Julia
Chapter Three

Disclaimers, etc. in Headers


Houston, Texas
January 28, 2001
11:30 a.m.


The ride to Houston Intercontinental Airport was
a much more pleasant ride than the commuter bus
ride to the Processing Facility.  It wasn't a
luxury vehicle by any means, quite utilitarian,
actually, the olive drab Suburban that had seen
better days as an Army officer's transportation. 
At least Julia didn't have to endure the ogles
of the facility workers being shuttled in and
out in six hour shifts.

"Aren't you excited?" Eliza asked, practically
brimming with glee.

Julia nodded and pasted a false smile on her
face.

"Come now, Julia, I know you've been on this
'vow of silence' kick, but you know they won't
actually take your voice away until you've been
accepted.  Speak up, I know you're anxious."

No, you're the one that's anxious, Julia
thought.  I'm trying to reconcile myself to a
life without speech.

To pacify Eliza though, she opened her mouth and
whispered, "I'm happy, Eliza.  Really, I am."

"Good, good," Eliza crooned, patting Julia's
hand.  "We're on our way to the top, dear, I
hope you realize that."

Julia hoped so; it had been her goal for the
past seven months.  The plan had gestated,
evolving into a living, breathing entity.  Its
birth, though, was not premature.  The time was
here and now; the means of delivery waiting upon
the air field like an oversized stork.

The Learjet stood at the ready, a single
domestic craft that looked obscenely out of
place among the colonists' foo fighters and
bulky transports.  She didn't see any colonists
among the figures fueling and servicing the
airplane, or for that matter, even around their
own aircraft, thank goodness.  It was her
understanding that, although they were the force
behind the 'repatriation' of the human race,
they themselves very seldom set foot on the
planet, preferring to watch from above in huge,
black obelisks that could obliterate the moon
from view.  They didn't have to dirty their -
appendages, she supposed - with the Earth's red
clay.  They didn't want the green grass or the
rain that fell upon it, not even the gold that
laid beneath it.

Their only interest was in the human resource,
in robbing the Earth of its greatest
accomplishment and its greatest woe.  It was
fitting, Julia thought, as the Suburban was
escorted through the gates onto the tarmac. The
Earth would be as it was before man corrupted
it.

They were met at the steps of the loading stairs
by an agent of the Ministry of Justice.  His
uniform was impeccable, the brass buttons
polished, the blue-black wool brushed and
smooth.

"Ms. Marcotte?  I'm Senior Agent Larson," he
said, extending a hand to Eliza.

Eliza grasped it eagerly.  "It's a pleasure,
Agent Larson."  Julia wanted to strangle her for
making them look so foolish.  "This is -"

"I know," he interrupted her, moving to stand in
front of Julia.  His eyes raked over her from
head to toe, taking in the fine bone structure,
the delicate ankles.  "She's amazing."

"That she is," Eliza beamed.  She took Julia's
hand.  "I think he'll be pleased."

"Oh, most definitely," Larson agreed softly.

Julia squirmed under the man's scrutiny, her
eyes pleading with Eliza to stop this bragging
and get on with it.  For once, Eliza complied,
tugging Julia to the airplane.

"We really must be on our way, Agent Larson.  We
don't want to keep him waiting."  She pulled
Julia up the steps quickly.

"No luggage?" Larson asked from behind them.

Julia snorted into her glove, hiding it with a
manufactured cough.  Eliza had spent their last
dime on the outfit Julia was wearing, she was so
sure of her success.  Which meant selling
everything they owned through the black market.

"We're having it sent along later," Eliza lied. 
"Can't be bothered with luggage when the
Appointing Authority beckons.  Come along now,
let's be off."

Larson shrugged and followed them into the
spacious cabin.  He gestured toward the sofa. 
"Have a seat, ladies, and buckle in.  We'll be
taking off in a few minutes.  Once we're aloft,
you may move around as you wish.  There's food
in the galley and liquor in the bar.  You may
even nap if you wish, there's a bedroom in the
rear."  With that, he disappeared into the
cockpit.

Julia knew it would be several hours before they
arrived in Washington, but she wasn't the least
bit hungry.  The butterflies in her stomach
prevented any semblance of hunger from
penetrating her brain.  She'd never liked
flying, especially in smaller aircraft.

Eliza, though, made for the caviar and champagne
as soon as Larson's voice signaled the all clear
over the onboard telephone.  "This is lovely,
Julia, have some," she sputtered between
crackers covered with caviar and bite-size
chocolate truffles.

Julia shook her head no, then nodded toward the
rear of the jet, the question gracefully asked
with the crook of her eyebrow.

"Sure, go ahead, dear.  It may be the last good
sleep you'll get for a long while," she said
with a protracted wink.

The sun was setting in a fiery red portrait of
clouds when Julia sat on the king-size bed.  She
leaned closer to the single small window and
sighed, indulging in the remembrance of her
previous life, the one 'before.'  There would no
longer be a place in her mind for the memories;
she would shove them away like a bastard child,
ruthlessly and without mercy.

She would forget her mother and her brothers. 
They were most likely dead now; there hadn't
been time to contact them when the Invasion
began.  With all her heart, she hoped they were;
it pained her to envision them as numb, faceless
workers in some government facility or
dispensary.

Her mother's face swam before her closed eyelids
one last time.  "You are my only daughter now,"
her mother had once said to her.  Julia wasn't
even that anymore;  she'd ceased to function as
the child of a loving mother months ago.  She
existed now, a beautiful, empty box wrapped in
pretty paper and ribbons.  Her heart beat, yes,
but it beat with the boom of a solitary bass
drum toward the inevitable martyrdom of the
warrior.

With a heavy sigh, she slipped off her shoes and
laid back upon the pillows, blanketing the
bedroom in darkness when she turned off the
lamp.  Despite her nervousness, it wasn't long
before her eyelids drifted shut and a troubled
sleep claimed her.


**********


Undisclosed location
West Virginia Mountains
June 2, 2000
9:00 a.m.


"Anything yet?"

Scully's question was hoarse as she walked into
the 'Control Room,' Krycek's designation for the
room that housed the communications equipment
and computers for the bunker.

"On the monitor?"  Frohike glanced at the
television screen that had been eerily silent
since they'd arrived.  "Nothing, nada, zip. On
Krycek's disc?"  He gave her a wry look, pursing
his lips as if to say, had we really expected to
find anything?  He didn't even bother to dignify
his own question with an answer.

She sighed, moving up behind Frohike to look at
the gibberish on the computer screen.  Folding
her arms, she leaned over and said, "He pulled a
fast one on us, didn't he?"

Her friend reached over and pulled out the chair
next to his and waited for her to sit.  "Oh,
there's something on it, all right.  Machine
language, mostly garbage.  I doubt we'll ever
get any useful information from it.  But I did
pick up a few worthy tidbits, though the
connection escapes me."

"What are they?" She leaned in closer as Frohike
scrolled up the page.

"Here..." he stopped about halfway up the
document.  "700.1.6.1.01' - look familiar?"

The first thought to cross her mind was
yesterday's date.  June 1, 2001.  The last four
digits of the number; she told Frohike so and he
agreed, asking, "I think I know what the other
two are... do you?"

Scully pondered the numbers for a moment.  700.1
- looked like something out of the Dewey Decimal
system, but she knew that couldn't be it.

Her sharp gasp echoed in the quiet room. 
"Time?"

"That would be my guess.  Seven o'clock.  The
'1' represents a.m."

"Jesus," she breathed.  "Cancerman knew this was
coming."

"And he knew the exact date and time."

Her thoughts were in chaos; so much to fit
together.  A single thought rose to the top of
the pile.  "Did he know this before Mulder was
abducted?"

"Of course he did," Krycek answered, making her
start with his stealthy entrance.

She turned and gritted out, "Don't you know how
to knock?"

"Sorry, Scully.  Missed that course in Spy
College."  He pulled up a chair to Frohike's
right and faced them both, the glow of the
screen illuminating his features.  "It didn't
occur to me until I heard your question, but yes
- I believe he did.  The last time I saww the
son-of-a-bitch, he told me that *I* never meant
to succeed.  The truth is, he never meant for me
to succeed."

"Never meant to succeed?"  Scully was dreading
the answer to her question.

"He wanted me to keep Mulder from that ship.  He
knew I'd love nothing better than to get him
back for sticking me in that hellhole in
Tunisia.  So what did I do?"

Scully closed her eyes and swallowed hard before
replying, "Guess you flunked 'Double-cross 101'
too, didn't you?"

"Bingo," Frohike murmured, then quieted, his
unease at his seat between the two adversaries
apparent as he squirmed.

"So what did he want Mulder for?" she asked,
keeping her fury at Krycek's mistake in check. 
Just barely, though.  She felt red fire creep up
her neck.

"Beats me," Krycek answered, then nodded at
Frohike.  "Find anything else?"

"Uh... I - I was just getting to that," the
little man stammered, quickly scrolling down the
page.  "Scully, maybe you can shed some light
here."

She saw the complex formulas, interspersed with
the oddball shapes of corrupted data.  One thing
she could make out, however, was Mulder's name. 
Below that was what looked suspiciously like -

"Lab work.  Specifically, blood work."  Dated
the day of Mulder's disappearance.

Cancerman had arranged for Mulder's abduction. 
Arranged for these tests.  Was Mulder even still
alive?

"Mulder's immune to the virus."  Krycek stated
the obvious.

"So am I," she supplied with a glare.  "So why
him?  Why not me?"

Krycek stood up with a sarcastic grin.  "Because
*you* flunked Genetics 101." Mean laughter
bubbled from him.  "'Fox... *I* am your
father...'"

He snorted, trying to hold in the laughter long
enough to add, "He set this all up to save
himself because he was dying.  It wouldn't have
been the first time he took Mulder for
experimentation."

Scenes from that horrid operating room that
Scully had found Mulder in flashed through her
mind.  Her blood ran cold.

He sobered as he said, "Too bad I killed him
before he saw the results of his handiwork."

Scully cringed at the thought.  Mulder wasn't
Cancerman's son.  It couldn't be.  Krycek was
grasping at straws.  But a nagging voice in the
back of her mind told her that it must be so.

And what of Mulder?  What pain must he be going
through... did Cancerman's people even care
enough to keep him alive?

She looked back at the blood work and an
anguished whisper broke through her lips.

"Mulder."


**********


January 28, 2001
En route to Washington, D. C.
10:45 p.m.


Her throat was cotton dry.  Suffocating and
frightening... Julia coughed and flung herself
up from the pillows, gasping for air, the name
stuck on the back of her tongue.

She stumbled to the bathroom and blinked away
the sleep, drawing a drink of water from the
tap.  It took only two gulps to wash away the
name forever.

"Julia?"  A soft knock at the bedroom door
forced her gaze away from the sad reflection in
the mirror.

"Yes?" she replied in a hoarse croak.

"Captain says we're about to land - you need to
come strap in."

"Coming."

With a swipe at her damps cheeks, she wiped the
lingering tears away, then straightened her
clothes and joined Eliza.

"Julia?"  Eliza took one look at her flushed
face and puffy eyes and knew.  "Have you been
crying?"

"I was sleeping," Julia said, averting her face
to peer at the black sky.  "I had a dream."

"Looks like it was a bad one.  Was it one of
those where you keep running and running and
can't find what it is you're looking for?  I
used to have those all the time... before I got
lucky with you."  She smiled and took Julia's
hand, giving it a squeeze.

She glanced at Eliza, then back out the window
at the stars that dotted the inky sky.

"I found what I was looking for."

Her fingers slipped from Eliza's and touched the
icy glass, the cold seeping into her heart.

"But I lost myself."



End Chapter Three