Julia
Chapter Eighteen

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
4:35 a.m.


Mulder stuffed the last of his eggs into his
mouth and swallowed them down with a gulp of
coffee.  Julia let a pleased smile curl her
lips; it was the most she'd seen him eat since
she'd been here.  It reminded her of his
voracious appetite in a diner in New Jersey so
many years ago.  He'd aged a bit, but she saw
the same boyish energy emerge.  Like a kid with
a new toy, Mulder latched on to the unknown with
exuberance.  This time was no different; in
fact, she couldn't help but feel excitement at
the hope that this would be the ultimate victory
in their lengthy struggle against Cancerman and
his project.

From across the table, he stilled, eyes wide. 
"What?"

She set her coffee cup down and said, <Nothing. 
You just haven't changed, that's all.>

Letting a grin flirt over his mouth, he set his
cup down as well, lowering his gaze.  "Yes, I
have."  He reached for her hand, rubbing his
thumb over the palm as he looked up again.  "But
it feels good to know that you don't think so."

Reaching over, she squeezed his hand in both of
hers.  He hadn't changed in all the ways that
counted, and one day soon, he'd come to realize
it.  It would take time, but she'd make sure of
it.

Mulder sat up, pullling his hand away with a
straightening of his shoulders. <So, what's the
plan?>

Julia did the same, ready to get on with it.
<I'm not exactly sure.  Last time I received a
message was in Alexandria.  All it said was,
'We're ready when you are.'>

<You have no idea what Krycek's plan is?> He was
incredulous. <You let him send you out here
without concrete information?>

<Let me explain.> Lifting an eyebrow, she forced
him to quiet.

He sat back, arms crossed, impatience etched on
his face.  And he thought he'd changed, she
mused.  One day, she was going to tell him just
how often he'd pissed her off with that look.


**********


Undisclosed location
West Virginia mountains
July 27, 2000
12:20 a.m.


"You expect me to believe this shit?"

Scully's voice was incredulous as she eyed the
minute speck resting in the petri dish.

"I don't know the exact mechanism, but yes, I
expect you to believe, Scully," Krycek replied. 
"It's what's in Skinner."  He leaned over the
table, piercing her with deliberate eyes.  "It's
what Spender had me thrown in prison for.  He
wanted that artifact and he tortured me to get
it.  He would have let me rot in that hellhole,
but he needed me to get Mulder for him."

"And you think he just *forgot* about the
artifact?" she sneered, moving away to pace the
dim room.

"No, I'm not that stupid.  I have no doubt he
would have sent me back to Tunisia until I
broke.  He couldn't kill me, you see.  I was the
only one who knew where it was."

Scully rubbed a weary hand over her eyes,
stopping to say, "So you say you know nothing of
it's mechanism?  Then why experiment with
Skinner?"

Krycek's jaw moved and he looked down at the
chip, nodding.  "The nanites are simply carbon-
coated pieces of the same type of alien
spacecraft material, salvaged over the years. 
You have a degree in physics, Scully.  Think
about it."

Her mind began to race.  "Carbon is a good
conductor of electricity," she breathed.

"Right the first time," he drawled with a smile. 
"The material possesses regenerative qualities,
we've known that for years."

"It can rebuild itself."  She recalled how
Krycek had insisted that the crippled ship in
Oregon was doing just that.  At the time, she'd
taken her usual stance, more concerned about
Mulder chasing after it than the remote
possibility of it even *being* and alien craft.

But time and circumstances had changed all that. 
There were many things she believed in now that
a year ago, she would have dismissed with
science.

"Carbon-coated alien material inserted into a
human body... a small electromagnetic pulse from
the palm pilot, which triggers the electrical
energy already present in muscle tissue..." 
Krycek trailed off, waiting for her response.

She raised wide eyes to his.  "And they begin to
reproduce, to bind together."

"All it takes is the right recipe."  He smiled,
a humorless acknowledgment of her understanding. 
"Now do you see what we have here?"

If what he was saying was true, then it
staggered the mind.  The alien material
possessed the capability to utilize electricity
in a way not known in nature.  To reproduce
itself like a biological entity.

"It will connect with others of its kind when
electrically stimulated."

He nodded with a slow smile.  "Any modem port
will do, Scully.  This little piece of metal,"
he raised the petri dish to the light, casual in
his scrutiny, "will open all doors to us in its
search for home, like a child looking for its
mother."

Despite his calm words, Scully allowed a moment
of continued skepticism.  "You're saying this
chip will connect with a similar one -?"

"Inserted into one of the computers those
friends of yours are making love to in the
control room, yes."

She ignored his mean jibe at the Gunmen and let
her eyes narrow.  "You're full of shit, Krycek."

"I've seen it happen, Scully.  The Project had
been experimenting... and not only with the
biological life forms."

His implication was not lost on her.  "You're
saying this - *thing* - is alive?"

"Is it any more implausible than creating
artificial intelligence in a silicon medium?"

She paused at his question, remembering Esther
Nairn and her quest for immortality with her
lover.  At the time, she'd scoffed at the
possibility of intelligence let loose on the
Internet.  But now, after all she'd witnessed in
the past few months... *anything* was possible,
and she'd better start believing it.

"So... when the connection is made...?"

"It will enable us to break into their system. 
We can download as much as we can before we
attack.  I figure twelve hours of snooping is
our limit.  How much time do you need?"

Before he came calling on Cancerman's door. 
Scully thought his time limit unreasonable,
especially if she wanted any chance of making it
out alive. *With* Mulder.

"Twenty-four.  I need twenty-four hours."

"It'll be pushing it, but you've got it."  He
extended his hand, but Scully refused to shake
it.  She'd never be *that* comfortable with him. 
Seeing her reaction, he laughed, dropping his
hand.  "You've been hanging around Mulder too
long, Scully.  Trust me.  You get inside and
I'll be there when you call."

"You'd better be," she murmured, then gasped at
the warm gush from her nose.  "Shit."  She
turned away and ran to the restroom, hearing
Krycek's booted thuds behind her.

"Still haven't used that chip, have you Scully? 
What are you waiting for?  What the hell use are
you gonna be to us if you're dying?"  His anger
made his words icy cold.  "That's it - I'm
sending someone else."

"No!"  She wiped away the last of the blood and
faced him, furious color creeping up her face. 
"It's me or no one!"

"Then first thing tomorrow, we set out for
Dubuque, just as planned.  That chip is going
back in or you'll spend your last days in this
hole," he grated out.  "I insist."

She had no choice but to agree.


**********


Washington, D.C.
February 10, 2001
5:15 a.m.


<You're not taking it out.> He was adamant in
his concern, frantic worry making his eyes
bright in his face.

<It's a different chip.> She rushed to explain. 
<The other... the one in my neck... the one
Krycek gave me... it's staying there.>

<You wouldn't lie to me, would you?>

<No.> Well, a half-truth wasn't exactly a lie. 
She neglected to tell him just where the other
chip was, knowing that it's removal was bound to
be painful.  She didn't want him to worry
needlessly.  The extraction was something she
could steel herself against, she was sure of it.

His eyes narrowed and his jaw worked with the
effort to hold in his words.  <Don't ever lie to
me, Scully.  No secrets anymore, okay?>

<Okay.>

He seemed satisfied and relaxed once again in
his chair, leaning over the table. <So, once
it's out, we have to figure out a way to insert
it into a computer.>

<Piece of cake,> she answered. <I'll just get
sick... I saw a computer in the Infirmary the
first day I arrived.>

Nodding, he continued, <Then we have twenty-four
hours to get out, right?  Which means we need to
be as close as possible to the exit downstairs
when Krycek comes calling.> At her nod, he
asked, <Just how the hell is he going to pull
this off?  There's an army of Guardsmen in the
building.  No way can he take them all down.  It
would require a large force of men, something
that wouldn't be easy to come by, much less
sneak into the area.>

<I don't know that either, but I imagine the
chip will enable the Underground to disable a
lot of the security systems in this building. 
Krycek hinted that once the portal was open,
they could basically take over the building's
computer system.>

<Bring down the shield...> Mulder's eyes took on
a faraway look as his mind began to work.
<Disable the cameras and alarms...> He shook his
head to clear it and added, <I still don't see
how they won't get slaughtered before they even
make it to the front door.>

<Maybe they won't come through the front door.> 
Realization dawned and she hurriedly moved her
hands. <Krycek had access to weapons of all
kinds, Mulder.  He traveled with militias and
agents of many organizations.  Who's to say what
he'll come up with?>

The thought frightened her.  Chemical,
biological... weapons of mass destruction...
maybe even a nuclear device.  It was not beyond
the realm of possibility.  Her eyes met Mulder's
and she saw the same thoughts flit through his
brain in rapid-fire succession.

<We'll get out before then.>

<We have to,> she said, her hands shaking now. 
When she'd first volunteered for this mission,
it was with the expectation that she probably
wouldn't make it out alive.  But now she wanted
to live; she wanted Mulder alive as well.  She
wanted it all. <But how?  We have to think of
something.>

<Leave that to me.> He pushed away from the
table and walked to the bedroom, Julia trailing
behind in confusion.

What could he do?  She knew he had a contact for
the purpose of leaking out information on the
manifests, but other than that, he was just as
trapped in here as she was.  And he wasn't
Superman, despite his arrogant propensity for
thinking he could save the world.

When she rounded the doorframe, she was brought
up short by the sight of his bare ass.  Quickly
she half-turned and flushed at his small
chuckle.  She couldn't speak to him without
looking at him and he knew it, the bastard.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before, Julia,"
he drawled.

He was enjoying her discomfort, moving in and
out of her line of vision wearing only a smile. 
"Laundry day today," he murmured, picking up the
scattered clothes.  When he stopped before her,
she saw her dress held in one hand.  Passing it
to her, he said, "Make sure you empty your
pockets."

Skinner's manifest.  Jesus, she'd almost
forgotten where it was.  Quickly, she took the
dress from him and felt for the paper, closing
her eyes in relief when her fingers curled
around it.

Mulder moved to the dresser and pulled out a
pair of boxers.  As he slipped into them, he
threw over his shoulder, "Get my notepad,
Julia."  His notepad?  She was really confused
now.  As he walked to the closet, he added, "Get
your laundry together, too."

Though the question remained in her mind, she
did as he asked, retrieving the pen and paper
from the living room.  By the time she'd
returned, he was zipping up his suit pants.  She
breathed a silent sigh of relief; too much
Mulder skin tended to make it difficult to
concentrate.

Holding the pen in one hand and the pad in
another, she stood with the question on her
face.  What now?

Mulder walked over to her, slowly sweeping her
shirt-clad form with warm, appreciative eyes. 
As he took the pen and paper from her hands, he
murmured, "I need to leave him a note.  Not
enough starch in my shirts.  Too... clingy."

Eyes wide, she glanced down, sure he could see
every curve.  No way.  For one thing, it was
huge on her, almost hanging to her knees.  For
another, it wasn't like it was made of any
transparent material....

"Julia."  He brought her chin up with his
fingers, interrupting her inspection.  His eyes
twinkled with teasing for a second, as he took
in what she knew to be a furious blush.  Then
they darkened, a more serious tone accompanying
his next words.  "He's the only one I trust to
do this right."

Of course... the laundry man.  Mentally slapping
her forehead, she wondered why it was only now
making sense.  Ferrying messages hidden in the
black bags.  No wonder she'd sensed something
unusual about him.  God, she was getting soft. 
She'd missed that one by a mile.

Mulder smiled and began writing on the paper. 
Without looking up, he asked, "When do you want
that dress back?  By tomorrow night?  We're
eating downstairs tomorrow night, aren't we?" 
Glancing up at her, his smile was beaming.

Slowly, her lips turned up as well. <Yes, we
are, aren't we?  Tomorrow night.  Eight p.m.>

"Sounds good to me."  The pen moved furiously
over the paper.

Julia spied the black bag in the corner and
stuffed her dress inside, then held it open
while he put the note in the pocket of one of
his suit jackets.  They stuffed his clothes into
the bag, adding a few towels from the bathroom
for good measure.  As she cinched it closed, he
finished dressing.

"Would you?"  He turned from the mirror, his tie
hanging around his neck.

Reaching up, she mouthed, <Where are you going? 
It's not even six yet.>

"To work.  Lots to do today."

Like what? she posed, looking up from her task
with a crease of her brow.

"Paperwork.  You know... boring stuff.  I have a
backlog sitting on my desk that needs immediate
attention.  Mostly I need to catch up on my
reading."

He was going to try to memorize everything he
could, she realized.  Dates, places, modes of
transport... all in preparation for when they
escaped and were able to rescue the many
awaiting sure death.

And she thought he wasn't Superman.  With nimble
fingers, she finished the knot on his tie and
smoothed it down.  No, he wasn't Superman, but
he *was* the next best thing.  A human being...
compassionate, heroic, and flawed.  Most of all,
determined.  He may stumble, but he always rose
up.

<There.  Perfect.>

Mulder looked down at her for a moment as
fleeting concern shadowed his brow.  She knew he
didn't want to leave her alone today.  They were
so close to freedom and she'd be lying if she
said she felt secure.  But they had to keep up
the appearance of normalcy, and that meant
Mulder had to go to work. <Go on.  I'll be okay. 
I'll ask Eliza to come visit with me.>

Relaxing just a bit, he pulled her close and let
his lips touch her forehead.  "Okay."  Moist
heat warmed her skin as the smell of clean
cotton filled her nose.  She couldn't help but
inch closer.  "You know... you could give the
laundry man all your clothes..."  His hands
wandered over her back.  "My shirt suits you
just fine."

She left him standing there, his fingers
soothing the crease on his pants seat made by
her fingers.  His voice followed her out.

"Now *that's* a pinch I can live with."

Trouble was, so could she.  Her fingers were
getting *way* too used to touching Mulder,
period.



End Chapter Eighteen