Julia
Prologue


June 1, 2000
Washington, D. C.
8:15 a.m.


Kurtzweil had been wrong.  It didn't happen on a
holiday.  Unless you counted days of religious
significance, which Scully seriously doubted the
men behind the Invasion put much stock into. 
But it did occur to her as she ran to her
apartment that maybe it was fitting.

Ascension Thursday.  The day Christ rose into
heaven, leaving the confines of his mortal being
forever.  Exactly ten days since Mulder had
ascended to the stars - if not by his own choice
-  in his own quest for immortality.


**********


7:20 a.m.


Anger and yearning fought for dominance within
her still.  She wasn't listening to the priest;
but then again - who would be this early in the
morning?  The only reason she'd attended mass on
this Holy Day of Obligation was because her
mother had reminded her last night that mass
attendance was required.  She never could
withstand the subtle guilt trip her mother laid
on her for such occasions.

Tired, lonely, and wondering where to turn to
next, Scully had given in to her mother's, "It
wouldn't hurt to say a prayer for Fox," and
decided to take a short breather on this warm
June day.  A nasty ear infection, exacerbated by
the trip to Oregon, had forced her to limit her
physical activity.  She'd started on
tetracycline three days ago after a week of
penicillin had done little good;  still she
experienced flashes of vertigo if she turned her
head too quickly.

Despite Skinner's concern, she'd hidden the
fading symptoms and thrown herself into the
search for Mulder.  Snapping at the green agents
assigned to the case by Kersh, she pushed them
and herself to the brink of exhaustion.  It
wasn't until Skinner pulled her aside yesterday
and told her to take it easy on them that she
realized the breadth of her anger.

Not at them for being inexperienced.  Not at
Skinner... though at one moment in the basement
several days ago, she wanted to scream at him
for losing Mulder.  The accusation had been on
the tip of her tongue before another dizzy spell
had sidetracked her.  It wasn't his fault; it
wasn't anyone's fault.

She didn't even really blame the people - or
whatever - behind Mulder's abduction.  They knew
exactly how to feed into his search for the
truth.

At times, the only person to blame was Mulder
himself.

As she knelt for the Communion prayer, she tried
hard to clear her mind of those thoughts. 
Mulder hadn't gone willingly, he hadn't.  But
she couldn't help her anger sometimes, much as
many people felt after the loss of a loved one.

Why did you leave me? she wanted to scream at
the heavens. You should have fought harder. 
Didn't you know how much I needed you here? 
What am I supposed to do without you now?

She pushed aside those useless questions and
bowed her head, clasping her hands tightly. 
Days of false leads and dead ends had left her
searching her own soul for the strength to
continue.  It was too soon to give up, but she
needed something besides sheer will to bolster
her.

Against all reason, she couldn't deny that,
besides having faith in science for answers, she
also relied on faith in God to bring Mulder back
to her; faith to give her the strength to find
him.  She'd witnessed the power of prayer, from
the Navajo spirit walk with Albert Hosteen to
the Sepher Vetzirah that brought Isaac Luria
back from the grave.  Her logical mind could not
refute the fact that sometimes, the physical had
to give way to the metaphysical.

It was with this hope that she knelt on the
velvet kneelers at St. John's.  A few quick
prayers for Mulder's safety, for her own
unfailing determination, and the calming rote of
the Order of Mass.  Then she'd begin again.

The priest signaled for the congregation to rise
and she stood absently, joining in on the Lord's
Prayer.

"Our Father, who art in heaven...."

It started as a trickle of humming, the siren
that broke through on the, "... hallowed be thy
name."

Father Zagst faltered and looked into the
incense-filled air of the church as if he could
see the warning.  So did the others at mass,
Scully included, lifting their eyes to the
heavens for answers.

At first, she thought it was a test of the Civil
Defense System.  But right upon the heels of
that thought came another... those tests usually
happened at noon, and they were broadcast on the
morning radio news as such.

And she remembered no such announcement as she'd
driven here.

The wail of the siren was joined by another, and
another, informing all that this was no test. 
Something was dreadfully wrong.  The people
around her began to murmur, then gasp with
anxiety.  Father Zagst, just as panic-stricken,
continued the prayer, this time in a booming,
strained voice.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..."

He didn't pause once when the screams began to
drown out his mantra.  A slight stammer began
when the first explosion rocked the stone walls
of the church.  He stood there, sputtering in
the cacophony of the panicked parishioners,
hysteria manifesting itself in denial, as if he
thought he could block out the world with his
words.

The hundred or so people in the church stampeded
with fear and Scully immediately left her pew
and started walking against the stream of bodies
to the altar.  Father Zagst's eyes were wide and
he looked as if he'd lost all sense of
awareness.

"Father?" she called out above the din, moving
closer.

It was then she saw the bee.

Crawling up his cheek like it was following a
road map to his forehead, where it sat square
between his glassy eyes.  He didn't even seem to
notice its presence, though shock finally set
in, silencing his words.

The church grew quiet with the exit of the last
parishioners, the sirens fading away.  Scully
was stilled by the cessation of his voice,
stopping just a few feet away from his statue-
like figure.

Rubbing its hind legs together, sprinkling the
black soot covering its wings over the priest's
nose, the bee moved away quickly to an unsmudged
patch of pasty skin, its small hiss of
displeasure at the dirt reaching her ears in an
instant.  When it found purchase again, it
dropped its stinger to deliver the fatal blow.

His pupils dilated to enormous proportions,
almost indistinguishable from the early morning
shadows that filled the church.  It took her a
second to realize it wasn't a normal
physiological response to the sting - the whites
of his eyes were liquid with black oil. 
Sinister, invading... taking him over in a
heartbeat.

Her heart soared to her throat and she began to
back away.

A foolish thought accompanied her rising panic. 
That wasn't supposed to be.  It couldn't be...
the bees didn't carry the black oil.  Or did
they?

Scully immediately pulled out her cell phone,
intending to call Skinner.  She knew what was
happening... did he?  The silence that greeted
her ears was deafening, much more so than the
smoky, ash-filled chaos that swirled around the
statues, bouncing off the stained-glassed walls
of the church.  She gave the man on the altar
one last look, noting his glazed eyes.

But what scared her more was not the priest's
reaction; it was the movement behind him.

Scully looked up from his face to the huge
stained glass portrait of Jesus Christ that
usually came to life with the glow of sunlight. 
The storm cloud behind it made a normally
benevolent face angry and twisted with
blasphemous rage, darkening the cheeks and
pulling the eyebrows together.  It moved the
Savior's face with a hum of menace, a tidal wave
of drones with singular purpose.

The portrait frightened her, frowning upon her
as if laying the blame at her feet.

That was when she decided to run.

Her car was useless; already the streets were
clogged with vehicles attempting to escape.  A
tanker truck sat in the middle of a nearby deli,
accounting for one of the explosions she'd
heard.  Numerous other fires burned, obscuring
her vision.  She set out on foot, hoping to make
the six block run to her apartment without
succumbing to the bees.

Through the chaotic streets, dodging the insects
and the infected, she ran.  It was like a scene
from a bad horror movie - zombies staggering,
then falling when human fright finally gave in
to mindless existence.  She was fortunate enough
to stay ahead of most of the swarm and to swat
at the insects that got too close.  As she was
lucky to sidestep the black oil that oozed from
those that were crushed beneath the wheels of
out-of-control vehicles.

The vaccine, the one Mulder had administered to
her in Antarctica... it would work if she got
stung, wouldn't it?  It was her only hope as she
ran the obstacle course of wayward automobiles
and staggering bodies. 

Please let it work, she prayed.  I'm not ready
to die.

Just when the relative safety of her apartment
was in sight, a gloved hand stopped her
progress.

"Come with me."

She looked up into the sweat-tinged face of the
last person she expected to see.  Even Mulder's
face would have been less shocking to her.

Scully pulled her arm from the cold grip and
spat out, "I'm not going anywhere with you,
Krycek."  In a flash, she faced him over the
barrel of her gun.  "Leave me alone."

"You gonna shoot me, Scully?" he laughed, his
eyes glittering in his dark face.  "I don't
think so; I'm your ticket out of here."

"I don't need your help," she replied, backing
up the sidewalk.  She could hear the growing hum
of the bulk of the approaching swarm beneath the
layers of war-like sound; it hadn't yet made it
this far, but people were scrambling for their
cars and screaming with terror already, having
heard the Civil Defense sirens and the news
reports.

Suddenly, despite the chaos that surrounded them
like a hail storm, it sunk in totally that this
was Alex Krycek trying to save her.  Krycek...
who worked for....

"Where's Mulder?" Her yell was frantic as the
gun trembled in her hands.  "Where is he?"

Krycek laughed incredulously.  "Hell if I know,
Scully.  Who the fuck cares, anyway?  At the
white chalkiness of her face, he pressed on. 
"He's gone, Scully.  Not coming back."

"You - you work for *them.* Tell me where Mulder
is!"  The threat of tears made her hoarse.  "You
knew this was coming... now tell me!"

He turned at the approach of a vehicle, then
whirled back to her.  "I just found out a few
hours ago," he hissed.  "And I don't know where
Mulder is.  But if you want any chance of
getting out of here alive, Scully..."

The sight of the beat-up VW van that screeched
to a stop beside them was a blessing.  "Looks
like my ride is here, Krycek."  She sidestepped
him, giving him a small smile, her gun steady
upon him.

"Frohike?"  Please don't let me be hallucinating
the van, she prayed.

"Get in, Scully!"  The gnomish face poked out as
the back door slid open.

Scully didn't hesitate, scrambling into the
vehicle's back seat and crouching on the floor,
gun still in hand.

Krycek fumed on the sidewalk, his face dark. 
"The date is upon us, Scully... and I've got
something you need."

"You don't have anything I need, Krycek." 
Certainly not Mulder, she added silently. She
couldn't resist a final jab, reaching for the
door handle.  "So long - ow!"

Scully was stopped short by a piercing pain at
the back of her neck.  Reaching up with her left
hand, she felt an overwhelming sense of deja vu. 
Dear Lord, she thought.  Not again.

As if in slow motion, her fingers wrapped around
the insect and she brought it around before her
face.  Her mouth dropped, as well as the gun
from her right hand, thumping to the floor.

"Jesus!"

Frohike's panicked hiss sounded like it came
from far away.

"Scully... Scully!"

Collapsing against Frohike, she felt her throat
constrict, making further speech impossible.

No! she wanted to scream.  I've been vaccinated!

But apparently it wasn't working.  Her arms,
legs... her mouth.

All as useless as the vaccination.

She would be good as dead in a matter of
moments, as the virus would take hold and turn
her internal organs to mush.

Krycek muscled his way into the front seat of
the vehicle and reached for her gun, shoving
Byers past the bucket seats into the back.  She
watched all of this with mute panic, but could
do nothing.

He was a split second away from throwing her out
of the vehicle, she just knew it.  Not that it
mattered; her last thoughts were for the safety
of her friends.  If she could have spoken she'd
have insisted upon her abandonment herself.

But Krycek stilled, his eyes upon her face.  A
soulless grin dawned in his gaze.  "Well... I'll
be damned."

What? she wanted to shout.  Someone tell me
what's happening!

Her hand twitched, the nerves re-connecting and
firing with panic.  It was with some difficulty,
but she brought her right hand up to her face. 
Itching, her cheeks were itching like a swarm of
gnats had decided to picnic on her skin.

Brushing her lower eyelids, she scratched and
scratched, a hum of distress breaking free from
her open vocal cords.

"It's okay, Scully," Krycek said.  "Relax.  It's
inert, dead."

Dead?  She wasn't dead?  What was he talking
about?  Her hand pulled away from her face and
into focus.  The pads of her fingers were
crusted with ash... no... not ash.

The black oil.  Crumbling to dust, falling from
under her fingernails to the moldy shag carpet
of the van.  Krycek was right;  it was dead.

She wasn't going to die.  A sob clamored for
release and she took a deep breath, letting her
eyes close with relief.  They were safe.  From
her, at least.

"Get going," he growled at Langly, bringing the
gun up to the blond head of the driver.  "Now!" 
With a lurch, they sped away.

"What the hell is going on?" Byers' question was
frightened as he crawled from the front to the
back, helping Frohike cradle Scully's limp form. 
"You can't just commandeer this vehicle -"

"Same as before, stupid," Frohike interrupted,
bringing his boot down to crush the insect that
had fallen to the floor.  "Africanized honeybee. 
And I'd say our new friend here is currently
holding all the cards.  Am I right?"

Krycek glanced over his shoulder for an instant,
then back at the road ahead, the gun never
wavering from Langly's temple.

"Looks like I am, comrade," he murmured, then
addressed Langly.  "Now... head northwest, like
a good little Gunman."

"Scully?"  Frohike's worried face swam before
her eyes.  "What can we do?"

Nothing, she wanted to answer.  Nothing.  We're
safe.  That's all that matters.

Her pounding heart skipped a beat as she fainted
from exhaustion.



End Prologue