Julia
Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Undisclosed location
West Virginia Mountains
July 25, 2000
2:35 p.m.


"We have confirmation."

Frohike and Byers made the breathless statement
to Langly in stereo, their backs to her.

"Where?"  Scully's sharp question came from the
other end of the darkened control room and she
rushed into the light, gripping the edge of the
map table.  The light from under the glass table
top cast her face in an eerie, frantic glow. 
She knew who they were speaking of and her
patience was thin.  She repeated, "*Where?*"

Though they all knew the Appointing Authority
made his headquarters in Washington, they'd
never seen actual geographic evidence.  She
could only assume that 'confirmation' meant
physical evidence.

Frohike glanced at Byers, then back to Scully. 
"It's not good."  He swallowed hard and shuffled
his feet, uncomfortable with Scully's wild eyes.

Softer, more determined, she said, "Where.  Is. 
He."  They hadn't expected her to be here, that
much was obvious.  Her resting period was
supposed to have lasted for another two hours,
but she got tired of tossing and turning in her
cot.  She was even more weary of the endless
dead ends in her research lately.

Byers spoke up, edging around Frohike in an
attempt to divert her attention away from the
smaller man.  "We don't know for sure if it's
him, Scully."  He made a gesture behind his
back, but it wasn't subtle enough to escape her
eagle eye.

"What is that?"  Scully swept past a cowering
Langly and stormed to Frohike's side, where she
grabbed the object he'd been trying to hide from
her.  She turned it over and said softly, "A
videotape."  Her gaze rose to the men.  "Where
did you get this?"

Byers stammered a bit, but was interrupted by
Frohike, who stepped from behind him.  "We
intercepted the transmission about a half hour
ago.  It came directly from the Appointing
Authority.  Scully, we have no real verification
-" He broke off as she turned to view  the tape
on one of the monitors to her left.

The screen burst to life with harsh tones of
black and white.  A sea of faces, some stoic,
some hysterical with fear, greeted her eyes. 
The people were in line, flanked by Guardsmen,
shuffling toward something that was obviously
off-screen.  A transport, no doubt.

Their faces were young and old, various shades
of grey and black.  Scully wondered how recent
the video was taken, then noticed the faces
dripping with sweat.  It couldn't have been long
ago; the July heat was at its worst about this
time of year in many parts of the country.  She
could barely make out the main terminal building
in the background, its unique slope of glass and
concrete screaming at her, "Saarinen!"

It was Dulles, all right.

"Where is he?" she barked over her shoulder,
never tearing her eyes from the screen.

"In a few seconds..." Byers said from behind
her.  "There.  At the beginning of the line." 
His finger tapped the screen.

The camera darted along the line again and
Scully cursed, then held her breath as it
settled down and zoomed in closer to the handful
of official-looking men at the head of the line.

It was Mulder.  Standing right next to
Cancerman, both of them in profile.  Hands at
his side, he watched as one by one, the
condemned were shoved into the back of the
transport, not even blinking at the swirl of
cigarette smoke that floated in front of his
face with every exhale from the man at his side.

Immediately, Scully shoved down the happiness at
the sight of him and growled, "He's not there
willingly."

"Scully -"

"Don't even think it, Byers," she replied,
piercing him with a cold glare.  "Mulder would
never be a part of this unless by coercion."

"That's not all," Frohike chimed in.  "Keep
watching."

Scully turned up the volume on the monitor, but
it was no use.  Through some glitch, they'd lost
sound during the transmission.  But she didn't
really care; it was Mulder and he was okay.  Now
that they knew where he was, they could get him
out of there.

Suddenly, her attention was grabbed by a flurry
of activity.  She watched as the camera pulled
away to the scuffle about halfway down the line. 
It was a young girl, maybe thirteen years of
age, struggling to break free.  It wasn't very
difficult for the Guardsmen to beat her down and
Scully cringed at the amount of force they used. 
As she huddled there writhing in pain, the
Guardsmen looked up and away as if responding to
an off-screen command.

The girl was dragged to the head of the line and
dropped to her knees in front of Mulder and
Cancerman.  Mulder was still immovable, even in
the face of the girl's tears.  A Guardsman
quickly moved forward at the old man's signal,
removing his sidearm with deadly purpose.
Cancerman leaned to his left and said something;
Scully tried to make out the words, but
couldn't.

It didn't make much difference anyway.  She knew
exactly what he'd said when Mulder took the
pistol from the soldier.  He faltered for just a
moment, eyeing the gun like its familiar weight
was foreign to him.  Then, with slow, deliberate
movements, he brought it up, his face blank as
he aimed and fired.  The young captive slumped
in the hold of the men, the back of her head
exploding in a mass of blood and gore.

Scully heard Langly gasp behind her, but she
remained steadfast in her resolve.  "It's not
him," she said.  "I don't care what it looks
like.  He wouldn't commit cold-blooded murder. 
And it's a videotape, for God's sake."  She
faced the three men with an incredulous roll of
her eyes.  "Videotape can be altered."

Frohike murmured in reply, "Yes, it can.  But in
this case, it looks like the real deal."

Scully mind raced for answers; it just couldn't
be real.  Mulder was not a murderer.  Her heart
started beating again at her next thought. 
She'd seen shapeshifters transform into
Mulder....  "The bounty hunter - and those like
him.  They - they can transform into anyone." 
She brought harried eyes up to her friends. 
"*Anyone.*"

"Keep watching," Frohike murmured, nodding at
the screen.

She'd had enough of the videotape, her stomach
threatening to heave up the meager lunch she'd
had not long ago.  But she turned back to the
monitor and clenched her jaw over the nausea,
determined to see it through to the end.

The camera followed the two men as they turned
from the carnage and walked to a waiting
limousine.  Frohike reached around Scully and
pressed 'pause' as Mulder bent to enter the back
seat.

"See anything familiar?" he asked.

Scully squinted at the screen, then paled.

The picture was grainy, but unmistakable. 
Peeking out from the vee of his unbuttoned
collar was her cross.

God, no....

Scully felt the scream trickle up her throat. 
From a distance, she heard Byers and Frohike,
their voices rising above hers, trying to calm
her....

"I'm all right," she choked out, schooling her
face into a smooth mask.  Cold numbness settled
over her like a fireproof blanket.  "Just give
me a minute."  Moving away, she turned her back
on her friends.  And on Mulder's apparent
duplicity.

Frohike spoke up after a moment.  "Scully... you
realize Krycek is making plans to launch an
attack.  What are we gonna do now?"

"I'll think of something."

"Scully -"

Turning, she pierced him into silence with her
vehement reply.  "I *said* I'll think of
something, Frohike."  She glanced at the frozen
object of her constant worry, feeling an
unfamiliar doubt creep into her soul for the
first time.

People change... she heard it in her head, logic
pounding it into her mind in the form of a dull
headache.  If Mulder was no longer the person
he'd been, then neither was she.  By allowing
herself to grieve over his loss, to refuse to
believe him capable of such horror, she was
denying herself the truth.  And she couldn't
live that way.

Change was inevitable.  It was time for the
analytical Dana Scully to step forward and prove
one way or other if the facts were accurate.

And if she lost sight of the Dana Scully that
could feel... so be it.


Washington, D. C.
February 9, 2001
9:15 p.m.


Worry made her pace, from her bedroom to the
living room and back.  Mulder still wasn't home
yet.  The dinner tray had arrived shortly after
he'd left and Julia couldn't touch any of it. 
She wanted him here, wanted to sit across from
him at the table and pick at her salad while he
explained everything to her.  Tell him in her
own halting way that whatever made him do this,
she forgave him, understood all.

Then he would ask where she'd been, though she'd
explained it all in the letter he would read as
soon as he walked through the door.  But he
wanted to visit those places with her, he would
tell her.  Wanted to experience her sorrow of
the past months and give her reassurance that
all would be well now.  Just as she wanted to
take his pain as her own and make it go away.

She sighed at the hopeful trickle of her
thoughts.  He was more likely to rage at her for
putting herself in such danger; she was kidding
herself if she thought he wouldn't be angry.

His anger was something she could deal with. 
She'd done it before and she could do it again. 
It would take little effort to remind him that
she was a capable agent, trained and ready to
fight.  That she wore unfamiliar clothes and an
even more foreign face meant nothing.  She was
still the same person inside.  So was he, she
was sure of it.  Reunited, they would prevail.

Together, they would find a way out of this
place before the Underground attacked. Once
she'd made the final decision, they would have
twenty-four hours.  They could still save
Skinner, if they made it out of here alive.  Now
that Julia knew where he was and what danger he
was in, she wasn't going to let him die. 
Neither would Mulder, if it was within his
power.

In the darkness of the living room, she pondered
all this and more.  How they would escape. 
Where they would go from here.  Whom they would
trust besides each other.

How she would kiss him and tell him she loved
him when he walked in the door.  If only he
would come home.

She curled up into the corner of the sofa and
listened to herself breathe, straining her ears
for the sound of the elevator.  It may have been
minutes or hours;  she didn't want to abandon
her post to go into her room and check the
bedside clock.

At last, she heard it.  The ding of the arriving
elevator.  Julia sat up and waited with a
pounding heart, squinting in the dimness,
cursing the sudden cowardice that had made her
take all the lights off.

Would he smother her with happy kisses?  Or
would he berate her for putting herself in
danger by his side?  She didn't think she could
stand it if he looked at her with disgust for
the way she'd disfigured herself in the name of
patriotism.  But wouldn't he have done the same
for her?

In a way, maybe he had.  It was obvious he
yearned for Scully and his father had tried
substitutes in an effort to keep him happy. 
What if Mulder had used his position in a
hopeful search for her?  Bartered away his honor
for the love of one woman....

Which, in some ways, she no longer was, despite
her inward insistence.  Trepidation crept up on
her again as she heard the muffled footsteps in
the hallway.



End Chapter Fourteen