From: cofax@mindspring.com   
      
   Gonna Be Different This Time   
   by cofax   
      
   Part 2 of 4   
      
      
      
      
      
   "What do you *mean* I can't go?"   
      
   Mulder could hear her voice from upstairs, where he was cleaning his gun   
   one last time.  They had other weapons available--he hadn't seen Frohike   
   without his shotgun in weeks--but he was most comfortable with his SIG and   
   he wanted to make sure it wasn't going to jam when the time came to use   
   it.  Jack said it was possible there wouldn't be any violence, but after   
   the past six months Mulder wasn't taking any chances.   
      
   "You're our only physician, Dr. Scully.  And we can't take the risk of   
   anything happening to you."   
      
   "You'll have Linda."  Her voice was thin; Mulder hadn't realized how   
   desperate she was to be involved in the operation.  This wasn't like   
   Scully.  But then Scully hadn't been like Scully for some time.   
      
   Jack's voice was clipped;  he was losing patience.  "Linda isn't here, and   
   she's not a medical doctor.  And she's--you've seen her.  Ari's death hit   
   her hard.  You're staying here, Dr. Scully, and that's an order."   
      
   There was a long silence, and then the door slammed.  Mulder glanced   
   through the window to his right, and saw Scully stalk out into the   
   backyard.  She paced angrily a few times, and then stopped to lean against   
   a leafless tree, her eyes fixed on nothing.   
      
   It was nearly sunset; they were leaving at full dark, and with luck it   
   would all be over by midnight.  Well, not over.  It would never really be   
   over.  But this job could be.   
      
   They were on the clock now.  Carvalho and his friends had attacked Aberdeen   
   yesterday, and this morning Mulder had crouched on the roof of the   
   farmhouse and watched dozens of trucks and tanks roll east toward Baltimore   
   from Fort Detrick.  With any luck security around the power plant was thin   
   and distracted.   
      
   It was an expensive diversion; unless at least two more divisions defected   
   in the next few days, Carvalho was going to take heavy losses.  He planned   
   to retreat to the northwest and join up with mutineers in the hills outside   
   Pittsburgh, but he would probably lose a third of his men getting   
   there.  Of course, it was possible Carvalho could take Aberdeen, which   
   according to Jack would strike a crippling blow to the Consortium's control   
   of the mid-Atlantic.  But Mulder wasn't clinging to possibilities anymore.   
      
   He shifted in his seat and picked up his weapon to finish the job, but   
   paused when he saw Gibson slip into the yard from the side gate and   
   approach Scully.  Gibson looked even more twitchy than usual, and he pulled   
   his cap off before he began speaking.  He spoke for a few minutes, his   
   hands waving gently in explanation.  Mulder would have turned away, as he   
   couldn't hear Gibson from this distance anyway, but Scully's reaction   
   locked him in place.  She came erect suddenly, and put her hand over her   
   mouth.  After a long moment, she let it go, and said a few words, her   
   expression severe.  When Gibson nodded, she put a hand on his arm, then   
   turned back to the house.   
      
   It was only a few moments before Mulder heard her coming up the   
   stairs.  These days she wasn't announced by the clatter of four-inch heels,   
   but the thump of Vibram-soled hiking boots.  Even in boots, though, she had   
   the lightest tread of any of them.   
      
   His bag was packed and closed by the time she arrived at his   
   door.  Whatever it was, he didn't have much time to waste; the team was   
   leaving within the hour.   
      
   "Mulder, it's Bill.  Gibson found Bill!"   
      
   Whatever the words were Mulder had expected to hear, these weren't   
   them.  He turned in surprise, to see Scully caught in the doorway, her   
   hands gripping the doorframe at shoulder height.  The last rays of sunset   
   poured in through the window across the bare woods, the parking lots, the   
   empty storefronts of Frederick, and made Scully's winter-pale skin glow   
   with ruddy health.  But the expression on her face was what caught Mulder's   
   breath:  she looked more alive than she had since they had left Heniston,   
   since before her mother had died.   
      
   He swallowed.  This was going to be bad.  "Bill?  Your brother Bill?"   
      
   Scully nodded.  "Gibson says he's on the installation, maybe even in   
   USAMRIID.  We have just enough time to get in and get him out before--"   
      
   "Mulder?  You ready?"  Jack's voice came crisply down the hallway.   
      
   "Yeah, I'll be right down."  Mulder slung the pack on his back and checked   
   his weapon again.  There was a time he'd loved to dress up for some funky   
   poaching.  Now he'd had enough slinking in the shadows to last the rest of   
   his life.   
      
   "Mulder?"  Scully's voice had dropped, but she didn't leave the   
   doorway.  "Did you hear me?  It's Bill."   
      
   He bit his lip.  The color in the room was fading as the sun dipped below   
   the horizon.  "Yeah, I heard you.  How does Gibson know he's   
   there?"  Fearful of the answer.   
      
   "He---uh, he heard him.  Like he heard us."  She wouldn't meet his   
   eyes.  Jesus.  She knew better.  This was *Scully*.  But this was Scully   
   desperate to find one last member of her family alive.  If Gibson had told   
   him Sam was alive, and less than ten miles away, Mulder would probably be   
   reacting like Scully was now.  But they didn't have any more time.  It was   
   too late.  And he'd stopped taking stupid chances, risking others' lives on   
   his wild-ass hunches.  Far too much was riding on this expedition for him   
   to blow it now, even for Scully's sake.   
      
   "Scully.  Scully, look at me."  Her gaze slid off to the side, then,   
   desperately, met his.  Christ, how could she still have so much hope   
   left?  "We can't, Scully.  We can't.  We have to go *now* or the whole   
   thing falls apart.  We blow the plant tonight, or all those people dying in   
   Baltimore are dying for nothing."   
      
   She shook her head.  The knuckles on her hands stood out where she hung on   
   to the doorway.  "Mulder, it's--he's my brother.  How can I--even if--even   
   if Gibson might be making a mistake--we have to try!"   
      
   "Scully, we can't.  We just--we can't.  It's too late.  And Gibson's   
   probably wrong.  Why would Bill be here, anyway?  He was in   
   California!  Think about it--it's not logical."   
      
   "Mulder--"  She said once more, then stopped.  Her face was in shadow now,   
   and he could only see her eyes, dark and hopeless, locked on his.  She   
   closed them, then, and dropped her hands to her sides.  "Right.  It's too   
   late, and Gibson's probably wrong anyhow.  He--he only said he heard   
   someone  who sounded like me, who didn't belong there."  Her voice was   
   toneless again, the color gone from it as the light drained from the sky.   
      
   Mulder gathered her to him, wrapping his arms around her.  Her hair was dry   
   and flyaway in the cold, and it clung to his face as his rubbed his cheek   
   against the top of her head.  "Could be anyone, Scully.  You know that."   
      
   She nodded against his chest.  "Could be anyone."  She pulled away, wiped a   
   hand across her eyes quickly, then reached out to pull his collar out from   
   under the shoulder-strap of his pack.  "Be careful."   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)