Underground Facility 

There was no way Scully would have been able to comprehend the complexity of the facility without having seen it with her own eyes. As they stepped through the stairwell door, the enormity of it hit her in the gut, and she instantly realized the scope of what they were up against. Everywhere they looked, there was motion. 

Looking at an expanse of what appeared to be some miles across it, Scully was awestruck. Above them lie story upon story of glass and concrete; a giant rotunda of sorts. From where she stood, Scully saw a number of stations with hazardous material tankers. Within each station, personnel in protective clothing loaded large bee apiaries into the tankers. Scully knew their purpose - a delivery system to distribute the alien virus to an unsuspecting population. 

On the far side of each station, an elaborate roadway system led in and out of each station. It reminded Scully of a rotary system where traffic flows in, out and around a central point. Her curiosity prompted her to seek that central point. At her insistence, they walked forward to the glass wall. Looking down, the space was completely filled with a dark metal mass covered with strange markings. 

"Oh shit," Scully said. "He was right. Mulder was right all along," she said, grabbing Grant's arm and pulling him back  into the stairwell. 

"What the hell was that?" 

"I don't have time to explain, but trust me when I say we have to get the hell out of here and fast. This is huge," she paced. "This is so much bigger than what we stumbled onto before." 

"Before?" 

"Crash course here, and you're just going to have to take my word for it," she paused, wondering where to start. "Several years ago, I worked for the FBI as a Special Agent assigned to the X-Files, investigating unexplained phenomena - things that weren't your typical day-to-day surveillance and terrorist related activities; things the powers that be didn't publicize. In our research, Mulder and I stumbled onto an elaborate government cover-up regarding the existence of extraterrestrial life." 

"Aliens." 

"Yes, aliens. And long story short, Grant," she said, pointing past the door, "That ship is the mother lode." 

"Aliens?" 

"Look, there's no time! You're going to have to trust me on this. Aliens are real. There's a secret government syndicate made up of super-soldiers working to help the aliens take back what they believe is rightly theirs!" 

"Take what back?" Grant questioned, trying to make some sense out of what Scully had told him. 

Scully hesitated. Ready or not, here it comes. 

"Earth."  

Democrat Hot Springs, GA 

In the low candlelight, Skinner sat across from Mulder, waiting. The solemn look on his face spoke volumes, revealing the concern for his friend and the future that awaited them both. He wished it hadn't come to this. 

How many times had he hindered Mulder and Scully when all they ever wanted was to reveal the truth? How many times had he dismissed them because of his own selfish interest in career advancement or because he feared the Syndicate. 

Scully and her scientific findings were usually dead on, although they were often swept under the rug as speculation. Even when the facts were indisputable, they would be filed in some report, stamped confidential and moved to a secure location where they could no longer be accessed - buried where the truth couldn't be found. 

And Mulder - he'd withstood all of the sneers and jeers of his fellow agents, remaining true to the mission and standing strong against incredible odds. It had earned him nothing more than a childish nickname, Spooky Mulder and a string of misconduct entries in his personnel file. Rarely had anyone in the FBI ever taken him seriously and yet, he was the one man Skinner knew who was willing to die for the truth he believed in. 

Looking at Mulder now, what had all of his searching gotten him? A death sentence that would soon be upon him. In some ways, Skinner wished it was all over because he was afraid - afraid that when it came right down to it, he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. He didn't want to cross that bridge and yet, he was more than halfway across it already.  Mulder stirred to consciousness, taking the water Skinner offered him. 

"Kind of ironic," Mulder spoke. 

"What's that?" 

"Laying here like this," he stopped, long enough to lick his parched lips. "You know... waiting to give birth to an alien... in the same bed Scully birthed William in... and to think that only yesterday..." he smirked, "I wasn't even pregnant." 

Skinner wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. Instead, he soaked a rag in the porcelain bowl beside the bed intending to lay it across Mulder's forehead. He didn't get that far. A coughing fit sent Mulder over the side of the bed, spewing up blood and sticky bile. The bitter taste was apparent from his expression. Skinner wiped it from Mulder's face. 

"Skinner," Mulder's hand shook, reaching outward. 

"I'm here," he said, wanting to recoil at the touch of the hot flesh. 

"You know... what you have to do." 

"I know," he admitted, swallowing hard at the lump stuck in his throat. 

"Do me a favor?" 

"Anything." 

"Make sure Frohike gets my VHS collection. You know the one," he smirked. 

"He'll be the envy of all." 

"And Dana... when you find her," he said, eyes tearing up. "Tell her I love her. William too." 

"As often as they need to hear it." 

"You're a good friend, Walter," Mulder nodded. "Bald... but a good friend." 

Mulder's grip tightened. The pain in his expression forced Skinner to pull free. Jumping back, he knocked over the chair, kicking it to one side. Gun drawn, he waited, chest heaving, weapon trained on Mulder. Though his hands were shaking and his heart was pounding loud in his ears, his finger was in the ready position, waiting for the creature to emerge. 

Mulder suddenly sat up, eyes wild with fear. In the next instant, his knees hit the floor. Arms embracing his mid-section, he doubled over as his breath came in quick gulps, insufficient for his needs. Abdominal spasms wracked his body. 

Just then, the front door burst open, capturing Skinner's aim. He checked himself when Gibson entered, racing forward and crouching on hands and knees in front of Mulder. 

"Mulder, listen to me. This virus can't kill you!" he screamed. 

"So what the hell's kicking my ass?" Mulder began coughing. 

"You are! I know the truth, Mulder. I saw your mother before she died. She tried to reach you, but... she told me everything! Everything you begged her to tell you. The things she couldn't tell you because of what's inside you." 

"An ass kicking alien?" 

"Your DNA, Mulder. It survived the virus generations ago and a number of times since then!" 

"Wait a minute," Skinner lowered his weapon. "You're saying Mulder's got alien DNA?" 

"Most humans do. But it's usually dead. Don't you remember, Mulder? Scully showed you the proof." 

"The power plant..." Mulder said, recalling a case from years ago. 

"That's right. But it's not dead in you. It awoke when you were exposed to the artifact from Africa. The problem is, it wages war against your human DNA, battling for the right to exist. This virus can only beat you if you let it. You've got to fight it, Mulder!" 

Skinner wasn't convinced, but he wasn't ready to dismiss Gibson's theory either. He had to do something. He had to know for sure. 

"Get up," Skinner holstered his gun and pulled Mulder to his feet, carrying most of his weight. "Come on. You need to fight this thing. You can't let it win. Not after what you've learned. Come on. We need to find William. We need to help Dana. Come on, Mulder!" he shook him. 

Mulder stirred. He heard someone yelling - heard someone telling him he needed to fight. He didn't feel like fighting. He was tired. He wanted to rest, but he couldn't rest. This virus was kicking his butt. 

"Mulder!" the voice entered his head again. "Fight it!" 

Mulder opened his eyes. His head felt like it was on a pivot, making him sick to his stomach. The room was spinning, and when he looked at Skinner, his first thought was why the hell are we dancing? 

That's when he pushed Skinner hard, sending him backwards as he too fell... smack dab between a battle of wills.