#xfwc prompt: international

[frangipanidownunder]

Under a wide sky: Chapter 7

Final part of my AU set in 1950s Australia for @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International. Chapter Seven: End and Beginning

Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter Three

Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six

When Mulder was a boy and Samantha just an annoying toddler, he would love to ignore his sister, playing with his tin soldiers and creating heroes in his mind. She would sit on the floor of the small living room whilst their mother dusted or baked and suck her thumb, staring at him. She was a placid child, wide-eyed and shy. But she loved to watch him; he could feel her eyes boring into him. Sometimes he felt that she was trying to read his mind. When she was old enough for school, she was a bright learner, just like him, but again, she would sit next to him at the oak table in the draughty kitchen and watch him as he did his sums or wrote his English story. When she went missing, he was sure that her mind would reach out to his. He searched the skies, mentally calling out for her. She never did come home. And now there were so many years between them, he wondered if his mind had closed off.

 But when he saw his son sitting at the cracked, lop-sided table Mulder saw those same serious eyes and instantly felt that same deep connection. He heard Scully gasp and saw her pained expression and realised that she felt it too.

           “William?” Mulder stepped forward, closing the physical distance between himself and his son. He could see the dryness on his son’s lips, the fair stubble that dotted his upper lip and chin, the gold flecks in his blue eyes. Yet, the truth was that there were years between them. Mulder could only hope that he could open his mind to his child.

           “Yes, it’s me.”

           Skinner clasped his hands in front of him, wringing his fingers. Scully stood close to Mulder, her hands resting over her abdomen.

           “Why are you here?” Mulder tried to keep his voice even, despite his urge to take the boy in his arms and hug him close. “How are you here?”

           “I have a story to tell you. And a plan.”

William stood up and looked at his parents. His brow quirked, just like Scully and she began to sob at the expression. Skinner pulled out another chair and Mulder helped her sit down.

The young man shook his head. “I’m sorry. But I had to come. Despite the risks.”

 Mulder had read his fair share of science fiction comics. What he understood about time travel, he’d gleaned from those magazines. How would their son’s appearance in this dimension, before he’d even been born, impact the rest of their lives? His own life? The ripples of this kind of interference could, theoretically, travel forever.

“Can we go somewhere else? The smell of this place is making me nauseous.”

Scully rested her head in her hands and breathed deeply. Mulder rubbed her back.

“Where’s a safe place, William? For you and for us?”

Skinner cleared his throat. “You can come to mine.”

 Skinner’s apartment was plush and spacious. Mulder felt the same wonder that struck with every new discovery in this decade. Living conditions were comfortable beyond measure. When he thought back to his digs on the Skinner station he nearly laughed out loud. If only he could tell this Skinner that he really needed to work on his worker’s accommodation. But, here, he simply sank into the leather sofa with Scully and waited for their son to gather his thoughts.

           William paced, hands on his hips. He flexed his jaw. It was a little disconcerting for Mulder to witness these mannerisms, his own. He caught Scully’s gaze and she pushed her lips together, offering him a tiny nod of acknowledgement.

           “I’ve travelled here to help you stop what’s about to happen. The man you know as Spender or Old Smokey or Cigarette Smoking Man has been using technology from a crashed space craft for more than 60 years,” his voice stilled and he looked directly at Mulder with wet eyes. “Sorry, it’s just so weird to finally meet you.”

           “Same here, buddy,” Mulder said, his throat constricting.

           William chuffed out a laugh. “In 1950, in country Victoria in Australia a craft crashed and Spender, then mayor of a small town called…”

           “Tarra Warra,” Mulder said simultaneously.

           “Yes,” William said.

           “I was there with Scully when the craft came to life,” Mulder looked from William to Scully to Skinner.

Skinner frowned. “What are you saying, Mulder? That you’ve travelled too?”

           Mulder nodded. “I’m Fox Mulder, born 1920. I was trapped with Scully at Spender’s property in Tarra Warra when the craft sparked into life. There was a bright light and then I woke up here in hospital.”

           “Mulder had been missing for months, abducted,” Skinner said to William. “He was found dead, tortured. We buried him.”

           “Back from the dead. And now back from the past,” William replied.

           Scully pinched the bridge of her nose. Mulder noticed the tremble in her hands.

           “The craft…but why didn’t Scully and the others travel with me?”

           William shrugged. “The technology was still new then. I would suggest you are the first human to have survived the experiment.”

           “Spender was planning to send Scully and I together. To retrieve something important to his plan. I suspect that something was you. We were to find you and take you back.”

           Nodding, William replied. “We know that he developed the technology using that original craft. He spent time perfecting his experiments.”

Scully held her forehead with her hand. “Animals, sheep, cows, they disappeared. Then came back. But they always came back dead,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut, whispering. “I don’t know why I know that, but I do.”

           “It’s like a memory, Scully,” Mulder said, his arm around her shoulder.

“He then shipped the technology around the world. People disappeared without a trace.”

“How do you fit in, William?” Skinner stared hard at the young man.

One of Mulder’s visions, when he woke last week in the hospital, was of him and Scully cradling a newborn between them. It didn’t seem to matter what era it was, but their child was always desperately wanted, desperately loved and desperately beautiful. He suffered crushing pangs of guilt about how his parents must have felt when Samantha disappeared. A child is so protected from the cruel realities of the adult world, no matter how intelligent or precocious. He had been sad, lost and confused, but he didn’t feel the burden of loss that his parents would have endured. When he cared for Emmanuelle, back in the French village, he knew he was doing so as a way of processing what had happened to Samantha. But even then, he knew that what he felt was nowhere near as strong as the pull a parent would feel.

Seeing William pacing in front of him, his heart was shredded. If he was here, alone, that meant something had prevented he and Scully from protecting him, from doing their duty, from being his parents. What had happened? He wasn’t sure he could cope with the knowledge.

William sucked in a deep breath. “When I was not quite a year old you gave me up for adoption, out of fears for my safety.”

Scully clutched at her stomach and doubled over, moaning deeply. Mulder placed an arm over her waist and laid his head down on her back, riding her shuddering sobs.

“It’s okay, Mum. Really, it’s okay. I’m fine. I’ve done fine. My parents are wonderful people. I was safe. I was loved. You did the right thing. And I always knew I’d meet you again. I can’t explain it, I just knew.”

Mulder lifted himself up and clutched at Scully’s shoulders, pulling her up against him. She turned her face to his shoulder and sobbed quietly.

“When I was about 15, I started to get these strange sensations, a pulling, a kind of a need to be somewhere. One time, my adoptive parents found me ten miles away from our home, walking in my nightclothes, no shoes on. I was completely unaware of what was happening to me. One night, I went out on our back deck and looked up at the skies and everything fell into place.”            “What did, William?” Mulder asked.

“I left the next day. I didn’t have a clue where I was headed but I knew where I was going. It’s hard to explain. I ended up in Virginia. At CGB Spender’s property. Where he stored a craft – a UFO.”

“He was expecting me. He had this arrogant grin on his face. He told me that he knew I was coming.” William stopped and smiled. A real Mulder smile. “So I told him that I knew I was coming too because my future self told me.”

Skinner’s throat rumbled with a low chuckle. “This kid is definitely yours, Mulder.”

William grinned briefly. “I stayed there learning all I could. From the original crashed craft Spender managed to develop technology so refined that we travel using chips under the skin.” He looked at Scully.

She shifted towards Mulder, rubbing at her nape.

“It’s not the same as yours, Mum. Yours was an earlier model, cruder. Mine is made from the same material as the craft. That’s the work I learned. How to program it, how to control it. And throughout this time, Spender thought he was brainwashing me, but I trained myself to block him out.”

“How did you do that?” Mulder asked.

“I looked at the skies, studied the stars. They grounded me.” William chuffed out a laugh. “I know that sounds strange, but it’s the only way I can explain it. The night sky draws me in and clears my mind.”

Mulder looked up at his son and nodded. “I understand more than you think, William.”

“He travels often, forward and back. He has picked off many of his enemies, disappeared them. But I escaped and I have the technology up here. I can create the chips but I can also destroy the craft,” he tapped his head. “I am now his greatest enemy.”

“And we were supposed to bring you back to where it all began. So that he could eliminate you.”

Scully paled and her hands trembled in her lap. “That’s not going to happen.”

Skinner rubbed his chin. “You said you had a plan, William. What is it?”

“To go back. To Tarra Warra. To where it all began.”

“No,” Scully repeated. “You can’t.” Her voice waned to a whisper.

“It’s the only way, Mum.”

 Skinner paced the kitchen, Scully stood at the sink and stared at the leaves of the maidenhair fern that tumbled out of a pot on the kitchen counter. Mulder chewed on the inside of his cheek, waiting for the right moment. He stood long enough for his knees to lock up. He thought about Samantha and how he had changed direction after her disappearance. What would he have done with his life if she’d still been with him? He thought about Emmanuelle and how, in the end, he couldn’t save her. He thought about the Scully he’d left behind, in Tarra Warra, at the mercy of Spender. He didn’t have a choice. He had to go back with William. But he had to tell Scully first.

           “I know you’re going, Mulder. I can hear you thinking.”

           “Then you’ll know I have no choice.”

           She turned towards him with wet eyes. “I know you’d do anything to protect our child. Even if this isn’t, strictly speaking, your child.”

           Touching her, feeling the warm tightness of her abdomen, he swallowed back his own tears. “You’re protecting him now. Nurturing him. And look what a great job you did, Scully. You did this.” He turned to William, who was standing in the doorway.

           “Mulder…” she sobbed.

           William moved forward. “We go together, tonight. We find Spender, I disable the craft and we…”

           “Eliminate him?” Scully offered, rubbing the sides of her baby bump.

           William said nothing.

           “And what happens here?” Skinner said.

           “That’s the part I can’t answer,” William said, rubbing the back of his neck.

           “I lose Mulder,” Scully said, pressing the back of her hand to her lips. “Again.”

 They travelled back to the warehouse in silence. Mulder stared out the rain-streaked windows, the night sky star-less and brooding. Scully sat rigid beside him. William, in the front seat, looked straight ahead and Skinner drove, punctuating the silence with the occasional crack of his neck.

           William held the door open for his mother, and held her hand as she lifted herself out of the car. Mulder smiled at his courtesy.

           “There’s no point in coming inside,” William told her.

           “I want to say goodbye,” she whispered.

           Mulder moved towards her. “This is not goodbye, Scully. There’s never a goodbye for us.”

           He drew her into an embrace, the feel of their unborn son between them. He breathed her in, committing her scent to memory. This Scully, his 1950 Scully, all his Scullies, they all smelled the same. They smelled like the person he loved.

 He stood with William. Skinner took a weeping Scully away.

William gathered a bag that he strapped over his shoulders. “Always travel well-prepared.”

“And after? What happens?”

“I return to the future and we destroy the technology. So that it can never be used again.”

“That might be harder than you think. The power you’ve got in that chip. It changes everything.”

William nodded and took Mulder’s hands and closed his eyes. Through Mulder’s tears their hands blurred and it was hard to see where he began and William ended.

           “All great and honourable actions are undertaken with great difficulty.”

“What?” Mulder croaked.

William chuffed. “You’ll understand one day. It’s time, Dad.”

           The light was intense, burning his eyes. He called out for Scully.

 He felt numb. His ears seemed to be filled with cotton wool. His temples throbbed. His eyes were stuck together. His lips were raw. His lungs were on fire. He had no idea where he was. The hard ground pressed into his shoulder blades and hips. He lifted an arm over his face, bent a knee up, tried to get a purchase to roll onto his side, but flailed hopelessly.

           The voice was distant at first. A dream voice. But it became more insistent.

           “Mulder, can you hear me? Mulder, it’s me, Scully. Wake up.”

           Her hands were tender over his face, his chest, his arms.

           “The baby, the baby,” he said, unsticking his eyes.

           She was hovering over him, her eyes wet and wide, frown lines deep between her brows. He looked at her, her face, her hair, her body.

           “Are you okay, Scully? Is William okay?”

           “William?” she pressed her hand to his forehead and sighed. “You’re running a fever, Mulder.”

           He lifted his head and cried out in pain. “Where are we? Where’s William?”

           “We’re in the bush, outside Spender’s property.”

           Mulder heaved himself up, leaning on Scully. She felt so solid and comforting in his grasp. “What happened?”

           “Skinner, Bill and the others have gone to get a car to take us back. You’ve been out for a while. They should be here soon.”

           “Bill? You mean William?”

           She tutted. “We haven’t called him that in years.”

           Mulder rubbed his gritty eyes. He turned onto his knees and stood up, limbs heavy with fatigue. “We have to find William.”

           “Bill is coming soon. With the others. I’m more worried about where Old Smokey and his crew are. They won’t have taken too kindly to us breaking out.”

           “William will protect us. He knows what to do. We have to get to him.” He took her hand and looked at her for the first time.

This was his 1950 Scully. She wasn’t pregnant. She didn’t know who William was. He didn’t know how much time had passed since the bright white light exploded with the humming of the craft. But where was William?

           “Mulder, I hear the car. We can go back to the farm. Work things out.”

           The engine cut out and they staggered out to meet it, Scully doing her best to support his weight. He looked up when he heard angry voices, thuds and hisses and muffled scraping. Scully heaved him upright and his vision straightened. Before him stood Skinner and Bill holding William by an arm each and behind, jumping from the tray of the ute, Byers, Langly and Frohike.

           William looked directly at Mulder. “Tell them who I am.”

 Mulder swallowed. Scully sucked in a sharp breath. Skinner scowled, Bill yanked William’s arm behind his back. The other three looked at each other, perplexed.

           “This is William. He’s my…son. He knows about the craft, about Spender.”

           Scully quirked a brow and jutted out her jaw. “This…man is not that much younger than you, Mulder. How can he be your son?”

           “It’s not quite what it seems. William is…not…from here.”

           Bill Scully snarled. “You’re not from here, Yank. Now why don’t you tell us what the hell is really going on?”

           “Settle down, Bill.” Skinner’s warning seemed to calm Bill Scully a little.

           William struggled against his captor’s grips. “It’s the truth. But there’s no time for the full story. If we can find Spender and his craft I can destroy it. Then we can all go…home and live our lives.”

           “What is he talking about, Mulder?” Skinner’s tone of authority cut through the chatter of the others.

           Mulder looked at Scully and took her hand. He squeezed it, hoping to convey to her his genuine concern. “This is William. He is our son, Scully. But he is our son from another time, from the future.” He held up his hands against her imminent protest. “I know, I know. But it’s the truth. The strangest, most unbelievable of truths, but nevertheless the truth. He has the key to destroying Spender and the craft he has constructed using the alien technology. The craft that, years in the future, has become Spender’s greatest weapon. A tool for him to destroy his enemies in all lifetimes. But this time, this place, this universe, this is the one where it all started. If we stop him now we stop him forever.”

 Missy rushed to the gate, tail wagging. When William bent to pat her head she licked his face and rolled over for a tummy rub. He looked at Scully.

           “You’ve got a dog.”

Mulder frowned at him.

“You’ve had a few over the years. One was this fluffy little…never mind.”

Scully knelt down next to William and rubbed Missy behind the ears “She likes you. That’s a good sign.”

“I know this is hard for you. You’re naturally sceptical. But there is a small part

of you that is open to the magical and the mystical, the unexplained and the unfathomable. It doesn’t come to the surface often, but it exists.

She raised her eyebrows. “Really? I thought parents were supposed to recognise character traits in their offspring. Not the other way round.”

William smiled. “You also have a wicked sense of humour when you want to and you sound really funny with an Australian accent.”

Mulder laughed out loud.

She stood up. “Are you really who you say you are?”

William’s face straightened. “Yes. I promise you I am.”

She looked at Mulder and then to the others walking up the steps into the house. “Because if you’re not, you might find yourself up against people who don’t share my openness towards the magical. Or my sense of humour.”

She walked towards the verandah, Missy at her feet.

Mulder looked at William and smacked him on the back.

“She’s amazing in every universe.”

William nodded and grinned. “And she’s my Mum.”

 Bill Scully was pacing the floor, sculling a shot of whiskey. Skinner was standing, arms crossed, face set. The other three were sitting at the kitchen table.

“William,” Byers said. “It’s good to meet you.” He offered the young man a hand.

“We’ve been aware of the craft and its ability for some time, but the experiments Spender has been conducting have been rudimentary in this lifetime. To meet someone who has a full understanding of this technology is an honour.”

“It’s an honour to meet the kind of people who keep a track on this sort of thing.

Without your…paranoia the rest of the world would just remain in the dark about the clandestine activities of the military, of the government, of men like Spender and their power.”

“Tell me that in the future people actually listen to us, take note of those clandestine activities, open their eyes to the possibility that the government might not always act in the best interests of the people,” Frohike said.

William smiled. “You won’t believe what technology you’ll have access to in years to come. And you’re going to love the internet.”

“The what?” Langly asked.

Bill Scully slammed his glass down on the table. “Why don’t we cut the chit-chat and work on a plan? This kid reckons he’s a time-traveller but all I hear is fancy talk. If Spender really has been doing these experiments, causing trouble in this town, what are you going to do about it?”

William cleared his throat. “I need to go to his property. I can destroy the craft and I can eliminate this Spender so that his knowledge doesn’t go any further.”

Skinner stepped forward. “You can’t do it on your own. I’m coming.”

Mulder nodded. “I’m going too.”

Bill shook his head. “I can’t believe I have to go back to that place again. Dana, this is crazy.”

“I know, Bill. I’m still not sure I believe it all, but the animals, the lights…and the visions I’ve had, like distant memories, they’re too real to ignore. And I think it’s even more crazy to do nothing about it. I’ll get the shot guns. Wait here.” She went to the door.

All the men, in unison, said. “No!”

She pressed her lips into a thin white line and folded her arms across her. “I know the place. I need to come with you.”

“You’ll be better off staying here. With Tara and the kids.”

“Bill, I’m not a fragile little girl. I know what I can do. I’ve seen it.”

Mulder shook his head. “You’re right, Scully, you’re a strong woman. But Bill’s right too. You should stay here, stay safe. Spender is dangerous. If something were to go wrong over there tonight, at least you’ll be here as back up. These three will stay too.”

She relented with a long sigh. “But nothing will go wrong, will it, Mulder?”

He chuffed out a sigh and put his hands on her shoulders. “Not if I can help it.”

“You’ll come back?” she said, lying her head on his chest.

Bill growled and Mulder pushed her away. He looked at William.

“Let’s go.”

 A hot, wind shrieked as they got out of the ute and headed for the perimeter fence. Mulder looked up to the skies. The stars of the Southern Cross shone out of the blackness and he thought about Scully.

They got through the fence and on to the property fast with William’s bag of tricks. They made their way to the shed that housed the craft.

           “This feels too easy. There aren’t as many guards as before. And this place looks like a battleground,” Mulder said to William as they pressed against a wall of one of the corridors. The building was unlit now and where it had been cool before, the heat of day seemed to have been trapped inside. The air was stale, stifling.

           “It smells like there’s been some kind of fire here, an explosion maybe.”

           “It felt like that, before I jumped dimensions.”

           “Where’s Spender?” Bill whispered.

           “He’s around,” William responded. “I can sense him.”

           Skinner grunted and motioned at two guards who were coming through the double doors. Behind them they saw the remnants of the craft, a wing torn, its nose sagging forward. The panels had lost their gloss and the cockpit looked burnt out.

           “It looks too damaged to work. But I still need to access the control panel to release the virus that will destroy the operating program and down it for good.”

Skinner pounced and he and Bill took down both men in a short and fairly quiet struggle. Bill dragged their motionless bodies out of the way of the doors. Mulder edged open the door and checked the room. He pointed right twice and William followed, backed up by Skinner and Bill. They slipped in to the hangar and hid behind a pile of boxes. The cavernous room was a mess. Strewn across the floor were boxes and butcher’s paper, items of clothing, hats. There was a row of jerry cans against the far wall. Guards were groaning on the floor, some were holding their heads, propped against the walls. Others were limping.

“What happened here?” Mulder asked in a low voice as they took stock of the room.

Before anyone could answer, the doors on the other side of the room burst open and Spender walked in, holding a cigarette to his mouth. Without warning, Bill Scully rushed from their cover and ran towards him. Spender motioned to two guards and they grabbed at him, nearly halting his progress, but he pushed past them and got his hands on Spender.

“You told me you were doing the right thing for this town. That you were going to bring employment and opportunities that no other town in this area would get.” He grabbed Spender by the collars. “But you abducted my sister, you took our stock.”

Skinner got up to crouch on his feet. “Stupid bastard.”

William reached into his bag and pulled out a card, shining like the discs from the craft, and a small palm-sized device. “The Scully fiery streak in action.”

Mulder grimaced. “What now?”

“I need to get nearer to the craft. This is remote but I need to be closer. Cover me.”

With that he headed to where Bill was being manhandled away from Spender. “Leave him, Spender. It’s me you want.”

Spender dropped his cigarette and it rolled across the dusty floor. “Ah, the wunderkind arrives. If you’re here with your parents, this will be a real family reunion.”

“Let him go.”

“And then what? We go and have a cosy chat about life in the future? Or the past?” His laugh echoed around the hangar. “You can’t destroy me, William Mulder. And you can’t destroy this.” He swung his arm towards the craft. “You see, I’m like a boomerang. I just keep coming back.” He stepped forward and his face levelled with William’s.

Mulder edged forward, but Skinner put a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet.”

William held up the card and device. “You’re wrong, Spender.”

He slotted the card into the device. Spender stepped forward to grab it. William lifted it above his head. The guards dropped Bill and leapt towards William, grappling him to the ground. Mulder and Skinner launched themselves towards the group. Bill stood up and charged Spender, crashing into the jerry cans and pushing him to the ground, and laying a solid punch to his jaw in the process. The stench of petrol filled Mulder’s nostrils and he watched as a rainbow trail of liquid ran across the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, William rolled over and hauled himself back up, clutching the device to his chest. One of the guards shoved him hard enough and he dropped it. Skinner bent to collect it but was caught by the other guard. Mulder changed direction to pick it up.

He held it in his hand, rushing to William’s side. “What do I do?”

A scorching gust of wind flew through the open doors and the still-lit cigarette rolled towards the cans. Flames erupted.

A guard landed on Mulder’s back and shoved him face-first into the ground. He lost his grip on the device. The fire was spreading and Mulder was grateful when Skinner pulled the guard off and laid him flat with a right hook. William lashed out at the other, but Spender swiped the device from the floor. He ran towards the far door and William followed, tailed by Mulder, Bill and Skinner.

In seconds, fire engulfed the hangar. Wounded guards limped away, covering their faces against the acrid smoke that billowed. Mulder watched as the flames licked at the wings of the craft before the heat built too high and he pulled the door shut. Spender had climbed into a car and was cutting across the yard towards the stand of pines at the edges of his property. Dust spewed behind him.

Behind them the noise of another car caught their attention.

“Get in!” Scully braked hard and leant to open the passenger door. Mulder grinned and hopped in beside her. The others piled in the back. She stamped on the accelerator and sped out of the yard just as the whole place boomed, orange fire sprays lighting up the sky.

“Shit,” William cried. “I didn’t activate the virus.”

Watching the steel structure melt and warp, Mulder shook his head. “Does it matter now?”

“If there’s any remaining cells left, it matters.”

“Then we need to find Spender,” Skinner yelled. “And fast. That fire is going to spread in a heartbeat.”

“And right towards our properties,” Bill said.

 Scully maneouvered the vehicle through the trees, following the dust of Spender’s truck as he twisted and turned, trying to throw them off. The roar of the wind and the fire echoed through the valley and the wall of flame behind them grew. An explosion rocked the night and all but Scully turned to see a fountain of embers spew into the sky towards the town.

           “Bentley’s property. Gas tanks have gone up.” Skinner grimaced at Bill. “The service station’ll be next.”

           The vehicle’s tyres screeched as Scully braked hard to avoid Spender’s vehicle as it clipped a tree and spun onto the track in front of them before colliding with a solid gum tree trunk. Mulder saw her knuckles whiten as the ute lurched to a stop, a hair’s breadth from another gum. Her hair was stuck to her face and her arms were trembling.

           “Good parking, Scully.” He grinned at her before opening the door. “Stay here.”

           “In your dreams, Mulder.” She yanked open her door and joined him at Spender’s vehicle with Bill, Skinner and William.

           Old Smokey was slumped over the steering wheel, his head twisted at an unnatural angle, blood gushing down from a deep cut on his hair line. The front of his truck had crumpled and his legs were stuck into the tangle of metal.

           Scully pressed her fingers to his neck. She shook her head.

           “Another job I didn’t get to finish,” William said, with a rueful smile. He reached into the passenger side and collected the device and card. “I can’t leave this here. Even if he is dead in this lifetime.”

           “We have to get out of here,” Bill said. “That fire’s heading straight for the stations.”

           By the time the reached the Skinner property his men had already started to hose the roofs and fill buckets and bins. The CFA truck, blue lights flashing, was parked up in front of the main house. Skinner jumped out.

           “Let’s get home, Dana,” Bill said, as they turned onto the main road.

 The fire front was building, rolling up the hills with deadly speed. The sky was a deep, rolling black. Ash fell in acrid drifts. The wind shrieked, sending gum branches flying like missiles. Bill unrolled the hoses and Mulder, Scully and William were tasked with filling buckets.

           “I can just get us out of here,” William said, rubbing his neck. “Somewhere safe.”

           “We can’t lose this place, William,” Scully replied, hefting a bucket of water and wetting along the fence line on the fire side.

           The firestorm roared closer and Mulder could see flames shoot into the air, crackling and sparking, over at the Skinner boundary line. He ducked as a rain of hot ash fell over him.

           “That’s one of Skinner’s sheds going up,” Bill yelled. “I don’t think we can fight this. We need to get inside. Into the bathroom. Dana, go and help Tara wet the towels. Get Matty.”

           They huddled in the small room, sheltering under damp towels. Mulder had survived war, evil wreaked on humans by humans. But Mother Nature’s fury, fire in the dry Australian bush, was a whole new dimension of terror. The force of it, the noise of it, the ultimate futility of it, left him shaking with emotion. Scully was pressed against him, William at his other side. Matty whimpered as Bill held his family in his arms. A huge rush of wind rammed the house, rattling the windows, the eaves groaning. The fire bellowed above and around them.

Then silence.

They cleaned up what they could. They moved burnt sheep to a pile behind the bottom shed. They showered but Mulder couldn’t get the smell out from his nostrils or the sound out of his head. Even the meal Tara prepared tasted smoky.

           “I’m sorry, Mrs Scully,” he said. “I’m just not hungry. I think it’s best if William and I head back to Skinners. See if we can help over there.”

           Scully walked with them to the car. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

           Mulder smiled. “Of course. I think your brother likes me now.”

           “I think he tolerates you, Mulder.”

           William shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think I need to go back now.”

           Scully gasped. “Oh. So soon.”

           “I’ve been here longer than I should have. I need to leave.”

           “I feel like I’m always saying goodbye to my children,” Scully said, a single tear tracking down her cheek. “Please tell me there’s a future me who gets to be a mother.” Her voice was the merest of whispers.

           Mulder swallowed back his own tears and looked to the stars above.

           “Time will tell,” William said, touching her forearm gently.

           She choked out a sob and dissolved into Mulder’s arms.

 Mulder walked with William into the paddocks, burnt out and smoking still.          “You’re convinced that you’ve ended Spender’s mission?”

           William shrugged. “I couldn’t disable the craft with the virus, but the fire was so intense I’m hopeful there was nothing left. Spender is dead.”

           “But from what I learned in the future, he’s come back from the dead before.”

           William nodded. “He’s worse than a feral cat.”

           “And you’re really going to destroy this technology? Is that really an option?”

           “It’s agreed. It’s the only way.”

           Mulder chewed on his lip. “And the Scully I met. What will happen to her? Will her Mulder come back?”

           William frowned. “He does come back.”

           “But?”

           “I can’t do this, Dad. I can’t talk about what might happen.”

           “Because it might change the events of the future?”

           “And that would affect my life. As well as hers.”

           “He’s going to leave her again, isn’t he? He leaves her and she has to give you up. That can’t happen. Not to her. Not to Scully. Please, we can stop this.”

           William turned to walk away. “I’ve got to go.”

           “Take me with you.”

           “I can’t, Dad. You know that.” He started to walk down the slope away from Mulder. “I’ve got to go now.”

           “Take me there and I can convince her not to let him go. Please.”

           William ran further into the darkness. Mulder chased, stumbling down the scorched hill. As William turned to activate his device, Mulder launched himself towards his son. The night turned white and he heard himself calling for Scully.

           His head throbbed, his throat scratched, his body trembled. He opened his eyes, looked at the stars above him, the Southern Cross blinking behind soft clouds. With a groan he realised he was still in Tarra Warra.

           “Please forgive me, Scully. For whatever it is I do.”

           “Hello? Mulder?”

“Scully?”

“Yes, I see you. Are you all right? I saw the lights.”

“He’s gone.”

She knelt by his side. “I know. I felt it.”

He pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on her head. “I asked him to take me back with him.”

“Why?” she gasped.

“To right some future wrongs.”

“Mulder, you said yourself that we are soul mates. Whatever it is you think you do, I forgive you. Now and in the future.”

He breathed her in. “How could I leave you? How could I ever leave you?” He kissed her, softly at first. She moved in towards him, opening her mouth, letting him in. Letting him love her.            

 William Charles Mulder was born on a starry night at the Scully property. Mulder sat next to Scully on the verandah as she nursed their son. Missy lay at her feet. William opened his eyes.

           “He’s wise beyond his years,” she said, stroking his cheek with her thumb.

           Mulder nodded, gazing at his cherubic face. “And we’ll keep him safe.”

           “In this life, we will.”

           “In all lives, Scully.”

           “You sound so sure, Mulder. But that story he told us…about the adoption.”

           Mulder crooked his finger under her chin and turned her face to him. “I went back with William.”

           “What?”

           “I went back and I convinced you to never let me leave you and William, whatever the circumstances.”

           “You changed our future?”

           “I hope so.”

           She let the tears track down her face and lay her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

           He nodded, and looked up to the stars twinkling under a wide sky.

[leiascully]

hey hey would you mind reposting or reblogging a list of all the past xfwc prompts? I've tried to find it myself but I haven't had any luck. Thanks you're the best!!

Here you go!

hot/cold

seasons

clothes

gifts

names  5

food

clean/dirty

hello

distance

favorite things  10

touch

sight

sound

smell

taste 15

holidays

ocean 

pets 

city

beginnings  20

television

kitchen wares (chopsticks)

ceremony

travel

in sickness and in health 25

For richer or for poorer

For better or for worse

Morning

Day

Night  30

Music

Reading

Parents and children

Outdoors

Indoors 35

Education

Theater

Unspoken

Independence

Games (40)

Hard

forty-two

Soft

Paradox

Intuition (45)

Evidence

Tension

Release

Balance

Criminal (50)

Redemption

Sweet

Sharing a bed

Fake dating

Thanks (55)

Interdependence

Stars

International

Snowed in

2017 (60)

Resolution

Resistance

Paperwork

Toys

Keys (65)

Missing scene challenge txf-fic-chicks

Lists

Forgiveness

Resentment

Exercise

Rest (70)

May

[frangipanidownunder]

Under a wide sky: Chapter 6

Part six of my AU set in 1950s Australia for @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International. Chapter Six: Flesh and Blood

 The ringing in his ears was the same as the aftermath of the worst of the bombing he’d lived through. A dozen horrific images flashed across his mind. He couldn’t quite open his eyes. But he wasn’t sure if it was a physical reaction or a psychological one. Mulder could hear his own heavy breaths as he dragged oxygen through his lungs. His chest burned. His body buzzed. It reminded him of the feeling he had after landing from a flight with one of his RAF buddies, spending too long in the rickety cockpit of a Bristol or a Hawker. A headache so strong was causing waves of nausea through his guts but he knew instinctively if he moved, he would vomit. He concentrated on each of his body parts – checking to see if he was still in one piece. When he’d reached the fingers of his right hand his breathing had returned to something approaching normal and he felt his stomach settle. He willed his eyes to open. He felt the lids peel back, unsticking, fluttering against the brightness.

“Mulder?” Of course, she was there. He licked his lips. “Hi.”

Her voice was fragile but her wet eyes held hope. A tremendous feeling of love flooded him. At that moment, the connection to Scully was so tangible that it was like a magnetic force between them. His mind reeled at the emotion of the moment and he raked through his thoughts to express something special to her.

           “Who are you?” he asked. It was out before he could take it back and if his body wasn’t so worn down he would have leapt out of bed and screamed full bore at his stupid self. He couldn’t even manage an apology before she cottoned on.

           “Oh my god. Don’t do that to me. Do you know do you have any idea what you’ve been through?”

“Only what I see in your face.” That was better. That’s how you do it.

She stroked his hair, smiled, and buried her face in his chest. He blinked above her head, grateful for the contact. She was being unusually demonstrative but he wasn’t complaining.

“Anybody miss me?”

That brought a muffled sob and laugh from her and he closed his eyes, savouring the sound.

“Scully, where are the others?”

           “Others? Mulder, do you know how long you’ve been gone?”

           He blinked. “The guys. Your brother. Walter?”

           She took a tissue from her bag and dabbed her eyes. “My brother? Why would he be here?”

           “He came to Spender’s property. The rescue party.”

           She squeezed his hands. “Mulder, you need to rest. Your body is…well, it’s a miracle, but you need to take care of yourself.”

           “When did you cut your hair, Scully?”

           She shook her head. “Sleep, Mulder.” She pushed herself up from the chair and pulled her jacket around her. “I’ll be back later.”

           And when did you get pregnant, Scully?

Judging by the equipment in the room, he was no longer in Tarra Warra. He’d been in small base hospitals before but this was cleaner, larger, brighter and filled with a vast amount of machinery that spoke of a different time. He blinked again and lay back against the scratchy pillow. He was still processing but the only explanation he could come up with, one that fitted the facts, was that he’d travelled through time, to the future.

The technology surrounding him was surely only being dreamt of by the brightest minds in his day. He turned his head, taking it all in. His mind churned over what he could remember before the blast. It was patchy but he recalled the craft, the guards, the rescue party. He heard Scully’s tearful voice as she recounted her mysterious story of Emily, the baby she’d had. And yet she was pregnant – in this lifetime, whenever that was. Was this going to be another version of Emily?

He tried to lift his head from the pillow but it was fatigue-heavy and he could feel his eyes drooping again. He lifted an arm to his face, tracing several scabs that marred his cheeks. He felt a dull ache in his jaw and nostrils. What happened to him? Why was Scully so different? Where had 1950 Scully gone? Was she still trapped in Spender’s shed? Was she propelled forward further than him? Not as far? He had to find her. He tried to move but his body refused. His mind was slowing, he was losing the battle against sleep. He huffed out a sigh of frustration. Sleep took over.

 She visited often, for hours, just holding his hand when she thought he was sleeping. He saw a man at the door, tall, angular features, cynical blue eyes, watching her through the window on occasion. He’d her talk to him outside, this man, Agent Doggett. It made Mulder feel a little safer – that someone else was watching out for Scully, someone physically well. At least if Spender had travelled here too, or if another version of Old Smokey was present in this lifetime, he hadn’t got past Doggett. Yet.

But surely it was just a matter of time, and he still had to broach the subject of time travel and the small matter of a baby with Scully.

 His apartment was small, but the novelty of an inside bathroom was never going to get old. He shuffled about in the dark, still getting used to the layout. The first time across the threshold was awkward. He wasn’t sure how to react. He had a whole speech planned in his head, to deliver as soon as they were inside. He was going to blurt out the whole thing and make her understand. Then they were going to work out a plan. But Scully seemed so very cautious, holding back.

           “Something looks different,” he offered, trying for humour again.

“It’s clean.” Her gentle quip took him back to his 1950 Scully. This newer one still had the same essence. But there was so much sadness too. Their life in this era must have been hard.

“That’s it.” He chuffed and she waited. “Missing a Molly?” He looked at the tank, having no idea how many fish he was supposed to have. He was playing for time, being facetious. Waiting for the right moment.

“Yep. She wasn’t as lucky as you. Mulder. I don’t know if you’ll ever understand what it was like. First learning of your abduction, and then searching for you and finding you dead. And now to have you back.”

This was more information than she’d given him so far.

He wanted more. “You act like you’re surprised.”

“I prayed a lot. And my prayers have been answered.”

“In more ways than one.” His gaze fell across her stomach. “I’m happy for you. I think I know how much that means to you.” He hung his head waiting for her to speak, to open up.

“Mulder.” Her voice was so thick with pain that he couldn’t push it.

���Sorry, I have no idea where I fit in. I mean I just I’m having a little trouble processing everything.”

 Over the past days in hospital he tried to ‘feel’ the Mulder she was used to, the 2001 version. In his dreams he had flashes of this Mulder, the one Scully so desperately wanted him to be. He recalled snippets of past conversations with Scully about God and babies and monsters and luck and snakes and touchstones. He knew Skinner was still his boss in this lifetime. When he closed his eyes and concentrated he saw himself kissing Scully in a hospital waiting room, gasped at her bruised and battered face, smiled at her laughter, felt guilty at her tears, expected her questioning and doubting. And underlying all this was the very definite feeling that their partnership in this era had crossed a line somehow, from something professional to something more.  

 She turned to leave, but his mind sparked. He couldn’t let her go. Maybe this Mulder, and whatever had happened to him over the past months, would rather watch her leave and wallow in his own self-pity. But he wasn’t this Mulder.

“Stay, Scully. Please.”

He sat on his couch and pondered how to tell her about Spender and the space craft, the animals, the time travel, the Australian versions of their lives? She must have spent years listening to his bizarre rantings on cases, so he was sure she would listen to him, indulge him. But she was carrying a baby. And to her, he’d been missing for some time. Their connection ran deep but was almost certainly fractured by these events.

He ran his hands over the cracked leather. She sat next to him. She rubbed a hand over the mound of her belly. It sat snug under her breasts and made Mulder want to literally drop to his knees in front of her and nestle his face there – the vitality of her shape was overwhelming to him, the life within her made her own self seem larger and more vibrant.

“Scully, I’m not the Mulder you think I am.”

           “Mulder, you’ve been through such an ordeal, what you went through, physical and emotional torture and deprivation, and then returning to find your old life gone, it’s going to take some time.”

           “We don’t have time, Scully.”

           “We have all the time you need, Mulder.”

           “No, you don’t understand. This…” he pointed to her stomach. “And all this…” he gestured around the room. “This is new to me, but not to the Mulder you know.”

           She sighed. “What do you mean?”

           “I’m going to tell you something you won’t believe, or understand at first. But it’s the truth. Promise me you’ll listen?”

           She scooted closer to him and lifted his hands into hers. She pressed them to her stomach and he felt the life within her move. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. “This is our child. Our flesh and blood. This is our miracle. That’s the truth. That’s what I want you to believe in. That’s what you need to focus on.”

Their child. Their son. He knew it with such a rush of certainty that he gasped. William. A miracle child. A child sought by others. A child in danger. You’re going on a journey, Mr Mulder. To retrieve something for us.

“What’s the matter, Mulder. You don’t look good. Do you need to lie down?

He grabbed her wrists. “No, Scully. We need to leave.”

“What, why?” She pulled her hands out of his grasp.

“The baby.”

She clutched her stomach. “There’s nothing wrong with the baby. I’ve checked and checked.”

He paused, sensing her growing alarm. “No, that’s not it. He’s perfect. But you’re not safe. Either of you. Someone is after you.”

“Mulder, you’re scaring me. I’m calling Skinner.”

“I’m sorry, Scully. There’s so much to explain. It’s…I don’t know where to start.”

She put her phone back in her bag. “You can start by telling me who’s after me and the baby.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath of courage. “I know him as Spender.”

“The Smoking Man?”

“Yes.” Old Smokey, Smoking Man, Cigarette Smoking Son of a Bitch, Black Lunged Bastard. Whatever his name, he was here, in this life with them. He was sure of that.

“He’s dead.”

“No. Listen to me, Scully. He’s not. He might want you to think that, but I guarantee you he’s very much alive. I can’t tell you how I know that, but I can tell you what I do know.” He took her hands again. “I’m Fox William Mulder but I was born in 1920. When I was 12 my sister went missing. I learned all about the stars in the sky. When I was 18 I joined up. I was stationed in France as a Celestial Navigation Trainer. In 1950 I went to Australia and ended up working on a sheep station run by Walter S Skinner. I met you, your dog Missy, your brother Bill and I met Frohike, Langly and Byers.” His words were rushing out and she was trying to pull away. “Hear me out. You had a baby – Emily, but she was taken away from you. You lived with Bill on a farm. Animals were going missing. There were bright lights in the sky.”

She blinked slowly. Trying to keep back the tears, but a single one tracked down her cheek. “Emily?”

“Yes. At a remote convent. You couldn’t remember anything. Your father told you it was a fugue state. You told me you hoped that she was safe somewhere, with parents who love her. Do you remember? We were in Spender’s shed, before the craft lit up.”

“Emily is dead, Mulder.” She wiped away the tear and straightened up. Her voice was monotone now.

“I’m sorry, Scully. I know this is hard, but the 1950 you, you told me the story. The despair you felt, your father’s distress, Bill’s shame. But the 1950 you, you believed. You opened your mind. You listened, you looked for answers. You would have loved her – you…Scully, you were amazing.”

She stood up. “What you’re suggesting – that you’ve travelled fifty years into the future – makes no sense. If you were born in 1920, you could still be alive. How can there be two versions of you in one dimension?”

“I don’t know, Scully. I don’t understand it all. We were just uncovering the experiments at Spender’s property when we were caught. But that version of you, she knew about our interconnected lives. She had flashes too. We’ve always been together, Scully. Always. Parallel universes. Call it what you will but we are always living our lives, somewhere, some time. Together.”

She shook her head. “You are the most remarkable man I’ve ever known, Mulder. And if we’ve been together in past lives, then I’m a very lucky woman, but you have to give me something more than this. If you’ve always known me, then you’ll have to provide me with evidence, proof.”

He stalked over to the desk and sat down at the chair. Scully sighed from where she stood, her shoulders hunched over now as she rubbed at her lower back. He watched her, struggling to work out how to get her to believe him. He guessed, with an ironic shake of his head, that this was how his life was always going to be. He drummed his fingers on the desk, tapping away absently.

           “Mulder?”

           Her voice was strained with fatigue. “I’m sorry, Scully. I don’t have anything physical to show you. I just need you to look deeply into yourself, to try to connect with…your soul. Shit, this is too hard.”

           “Do that again.” She stepped forward, standing with her hands on the back of his chair.

           “Do what again?”

           “Tap your fingers.”

           He repeated the pattern he’d made.

           “I know what it means.”

           He watched her frown a little, as she listened to his repeated messages. “Morse code, Scully.”

           She snorted a little. “I know, but how? I’ve never studied it.”

           “Not in this lifetime.” He grinned. “You were a nurse. You were training during the war. It would have been pretty common to learn it back then.” He tapped again.

           “I want to believe,” she said, as his fingers drummed. She smiled at him. “Mulder.”

           He tapped again. Her smile dropped away.

           “Soulmates.”

 She was rubbing her temples by the time he’d finished the third rendition of their encounters in Tarra Warra. Her face was pale.

           “But what does he want with our baby?”

           “There’s something about Wi…our baby that’s special to his cause. Spender is connected to some kind of consortium that is intent on taking control of the world. The gunmen told me the Spender in 1950 had been collecting the missing pieces of the crashed UFO and using it to build a craft capable of flights through time and space. It would appear that he was successful.”

           “And our baby is a threat to him at some point.”

           Mulder shrugged. “Perhaps at all points in time, all universes we are destined to have a child together and that child is Spender’s nemesis.”

           She rubbed her forehead. “This is crazy, Mulder.”

           “Any more crazy than anything we’ve been through in this lifetime? The more time I spend with you, the more things I remember from this version of me. And if you believed that Morris Fletcher and I body-swapped, then this can’t be too much of a stretch.” He chuckled, then tentatively held out a hand towards her stomach. “Can I feel it?”

           Her lips pulled back into a brilliant smile and she pushed her jacket aside. Coyly, she unbuttoned her shirt and revealed her taut skin. Mulder’s throat tightened. She lifted his hand towards her abdomen and placed it gently on the roundest point. He spread his fingers and she held her hand over his. He watched as she closed her eyes and her face relaxed. The world seemed peaceful then, his mind cleared and he felt tears pricking at this eyes. They held still for a minute and then he was rewarded with a kick, a rippling under her skin that caused her to take a sharp breath and that forced the tears from his eyes. They spilled onto her bare skin and she gasped, her eyes still closed.

           “Mulder! I can see the farm! And a blue dress. And a bag filled with bread rolls. My hair is longer and the dog. It’s so clear.”

           And then she was sobbing with him.

           When their tears dried, he leant forward and kissed her tummy. “Hello, William. We can’t wait to meet you.”

           “William?” she whispered. “Is that our son’s name?”

           “Sorry,” Mulder said, lifting his head.

           She moved forward so her face was just inches away from his. “I know this might seem a little forward for the sensitivities of a boy from 1950, but can I kiss you?”

           He nodded and their lips met and before too long their mouths opened wide in a rush of passion. When he finally pulled away, he was breathless. “Scully, I think being a boy living in 2001 would seem to have its perks.”

           She patted her stomach. “And its consequences.”

           “You’re tired. You should go.” He reluctantly let her body go.

           “I can stay,” she said quietly. “If you want.”

           He wanted. He really wanted. “Would your staying constitute cheating, do you think? I have a girl back home. And I’m not the sort of boy who does that.”

           Scully laughed at that. “A girl, huh?”

“She might be patiently waiting for me to rescue her.”

Scully clucked her tongue. “Mulder, I’m pretty sure you know that in whatever universe I’m living, I will never be waiting to be rescued.”

He pouted.

“And besides, I’m not sure that soulmates can cheat, can they?”

She blushed as she undressed. She was breathtakingly beautiful, all curves and softness. She slipped in besides him and he draped an arm over her waist, feeling the shape of the baby as she lay on her side.

           “We have to leave here, Scully,” he murmured into her neck.            “To go where?”

           “Would it be crazy to suggest we go to Australia?”

           She stiffened. “You’re not serious?”

           “I’m not sure, I’m just thinking aloud.”

           “I can’t fly anyway, Mulder. Not like this.”

           “Of course, flying…”

           “Did you expect to go by boat,” she went to laugh and then stopped herself. “Oh, sorry, Mulder. You did…I can’t…this is so weird.” She sat up and pulled the sheet over her. “Now I feel like I’m cheating.”

           He grimaced. “Sorry, Scully. I need to work out a plan.” He got up and started to get dressed.

           “Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night.”

           “Exactly.”

 She huffed as she sat down next to him on the fire escape. “There are so many stars up there.”

           “More than we can ever know,” he said, pulling her close. “And whenever I need to think I look up to the skies. In Tarra Warra the sky is so wide and so low to the land and so full of stars that I can’t describe it without underplaying its beauty. One day, if we don’t work this out, I’ll take you there, Scully. This version of you will love it as much as the 1950 version.” He saw the glistening corners of her eyes, huge in the darkness, but full of emotion.

“Why is this happening, Mulder? What is so special about our child that someone wants to take it from us? And Emily? If what you’re saying is true, then she dies in every life we live. How is that fair?”

           He turned and kissed her hair. “No, it’s not. And I don’t know but I suspect the two are connected. Emily was some kind of experiment. Something went wrong. Maybe the technology wasn’t there yet. Maybe it will be next time around. And as for William, I can only begin to guess that it has something to do with the alien race. The Gunmen, back in Tarra Warra, they’d begun to dig into it, but I wasn’t there long enough to find out any more.”

           “And I don’t suppose they’ll be any help now? Have you told them any of this?”

           He chewed on his lips. “Between coming back from the dead and finding out I’m going to be a father, I guess I haven’t really had time.”

           She snuffled out a tired laugh. “Then maybe that’s where we’ll start in the morning.”

           He looked up. “It’s already the morning, Scully.”

           “But in Tarra Warra it’s not. Let’s go to sleep.”

 Mulder was not in the least surprised by the security at the Lone Gunmen’s place. He was fascinated by the surveillance equipment, monitors, recorders, cameras and paranoia that cluttered their den. If the forces had been able to access this kind of equipment ten years ago…wait, sixty years ago…what a different story. He turned around, peered, smiled, shook his head.

           “This isn’t like that Morris Fletcher case again, is it?” Frohike eyed Scully.

           “We do have something unusual to tell you. But this is Mulder,” she said. “In a way.”

           Mulder lifted his head away from a tiny recording device and grinned. “It is me, but a different version. This is going to sound weird.”

           Langly shrugged, “So, nothing new there.”

When he’d finished the trio stood silent. There was no change in their expressions but they took a moment to absorb the information.

           “And Agent Scully, you’ve seen enough to be convinced?” Byers gentle voice broke the silence.

           She tucked her chin to her chest. “I’ve also experienced some…flashbacks. I can’t explain it fully. I have no scientific evidence. No proof of what Mulder is saying is true, and yet…”

           “I can’t see myself as a station manager in Australia,” Byers said, with a chuckle.

           “I don’t like sheep,” Langly said.

           “I’m not sure what you’re hoping we can do for you, Mulder. But just wait here.” Frohike headed out of the den.

           Mulder pulled a chair out for Scully. She sat down, resting her hands on her stomach. When Frohike returned he was carrying a case. A metal tool box that looked very familiar. Mulder leaned towards it as Frohike unlatched and opened it. Inside lay an object, a flat, metallic plate, pearlescent, reflecting muted greens and purples like an opal.

           “That’s it!” Mulder said, his face beaming.

           “What’s it?” Langly asked.

           “Where did you get this, Frohike?” Byers said, peering into the box.

           The little man shrugged. “I don’t really know. It just seemed to appear.”

           “And you didn’t think it might be important, dude?” Langly took the plate out and held it up under a spotlight.”

           Byers pulled out a microscope and motioned for Langly to put it under the lens. “Goodness. This is incredible.” He pulled away. “Agent Scully, what do you think?”

           She moved over and peered through. “The detail is unbelievable, there seems to be etching upon etching. But I’m no expert.”

           “Frohike, have you had any strange experiences, memories, flashbacks?” Mulder rubbed his chin.

           “Well, I thought they were dreams…”

           Langly sniggered. “Agent Scully is in the room, dude.”

           “Dreams?” Byers prompted.

           “Bright lights and a huge workshop. A craft of some kind revving and humming to life. Skinner is there, but he’s wearing odd clothes. There’s always an explosion. So loud it feels like it cracks my head open. And then I wake up.”

           Scully looked at Mulder. “Is that what happened? Before you ended up here?”

           “Yes,” he said. “You were part of the rescue party and then the ship’s engines started and the whole room went white. That plate is the key. It’s part of the ship. It’s our connection between all our interconnected lifetimes.”

           “But how do we use it?”

           Scully’s phone rang. She answered it, whispering that it was Skinner. “Yes, he’s here. Right away, sir? We’re on our way.”

 Scully parked. Mulder was still amazed at the smooth journey the car gave them, the way the seats were so comfortable, the quiet engine. Even the door’s shutting seemed no louder than a baby’s breath.

           “Agents…thanks for coming on such short notice.”

           “What’s the problem, sir?” Scully followed him into the building, an abandoned factory on the outskirts of town.

Mulder noted how Skinner’s jaw tensed and he rubbed the skin above his eyebrows. He couldn’t look at them.

           “I’m not quite sure how to tell you this. It’s…an unusual situation.”

           “Sir?” Scully’s face paled and she turned to Mulder.

           Mulder stepped to her side and slid a hand to sit on at her lower back. “What sort of unusual situation? What is this place?”

           Skinner cleared his throat. “There’s a young man inside. He claims he knows you.” They passed through narrow, dark corridors that smelt of mildew and urine. “He says he’s brought you proof of something you’re both looking for.”

           At a grey door, its paint peeling and its small window grimy and opaque, they stopped. “He’s in here. And, agents,” Skinner pushed his hands deep into his pockets. “For what it’s worth. I believe him. I don’t know why, logically it makes no sense, but there’s something about him and about his story that… feels right to me.”

The door pushed back with a dreadful squeak. A young man, in his twenties perhaps, with sandy blonde hair, freckles, wide blue eyes, a nose that was slightly too large for his face, a full mouth set above a small chin. He stood up, his chair scraping back.

           “Mum, dad. You came. What took you so long?” 

[frangipanidownunder]

Under a wide sky: chapter 5

Part five of my AU set in 1950s Australia for @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International. Chapter Five: Monsters and Aliens

 Mulder coughed himself awake. He was still restrained but by rope and not cuffs. He wasn’t on a gurney, but in a chair, hard wood pressing into his back and digging into the flesh behind his knees. His ankles were tied too and a cloth gag was knotted hard against his nape. He snorted through his nostrils, anger building in his chest. His temples throbbed. It was hot wherever he was, humid with stale air. It was dark, only a slit of pale silver light edging through from a high window to his left. It was quiet but not silent. He wriggled his wrists, trying to loosen the knots but all he succeeded in doing was giving himself rope burn. His feet moved a little but he knew if he rocked the chair too hard, he’d be on his back and flailing like an upended beetle. He tried to still his panicked breathing a moment, to strain his hearing, listening for clues to his whereabouts.

           It was then that he heard it. Faint breathing, almost a snoring. He peered into the darkness, waiting for his eyes to acclimatise. He could make out a figure on the other side of the room, in a chair, heading flopped forward. A small figure. It could be Scully; no, he knew it was Scully. And she was breathing.

He cleared his throat, trying to keep it quiet for fear of alerting whoever had taken them, but loud enough to try to arouse her. He tried again, and he thought he saw her hair move a little. One more slight cough and she lifted her head, her guttural groan filling his ears. Relief flooded his chest and he renewed his efforts to pull at his ropes. She was moaning and coughing, fighting the gag. She sounded terrified, pulling so hard at her restraints that she was lifting the chair from the ground. He wanted to call out her name, to offer her some comfort, but he could only hope that she would see him in the darkness as he had seen her.

           Now that adrenaline had thinned in his blood stream, his military training began to kick in. He began to tap out her name in Morse code, using his fingernails against the arm rest of the chair. He tried to time his messaging to between her intermittent attacks on her ropes. He tapped again, as loud as he dared. She remained silent for longer at the end, and then, he heard her tapping his name. He tapped back, ‘are you ok?’. She replied she was and he decided to try to shuffle towards her, as quietly as he could on the hard floor. It was tricky, trying not to overbalance on the chair, or to make too much noise. He was close enough to be able to see her quite clearly when the door opened and the beam of a high-powered torch threw them into white light.

He blinked away the momentary pain of the light and stared at her face. She was pink from exertion, angry, but otherwise unmarked. She held his gaze. It was only the rapid rise and fall of her chest that gave her fear away. Her expression remained stoic as men marched towards them, guns at their sides. They dragged his chair back and he watched helplessly as they untied Scully and practically lifted her off her feet, carrying her out of the room behind him. She fought all the way. One of the men tightened his restraints and gag and he was left alone again.

From what he’d briefly been able to glean, he was in some kind of shed or outbuilding, high-roofed, spider webs hung in each corner, concrete floor, empty other than a few rows of filing cabinets along one side. If he were a gambling man he’d say this was Spender’s place. But how did he get them here? Were they simply ‘disappeared’ just like the animals? He hoped they wouldn’t end up like those poor creatures. And where was Frohike? Did he escape? If he did, surely he would know they were here. Byers and Langly must have some kind of tracking device rigged up. Wasn’t that what they did – covert surveillance? He hoped Skinner and Bill Scully were rounding up their best men to send in as a rescue party.

 Despite fighting sleep for what seemed like hours, he must have dozed off, the muscles in his neck aching where his head had hung forward. His temples throbbed, his wrists and ankles burned, his back protested its harsh confines. He’d heard muffled noises and he hoped that meant Scully would be back. His guts churned as he fought away terrible images of what might be happening to her. As the fog in his brain lifted he recalled some of the odd visions he’d had during his sleep. He was in breeches and a rough shirt, building a wall in a cold, wet field. He was in an old military uniform riding a magnificent chestnut horse, he was on his knees with Scully in that red gown beside him, he was in a baggy suit with a bizarrely patterned tie, chewing on a pencil behind a cluttered desk, he was lying sick on the floor of a room with a plastic-faced monster looking over him. Spender.

           The door flew open and the lights were flicked on. He squinted against the brightness and rattled his wrists against his restraints, grunting. Two uniformed men strode forward, unknotted his gag and started on each of his hands.

           “Who are you? Where am I? What is this place? Where’s Scully?” He yelled and cursed and struggled but got nothing other than an elbow to the midriff and the barrel end of a gun in his face. His hands were yanked behind him and tied again and he was marched out of the shed. It was daylight, humid and heavy. He thought he recognised the lay of the land, as far as he could see it. Pine plantation to the left and right, sloping grassland in front. The foreboding sky couldn’t tell him anything more.

           “Scully, Scully, can you hear me?” He shouted as loud as he could and pulled at his guards’ grip. They dragged him along the dirt track to a smaller brick building, and shoved him into one of the rooms – a bathroom with a dunny and shower stall.

           “Are you going to do the honours?” he asked the first guard, nodding down to his fly.

           The man pushed him round and untied his wrists. He then shut the door and Mulder heard it lock from the outside. There were no windows and no other doors. He tested the wall behind the shower, the floor, even climbed on the toilet seat to check out the ceiling but it was solid. He relieved himself and ran his hands under the water to splash his face. He flexed his sore hands and enjoyed the pain of the pins and needles as the feeling returned.

           Freedom was short-lived. The guards marched him from the brick outhouse to another shed-like building with a domed roof, corrugated sides and large double entry doors. The building sat lower on the slope, out of sight from the road that he felt was directly behind him. In the entrance, the smell of dry heat filled his nostrils, a vague odour of oil or fuel, the sharp aroma of metal. There were narrow passageways that led away from the lobby and he was pushed to the right and past doors at even intervals, each one numbered.

           “Where’s Scully. What are you doing to her? Who do you work for?”

As they walked on, Mulder tried to look through each small window. He managed to catch a glimpse of some kind of craft through each of the windows – the same pearlescent metal as the piece that Frohike had shown him.

“Is this the UFO? Is this where you’re storing it? Is this what causes the lights? Where’s Spender? Where’s Scully?”

They stopped in front of door 1013. One of the guards knocked and a familiar voice called them through.

“Mr Mulder, so nice to see you again.” Spender sat behind a large mahogany desk, his hands steepled in front of him. He smiled and Mulder’s chest tightened with anger.

“Where’s Scully?”

“All in good time. You always have been an impatient man, Mr Mulder. Always.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“On the contrary,” Spender said, lighting a cigarette and standing. “I make it my business to know everything about the people I meet on my life’s journey. And, Mr Mulder, in this particular version of your life you seem to be less reluctant to believe in the impossible and improbable.” He chuckled and walked around the desk, so that he exhaled his smoke into Mulder’s face. Mulder held his breath, determined not to give him the satisfaction of choking. “It might be hard for you to understand now, but let me tell you that you become a gullible dreamer in your next incarnation. So easy to manipulate. A marionette on easy-to-pull strings. You dance to my tune. I think I prefer that version of you.”

Mulder bit down on his bottom lip, forcing himself to think before he spoke. This man was either a lunatic or powerful in ways Mulder could only imagine. If this building did house a craft from another planet, who knew what kind of resources he could be harnessing here? Time travel, alternative dimensions, past lives, all these possibilities flitted through Mulder’s mind and he began to piece together the puzzle of his dreams and visions.

“The lights are way to suspend or slow down time so that you can take whatever you want. You’ve been using the animals to do your experiments – some kind of time travel. Is that it, and this craft here has provided you with some kind of technology that allows this to happen?”

Spender held up his hand. “You always have been an intuitive man, Mulder. Making leaps of logic that leave others flailing in your wake. Wherever you’ve lived, however you’ve lived, your intellect has shone bright. And with each incarnation, you have improved your lot. Or perhaps, I should be crediting myself.” He sucked hard on his cigarette and smirked. “Who knows, maybe next century you’ll be President of the United States. If I let you.”

Mulder snorted, still processing Spender’s words. “You’d never relinquish that much power.”

Spender laughed. “You think the President has power? How little you understand about the real world, Mr Mulder.”

“The real world? You believe you have control when you manipulate people’s lives, when you alter time and space? You think this technology has given you the right to act like a God?”

Spender laughed. “The human need to believe in an all-powerful creator is one of the reasons why our enterprise has always been so successful. Lights in the sky? God is letting us know he is here. Unexplained disappearances? God works in mysterious ways. Premature deaths? God is testing us.”

Mulder growled. “Where’s Scully? What has this got to do with her? If you want me, do your worst. But leave her alone.”

“Always so protective of your Scully. Yours always has been an admirable relationship. One that must be nurtured.”

“I don’t have a relationship with her. She’s an acquaintance, nothing more.” His words sounded empty, even to him.

Spender stubbed out his cigarette. “You’ll come to understand just how important she is soon enough, Mr Mulder. Right now, my men need to conduct some tests on you. Nothing to worry about. Miss Scully is undergoing the same procedures now.”

He returned to his seat and nodded to the guard in the corner of the room. The door opened and two more men grabbed Mulder and marched him away.

 He was put through blood tests, heart monitoring, prodding, poking and other indignities. He yelled and fought, ended up strapped and gagged again and was finally released to the original shed, guards and Spender in tow. .

           “Please, no gag,” he gasped, his throat raw, as the guard shoved him to the seat. “Please.” He held up his hand and nodded towards Scully, who was watching him from across the room with glazed eyes.

           Spender blinked, saying nothing, before walking out the door. The guards followed, locking the door behind them.

           “Scully, Dana…are you okay?”

           “I’m fine, Mulder.” She offered him a wry smile.

           “They didn’t hurt you?”

           “No, I’m fine, really. How are you? Did you find out anything?”

           He nodded, struggling against his ropes. “There is a craft here, a space ship of some kind. Spender is conducting time travel experiments. He seems to have known us in many lifetimes. We’ve got to get out of here.”

           She gaped. “No worries, then. We’ll just untie ourselves, click our heels and say, ‘there’s no place like home?’ Is that how it works?”

           She had a point. This was when Skinner, Bill and their search party needed to show up. Right now. He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I’m still working on a plan.”

           “When you were in the war, did you come up with some really good plans that included Houdini style acts and a complete eradication of an evil consortium?”

           He chuckled, despite the seriousness of their situation. “That would be a neat trick.”

           She sighed. “Mulder, we’re going to die here.”

           “Hey, since when are you so defeatist? I remember when you told me ‘you must get up. You must get up and fight…get up and fight the fight.”

           She frowned. “What? When did I say that?”

           “I…I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’ve been dreaming. Well, not dreams, visions maybe. It’s got the point where I don’t know if they’re real or not.” He looked at her, waiting for her to nod or acknowledge him in some way.

           She sucked in a breath. “You’re saying that we have lived our lives together before and we will live them again, in the future? That your dreams are things that have already happened, or things that are yet to happen? That we have conversations like this in times to come and in times past?”

           “As crazy as it sounds, that’s pretty much what I’m thinking. Tell me you’ve been having similar dreams?” He searched her face for a sign that he wasn’t alone in this bizarre situation. “Or just tell me I’m crazy.”

           “Mulder, you’re crazy.” She blinked, once, twice. Mulder saw a light behind her eyes, a crinkling in her brow. “Oh my god. I think you’re right. I’ve said that to you before. In a car. It’s like déjà vu. What’s going on here?”

           “From what little Spender divulged, he seems to be able to travel in time using that craft. I think the nearer we are to it, or any part of it, the stronger our ability to see our past or future. And for some reason, he seems to have always been a part of our lives.”

           “But what does he want? Why are we here? And what about the animals? Why did they die?”

           Mulder shook his head. “I don’t know. I get the impression that this craft is the trigger. Perhaps it’s a recent crash. He’s using the technology to travel along a linear timeline but maybe this is the point in time where it all began – this is the first Spender to succeed in the quest for time travel. And maybe he doesn’t know enough about it yet – so using animals to send them along the timeline would fit. Nobody would miss a few sheep and he could see whether they survived or not.”

           Her face paled. “We’ll die if he sends us back.”

           He shook his head. “No, Scully. I don’t think we’ve travelled yet. I don’t know how he does it but I think he’s getting ready to send us – maybe to the future. I think he’s checking our health to make sure we can make the journey. Perhaps moving forward is more debilitating than backwards.”

           She shook her head. “I still don’t understand why he wants us.”

           “We need to work out what the connection is. You’ve lived here all your life, Scully. Tell me about Spender. When did he come to Tarra Warra? What do you know about him?”

           “Nothing. I wasn’t here when he arrived. I was…” her voice broke.

           Mulder felt his chest constrict. Was she crying? “What’s wrong, Scully?”

           “I haven’t told you something, Mulder. Something important. Something that might make you think differently of me.” Her voice was barely a whisper and her cheeks flushed as tears tracked down her cheeks.

           He so wanted to peel away his ropes and pull her into him. The feeling of protectiveness, of sadness at her tears, of bonds that connected them, of something even more powerful than that…of love…surged through him. “Scully, there’s nothing you can tell me that would make me feel any less for you. I promise you. I know this is overwhelming but you and I…we’re meant to be together. I know you feel it. It’s strong, it’s powerful.” She nodded and sniffed as he added, “It’s our destiny.”

           “I had a baby, Mulder. A little girl. I called her Emily.”

           Mulder felt his heart hammer in his chest. He could imagine a tiny cherub, auburn hair, rosy cheeks, intense blue eyes. He’d seen that child before. “What happened to her?”

           “It was during the last years of the war. I had been training as a nurse. I wanted to be a doctor, but I wasn’t allowed to study at university. That didn’t stop me staying up all night reading my medical journals, working during the day, helping at the farm on my days off. I was so tired, but so determined to do my bit. I don’t really know what happened. I think I’ve blanked it out…the shame of it.”

She hung her head and Mulder saw tears falling on to her lap.

“Go on, Scully. It’s okay.”

She smiled at him, a sad, far-away smile. “I went missing. My parents said I just didn’t come home from the clinic one day. I don’t remember any of it. The doctor said it was some kind of fugue state brought on by the war and overworking. I was missing for months. And when my parents found me, at a convent school in remote country, the nuns said I had been pregnant when I arrived and I’d given birth weeks before. My father…my mother…they always believed I’d run away, that I’d been having an affair and that I was too ashamed to tell them. Bill believed it too and when he returned from service, he took me in and he’s kept me away from prying eyes ever since. The shame…it killed my father and my mother went to live in England with my younger brother.” She choked out a sob.

           “No, Scully. That’s not true.” He meant it. He felt it. Her father would have been proud of her, no matter what. “What about the baby? Where did she go?”

           “The nuns found a family for her. She’s safe somewhere, with parents who love her.” She sniffed again. “I have to believe that. But sometimes, in my worst nightmares, I see her, sick and dying…it’s terrible. And now…please don’t tell me that’s true, Mulder. Is Emily sick? Is she dying somewhere and I can’t help her?”

           His face was wet with tears. “I don’t know, Scully. But when we get out of here, we’ll find her.” He held her gaze and nodded at her. She nodded back. The moment was as powerful as any confession of love. They had an ability to communicate without words and his skin broke out in goosebumps.

 They both heard the footsteps. The door swung open. Spender walked in, accompanied by his guards.

           “It’s time,” he said, smirking at them.

           “For what?” Mulder asked, struggling against the men who were untying him. “What are you doing?”

           “You’re going on a journey, Mr Mulder. To retrieve something for us.”

           “Where to?” Scully asked, yanking her arm away from the guard who held her. She marched to Spender and stood in front of him, rage evident in the set of her jaw, the line of her shoulders, then tension in her arm. “Who are you really? What do you want?”

           He chuckled. “You are quite a woman, Miss Scully. Just what the project requires.”

           “And you are a monster.” She spat in his face.

           He grabbed her wrist and looked down at her with a cool expression. She flinched but held her own.

           Spender turned his head and motioned to a guard standing at the door. “Take them both. They’ve always been a good team.”

 The craft was too bright in the confines of the darkened room it was housed in. The panels of pearlescent metal were all but complete. Mulder could see where some were missing but Spender had done a good job of rebuilding the ship. A strange aura surrounded it. Mulder sensed it like a resonating hum in his bones. He eyed Scully and her expression told him she felt it too. It was like the craft was charging. The soft, low growl of it became louder as they rounded the sides. Scully stumbled and fell to her knees. One of the guards pulled her up by her hair and she yelped, spinning on her heels and shoulder-charging the unsuspecting guard. Mulder took advantage and stopped suddenly to back into his captor, digging his elbows hard into his opponent’s ribs. The guard doubled over, allowing Mulder to whack him over the head. Spender lunged for Scully but she saw him and lashed out with her bound fists, pushing him down and stamping on his stomach for good measure.

           “Run, Scully. This way.” Mulder headed towards a door on the opposite wall to the one they had come in from. He paused for her to catch up, and caught sight of a dozen or more other guards spilling through the doors. “Quick.”

           They reached the door and Mulder launched himself at it. It was stuck fast and he rebounded off, colliding with Scully. The craft reverberated with an energy that filled the room. The panels shone white, some of them lifting up from their positions. The guards closed in on them, guns drawn. Mulder threw himself at the door. Scully backed up, keeping an eye on Spender who was striding to where they were stuck. The noise in the room became deafening and the lights on the roof flickered. Mulder clutched at his ears and fell to his knees. Scully cried out and dropped down next to him. The door behind them flew open and Mulder saw Frohike, Langly, Byers, Skinner and Bill Scully dive through the door just as the room exploded with the brightest of lights.

[frangipanidownunder]

Under a wide sky: Chapter 4

Part four of my AU set in 1950s Australia for @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International. Chapter Four: Past and Present

In 1932, the United States was in the thick of the Great Depression and Prohibition was being routinely flouted, unemployment was sitting at more than 30% yet the winter and the summer Olympic Games were held in America. Amelia Earhart flew to Ireland non-stop. There were great achievements but they were tempered by great poverty.

By November, when Fox Mulder had turned 12, Franklin D Roosevelt was President-Elect and Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was a new radio sensation. Samantha Mulder was a skinny, annoying eight year old whose sole aim in life was to follow her big brother around. Sometime in the cold night of 27 November, she disappeared. She screamed once. Mulder ignored her. He never saw her again.

Fox Mulder’s parents blamed him. They were at a neighbour’s house, playing cards. He was supposed to be in charge. When he came to explain what happened, his brain scrambled. All the words got jumbled up and the order of events was a muddle. He was frightened – not just of what had happened to Samantha, and whether that would happen to him, but of his own lack of control, of the whirling anger in his home. The police officer who came to the house frightened him, his father’s red face and whisky breath frightened him, his mother’s wild-eyed quiet frightened him, Samantha’s empty bed frightened him.

Later, maybe the next night – time became irrelevant - he climbed out of the attic window and sat on the roof staring at the sky and wondering where his sister would go, if she could fly. He stared so hard that his eyes only saw the bright luminescence of the sky.

As he sat there, the stars winked and blinked at him. They were constant, they never questioned him or shouted at him or accused him.  Samantha had a toy telescope that she would peer through and ask him about planets and constellations. He hadn’t known much then, but he resolved that he would learn, for her and for him; he studied and wondered about the universe and what it held. He resolved then to learn how to control his thoughts and his fears and his mind, he resolved to learn how to recall the minutest details, he resolved then to learn about the way the world worked, so that the people in it could never trick him again.

And when he turned 18 he signed up and through his father’s connections, he put his knowledge to good use. He trained as a Celestial Navigation Trainer and he quickly found himself in England and then France using the stars to prepare aircrew for battle. He saw men die and each time he looked to the skies for answers. He was a loner, a maverick, often leaving his base without permission, following the stars, wandering away. Near the end of the war, he found a young orphaned girl in a small abandoned farmhouse in a French village. He felt the flames of injustice in his belly as he was confined to barracks after suspicious colleagues discovered he’d been stealing food from the NAAFI to feed her. When he was ordered to return to the United States, his father wouldn’t talk to him. His daughter had disappeared and his son had practically deserted. Shame sat uneasily on Bill Mulder’s shoulders. His mother merely sniffed into her handkerchief. The years seemed to have withered her.

Those war years had solidified him, afforded him the luxury of becoming something more substantial than just Fox Mulder, the boy who lost his sister. But his checkered service history and his father continuing rage were not compatible and he stayed away, aided by Bill Mulder’s connections, eventually studying in England, gaining qualifications his father couldn’t understand. The sky in England offered no answers about his sister, but the stars remained and he questioned less often about his place in the universe, and more often about his place in the world. His war experience, like that of his fellow soldiers, left him without a long-term plan. He developed a wanderlust, travelling and just living in the moment. Each night, wherever he was, he would look up to the skies and wonder where his sister was. And each night he would wonder what was he going to do? What was he going to be? Would he ever settle? Would he ever find someone whom he could entrust with his past and his future? These questions drove him. And maybe, just maybe, Dana Scully was the answer.

 Mulder ran to the door before he was pulled back by Skinner’s meaty paws.

           “Think, mate. You turn up at the Scully’s again and you’ll be pummelled so hard you’ll be sent home in a matchbox.”

           “We’ve got to find her!” Mulder yelled.

           “We don’t know that anything has happened to her, Mr Mulder.”

Byers’ face remained impassive and that sent Mulder into further paroxysms.

“How can you say that? Where would she be? Bill rules the roost in that house and she wouldn’t be able to stay out all day without raising his suspicions.”

“And just how suspicious will it look if you go charging in? Your impetuous nature will just bring more trouble. I’ll go to the Scully’s, make some enquiries.”

 Waiting for Skinner to return took Mulder back to the night Samantha disappeared. Whilst the details still remained sketchy he could recall the emotions. Fear, anxiety, a sick feeling in his stomach. He remembered shivering so much his teeth clacked, a sign of shock, he knew now. But back then his mother just told him to be quiet, he was giving her a headache. In the present moment, he was fully aware of all the details and he was processing them, filing them away for when they might matter.

He told Byers he was going for a shower. Instead, he cut around the shower block and headed up to the ridge behind where he could survey not only some of the Scully property but the edge of Tarra Warra. Below him the land fell away, brown grizzled grass dotted with some of the older sheep, and he watched as the town lights began to twinkle with the darkening sky. The setting sun was still warm, evening flies buzzed and stuck to his sweaty back, crows cawed across the paddocks. He began to walk down the hill and he let his eyes wander down to the gully at the bottom of the slope where a couple of rickety barns stood, barely upright. He wondered about the early settlers and their struggles to work his hard, unrelenting land. He had a strange, hazy vision of he and Scully working the land, her face pink with exertion and her belly swollen. He blinked it away, frowning at the fantasy world he was constructing.

He narrowed his eyes, squinting against the near gold brightness of the almost-set sun. In silhouette, he could make out a figure standing up in one of the barns. He got up and ran down the hill, wondering if there really was a sheep rustler on the loose. That would be a twist to this bizarre story.

“Hey!” he yelled, as the figure stole away, still too far off to identify. His legs carried him downwards, and he stumbled several times before reaching the old wooden structure. The smell of silage, of musty old hay, of something dead hit his nostrils and coupled with his exertion down the hill, he bent over, arm on the outside wall, retching.

“Bit early for a hangover, Mr Mulder.”

He straightened himself up and cuffed his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s a bit early for a midnight tryst, Miss Scully. What are you doing here? We’ve been worried about you.”

She smiled, wiping her hands down the front of her overalls. “Who’s we?”

Me, actually. Just me. “Skinner, Byers and the others. We heard you’d gone missing.”

“Missing? Like the sheep?”

“It’s a long story, and now that you’re here in the flesh, probably an overreaction. But I’ve seen and heard some odd things today, and…well, it’s good to see you.” He reached out a hand and touched her arm, stroking her bare skin at the elbow. She was so soft, and so alive and he wanted to pull her to him in an embrace.            “After last night, I wanted to do some more tests, on the returned animals.” She nodded to a grisly collection of cut-up corpses in the corner of the barn. “But I couldn’t risk Bill finding out, so I snuck out early and ducked over the boundary fence. Trust you to find me.”

Yes, he’d found her. He hadn’t lost her. “Did you find out anything more here?”

A basket sat in the near corner and she bent down to it and withdrew some heavy duty garbage bags. She pulled on gloves and began to place the sheep remains in the bags. “Nothing really. Their hearts showed signs of stress, but in and of itself that’s not conclusive.”

“Being a sheep in Australia is probably a highly risky business.” He tried not to look at the dead animals.

Scully giggled. “I’d say.” She wiped her brow and took off the bloodied gloves she was wearing. “I’ve got some samples I can send out to some people I know at the animal hospital in the city, but it will take some time to get results. So tell me about these strange things, Mulder.”

They sat with their backs to the outside wall of the barn and as he told her about the metal plate that Frohike had retrieved from the tool box, she listened, rapt. He told her about Byers’ theory that his sister might have been abducted by beings from another planet. It all sounded so alien to him – quite an irony, but instead of dismissing it outright, she asked questions, turning over theories and posing different scenarios.

           “I expected you to laugh, Scully. But you seem curious, I like that.”

           Their bodies were close and he had her profile in his peripheral vision – her high forehead, her aquiline nose, her neat chin and long neck, appearing even longer with her hair pinned up on her head.

           “I’m not sure I believe any of it, but how can you learn if you don’t ask questions? What is the point of our lives if we live without knowing the truth? How will we teach our children if we remain ignorant ourselves?”

           He closed his eyes and imagined this young woman as a doctor. Dreams were hard to achieve in a world still recovering from two wars, but being born female added another barrier.

           “There are many questions I’d like to ask you,” he said, his voice lowering a notch. “But right now I think you need to get back home and I need to let Skinner know you’re okay.”

 The sun had sunk away by the time he reached the Skinner house. There was no answer and he rubbed the back of his head absently. He hoped Scully had managed to get back to her place without running into Bill. He wandered back to the cabin, which was also empty. He picked up a towel and clean clothes and headed for the shower block. The cool water was a blessing and he scrubbed away the day’s mysteries. Feeling refreshed, he stepped outside only to run into Jed’s thick body.

           “Sorry, mate,” Mulder mumbled, stepping back to pass the worker.

           “I’m not your mate,” Jed spat, grabbing Mulder’s shirt front and almost lifting him off his feet. Mulder didn’t expect the sharp smack of Jed’s open palm and he felt his neck click and the instant surge of blood to his face. His arms flailed uselessly as he tried to get purchase on the dusty ground to hit back, but Jed simply twisted him round and shoved Mulder’s arms up his back and put him in a head lock with the other. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” He dragged Mulder to a truck idling in the driveway and shoved him in. A couple of other workers were inside and it sped off towards the road and into the blackness.

 Jed held Mulder down on the back seat, the vinyl sticky against his throbbing cheek. His shoulders groaned and his stomach twanged with nerves. The car slowed and turned and bumped up a track. This wasn’t good. They stopped. Mulder was hoisted out of the vehicle and he lost his footing, sprawling onto the dusty ground. He felt a boot in his side and another in his kidneys.

           “Wait, stop!” he yelled, trying to defend himself. “What have I done?” He curled into a small ball, covering his head with his hands. One of the men, grabbed his belt and yanked him upright, but his legs were weak and he felt nauseous. Jed punched him. Hard. He stumbled back against the car and tried to get his balance before another blow caught him on the jaw and he fell, face first, hitting the tyre hub and tasting blood as lay, dazed and unable to move.

           “Where is she?” Jed’s hot breath washed over his face as he was lifted up again. “You think she wants a fag like you, mate? You think you’re in with a chance, hey, mate? Where did you take her? What did you do to her?”

           The questions came as fast as the blows and he couldn’t get his mouth to work properly.

           He had a vague recollection of another car engine, of lights flaring over him, of angry voices. And then his vision narrowed to pinpricks and he blacked out.

  The sound of Samantha’s voice woke him. She was calling his name. He wouldn’t ignore it this time. He would help. He would never let her go again. He sat up, his face felt wet, sore, his throat was dry, his tongue felt too fat and he couldn’t form words. Why did his jaw ache so much? Why couldn’t he see? He felt hands pushing him back down, female hands. Soft against his skin. Why wasn’t he wearing a shirt? He took some deep breaths, each one as painful as the last. He groaned and tried to sit up again, but those same hands held him down.

           “No,” the voice said. “Lie still, Mulder.”

           Why was Samantha calling him that?

           “Is he going to be all right? Will he spew again?” The man’s voice was deep and he couldn’t place it.

           “No, I think he’ll be okay. He’s going to be sore, but there’s nothing broken. He must have a hard head.”

           The haze was lifting. That wasn’t Samantha. That was Dana Scully. He tried desperately to talk, but his mouth wouldn’t work. He wanted to open his eyes but they were dry and stuck. She must have seen him struggling because a soft damp cloth wiped over his eyes and down over his mouth. His lids fluttered and he squinted against the light, his vision finally focusing on her beautiful blue eyes.

           “Welcome back, Mulder.”

           Skinner was behind her, concern etched into the grooves on his forehead. “Bill sent out a search party when he realised Dana was missing. And I think you had a run in with said search party. They did a real number on you.”

           Mulder coughed and his body wracked with flaming pain.

           “Try to keep still, your ribs are badly bruised,” Scully said.

           He blinked. “How’s big brother?”

           “He was pretty disappointed with what happened.”

           “Pretty disappointed? That I’m still around?”

           Skinner snorted.

           “Where am I?” Mulder looked at his surroundings. He was lying on a single bed with a pale mint coverlet over him, the walls were high, decorated with ornate cornices and there was a ceiling rose above him where a pendant light hung casting a soft yellow glow in the room. The ruffled green curtains were closed. A dark wood wardrobe dominated the other wall.

           Scully blushed. “In my mother’s old room.”

           He lifted his head. “I’m in your house?”

           The door cracked open and Bill Scully walked in. “It was the least I could do in the circumstances.”

           “Bill overreacted,” Scully said, casting a hard glance at her brother. “He’s fond of doing that.”

           Bill had the decency to look a little contrite. “I am sorry for what happened to you, Mr Mulder.”

           Mulder could feel a but coming on.

           “But, my men were concerned for my sister’s safety. The fact that Dana took herself off without informing anyone of her whereabouts was worrying.” He returned her hard stare. “She’s headstrong and willful. Traits that only ever lead to trouble.”

           If Mulder hadn’t been beaten to within in inch of his life he’d have thrown a punch at Bill Scully for the way he talked about his sister. Instead, he just scrunched the bedsheet in his fists and sought her welcoming gaze.

           “Bill, he needs to rest.” She ushered her brother and Skinner out of the room. Scully returned and pulled a chair closer to his side. “I’m so sorry they did this to you, Mulder. It makes me sick to my stomach that anyone can use this level of violence. Although he won’t admit it, Bill is even more headstrong and willful than me.” She smiled. “Family traits.”

           “I’d like to know more about your headstrong and willful actions, Dana Scully.” He coughed at the effort of talking.

           She offered him a sip of water from a glass. “I’m afraid that it would take too long to tell you all my stories and Bill might launch another search party. I have to leave and you have to sleep. I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning.”

           “Thank you, nurse Scully.”

           “If you’re a good patient, I might wear my uniform tomorrow, Mr Mulder.” She blushed at her own boldness.

           He took her hand in his. “Are you flirting with me, Miss Scully?”

           “Just being headstrong.” She stood up, and as she did he squeezed her hand and looked deep into her eyes. A warm pink flush covered her neck and chin, but she held on.

           “You feel it too, don’t you, Scully? Our connection?” he whispered.

           She said nothing, but nodded slowly, a tear trickling down her cheek.

 The first two nights he fell into a swirling, restless sleep where his heart raced and he saw horrifying images behind his eyes. Sometimes, it was Samantha levitating and being sucked out of their bedroom window. Sometimes it was Jed beating into him. He saw Emmanuelle, the little French girl he tried to help. He saw the vacant dead faces of fallen colleagues. His past catching up with him. In others, the dreams were not like memories. They were distorted and strange. Scully holding an infant to her breast in front of a blazing brick hearth, her hair spilling down her back in luxurious curls. Scully in rags and mopping water in the darkest hold of an overcrowded ship. Scully planting seedlings in red dusty earth. Scully in a deep red satin gown, her hair pinned into a fashionable bob. Scully, bound and gagged, terrified and confined in a small space; in another, she was crying against his chest, holding a pendant necklace. Her hair was lighter. He held a bee in his fingers. He felt immeasurably sad. He was freezing cold. He was holding a gun towards her and that signature single tear tracked down her cheek again. A mental picture of the shiny metal object that Frohike had shown him appeared, bright in his mind. He jolted awake. She was there, holding his hand, whispering his name in her smooth, calm voice.

           . “I’ve known you, Scully. I think I’ve always known you.” The words tasted strange on his tongue but it he let them out and she smiled at him.

 It took nearly a week for him to recover enough to get out of bed and think about returning to the Skinner station. Scully had fussed and cared for him, even wearing her uniform one afternoon. He told her she looked saintly in the starched white of it. She indulged him with a beatific smile. He wanted to kiss her, but pulled himself back. The sound of Bill Scully scraping his chair across the kitchen tiles was enough of a reminder of his place.

           “I recommended to Mr Skinner that he put you on light duties for a week or so. You’re still pretty banged up, Mulder.”

           “Have you been looking me whilst I’ve been sleeping?” he grinned at her as she helped him sit up and get his bearings.

           “No, I’m looking at you right now. Put this on.” She handed him a white singlet and shirt and he struggled to put it over his head without wincing.

           He stood up on shaky legs and held the back of the chair to balance. His ears buzzed and his chest rose and fell with the mere effort of being upright.

           “You’ll be fine,” Scully said, holding his elbow. “You might experience some vertigo for a day or too. Drink plenty of fluids – and not the amber kind. You’re lucky you didn’t get bedsores, lying down for nearly seven days straight.”

           “Would Bill have let you tend to them for me?”

           She chuffed. “I wouldn’t have told him.”

           “You’ve always been a rebel, Scully.” He knew that as surely as he knew his left from his right.

           Her smile dropped away. “Well, let’s get you properly dressed. Byers is waiting in the kitchen to take you back to the Skinner station. He’s already eaten an entire half of Tara’s currant tart while listening to her gossiping about every single woman in the district. You need to rescue him before she starts telling him about her spinster sister.”

           She gathered his jacket and slid his boots across to him. He cursed his tactlessness. “I’m sorry, Scully. I’m just worried about you and this whole situation.”

           “I’m fine, Mulder. I want to get to the bottom of the mystery lights and the disappearing animals as much as you do. But first you need to get strong again. I can’t have my back up going lame on me.”

           “Are you making plans?” His feet felt heavy in boots as he hobbled behind her.

           “We need to get into Spender’s facility.” She kept her voice low as she opened the door.

           “You need to keep away from that facility, Scully. It’s dangerous.”

           She stopped in the doorway. “What are you not telling me, Mulder. Why is it all about me and my wellbeing? What has Skinner said?”

           He swallowed.

           “You need to tell me, Mulder,” she folded her arms over her chest. “You said we had a connection, that you’ve always known me. You can’t make those sorts of claims and then keep me in the dark.”

           He knew she was right. Dammit, he knew she was always right. “Spender’s planning on doing tests on human subjects.”

           She gasped. “On whom?”

           He swallowed again.

           “On me? What? Why? I don’t understand.”

           Bill’s voice rose from the kitchen. “I’m not sure I do, either Scully. We can’t talk now. Meet me tonight?”

           “Dana, Byers is waiting.” Bill leant around the kitchen door.

           She waved a hand at her brother and turned to support Mulder as he walked down the passageway. “At the old sheds, midnight?”

           “I’ll be waiting.”

 The night was warm. A full moon lit the way. Mulder held a hip flask of water and took regular breaks to steady his breathing. Frohike insisted on coming with him, and secretly he was pleased the little man was by his side. He ached like hell still and he didn’t entirely trust his weakened body.

           Scully and Missy were already there, hunkered down behind the side wall. She felt Mulder’s forehead and handed him two Panadeine Forte.

           “You probably haven’t taken any painkillers this afternoon, have you?”

           He swallowed the pills and bent down to pat the dog when the sky turned platinum bright and a fierce boom ripped through the barn. The world tilted, Missy yelped and Mulder felt his legs give way.

           When he came around, he saw Frohike struggling to stand, and Scully on all fours, moaning. He gingerly touched his forehead, and felt the heat of blood spilling from a reopened wound.

           “Are you okay, Mulder?” Scully crawled over to him. “Don’t get up.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Mr Frohike, are you all right?”

           The little man nodded and joined them.

           “Where’s Missy?” Scully looked around and whistled for the dog. “Missy! Here girl.” She stood up, and Mulder stretched his neck side to side before standing too.

           “Missy!” he called, fearing what they all did.

           “She’s gone, she’s been taken.” Scully’s voice cracked and she held her face in her hands.

           Another flash and crack of noise and Mulder’s world turned white hot again. He clutched his head and sunk to his knees. His brain rattled in his head and he couldn’t breathe. He clutched his chest and curled into a ball as the pain lanced through him.

 He tried so hard to open his eyes but his head ached and his arms and legs were pinned down by fatigue. He heard faint noises, like the hum of voices. He willed his eyes to open but his lids were heavy. The voices grew louder. He heard other noises, machinery buzzing and bleeping, he felt like the world was moving around him, like he was floating. He tried to lift his arm up to wipe his eyes, but he realised it wasn’t fatigue that was pinning them down, it was some kind of restraints. His heart pumped adrenaline through his veins and his eyes flipped open. Where was he? Where was Scully? He was strapped to a gurney, four men in what he could only describe as space suits wheeling him down a corridor. He saw fragments of fantastic things, a plane or craft of some sort, a design he didn’t recognise. He tried to speak but someone clamped a mask over his mouth. He panicked, fighting his restraints, making guttural noises. Someone barked an order. A needle. Blackness.

[frangipanidownunder]

Under a wide sky: chapter three

Part three of my AU set in 1950s Australia for @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International. Chapter Three: Time and Space The biggest surprise of the night wasn’t the reappearance of the sheep but the fact that Mulder still possessed all his limbs by the time they reached the Scully house. Bill muttered threats. Spender said not a word but chain-smoked Winfields. Scully scowled at her brother and kept pace next to Mulder, her arm brushing his occasionally; a small comfort for a small time.

           Missy stood behind the gate to the yard. She ran to Scully’s side but snarled at Spender, her ears flat against her head and her teeth bared. For an instant, Mulder loved that dog for its perceptive nature and good taste. He wanted to snarl at the man too. Spender stood, pinned between the fence and the path to the house.

           “Dana, get that mutt out of the yard. It’s upsetting the guests.” Bill shot her a spiteful look.

           “She is a barometer for good company. Maybe we should get her to vet all our guests before they come to the house,” Scully replied. Mulder folded a smile into his chin as he watched her take Missy’s collar and drag her, still barking, to the end of the verandah where there was a chain on a long length of rope.

           Tara was waiting in the kitchen, holding a sleeping Matty in her arms. Along with Skinner and Byers. Mulder felt another wave of relief wash over him. He figured with all this extra company the worst that could happen now was that he would lose his job, not his ability to walk and talk. Bill registered surprise at the appearance of the additional guests. Scully beamed helped Tara serve tea and shortbread. Bill took a bottle of whisky from the pantry and poured a generous helping into a glass, not even bothering to offer it to anyone else.

           “We’re sorry for coming unannounced, Bill,” Skinner said, eyeing Spender. “We didn’t realise you already had guests. Mr Spender, Mr Mulder.”

           Spender lit up another cigarette and Scully pursed her lips with disgust. Tara pressed the baby’s head to her shoulder and fussed around in a dresser to produce an ashtray.

           Bill looked flustered. “Mr Spender dropped by to see how shearing was going, didn’t he, Tara?”

           She nodded vaguely.

Skinner pushed his glasses back up his nose and leant back in his chair. He glanced at Byers for a second. “How is it going?”

           Bill waited a beat, then spoke. “There’s been a development. With the sheep.”

           “What he’s trying to say is that our missing sheep were returned. Right after that last huge flash of light. The one that knocked Mul…Mr Mulder and I to the ground. The flash of light that came from the direction of your property, Mr Spender.”

           “Dana!” Bill snapped.

           “Why were you with Mr Mulder, Dana. At this time of night?” Tara looked at the clock on the wall and shook her head.

           “Exactly,” Bill said.

Scully pressed her lips together but kept her eyes on Mulder.

           Skinner exhaled, his nostrils flaring like a bull in a lonely paddock. “I think the important thing is that the sheep came back. And that’s why Byers and I are here tonight. Some of our stock, a few sheep and some poddy calves, all of which were missing presumed rustled, reappeared tonight. Then died. And as Miss Scully detailed, this seemed to happen right after the third flash of light. It would appear to definitively exonerate Mr Mulder here of any wrongdoing.” He nodded to Mulder, who nodded back, feeling his shoulders relax a notch. “Unless you’re suggesting Mr Mulder is capable of lighting up the sky on a whim.”

           Bill glared. “The way I see it, these lights have happened more often since he’s been in town.”

           “Bill! Can you hear yourself? He’s a farmhand, not Thor. Maybe we should be asking Mr Spender what he knows.” She set her blue gaze on Smokey, who smiled wryly as the ash fell from his cigarette and missed the ashtray.

           “Dana, your accusations are embarrassing me in my house.”

           “It seems to me,” Byers began, his quiet authority breaking the crackling tension between brother and sister, “that we need to harness our energy into working out why these things are happening. Mr Spender, as mayor of Tarra Warra, do you intend on convening a shire council meeting to discuss the incidents? I’m sure if we were to check in on neighbouring farms, we might find similar occurrences. Perhaps then, you could, in your collective council wisdom, resolve to write to the state government to request some kind of investigative party visit Tarra Warra to look into our mystery lights. Before something more serious happens.”

           Spender stubbed out his cigarette and steepled his hands. “I’ll get on it. Thank you for the tea, Bill, Mrs Scully. It was a pleasure to see you again, Miss Scully.”

           The look he gave her made Mulder’s blood bubble in his ears. Spender must have heard the hiss of steam because he turned towards him and smiled his arrogant smile.

           “Mr Mulder, you are fast developing a reputation in our town of being caught where you shouldn’t be.” He cast a sly look at Dana. “You Americans may be charismatic and charming, but over here, foreign things are often considered pests.”

Skinner motioned for Mulder to accompany he and Byers out of the Scully kitchen. Mulder shrugged and followed.

           “That’s your last chance, Mulder.” Bill was walking back to the house in the wake of the dusty plume left by Spender’s car. He raised an angry finger and poked Mulder square in the chest. “You come near Dana or any other part of my property again and I’ll beat you so hard you’ll be seeing your precious bloody stars every time you open your eyes.”

           Mulder could smell the sour tang of whisky on Bill’s breath. “Dana is not your property.”

           Bill raised his hands ready to shove Mulder but Walter Skinner slid himself between the two of them.

           “That’s enough. Mulder, in the truck. Bill, go inside and get some sleep. We’ll talk about the sheep another time.”

           Bill stalked back to the house and slammed the flywire door.

 By the time they got back to the Skinner station, the air was brewing with unshed rain and Mulder breathed in the dampness as he got out of the truck. Stars were disappearing rapidly behind the billowing clouds. None of the men had talked on the way back but Mulder’s mind was brewing with unshed thoughts. How had those animals just reappeared? Had he and Scully really been unconscious for nearly ten minutes? Spender seemed to reticent to talk and what was his relationship with Bill Scully? Why did Skinner and Byers show up at the Scully property just as Spender was there? Their timing was suspect. He entertained the idea that Byers had asked Frohike and Langly to spy on him, on Skinner’s orders, perhaps. Those two were secretive little bastards sometimes. He half expected them to be hiding under the tarp in the tray of the truck. He actually went to unpop it to see, but pulled himself back, to keep his paranoia in check.

           Skinner rounded the back of the vehicle and stood next to him, staring up into the sky. “It’s pretty impressive, Mulder, even when it’s just a heap of clouds up there, but don’t make the mistake of thinking your stargazing is going to get you an answer to these celestial incidents. It might be wise to look in more terrestrial places.” He fixed his hat on to his bald head.

           “What exactly are you saying, Mr Skinner?”

           “I’m just saying that you are not the only one who’s intrigued by these lights. But that doesn’t mean you can just blunder in.”

           Mulder opened his mouth to retort, but Skinner held up his hand and began to walk away.  Mulder put his hands on his hips and sighed. Byers clapped him on the back and smiled in that quiet way of his.

           “He’s right. There are ways to go about this, carefully.”

           They were startled by the lights of a vehicle approaching. Dust whipped up and Skinner stopped. Cattle brayed in the distance, sheep bleated and Clay bolted from behind one of the sheds, barking up a storm.

           Dana Scully stepped out of the ute and shut the door. “I need to look at your returned animals.”

  Mulder watched, fascinated, as she gathered supplies from the dusty medical kit that sat on a shelf in the musty shed. She foraged for tools and dragged one of the dead sheep to lie under a spotlight that was rigged up on the top of a set of stepladders. She asked Byers to gather some cloths and towels, some water and old newspapers. She wiped her hands down the front of her blue overalls – a few size too big on her small frame.

           “What are you looking for, Scully?” Mulder asked as she laid out scissors and knives.

           “Trouble,” came Skinner’s sardonic response. “If your brother finds you here, he’ll explode.”

           “Then we’ll just clean up the mess and get on with our lives,” she said bluntly. “That’s what we’re good at round here, isn’t it?”

           Mulder looked at Skinner who just shrugged and knelt down beside her.

           “I’m going to find out what killed these animals. You can either go running to my brother or you can help. And if you know what Smokey Spender is up to, you’d better tell me now. We can’t watch on and do nothing any more. What if it’s people that disappear next time?”

           Mulder felt his insides clench. “What can I do?”

           She looked at him. “You can tell me I’m not crazy. That really did happen tonight, didn’t it?”

           He nodded. She dug the end of a pair of scissors into the chest of the sheep and dragged her hand down with a ‘hmmph’

The flesh pulled apart as she continued the drag, exposing bone. “How do you know what to do, Scully?”

“I’ve read about it.”

“I’ve read about how to kill vampires, but that doesn’t mean I feel ready to drive a stake through someone’s heart.”

She fixed him with a cool look. “Maybe one day you’ll have that experience. Now, shut up and let me concentrate.” She licked her lips and slight crease appeared between her brows.

He shivered. It seemed so familiar. The two of them, heads and bodies close, their banter, working together.  

  Skinner offered to follow Scully back to the farm to make sure Bill didn’t leave an explosive mess all over the landscape. For that, Mulder was grateful. The sun was up by the time he came back. He reported no problems.

Mulder and Byers were drinking coffee on a bench seat outside the brew hall as heavy plops of rain fell. The other workers were making their early morning presence known, farting and scratching as they milled around, heading to the dunnies, the shower block or to get food. The smell of butter frying in a griddle ready to cook bacon and eggs made Mulder salivate. He saw Frohike and Langly heading over.

“A word of warning,” Byers said in a low, serious voice. “You should always be careful who’s listening, Mulder.” He nodded to Frohike and Langly. “These two are good men. Others might not be so open.”

“Spender has spies everywhere, is that what you’re telling me?”

Byers smiled. “You catch on fast. I try to manage the personnel here, but in a small rural town, there are limited choices.”

“I’m catching on to that pretty fast too. I want to know what’s going on here. Sc…Miss Scully couldn’t find any cause of death when she examined those animals. And you and Skinner seem to know more than you’re letting on. What do you know about Spender?” He kept his eyes moving around, checking on what the other men were doing. He kept his voice low but he was keenly aware of what they might look like. Newest worker head to head with manager. Even without the threat of paranormal activity in town, he knew his current position looked suspicious. A burly worker, Jed, walked a little too close.

Byers stood up abruptly. “You, Frohike and Langly, meet at the front gate at 3pm. We’re doing a boundary fence check.”

Mulder nodded.

Jed let out a grunt. “Fucking pretty boy yank gets all the easy work.”

Byers smiled. “If you have an issue with rosters, workloads or my delegation skills, you are welcome to lodge a written objection. Otherwise, I am sure there are plenty of other men who would be keen to take your place on this station.”

Jed scowled, then continued on his way to the brew hall.

  Byers drove them past the Spender place, and continued for several miles beyond, turning onto a fire track in the thick pine plantation. The bumpy path narrowed and low hanging branches scratched at the roof of the cab.

           “That’s far enough,” Langly said, tapping Byers on the shoulders. Byers parked. Frohike got out and Mulder saw him unhook the tarp over the tray and fumble around until he found his target. Rain continued to splatter, and the atmosphere was heavy and stormy. Frohike pushed a small metal toolbox onto the back seat and climbed in. Byers turned round and watched from the driver’s seat.

           “What is this? A lucky dip? A marriage proposal? My last words?” Mulder asked, tension rising in his throat.

Frohike didn’t crack his face, but unclipped the latches and opened the concertina lid. He reached inside, carefully removing the object, a flat, metallic plate, pearlescent, reflecting muted greens and purples like an opal.

“That is a part from an unidentified flying object,” Byers said.

Tension left his body instantly and Mulder laughed out loud. “A UFO? Are you serious?”

“It was recovered about ten miles further into this forest.”

Mulder peered at the object in Frohike’s hands. “That’s a UFO? Come on, guys.”

Frohike held it up against the window and the colours sparked and roiled. “It’s part of a UFO. Spender has most of the rest of it in that shed out the back of his property.”

“How do you know all this?” Mulder couldn’t hide the incredulity from his voice.            Langly shrugged. “We saw it. We watched it fall from the sky. We heard the impact. We got here as quickly as we could, but his crew was already there. We salvaged this part.”

“And you think he knew this was a UFO, that he was tracking it, so he could be first on the scene?”

Langly shook his head. “No! He wasn’t tracking it. We were.”

Mulder rolled his eyes.

“We have state-of-the-art equipment that allows us to keep an eye on activity in our skies. Since Roswell, we’ve become aware of many other incidents around the world. Why shouldn’t there be UFOs flying over Australia? We like to think we’re isolated down here, but other beings probably don’t see it that way,” Byers said.

“Other beings?” Mulder said, chuckling.

“I must admit that I’m disappointed in your attitude, Mr Mulder. I had you pegged as a much more open-minded type. A believer.”

“Maybe in another life. Right now, I just want to know what’s going on in this town. I want to know what can be done about it. I want to make sure that the people here, not just the animals, are safe.”

Byers regarded him. “Your experiences before and during the war have made you sensitive yet impulsive. You have a high capacity for caring for others, yet you leap in with little regard for your own safety. You were reported for leaving your barracks on multiple occasions but chose not to disclose to your superiors that you were looking after an orphaned child in the nearby French village. When this was discovered, you were disciplined, threatened with court martial. But your father intervened and requested you return to the States. However, he refused to have you back in the family home and you spent time on the west coast until the war ended. You decided to study psychology, keen to discover what drives people to do the things they do. It’s a real shame, Mr Mulder, that you have never been able to profile your own mind, to work out what is your own motivation in life.”

Mulder stared at his hands.

“Your studies took you to Oxford, where you excelled, despite several run-ins with the older professors. Since then, you have spent several restless years taking on menial roles despite your qualifications. You claimed your trip to Australia was ‘to explore the world and what it has to offer’ yet you have chosen to spend your time working long hours in unattractive jobs.

“I suggest that you are working so hard so that you can forget about your sister, Samantha, whose disappearance you carry like a burden on your soul. You have an unyielding desire to speak for the victim, to rage against the establishment, to buck the system. So you choose manual labour to work off your anger and your guilt. Too much downtime means too much thinking. Too much thinking takes you back to your past, to Samantha. Am I right?”

Mulder looked out of the window and watched the streaks of rain snake down the glass. The inside of the car was hot and the windows fogged up. He turned back to Frohike, who was peering at him through his thick lenses, and took the piece of metal, twisting it and turning it in his hands, giving it a thorough inspection. “So according to your profile I should now sacrifice myself for the greater good by breaking into the Spender property and destroying the rest of this craft so that all the sheep in Tarra Warra can live happily ever after?”

Langly snickered and Frohike tutted loudly. Byers merely smiled like the Mona Lisa.

“And how the fuck is that you know so much about my personal history? Who are you people? Who is Skinner?” He slammed his hand on the head rest and the car shook. “And remember, I can be impulsive and reckless, so don’t hold back.”

“Mr Mulder, you might think that you came by this job by word of mouth, but we recruited you. We’ve been watching you for years. You have a curious mind, a high intellect, an unerring belief in justice for the little people. You might not yet believe in UFOs or life on other planets but you will. You will see what’s really out there.”

“What’s out there are lies and deceit. It’s everywhere I’ve travelled. Why do you think I don’t stay in one place for too long?”

“The truth is also out there, Mr Mulder.”

Mulder huffed out a frustrated sigh. “What is going on here? Are people in danger? Is this what happened to my sister? Is that how I’m on your radar?”

Frohike cleared his throat. “We know that so far, only animals have disappeared and been returned. But in other areas around the world, people have gone missing. This has been happening for several years. We’ve monitored Spender and his people here and his cohorts overseas. He’s part of a consortium, a group of men intent on world domination. They are using and hiding alien technology with the help of governments around the world. The kind of technology that enables time to bend and shift. That controls matter.”

“And you want me to do what? I mean, you’re asking me to believe that a sheep farmer and his cronies in rural Victoria, Australia are actually investigating the activities of a global syndicate into time travelling space aliens intent on kidnapping and returning animals who end up dead.”

“Sounds like crap when he says it,” Langly said.

“Sounds like the plot of a really crappy tv show,” Mulder said, getting out of the car and relishing the rain that soaked him within in seconds. He strode away from the car and looked up at the canopy of the pines that loomed high into the grey sky. Could those clouds really cover up the lives of little green men? He’d read about Roswell, of course, taken a little bit of interest in it, but more so because it was a story from his home country and the English still seemed like aliens to him at that time. Were they alone? Why should they be alone? How arrogant, how presumptuous, how human.

 He heard the car door open. Byers stood next to him, looking up too. “Do you believe in soul mates, Mr Mulder?”

           “Are you going to tell me that you’re really the love of my life but you’re an alien dressed in human form and you didn’t realise that we’re still overly squeamish about homosexuality here on earth?”

           Byers laughed. It was an odd sound. “No, I’m not. I think you’re aware that my love interests lie elsewhere. I’m simply asking if you believe a soul can travel from body to body and love only one other soul for eternity?”

           “Logically, I’d have to say no,” Mulder started. “To believe that you’d have to believe in an afterlife, which presumes belief in a god or other higher being.”

           “But you’re not always logical,” Byers countered. “You’ve proven over the years that your heart often overruns your head.”

           Mulder let out a soft sigh of defeat. “Romantically, I’d have to say yes. I’d like to think a love so strong and powerful can transcend all constraints, physical or otherwise, and sustain itself forever.” He rubbed his temples and looked a Byers. “I can’t believe I just admitted that. In a forest after having a conversation with a group of weirdos in a car with a piece of a UFO secreted away in a tool box. This is the most insane afternoon of my life. And believe me, I’ve had some very intense experiences so far.”

           Byers nodded. “The vanishing of your sister was a trigger for us – a reason for us to monitor you. We’ve found over the years that people directly affected by something as traumatic as this often reach out to groups like ours to find answers. You haven’t reached out directly, but you display that intense curiousity that we rely on. When people disappear, other authorities do the ground work, but we look to the skies. On the night your sister vanished there was plenty of UFO activity.”

           Mulder stared at him. “You think she was taken by aliens?”

           Byers said nothing.

           “That’s the craziest thing I’ve heard.”

           “Mr Mulder, I have another crazy theory to put to you. Are you ready for it?”

           Mulder threw his hands up to the skies. “Why the hell not!”

           “You and Miss Scully, you felt an instant connection, yes?”

           Mulder shifted on his feet, his hackles rising at the mention of her name. “Scully? What do you mean? Is something going to happen to her?” His soulmate?

           “We believe that it is Spender’s plan to increase the pace of his experiments and to move from animal test subjects to human test subjects.”

           He pressed his head on the bark of the tree in front of him, enjoying its roughness against his skin. “Are you telling me that Scully is in danger, that they’ll take her? Who are these people?”

  The ute lurched back up the track, now claggy from the rain. Skinner, wearing an ankle length Drizabone coat and a battered Akubra met them as they parked up. He ushered them into the house, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the workers milling around the sheds in the nearest yard.

           “Well?” He hung up his outerwear on the rack in the hallway and shucked off his sodden boots.

           “Scu…Dana might be in danger. I need to know what we can do to protect her.” Mulder was hard on Skinner’s heels as they headed to the lounge room. Skinner drew the blinds.

           “We are working on a plan.”

           “Which is?”

           Frohike and Langly looked at each other. Byers remained passive.

           “Shit, you don’t have a plan.” Mulder span round, hands around his face. “You claim to know my every move, you claim there’s a global conspiracy to use alien technology, but you don’t have a plan to protect a young woman under your very noses?”

           Skinner held up his hands. “She is a very capable young woman. Independent, hard-working.”

           “And totally vulnerable if Spender gets his hands on her. Her brother is practically kissing Smokey’s feet. She’s a sitting duck. Hell, Bill Scully would sell his own kid to the devil if he thought his own life was going to be better for it,” Mulder rubbed his chin. “I need to get her away from there.”

           “Any extraction has to be planned thoroughly, or Spender will be on to us,” Skinner said.

           “And we’ve got no time to do it.”

           Outside, the sky lit up. Thunder rolled. Rain lashed down. Mulder sat on the nearest chair, thinking fast.

           “It will have to be you,” he said to Skinner. “You’ll have to arrange to get her off the property. You still have some credibility.”

           Skinner nodded. “I’ll request that she visit some of my men to tend to them. They’ve got a fever, a rash or something like that.”

           “Tend to them?”

           “She’s a trained nurse, didn’t you know?”

           Mulder sighed. She wanted to be a doctor. “Can you send for her now?”

           Skinner picked up the phone. He dialled the number. He spoke with Tara Scully. He said ‘I see’ a lot. He put the phone down.

           “Nobody’s seen Dana all day.”

[frangipanidownunder]

Under a wide sky: chapter two

Part two of my AU set in 1950s Australia for @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International. 

Chapter Two: Smoke and Mirrors

Skinner took up a fair amount of room at the Scully family dining table. He almost seemed to block out the light. He’d taken his hat off and sweat was bobbling on the side of his bald head. His wire rim glasses slipped down his boxer’s nose and a dark stain shaped a vee down the front of his blue shirt. Next to him, Bill Scully rapped his hands on the table top. Tara fussed over the jug on the range and Dana perched on a chair next to Mulder. He dared to look at her a couple of times and she rewarded him with a shy smile, almost conspiratorial. He allowed his breathing to relax a little but then caught sight of Bill Scully’s ruddy face and bulging veins in his neck and resumed staring at his clasped hands.

           Tara served tea and lamingtons. Skinner ate, keeping his eye on Mulder. When Tara and Dana cleared away the plates, Bill Scully cleared his throat. Mulder’s stomach dropped.

           “Mr Skinner. This man, Mulder, claims to be an employee of yours. We caught him on our property, down by the creek. He claims,” Bill paused dramatically, “that he was watching the sky. Then, the lights appeared and you came. I was going to take him to the cop…police station, report him for rustling. You don’t need men like him on your property.”

           Skinner flexed his neck side to side and Mulder watched the tendons bow and bend. “I haven’t met Mr Mulder until tonight. Byers employed him.”

           Bill nodded, collecting coconut crumbs from the table, and eyeing Mulder.

           “And if Byers employed him, he must have checked out. Mr Mulder, what do you say?”

           Mulder raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I didn’t take any sheep. I never have. I was telling the truth. I walked along the creek bed, lay down to look at the stars.” He could feel his face burn, but Skinner’s chin quirked towards him in interest. “I have never seen so many stars, it’s fascinating. And calming.” He placed his hands flat on the table in front of him in a gesture of honesty, and added, “Sir.”

           Bill Scully roared with laughter and pushed his chair back so it scraped across the stone floor. “He’s a bloody poofter. All this star talk.”

           “Bill! Mind your tongue,” Tara said. He ignored his wife and grabbed a pair of stubbies of Tooheys out of the fridge.

           “He’s going to be about useful as a chocolate teapot at your property, Walt. Summer’s going to be bad. You need grafters not slackers.” He handed a bottle to Skinner, who shook his head and kept his gaze on Mulder.

           “Mr Mulder will accompany me back to the station. He will not wander onto your property and if he does something wrong he will not be given a second chance.” Skinner’s voice commanded attention and Bill stopped glugging his beer. “Does that seem fair, Mr Scully?”

           Bill chinked the bottle down on the table and heaved out a deep sigh. Mulder held his gaze. Bill said nothing but shrugged.

           “Mr Mulder?” Skinner asked.

           “That’s fine with me. I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble. I didn’t realise I’d crossed the fenceline.” He smiled softly at Dana who was not bothering to hide her disdain at her brother’s attitude. He turned back to Bill Scully. “If you need any help fixing up the fence, I’m pretty handy with a hammer and nails.”

           Bill snorted with derision.

           Mulder held up his hands. “The offer is there, if it’s okay with Mr Skinner, of course.”

           Skinner stood up, silent. He put his hat back on and thanked Tara for her hospitality. As he reached the door, he turned back to Bill Scully. “The lights, Bill. What do you think they are?”

           “I’ve heard talk they’re from the Spender place.” Dana stood up.

           Frowning, Skinner looked from Bill to Dana to Mulder. “The Spender place? I thought that was a research lab for the Federal Government?”

           “Exactly,” Dana said.

           Bill stared hard at his sister. “What’s that supposed to mean? Jeez, Dana, Spender’s okay. You can’t go round spreading lies. You’re starting to sound as loose in the head as him.” He flicked his thumb at Mulder.

           Dana crossed her arms over her chest. She went to say something but caught Mulder’s eye and stopped herself.

Mulder grafted for long, hard days in the sun. His shirt clung to his back, his drill pants felt like lead on his legs and his toes burned in his workboots. Every sinew in every muscle throbbed. His shoulders creaked, his back protested, his limbs were heavy with fatigue. He relished the cold shower at the end of the day. He relished the click-fizz of a cool beer at tea-time, he even relished the thin mattress of his bunk. He felt good. He didn’t have time to mope or remember. He didn’t have to time regret or overthink. His only sadness was that he hadn’t been able to enjoy the wide open sky at night. Or come to think of it, enjoy the smiling face of Dana Scully. Where did that come from? He rolled over in his bed and tried to block out both the snoring of Langly and Frohike, a pair of oddities who bunked on either side of him, and the thoughts of Dana Scully’s rare beauty.

           In the workers kitchen, he grabbed a mug of tea, prodded a couple of pikelets onto his fork and dropped them on plate before drizzling them with honey, flicking away flies. He finished breakfast with a thick slice of damper spread with farm butter. He loved the food on the station – good, honest tucker that kept him going.

           “Hey, Spooky Starman,” came a voice from behind him. He turned in his seat, ready to give as good as he got and came face-to-gut with Melvyn Frohike. He looked absurd in his oversized work overalls and his thick lensed glasses. “We’re heading down the street to pick up supplies. Byers said for you to come.”

           Mulder swallowed the remainder of his tea, only too glad at the thought of riding into town instead of lugging sheep round the shed. It was searing hot and the sky pressed down on them as they trudged to the ute. One of the farm dogs, Clay, the one with the tattered ear and the grey and brown splotches on is black fur, jumped in the tray. Frohike got in the passenger seat, Langly climbed up next to Mulder in the back and Byers took the drivers seat.

           Down the street turned out to be a forty mile trip to Tarra Warra, a one-street, one-pub town. There was also a school, a church, a bank, a police station, a hardware and grain store, a general store, a butcher, a baker, a haberdashery, a garage, a Post Office cum newsagent and a scattering of houses either end of the street. A couple of dogs scampered up the pavement, setting Clay into paroxysms of throaty barking. Mulder followed the others to the hardware store.

It was a surprise to look around and see buildings and people instead of brown stubbled grass and stock, to look up and see telegraph wires and light poles and roofs and starlings instead of the never-ending hard blue sky and far-off wedge-tail eagles. It was pleasant to hear the hum of humanity instead of the drone of sheep and to breathe in the oily smell of urbanity instead of the organic smells of farm-life.

           Byers walked with him. “Skinner said you’d had a run in with the Scully clan.”

           “It was an oversight on my part and I apologised. It won’t happen again.”

           “I know,” Byers said, his eyes serious behind his glasses. “My reputation as manager relies on my ability to pick the right men. Skinner has faith in me. Don’t let me lose my faith in you.”

           Mulder pondered just how he’d been picked. He’d only been in the country a few months and most of those had been spent in an abattoir west of Sydney. He’d travelled south to the dusty north east of Victoria on nothing more than the drunken ramblings of a co-worker propping up the bar in the local hotel who knew a mate who’s mate had got a job as a shearer a sheep station. He left as soon as he could, putting the smell of death hundreds of miles behind him.

They collected the supplies and loaded the ute with assorted nails, screws, brackets, nuts and bolts, larger tools, cans of oil, paint, creosote, chamois cloths, Metholated spirit, sugar soap, scrubbing brushes, and rolls of chicken wire.  Clay sat high on a couple of bags of cement surveying the main street.

           “Mulder, go to McKays and pick up our order,” Byers said, pointing to the bakery over the road.

           Through the fly flaps the smell of yeast and hot pastry and sugar filled his nostrils. He inhaled deeply and found himself thinking of his mother’s apple cakes that he and Samantha devoured as soon as they’d been iced. His eyes wandered over the trays of cinnamon doughnuts, lamingtons, vanilla slices and coffee scrolls displayed behind the glass cabinets. Above, the hot shelf contained flaky pastry sausage rolls, pies and pasties. Behind the counter were baskets of breads and rolls, twisted and grooved and golden. His stomach rumbled. A giggle from behind caused him to turn around.

           “Hungry?” Dana Scully was smiling at him from beneath a wide-brimmed straw hat. She wore a pale blue floral collared dress that flared at her waist and sat mid-calf. Her feet were enclosed in elegant white sandals with a small heel.

           He let himself smile back. “I almost didn’t recognise you without your gun.”

           “I try to leave it in the back of the truck when I pick up my pastries. It doesn’t quite fit in my bag.” She held up a string bag filled with knot top rolls.

           “You from the Skinner station?” The baker rubbed his floury hands down the front of his apron. “Your order’s out the back here.”

           “Well, Mr Mulder, it was nice to see you again.” She turned and left, leaving the fly flaps swinging.

           Yes, Miss Scully, it certainly was.

Byers took a different route home, heading out to the O’Leary place. “I need to book the harvester in for a service.”

Langly dug Mulder in the ribs and whispered, “not just the harvester.”

A young blonde woman waved from the porch of the house as Byers conferred with the mechanic. Mulder watched Byers turn briefly back to the ute, then walk over to her. The door behind them closed and Frohike whistled from the front seat.

           “He’s a lucky bloke. Why Maree O’Leary’s only got eyes for him is a greater mystery than the lights in the sky around here.”

           More than ten minutes passed and Byers reappeared.

           “He can’t have got past first base,” Mulder said. “His tie is too perfect still.”

           Frohike shook his head. “Byers could be doing the wild thing for hours and still look like a stockbroker.”

           “Besides,” added Langly, “it’s all about the skin tone.” Mulder looked closer at Byers’ face and noticed a faint sheen of sweat covering his forehead and cheek. “Told you.”

           Mulder smiled. “So, these lights. What do you know about them? Back at the Scully place, Dana…Miss Scully said they might be something to do with the Spender place?”

           Byers eyed him in the rearview mirror. “The Spender place is off limits.”

           Mulder went to ask more, but Langly jabbed his thigh.

           “The lights are probably just an atmospheric anomaly,” Byers said in a tone that brooked no further discussion.

           The remainder of the ride back was spent in silence apart from a bout of rabid barking from Clay as they passed a property set back from the road and protected by a high razor wire fence.

           Langly leant forward and whispered, “The Spender place.”

           Mulder turned and watched as the property disappeared from view.

When the nightmares got too bad, when Samantha’s screams, when the empty eyes of his fallen comrades, when the loneliness in his heart threatened to overwhelm him, Mulder had to walk. Now that the new fence had gone up between the Skinner and the Scully properties he at least could stay confined to the right side. As November rolled into December, work days grew longer. Sheep shearing, drenching, fencing, slashing paddocks, machinery repairs, it was never-ending during daylight hours, but the twilight shift had always been the hardest. His weary body welcomed sleep when it came but his mind had other ideas sometimes.

Dry grass crunched under his boots, fruit bats screeched from the stand of gums on the lower side of the gentle slope towards the Scully farm, the minty scent of eucalypt was all around. In the distance, a dog barked. He liked to think it was Missy giving him a warning not to stray across the boundary. The light from his torch cast a thin silvery glow ahead of him and he found himself thinking about the Scully family. Had Bill served? How long had they been in Australia? What was Dana’s plan for her life? What would she think of America? Whoa there, boy. Hold up.

The stars spread out before him as he sat on the incline surveying the valley. An old hay shed on the Scully side of the fence became more visible as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Its frame was bent and twisted, probably from years of being exposed to the wind. Freakishly, as that thought passed through his mind, a breeze whipped up out of nowhere, as seemed to be the way of things in this part of the world. The faint rustling of gum leaves became a more urgent rumbling and Mulder figured it might be a sign to head back.

“I’ve got my gun, but it’s not pointed at you this time.” Dana Scully’s voice was barely audible above the hissing wind.

He lifted the torch beam and saw her on the other side of the fence, her hair whipping around her face. He walked down to meet her.

“You’re out late, Miss Scully. Do you have your brother’s permission?”

She blew out an irritated sigh and balanced the barrel of her gun over the fence wire. “Bill is not my keeper, Mr Mulder. I do what I like, when I like.”

At that moment, he didn’t doubt it. “Can we drop the Mr?”

She grinned. “Only if you drop the Miss.”

He opened his mouth. She was married. What an idiot she must think he was. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise…” He shone the light on to her hands.

She followed the torch beam, raised her eyebrows then lowered them in a split second. “Oh no, I’m not married. I just prefer not to be addressed as Miss Scully. It’s what my parents’ generation does. It’s what the priest calls me.”

He hoped he masked the relief on his face under his smile. “Dana…”

“No. You can call me Scully. Just Scully.”

“Okay. Just Scully. What are you doing out here?”

“I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

“What makes you think I have a story?”

“Everybody has a story, Mulder.”

He liked the way she pronounced his name. It had the rising inflection of an Australian accent, a blunt ‘ah’ instead of a rounded ‘er’.

“I saw the way you reacted to that really bright light the other week. You were frightened. Panicked, almost.”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shook his head. “I…I…sometimes I remember…” He hung his head and rubbed his temples with one hand.

“Oh,” she said, leaning forward and reaching a hand out to touch his arm. “you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too hard for you.”

Her eyes were wide, shining under the starry sky. There was a warmth in her expression that touched him in a way he couldn’t articulate.

“My brother suffers with the flashbacks too.” Her voice was soothing. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’ve done some research, some reading. It’s not uncommon…”

Mulder frowned. “Are you a doctor, Scully?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “No. I’d like to be. But…”

“The war, money, opportunity.” He knew the story.

She nodded. “And family.”

“Ah, protective big brother doesn’t want his sister to leave the property and live her own life.”

Before she could agree the sky lit up with a bright white flash and a low boom resonated across the hill. They both jerked in shock. When Mulder’s heart stopped thumping he realised she was still holding him. In fact, their fingers were entwined. Reluctantly, he unclasped his hand.

           “I dropped my torch.”

           “That was a big one.”

           “What are they? You said the other week that you thought research at the Spender place was responsible. How can that be?”

She regarded him for a moment. “Can I trust you, Mulder?”

           “Despite what your brother might think of me, I am a reliable and honest person. I have served my country, I have no reason to lie to anybody here. I just want to work hard and see more of this vast land.”

           “A few years ago, I was running errands in town and I drove out past the Spender place. It was winter, getting dark, nobody was around. Suddenly, there was a cow on the road.”

           “And? I imagine that would be a pretty common sight round here. Fences break, animals wander.”

           “But it just materialized, right in front of me.”

“Materialized?

She nodded vigourously. A flash skittered above them and they both ducked involuntarily. “The cow didn’t walk across the road. It just appeared. I’m not making this up, Mulder. It happened.”

The earnest look on her face made his heart skip. “What did you do?”

“I got out of the car and approached the animal. Normally a cow would be frightened in that situation, run off, but this one just stood there in the middle of the road. I mean I walked right up to it and touched it. It gave off an electrical spark, and I jumped back, but it still didn’t move. It was a few minutes before it seemed to come to, like it woke from a trance, or something. It mooed at me, blew out its nostrils and collapsed on the street.”

“It died?” Mulder tried to picture a younger Scully standing over a lifeless cow on a winter’s evening.

“Yes, poor thing.” Her voice cracked. She rubbed her nose. “Anyways, the nearest place was the Spender property. The gate was locked but I couldn’t leave the cow on the road, so I climbed the fence. I didn’t know there was an alarm on it. All these men came rushing at me. They had guns.”

“Did they hurt you?” His chest tightened at the thought.

“No, but they bloody scared me. I told them about the cow and they listened but didn’t speak at all. That’s when the old man came out.”

“Old man?”

“Smokey Spender. He looked me up and down and without saying a word one of his men walked me to one of their cars parked at the side of the house and drove me back home. I was so stunned I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat back and did nothing. I did chance a look back as we drove off. They were moving the cow, but they didn’t just move it to the side of the road, they took into the property. Why would they do that? What could they want with a dead cow?”

“Perhaps they wanted to throw a barbie?” She rolled her eyes. He deserved that. “But what has this got to do with the lights?”

She crossed her arms around her. “That night was the first night they happened. I couldn’t sleep. I was sitting in my room with the windows open. I thought it was a storm. But it was different. You know how it’s different.”

He chewed on his lower lip.

“And the next morning, Smokey Spender was in our kitchen drinking coffee with my brother. Bill told me to leave but I listened from outside the kitchen window. Spender told Bill that I had hit the cow and left it to die on the road. He told him that I shouldn’t be allowed to drive any more. Bill even offered to pay for the cow.” She was incensed as she recounted the tale.

“But surely there was no damage to the truck.”

“Exactly. I went to the garage but guess what?”

Mulder widened his eyes as he understood. “They’d returned your car, complete with a dented hood?”

“Bonnet. But yeah. And you know what really rubbed salt in the wounds. Bill didn’t let me drive for a year.”

He sucked in a breath. “How did he get away with that?”

She flashed him a wicked grin. “I’m a different person now. I’ve grown up in the last year. I’m not going to take any more…shit from anyone. Sorry.”

Mulder chuckled. “Hey, I’ve heard worse. I work in the shearing shed, remember? So, what do you think Spender’s doing?”

“Research, tests, experiments. The only way to know for sure is to get inside and look.”

“Are you suggesting we break in?” This was unexpected. And exciting.

“I’m just thinking out loud. It makes me mad to know that man is controlling this town.”

“Is he? I mean, is that what you really think?”

“It’s what I know. He pays people to keep quiet. People are scared of him. He makes donations to local businesses. He’s the shire mayor!”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. He’s doing something dodgy. I want to find out what it is. You seem curious. Are you up for it?”

Her challenge buzzed through him. His breath came in quick spurts. His stomach tingled. The hairs on his neck stood up. He was living again. But impulsivity had been his downfall before. He checked himself before he answered.

“I think it’s worth sleeping on.” He shone the torch on his watch. “It’s exactly midnight. I’ve no doubt you don’t need your beauty sleep, but I’ve got to be up at 4am and so…”

Before he could finish the sky blazed again and the boom was louder, directly overhead. They fell to the ground on their respective sides of the fence and lay there for a few seconds. Mulder moved first. He sat up and called her name. She stirred and moaned.

“Scully, are you alright?”

“I think so. You?”

“I’m fine.” He picked up the torch, still shining its light on the ground and looked at his watch again. 12.09am. “We were out for a few minutes, Scully.”

“Really?” She balanced herself against the fence and looked around. “Do you hear that, Mulder?”

He strained his ears above the rush of the wind. He could hear baaing. “Sheep?”

Scully looked behind her, to the old shed. “Climb over.” She tapped the fence with her gun.

The sheep stood huddled in the middle of the shed floor. Their bleating was pitiful.

           Scully approached and knelt down beside them. “They’re ours.”

One by one they flopped down, dying before their eyes. Scully wept. Mulder moved further into the shed, kneeling next to her and placing an arm around her. She knelt up and snuggled into his chest. He pressed his chin on the top of her head and breathed in the lemon scent of her shampoo.

           “What the fuck is going on here?”

Bill Scully’s enraged voice cut through the muted silence in the shed.

Mulder dropped his arms and Scully looked up, shock on he face. Behind Bill, a plume of smoke wafted and out stepped a man, whom Mulder instantly knew as Smokey Spender.

[frangipanidownunder]

Under a wide sky

This is the first chapter of an AU set in 1950s Australia. It’s an idea that’s been brewing in my mind for a while and @leiascully‘s XFWriting Challenge prompt International has forced my hand. 

Chapter One

The night sky was a wonder. There were so many stars in patterns he didn’t recognise. If he blinked more and more appeared until all he saw were black spots in the silver sky instead of the other way round. Australia was a wide open dream, a new future perhaps. Everything seemed to be in front of him. Everything was big. Everything was new and untested. Fox Mulder felt right at home.

           He lay back on the stubby grass, sparse and sharp under his singlet. The ground was beyond hard. He’d been at the sheep station for only a couple of days, yet to meet the owner, but he’d surveyed some of the land in his short time and seen the deep fissures that spread across the paddocks, red earth cleaved apart by a brutal sun. In the night time, the moister air closed some of the cracks and the air filled with the smell of warm earth. He knew he should be careful of snakes at this time of night, but the cabin he bunked in was oppressive both in its heat and its company that he often wandered along the creek bank (dried out for the summer) looking for a moment to clear his head and breathe before turning in for the night. Snakes be damned, he thought as he wriggled his back, relieving a sweat-induced itch.

He pressed his eyes shut for a moment, thought of his sister, Samantha. How she would have loved this place. Its beauty and its danger. He smiled at the thought of her face. “If you’re going to die from snakebite in Australia it might as well be while you’re admiring the most beautiful sight in the world.”            “Hello?”

Mulder shot up, aware of the scrape and rustle of his body against the dry land.

“Who’s there?” It was a woman’s voice, breathy and a little afraid, perhaps.

He peered into the blackness, still unable to anchor his gaze on anything other than the imprint of the night sky behind his eyes. He blinked and heard it. The unmistakeable sound of a shotgun being loaded and engaged.

“I’m armed.”

“If I raise my arms, how will you know?” He tried for humour, his default setting, but he knew it was lame as soon as the words left his mouth.

“I’ll smell you,” came the quick response. Perhaps she wasn’t afraid anymore. A gun would do that.

“I’ve got both hands above my head. No gun. I’m not doing anything. I just came for a walk by the creek, to admire the stars. If you step closer you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“You talk too much, Mr Bushranger.”

“I’m just talking so you can hear where I am. And I am not a bushranger. I’m a worker on the station.”

There was a moment of silence, just long enough for Mulder to lower his arm and retrieve his torch from the back pocket of his shorts.

“What are you doing?” the voice demanded. “You said you didn’t have a gun.” Her voice was a notch higher than before.

Mulder fought back the urge to chuckle. “I’m not going to shoot you with a Coleman torch. I promise.” He flicked it on, moved a step closer and there she was, all five-foot-two of her, red hair falling around her face, brows low in concentration and a double-barrel shotgun held steadfast in her arms. If he hadn’t been a trained observer he would have missed the slight tremble of her fingers against the trigger.

“Who are you, Mr Bushranger? What are you doing out here in the middle of night? Where’s your truck?” She shoved the gun closer to him, so that it was almost touching his chest. He kept the beam of light from his torch steady on her face, and he could see the freckles on her skin and the beauty mark above her lip.

“Who are you, Miss Shotgun? What are you doing out here in the middle of the night? Where’s your truck?”

She held his gaze, her cool blue eyes fixing him so that he felt more pinned by them than the gun. This woman was a firecracker. And he suddenly felt even more at home in this strange wide land.

A strangled yelping rose from behind them, then a distant scurrying, a full-throated bark and a heavy pant. Mulder’s torchlight picked up the stubby form of a cattle dog running hard at them.

“I hope he’s friendly.” He felt a tingle of fear in his stomach. He didn’t like dogs. And he really didn’t like ugly red dogs running straight at him.

“She has a sixth sense,” the woman said. “Missy. Heel.”

The dog literally stopped running and plunked its chunky bottom down, hard up against the woman’s legs, all in one movement. Mulder felt his mouth slacken.

“That’s impressive control, you have there, Miss…?”

“Start walking, Mr…?”

He snorted. “Where to?”

“I’m going to take you back to the house. You can explain to Bill Scully why you’re trespassing on his property.”

 Bill Scully had a reputation as a short-tempered, narrow-minded hard taskmaster who treated his workers with contempt and his family with disdain. Mulder hadn’t met him but had heard all about him from the other workers on the Skinner station, where he was employed. He hadn’t realised he’d crossed the boundary. The fences were broken in parts and sometimes stock wandered through. As they walked, he wondered if the sheep were hauled before the big boss for trespassing too.

           The dog puffed along beside them as they followed the dry creek bed back to the highest part of the paddock. “I didn’t know I was trespassing, and that’s the honest truth.”

           “You can tell that to Bill. We’ve lost more sheep than we can afford.”

           “I don’t have a truck. I am not your sheep rustler.”

           “Sheep have been disappearing for weeks now, just a few at a time,” she said, walking close behind him as he lit their path with his torch. “Just enough for a single poacher to handle.”

           “Wild dogs?”

           “There are no bodies to examine.”

           “So, you think the rustler is just selling the sheep on.”

           “Or eating them himself. Times are hard still.”

           He remained silent, ruminating on what he’d heard. As they climbed higher towards the property, the roof of the main house became visible. There were lights in the yard, casting a pale glow towards the building. He could see the bullnose verandah fanned below the tin roof, which was rusted in places. He could see the ornate fretwork on the timber posts placed evenly around the wooden deck. From the back there were steps up to the double doors, decorated by lace curtains tied at the waist in the glass panels. There was an armchair outside, several large pots containing ornamental trees, a broom propped up near the door and a selection of steel-toe-capped boots lined up with precision near the welcome mat.

           They’d come to a stop at the back gate. She uncocked the gun and unclipped the latch. It sighed open. The dog ran through first.

           “Missy. Kennel.” The dog darted right and disappeared under the verandah. Mulder’s torch beam didn’t travel far enough to see where. They climbed the steps.

“Turn off the torch, please, and give it to me. I have to tell Bill that I found you, but you can explain to him yourself what you were doing.”

“You do believe me, don’t you? I didn’t take your sheep. That’s the truth.”

She studied his face and he felt exposed. It was like she was probing his mind, his memories, such was the icy force of her cool blue gaze. At that moment he would have gladly confessed all his sins, Samantha…and worse. But she released him and looked to the back door.

“I want to believe, but it’s not me you have to convince.” With that warning, she opened the door and went inside. 

Mulder leant against the handrail and sighed. How did he manage to get himself in trouble all the time? He could hear his father’s voice in his head.

           “Fox, you’re a useless good-for-nothing waste of space. You spend so much time inside your own head you can’t see what’s going on in front of you. You’re a dreamer. And the world doesn’t need any more dreamers. It needs grafters.” He could hear the slam of the tumbler on the wood of his desk, feel the sting of the slap and the burn of shame as he returned to the room he shared with Samantha. Used to share. Her empty bed was always the most painful reminder of his uselessness.

 When Bill Scully launched himself through the door, Mulder knew he was in serious trouble. Never a fighter, he was caught off-guard by the first blow and staggered back, nearly losing his footing down the steps. He grabbed the hand-rail and pulled himself up, only to be on the receiving end of a size ten boot to the ribs. He toppled backwards, feeling the splintery wood of the steps against the bare skin of his back as his singlet rose upwards under Bill’s boot.

           “Bill!” The woman’s voice rang out over the sound of his own heavy breathing. Mulder looked up from his pitiful position sprawled on the lawn. “No more. You haven’t even had the courtesy to listen to him yet. He didn’t have any sheep with him. He might be telling the truth.”

           Mulder shook his head, trying to regain some kind of control of his senses. His chest ached, his lip burned. “Wait,” he huffed out as Bill’s form loomed above him. He felt a meaty fist grab the straps of his singlet as he was hefted up the steps again. “Wait, Mr Scully. Please. I can explain.” Each of his words was punctuated by a puffy breath.

           The woman, Dana, pulled back Bill Scully’s arm and twisted him around so he faced her. Mulder gathered himself, balancing on the hand-rail as he pulled himself upright. “Bill, you told me you’d let him talk first.”

           “I didn’t like the look of him,” Bill said, spittle flying towards Mulder.

           “Bill,” another woman appeared on the verandah, neat hair rolled under her neck, a high-collared white bed robe covering her frame. “You’ve woken the baby.”

           “This is none of your concern, Tara. Go and see to Matty.” Bill turned to Mulder. “You. Speak. Now.”

           Mulder drew in a long, shuddery breath. “I’ve been walking down to the same spot for a couple of days now. I started at the Skinner station, farm-hand. I haven’t met Skinner yet, just the station manager, Byers and a couple of the other jackeroos and shearers. I can’t sleep in the cabin. I love the sky, the stars…” he was aware how pathetic the truth sounded. He stopped, looking over at Dana. She was hugging her small frame, her brows knitted together, intent on listening.

           “What are you? Some kind of poofter, mate?” Bill shoved his shoulder, open-handed. “I love the sky, the stars.” He mimicked Mulder, spreading his arms out wide then leering at him.

           “I’m not from here. I’m American but I’ve been living in England for a while. The sky is different here. It’s wide and clear. I don’t know what else to say to you. I haven’t taken your sheep. I just…I just can’t sleep sometimes.”

           Bill rubbed his hands together. He turned to look at Dana. “I’m going over to Skinner’s in the morning.” He turned back to Mulder. “And he won’t like what I’m going to tell him. I think, Mr American, that you might just find yourself back on a boat home just as soon as you can sing Waltzing Matilda. Dana, go inside.”

           “Bill, let me take him home,” Dana said.

           Bill’s face darkened and Mulder held up his hands. “Thank you, but it’s okay, I’ll walk.”

 He’d reached the bottom step when the first light zoomed across the sky. Mulder stopped, bracing his hands on his hips. He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it, so fleeting it was. Maybe having the stuffing knocked out of you did things to your vision. He stepped down to the lawn when the second flash lit up the back yard. Missy bolted from the side of the house, yapping and leaping into the air. Mulder dropped to his knees and covered his head with his hands, waiting for the ack-ack-ack of artillery fire. He heard Bill Scully lunge down the steps and head to the fence line.

           “Bloody hell, Dana. It’s the lights again. The lights.”

           Mulder chanced a look and saw the woman in profile standing next to Bill Scully, her neck stretched skywards, her hair falling down between her back. She was beautiful and when the third light crackled above framing her features in silver so that she looked ethereal, Mulder gasped.

           “This is the first night in a while,” she said, kneeling next to him. Her small hand in the cleft of his shoulders was some comfort to his racing heart. “Are you okay?”

           He nodded. “I’m fine. I’m just not having the best night so far.”

           She smiled then. A complete, toothy grin that softened her features and made her seem even younger. “We see the lights sometimes. And that’s when we usually find the sheep missing.”

           “Well, I guess that means I’m innocent of the charges. Hopefully, Mr Scully will clear my name with Mr Skinner tomorrow.”

           Mulder looked to Bill Scully, still surveying the skies. “I guess it’s okay for him to do the star-gazing. Good ole bonza Australian bloke,” he added in his best Strine.

           She muffled a laugh into the back of her hand. “That was a terrible accent, Mr…?”

           “Mulder,” he said, standing up now. “Fox Mulder.”

           “Fox?” This from Bill Scully who was now towering over them both. “Well, that’s a spooky name, isn’t it, mate?” He clapped his hand around Mulder’s neck and pushed him forward. “Let’s go.”

           Dana ran after them. “Where are you taking him, Bill?”

           “Down the street to the cop shop.”

           “What? Why?”

           “Isn’t it obvious, Dana? He’s the one. He’s the one causing the lights and he’s the one taking the sheep. He’s some kind of dark wizard or something. I’ve heard of those weird gangs in the States, Satanic cults. He’s dangerous.”

           “Bill! You have no evidence of that. The lights happened before he came here.” She stood in front of them as Bill grappled Mulder’s hands behind him, bending them at an unnatural angle and forcing the air out of his lungs once again.

           “We can’t trust anything he says. He’s a stranger. A mad one at that. Out of the way, Dana.”

           She jutted out her chin. “No. I won’t let you take him.”

           Bill stepped forward and shoved Mulder along with him. “Out of the way, I said.”

           “You can’t do this, Bill. He’s done nothing wrong. He was out for a walk. He was watching the sky. He’s done no harm.”

           Rage reddened Bill Scully’s face. “You’ve changed your tune, Dana. Not so long ago you had him bailed up on the verandah with a shotgun. Now you’re proclaiming his innocence. Maybe we need to have another little talk about who you consort with, little sister.”

           Mulder lifted his gaze to hers. She was fuming, her lips rolled together in a thin white line. Sister? Shit.

           “Don’t you dare speak to me like that Bill Scully. You are not my keeper. Now let him go or…”

           Before she could issue her threat the night turned white and a boom so loud cracked across the sky, causing them all to fall to the ground and clutch their ears.

 Mulder wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that. His breath came in painful spurts and his hearing returned in intermittent buzzes and crackles. He could make out the yowling of the dog and the heavy footsteps of someone approaching from behind them.

           “What’s going on here, Bill?”

           Mulder twisted around, still sitting on the lawn. His eyes rose skyward where above him loomed not only a million stars, but the giant bulk of a man he recognised from the framed photographs at the Skinner station shearing shed. Walter Skinner himself.

[leiascully]

XF Writing Challenge: International

Mulder’s time in England.  Scully’s possible college trip to Germany.  A little sojourn in Mexico or the Caribbean.  Aliens in Canadian ice.  A trip to China or India to unravel mysteries.  Mulder’s always wanted to see a yeti, right?  Or just a trip to a restaurant that serves something special, or an art exhibit, or a gift from somewhere else.

Rules:

Have fun!  Write fic!

Anyone is welcome to participate!  I reblog all stories tagged #xfwritingchallenge (don’t forget to put it in the first five tags) or @ me)

If you’re feeling blocked, block out an hour or a half hour.  If you’re feeling extra blocked, Write Or Die is very motivational (the “try” button gets you the free web version).

Send me an ask if you need an extra-specific prompt, and feel free to write previous prompts.