to do his bidding. "No. You tell me," I insisted, expecting outrage at my hesitation. Instead, he smiled. I guess he's reached a point where he controls so much, everything amuses him. "Krycek will help you if you no longer have the stomach for such things, Marita." "How do I convince Alex to play this game? He thinks you're dead, you know." "Use your womanly wiles. That's a tactic that's worked before and it'll work again. But don't tell Alex I'm still among the living. I don't want to find myself at the bottom of another stairwell." "He'll want to know why I'm interested in the baby." "He's already interested himself. He knows the baby is the key to all our survival. The child carries his father's recent, albeit short-lived ability to read minds, anticipate unasked questions, foresee future events. And the baby is immune to the Virus. Powerful assets when faced with the coming apocalypse. Alex is cunning. And greedy. Certainly he plans to start a bidding war over the child, pitting the Alien Invaders against the Faceless Rebels." "Is that what you plan to do?" "After I use the child to save myself." "What's in it for me?" "You get to live, too." - - - - - - - - - - - - - WALTER SKINNER: I go over it and over it in my mind. One minute Mulder was there beside me in Bellefleur. The next he was gone. I lost him. As fast as that. And when I finally did see the ship, I knew in my gut he was on board and there wasn't a goddamn thing I could do about it. Bringing Scully the news was one of the toughest things I've ever had to face, although she's not the type to break down. Not even close. She's probably the strongest person I've ever met. With more fortitude than my toughest drill sergeant, she puts men like me to shame. If I could stand up to Krycek with the same honorable determination that Scully faces every adversary, I'd be living with a hell of a lot less shame. Scully is imprisoned by the chip in her neck every bit as much as I'm held hostage by the nanites in my bloodstream. The difference is, I allow myself to be compromised, whereas she doesn't give up her autonomy. Ever. What I didn't expect from Scully was her announcement that she's pregnant with Mulder's child. Although it'd crossed my mind over the years that she and Mulder might be sleeping together -- after all, such relationships do occur when agents are paired together for so long -- I'd assumed Scully would be more careful. Her sudden abandonment of diligence to protocol -- not to mention common sense -- leads me to think she wanted to become pregnant. Yet, she seemed as shocked by it as I was, like the event was unthinkable, impossible. Of course, I didn't ask for details; I figured she'd tell me whatever I needed to know. And she didn't tell me anything. Just as well. The less I know, the better. As it is, I spilled Scully's news to Krycek the minute he appeared in my office, cockier than usual and threatening to unleash the nanites if I didn't tell him about Mulder and Bellefleur. He seemed doubly pleased about Scully's pregnancy, although I can't fathom why he'd care one way or the other. His pleasure turned my stomach; obviously I've foolishly given something important away. I can only hope my goddamn cowardice hasn't put Scully and her baby in some unforeseen danger. If Krycek harms her, I swear I'll kill the goddamn son-of-a-bitch. Fuck the consequences. - - - - - - - - - - - - - ALEX KRYCEK: I can hardly believe my good fortune. Mulder's gone at last! The sorry-ass prick stepped willingly on board a fucking Rebel ship. No abduction necessary. What a goddamn fool. He has no idea who he's dealing with. He went to Bellefleur with his starry-eyes naively squeezed shut, wanting to believe that life off this planet is worth the goddamn price of admission. Well good luck, buddy. I don't think Turkish prison holds a candle to what those faceless bastards have in mind for you. They take the expression 'pound of flesh' quite literally. And Christ Almighty, the damn black-lunged bastard is finally out of my life, too! What a sight for sore eyes, seeing him in a heap at the bottom of his own long staircase. It felt so good to give that wheelchair of his a shove and then listen to the delightful thump, thump, thump as he fell down all those steps. Last but not least, with a little pressure, Skinner coughed up my third piece of good news: Scully is pregnant with Mulder's child. Pass out the cigars! This little revelation has enormous implications. Carrying Mulder's genetic material, that baby is the goddamn golden goose. Don't think for a minute I'll let him slip through my fingers. Baby Mulder is about to go on the auction block. Let's see who wants him most: Alien Invaders, Faceless Rebels, other interested parties? Whoever brings the highest pile of cash goes home with the prize, leaving me the biggest winner of all. About time my efforts paid off. Watch out, Agent Scully, I'm coming for you. Who'd've ever guessed the Rat Boy would wind up as the top dog? - - - - - - - - - - - - - SCULLY: Mulder, I've just begun to look for you and I'll find you. I have to because the most unbelievable thing has happened. I've discovered I'm pregnant. I don't understand how, but it's true. And you're the father. I've had three separate PCRs run just to be sure and the results were all the same -- this baby is yours. I know you don't believe in God's miracles but I can't help thinking our son's conception is anything less, given my medical history and the fact that you and I made love only once. The odds against a viable pregnancy are astronomical, yet a baby grows inside of me. Skinner knows. So does Mom. I've asked them to keep it a secret because I'm worried about our baby's safety. My fears are irrational, certainly. Why would anyone care that I'm pregnant? Why would anyone want to harm our child? Yet, the possibility nags at me and I'll do all I can to keep him safe. Skinner told me about what happened in Bellefleur. He blames himself, just as I blame myself. I should have been with you, Mulder. Watching your back was my job, not Skinner's. My job now is to find you and bring you home. You'd do no less for me. You've proven that. I've already started researching your files, concentrating on the abductees from Bellefleur. If there's a clue in all those transcripts, I'm missing it. I still can't figure out why you were taken or even who would take you. But I have no intention of giving up. I've booked a flight to Bellefleur for tomorrow morning. Skinner's dead set against my going but I have to investigate every possibility. Bellefleur is the first logical step. Mulder, I once believed loneliness was a choice. I couldn't have been more wrong. I've never felt more lonely or alone in my life, despite the nearness of my mother, Skinner and our baby. A huge part of me is missing because you are missing. To be whole again, I need to find you. I've promised our son that he will not be born without his father. Nothing will make me break that promise. Nothing. Don't give up, Mulder. Hang on while I search for you. I will bring you home. - - - - - - - - - - - - - THE UNBORN CHILD: Mother, I can hear your determination. I can hear the others, too -- voices jumbled together in my unformed ears but separate in my mind. I know what they're thinking, saying, planning for me, for you, for the world. Gibson Praise once told you people think one thing but say another. He was right for the most part. The man who believes he is my grandfather suffers from a misconception about his role in our lives. His part is actually no greater than the snowflake that drifts onto a mountain of snow, its miniscule weight finally setting an avalanche into motion. Although he prompted the Coming, he didn't engineer it, plot it, preordain its effect. No man did that. No man could. My father worries needlessly about you, Mother. He still hasn't realized you don't die. You are forever. You are not just *my* mother; you are *the* Mother. The Conversion is near; the universe is transforming. Don't worry, Mother; it all happens for a reason. We cannot circumvent our destiny. THE END