Title: Twilight's End
Rating: MSR/WIP R/NC-17 for language and sexuality.
Classification: WIP, MSR, Alternate Universe, Post 'Truth.' Follow up to 'Day Tripping.'
Spoilers: Takes place directly where
'Day Tripping' left off.
Keywords: Seek and ye shall find.
Summary: Underground, Mulder and Scully attempt to find a way to launch an
beta by the lovely sallie
website courtesy of the unbelievably
talented Circe Invidiosa.
An uneasy trust weaves itself around three strangers in a naked room in the middle of nowhere. Mulder stretches and cracks his knuckles, while Scully loosens her grip on the trigger and slowly sets her gun on the table. Montoya, still standing between the two of them, leans on the table with outstretched arms, palms flat against the weathered pine surface.
Scully finally cracks open the silence. "What do you mean, 'both of us?' Are you saying Mulder has some kind of implant we couldn't detect?" Taking a breath, she releases it, tries to stifle the other question in the back of her mind. She will not let herself think the word 'cancer.'
"No, his exposure to the artifact changed him. At least that's what I was told."
"My abnormal brain activity." Mulder looks up at Montoya and shakes his head, he doesn't know how he always knows, but he knows. "That's not what you mean, is it?"
"No, it isn't. You both have something in common, something physical."
Scully feels a single bead of sweat work its way down her spine, Whatever information Montoya has, she wants it and wants it now. The tension and frustration's eating at her but she wills herself not to move, sitting ramrod straight in the ancient wooden chair. "Enough cryptic responses...we need..."
"...answers." cuts in Mulder. He's trying to hold onto his reserve, but Scully recognizes the change in the color of his eyes. All traces of green are siphoned off by gray---something dark and angry is surfacing.
Montoya tries to respond. "I have to know you're ready to take this to the next level."
Scully surrepetitiously inches her hand along the tabletop, slowly wrapping her fingers around the Walther's grip.
"We're here because we want to stop the end of the world. There's no going back for us...nothing to go back to." Mulder 's voice starts off carefully modulated, but he keeps getting louder as he goes on. Gripping his knees to steady himself, he struggles against the urge to start shouting. "We either take them out or go down trying. Is that ready enough for you?" He stares at her dead on, and she stares back, silent.
Miraculously, it clicks into place, and the corners of Montoya's mouth form an actual, honest-to-god smile. "Good. I have information for your eyes only." The words hang in the air, and turning away from them, she strides to the bed and the footlocker on the floor. Looking over her shoulder, she glances over to Scully's weapon and the pistol sticking out Mulder's boot. "You won't need those... 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend'...."
Mulder rests his open hands on the table, and Scully slips the Walther carefully back into her boot. She beckons him, and easing to his feet, he's at her side in a couple of steps. Turning, she glances up at him, questioning.
Their host has gone back to what she was doing, pulling open the lid of the storage box, and removes two black, rectangular objects, each about the size of cigar boxes, one larger than the other. There are no seams, no lids, no hinges. Just two solid masses. Walking back to the table slowly, she sets them gingerly in front of the two of them, then motions to Mulder. "You have to do this together."
"Do what, exactly?" his voice curious. Scully's hand is on his thigh.
"Each of you has to touch the boxes. They're designed to respond to your biosignatures and yours alone." Montoya sounds confident, a little brusque. Clearly, her temporary hesitancy's gone, and she sounds as if she's giving fellow soldiers directives now
"Biosignatures? What are you not telling us?" Scully matches her tone, she knows how to give military attitude with the best of them. There's steel in her voice and in her eyes and she hopes it has the desired effect on Montoya.
"Smith told me he and a small group of sympathizers prepared this, in the event you both survived and could find your way to me. He mentioned biosignatures when he gve me the boxes." Pointing to the larger of the two, "This is an information storing device. Two possible strategies for an offensive have been outlined, based on the rest of the information that's there.....You need to be briefed, then make a decision."
"And what about us, what is it about us that's so important?" Scully keeps pressing.
"You're necessary....There's something that makes you different from other abductees, something that links you together....and somehow connects you to the vaccine. That's all I can tell you. What specific information's in the box is for you alone....I don't need to know, don't want to know....
"Eyes only, then?" Mulder asks, his sixth sense itching. Last night, hope was little more than a wish in the dark. Today, he thinks it might be found inside a black box.
"Yeah, eyes only....While you do what what you need to do, I'm going to get rid of a potential problem. Give me your car keys."
Glancing at Scully, he bites back a grin when she raises an eyebrow. Some things never change, he tells himself. Catching her eye, he gives her a slight nod. Then, both turning to Montoya, they stare her down, waiting for an explanation.
"We need to dump that SUV...it's a tipoff you're not from around here."
He hears Scully sighing as he reaches into his back pocket and tosses the keys.
Montoya's hand shoots up, and in one quick, fluid move, she makes the grab. Keys are shoved into her cargo pants, and she ambles over to the bed, pulls a Makarov semiautomatic from under the pillow, and reaches under the bed to retrieve a Glock 9mm. Striding back to where her guests are waiting, she offers an explanation. "I have a contact who'll trade me the gas guzzler for a ride that won't stick out like a sore thumb. I'll be back tomorrow at first light....It'll take me that long to make the connect, do the deal and drive back." Shoving theweapons onto the table, "Take these, and unload them into anyone who comes here...including me...or anyone looking like me."
Mulder pulls out the clip, "Magnatite in the bullets... In case our soldier friends stop by for a little search and destroy..."
"That's right...consider it extra insurance. Smith told me you'd be safe in this location. It's loaded with deposits....The whole region is, from here, all the way to Roswell....I just want you to be prepared in case recon somehow pushes through." Looking over to the still seated Scully." I'm guessing you won't have a problem dropping any uninvited visitors."
Scully hasn't said much and doesn't plan to. She doesn't completely trust this woman, but there's nothing new there. The one person who has her unconditional trust has decided for both of them, and there's nothing new there, either. Realizing that their new life's pretty much like their old life is strangely reassuring.
A few minutes later they're standing on the porch, watching Montoya hop into the SUV. Instead of turning toward the access road, she pulls up and stops in front of them. The window whirrs down and she sticks her head out. There's a slight smirk on those full lips."You'll find a bottle of tequila in the cupboard above the stove. Wouldn't want you to think I'm a bad host."
With that, the window shoots up, and she floors it in reverse, pulls a U-turn, and in a matter of seconds becomes a dark blip speeding toward the main road.
Mulder nudges Scully, and when she turns toward him, there's an old, familiar gleam in his eyes.
"C'mon, honey, let's get it on."
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