Title: Abandoned
Author: ML
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, Enigmatic Dr., or if you’ve archived me before, yes; if you haven’t, please just let me know and leave headers, email addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: through Trust_No1
Rating: PG-13
Classification: SRA
Summary: It’s time to go.
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully aren’t mine. They mostly belong to David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, but Chris Carter created them, and Ten Thirteen and FOX own the rights. I mean no infringement, and I’m not making any profit from them.
There are a few original characters in this story, and I claim ownership of them.
Author’s notes: This is the first of a five-part series. More notes and acknowledgments at the end of Part Five.
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Abandoned
Chapter 1: Leaving
by ML
One day, the Gunmen just disappeared.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t expected it, but Scully had dreaded and feared this day. She knew it meant her turn was coming, and she wasn’t ready.
She stood at the open door of their former headquarters. The Magic Bullet was the only place she’d felt safe for a long time. Even though the Gunmen’s warehouse had been broken into in the past, its security compromised, Scully felt better there than in her own apartment, or at work. Maybe because Byers, Frohike, and Langly were that last real connection she had with Mulder. Besides William, of course.
She walked through the empty warehouse, on the lookout for clues, anything that might indicate the how and the why. But there was nothing more than a few pieces of junk, and some scraps of paper. She wished once again for Mulder’s presence and his ability to pull evidence out of thin air. He always seemed to find something.
It didn’t really matter that she couldn’t find anything. She knew what she had to do. Now that they were gone, it was only a matter of time.
It meant she had to go, too.
She’d known the day was coming since Byers first mentioned the possibility that the Gunmen might have to disappear.
It was after the almost-meeting with Mulder at the train station that Byers brought up leaving for the first time.
Scully had started spending more time with Byers, Langly, and Frohike after Mulder left. In the past, the Gunmen had made regular visits to her apartment; more recently, she’d been going to see them instead. Somehow, she felt closer to Mulder when she was around them. They spoke of him in the present tense, not like the people at the FBI (including Skinner sometimes), who, if they spoke of him at all, spoke of him as someone long gone, almost forgotten. For Scully, Mulder wasn’t just her past, but her present, and her hope for the future. Possibly the hope for all humankind’s future, not that most of humankind knew or cared. The Gunmen still cared.
Though she knew that the Gunmen sometimes had contact with Mulder, she never asked them about it, and they seldom volunteered any information. It seemed safer that way. For Scully, coming to the Gunmen had been a refuge from the realities of her life, and William seemed to enjoy them, too.
The Gunmen had been shy around William at first. But William, who obviously inherited charm from his father, won them over in no time. They played with him, and fed him, and told Scully about the more unusual baby-care tips they found on the Internet. Scully could actually relax around them in a way she couldn’t anywhere else.
So when Byers mentioned casually one day that they thought it wouldn’t be long before they’d have to take their operations deeper underground, Scully was taken by surprise.
“Why now?” she asked.
“It’s probably a good time, before anything happens,” Byers explained. “The one assailant has been flushed out of the woodwork, and They now know that you’re aware of the surveillance. There’s nothing more that we can do here. If we left now, it wouldn’t cause even a ripple.”
“What makes you think that They won’t be watching your every move? That They aren’t doing it right now? That They aren’t perfectly aware of everything you’re doing?”
“They think we’re boobs,” Frohike said succinctly. “Especially after our last exploit. So if we disappear off the face of the Earth, it won’t mean anything to them. Especially since to all appearances, we’ve gone bankrupt, and done a midnight flit.”
Scully raised an eyebrow and Langly explained. “We’ve been putting money away offshore for some time from various sources, for just such an event.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask from where,” Scully said. The Gunmen usually didn’t volunteer much about their activities.
Frohike chimed in. “The latest was royalties from First Person Shooter, which in the end, netted quite a nice nest egg.”
Scully said, “I thought the game tanked.”
Byers blushed. “Tell her, Frohike.”
Frohike shrugged. “They developed a new game, which was a runaway success. Sales went through the roof. It’s already in its third version. We cleaned up, and so did you.”
“What do you mean, Frohike?” Scully asked. “I had nothing to do with the game.”
Byers said again, “Tell her, Frohike.”
“I was getting to it,” Frohike said. “You’re part of the reason for its success, Scully. You’re the heroine in the game.”
“What?” Scully remembered Matreya, and she knew that the construct looked nothing like her, and never would.
Langly added, “They mapped you somehow when you were in the game saving Mulder’s ass. We found out about it, and made them pay.”
Scully shook her head. “I still don’t know what that means.” She hoped Mulder didn’t know about this. She’d never live it down. She suspected, however, that the Gunmen not only told him, but probably secured a copy of the game for him.
“That when you need to leave, you won’t have to worry about money. You’ll be taken care of,” Byers said. “We’ve got the accounts set up, the fake IDs, everything.”
At those words, Scully felt a surge of longing so strong it almost swamped her. Her brain went fuzzy as Byers expressed the wish she’d never spoken aloud, that she’d barely allowed herself to think about. She felt hope and desire like a physical thing, flooding her body with warmth and trembling.
Then, just as quickly, the feelings receded as her brain took over once again, asserting itself over her traitorous body. There was no point in allowing herself to hope.
“I can’t,” Scully said abruptly. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.” She said her good-byes and left before anyone could say anything else.
On the drive home, Scully couldn’t stop the tears from forming. She knew Byers meant well, but he was offering her something she couldn’t have. She’d always known it. Even as Mulder was preparing to leave and they discussed the possibility, she’d known it. Mulder knew it too, though he took an optimistic line, much as he had over the failed IVF.
“It’ll happen, Scully,” he said as he held her close the night before he left. “Give it time. We’ll work something out.”
The words had been reassuring, but she couldn’t see how it could ever come about. There were too many dangers involved, too many unknowns. The attempt at a reunion had shown her that, as if she hadn’t already known it.
She hadn’t heard from Mulder since that night, though she continued to email him faithfully. She hoped and prayed that her messages got through. She didn’t say everything she wanted to say in them. Now she was always aware that anything she did or said could be overheard. If she’d been lonely before, it was even worse now, without even Mulder’s words to comfort her.
x-x-x-x
Scully avoided going to the Gunmen for some days after that. It wasn’t their fault, and she didn’t blame them for bringing up the possibility of leaving. They weren’t aware of some of the things that made leaving impossible. Things she avoided thinking about, let alone talking about.
Her biggest fear was that her movements were tracked not just externally, but by the chip in her neck. Mulder had suggested it years ago. She hadn’t wanted to face it then, but with Mulder gone, she had to.
If she left, They would follow her. They would find Mulder, and kill him. And They would kill her, too, and take William away.
She could still try to spirit William away herself. Not to go to Mulder, but to take William out of reach of their enemies. So that neither she nor William could be used against Mulder. They might still track her, but if she stayed away from Mulder, maybe They’d leave her alone.
That was probably a stupid idea. How long would she be able to elude them on her own? If They found her, how could she keep Them from taking William?
But what if she stayed, and They took William anyway? What if They kidnapped him, and used him as a lure to bring Mulder out of hiding?
Stay or leave? The conversation at the Gunmen made her think of things she hadn’t been ready to face. But she had to do something.
If she left, she also left what little support system and protection she had. The thought of being alone, totally vulnerable, with no backups at all, was too frightening to contemplate.
Stay or leave? What was the more dangerous course? Fear for both Mulder and William froze her.
x-x-x-x
Scully felt like another piece of her life had been taken away when she stopped visiting the Gunmen. Still she dragged her feet, and it was Frohike who finally got in touch with her.
“Agent Scully, we’ve missed you,” he said.
I’ve been busy,” Scully hedged.
Frohike didn’t challenge her. “Well, Langly’s got a new toy that he’s been dying to show off and we’re tired of hearing about it. Can you come by and help us out?”
“I’m not usually the one to appreciate Langly’s inventions,” Scully pointed out. “That would be Mulder.” She was proud of herself for being able to say his name so calmly.
“Well, come anyway,” Frohike urged. “You’d be doing us a huge favor.”
To tell the truth, being away from the Gunmen made Mulder seem even more distant. If they brought up the subject of her leaving again, she’d just have to deal with it. Reluctantly, Scully agreed to stop by on her way home the next day, and to bring William, too.
x-x-x-x
Frohike greeted Scully in his usual manner and took William from her. William squealed with delight as Langly and Frohike carried him off to the kitchen. Byers led Scully to sit by the terminal where Langly usually sat.
“Agent Scully,” Byers said. I know we took you by surprise the last time you were here, talking about going away. We didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s okay,” Scully said. “I don’t want you to think that I haven’t considered what you said.” She looked away, still not sure she could keep her voice steady. “It’s not about the money. There are other…considerations. It just doesn’t seem possible.”
Byers put his hand over hers very briefly. “There may be a way.”
Scully shook her head. There was no way. She didn’t want to have to explain it to them, but it looked like she was going to have to.
“John,” she finally said to Byers, “I would have gone with Mulder from the start if I could have. But when we talked about it, we agreed that it wouldn’t work. One obvious reason, is that William was only a few days old when Mulder had to go. And, at the time, it seemed like a good idea that one of us stay behind and try to keep informed as much as possible.”
Frohike sauntered back out from the kitchen with William during this exchange. “Hasn’t worked out all that well, though, has it? All They’ve done is try to use you to flush Mulder out.”
“I don’t want to make it easier for Them to do that,” Scully said. “And if I go to Mulder, They may be able to track him down. As much as I want to go, I can’t.” She indicated the back of her neck. “I’m pretty sure that I can be tracked because of this.”
Now it was Frohike’s turn to hiss to Byers, “Tell her!”
“Agent Scully,” Byers said somewhat diffidently. I didn’t want you to feel we’d invaded your privacy, that’s been done enough. But we know about the chip, and your fears about it.” He smiled. “Mulder was concerned, too. We may have the solution to that. Mulder asked us to see what we could do, not long after the incident at Ruskin Dam. We’ve been working on it ever since.”
Byers went over to a cabinet and took down a small box. Nestled inside was a small vial. He handed it to Scully. It contained, suspended in clear liquid, a very small chip. Not as small as the one implanted in her neck, but almost.
“Where did you get this?” Scully asked incredulously.
As usual, Byers was the spokesman, outlining for Scully in his usual formal style the research that they did, the sites they’d hacked into, the software they’d pirated. Langly interjected information about what he did, but computer jargon was not something Scully understood in the way she knew medical terms.
In a daze, she asked the questions she had to ask. How did they test the technology? How sure were they that it would work? What about other side effects?
The Gunmen answered her questions as fully as they could. They, along with a network of MUFON members, had been working in secret on a countermeasure for the chip. Not one that would destroy it entirely, but that would blank certain signals.
The technology, of course, couldn’t be tested on another human; they knew of no one they could have used as a test subject. But they tested it on computer models, based on the information they had about Scully’s chip. Even though Pendrell had destroyed the original, they’d obtained the fragments. They understood radiowaves, microwaves, electronic transmissions, frequencies and interference. They knew about computer chips, and firewalls, and blocking devices. They applied everything they knew and everything they could find out.
“We know it’s a long shot, Agent Scully,” Byers said apologetically. “But we think it might be worth a try.”
“Everything’s a long shot,” Scully muttered.
“The only way to really test it,” Byers continued, “is to have you go into hiding. And see if your watchers try to find you.”
“How long?” Scully asked, though she didn’t expect they’d know the answer.
“Until we get a chance to test the range and ability of our countermeasure,” Langly replied, “it’s hard to say. Maybe weeks, maybe months.”
Maybe years, Scully thought. But the alternative was never to see Mulder again.
“We don’t think it will be that long, Agent Scully,” Byers said reassuringly. “I don’t want to be over-confident, but I think we will be able to slip under Their radar, and if we can, we’ll be able to start monitoring within a week.”
x-x-x-x
Scully lay awake for a long time that night. Could she do that? Just up and leave? Would she be able to somehow slip out from under their all-seeing, all-knowing scrutiny?
She wasn’t even sure she could make herself do it. Abandon her life, everything she knew? Her mother, her siblings, her work, everything that made her who she was? Just walk away?
She’d felt this fear before, when her partnership with Mulder was still relatively new. She’d wanted reassurances from him that she wasn’t throwing her career, her life away. Mulder couldn’t do it, and in the end she followed him anyway, despite the consequences. It was only the first of many times she’d done so.
This was by far the biggest leap of faith shed ever contemplated.
Mulder had done it. She could argue to herself that he had less to leave behind. He’d already lost mother, father, sister. He’d been summarily fired from the FBI.
Scully and William were all he had, and he’d had to leave them behind. No one had been waiting for him, out there.
But she had someone waiting for her. Mulder was waiting for her. She wouldn’t be leaving alone, heading toward more loneliness. Her decision was made for her in that moment; though she still had doubts and fears, she knew she had to go.
Mulder was waiting for her. What other argument could there be?
The next day, she went to the Gunmen. “Tell me what I have to do,” she told them.
x-x-x-x
By outward appearances, she did nothing any different than she’d been doing since Mulder left. She took William to her mother’s, she went to work, she picked William up. She went grocery shopping. She took William to the park on the weekend. She visited the Gunmen, and once in a while they visited her.
But all the time now, deep in her heart, she felt the metronome that both cautioned her to keep still, and to keep watch.
Mulder had told her what an informant had told him once about the invasion. “The timetable is set,” the luckless Kurtzweil had told Mulder. It was to take place over a holiday weekend, when people were away from their homes. A national emergency would be declared. There would be confusion, and panic, and it would be too late to do anything.
How far into the future this was to be, he hadn’t said. Recent events indicated it would be sooner rather than later, but there was no way of knowing for sure.
Scully wouldn’t wait for a holiday. She would pick her own day, a day like any other. In the meantime, she went about her business. Nothing must seem out of the ordinary.
“We won’t be able to warn you when we leave,” Byers cautioned her. “We’ll just have to go. But that will be your cue. You should leave as soon after that as it feels safe.”
Scully gave a mirthless laugh at that. “Safe” was a relative term; and it wasn’t something she’d felt for a long time.
There were no real preparations she could make, and that in itself made her restless. They’d decided that she should travel light; leave everything behind, and start fresh. The less she took with her, the less likely it would be that she could be tracked. Byers had shown her the trick with the strip in the twenty-dollar bill the first time she’d met the Gunmen; was that when he’d told her, “No matter how paranoid you are, it isn’t paranoid enough?” Or was it just that she’d heard Mulder quote it so often?
She trusted no one. It was better not to say anything to anyone. What her friends and family didn’t know couldn’t harm them, and could not disrupt her plans. As far as she knew, chip or no chip, They still couldn’t read her thoughts.
x-x-x-x
One overcast day in spring, several weeks after the Gunmen left, Scully got ready for work, put William in the car, and headed toward her mother’s. She took the usual exit, stopping briefly on a street just short of her mom’s, and then kept on driving. She drove aimlessly, not thinking about where she was going, taking any road that appealed to her. She drove at a normal speed, glancing in the rear view mirror often, looking for anything out of place or too familiar.
She’d left her cell phone at home. She’d left a package for her mother in her safety deposit box, her insurance policies, William’s birth certificate, a letter. She hadn’t dared to say much, except Don’t look for me. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in touch some day.
She didn’t really believe the last part, but she hoped her mother would.
She also left a letter for Skinner in the safety deposit box, counting on her mother to deliver it. She’d leave it to him to decide how much to tell Doggett and Reyes, and when. Her thorough nature wanted to leave letters for everyone, but common sense told her it was dangerous to indulge in such a gesture. The fewer people who knew anything, the better, and the less anyone knew was better still.
During that first day, she abandoned her car, leaving it in a long-term parking lot. If it was bugged, it wouldn’t matter where she left it; if it wasn’t, this would slow the search down. Long enough, she hoped. Long enough so that she could disappear entirely.
She took a cab to the bus station, and in the restroom there she changed both her clothes and William’s completely, from the skin out. She put their old clothes in a Salvation Army donation bin.
Then she took a cab again to a used car lot, and bought a car, using the first of her fake IDs. But by far, the most important change she’d made that day was to apply a small patch on the nape of her neck, just below the implant scar. She offered up a small prayer as she did so.
She hoped that the Gunmen’s optimistic predictions for this technology were accurate.
Late that night, she stopped at a nondescript motel, much like many she’d stayed in over the years with Mulder. Maybe they’d even stayed in this one. Mulder would remember. They all looked the same to her after a while. All that mattered tonight was that she had a safe place to rest her head, and care for William.
Once William’s needs were seen to, Scully took a quick shower and bundled herself up in sweats, and climbed into bed. It was the first chance she’d had to actually think about what she’d done.
She wondered who had noticed her disappearance first. She really only had until her first lecture at Quantico before someone started wondering, and checking. She imagined the restlessness of the students when the usually punctual Dr. Scully didn’t appear. How soon would it be before someone thought to call Skinner, or her mother?
She felt a sob well up as she thought of her mother. She’d be receiving yet another phone call with bad news.
<>
Forgive me, Mom, she said silently. I love you. I’m okay. Please believe that everything I’m doing is for the best.
She felt in her pocket for the worn piece of paper she’d been carrying around with her for so long. She knew the words by heart, but it had comforted her to look at it, just the same.
It wasn’t there, and then she knew what she’d done, and how far she’d gone.
x-x-x-x
She’d debated about whether to destroy any of her personal papers before she left. In the end, she burned a few things in her fireplace that she didn’t want falling into other hands. Notes to her in Mulder’s handwriting, mostly. Not that he’d ever written anything very sentimental to her, but they were no one else’s business.
The last item she burned was the last thing she’d received from him.
“Dearest Dana…” with great reluctance she’d finally burned the paper with Mulder’s email message on it. Even though she knew it by heart, there was something about holding the paper while imagining him speaking those words to her…
…”Hey,” Mulder’s voice had called to her from the edge of consciousness.
“Mmmm?” she’d responded drowsily, burying her nose into his neck. She liked the sound of his voice vibrating against her cheek.
“D’you mind if I call you Dana sometimes?”
The unexpectedness of the question woke her up completely. She almost laughed. “You make it sound like we just met. Like this is a one-night stand or something. Jeez, Mulder.”
“At this point, a several-night stand,” he responded. “Not that I’m counting. It’s just — I just thought it would be nice to call you Dana once in a while.”
Scully pulled a little away to look Mulder in the eye. “I’m not the one who told you to call me Scully,” she said. Funny how, after all these years, that still rankled a little. <‘I even made my parents call me Mulder.’ Like hell he did.>
Mulder had the grace to look a little sheepish, and he said bravely, “Do you want to call me Fox?”
She shook her head. “I can’t think of you as anything but Mulder now. But you can call me Dana, if you want to.”
“Only sometimes. Only in private,” Mulder said. “I used to say it to myself, once in a while. I haven’t had the guts to say it out loud for years.”
“Afraid I’d shoot you, Mulder?” Scully asked.
Mulder grinned. “No, afraid I’d give myself away…Dana.” He whispered it to her. “Dana. Dana Scully. Dana Katherine Scully. Dana Katherine Scully-M…” he closed his mouth abruptly before the next word could come out.
“Mulder?” It was both a question and a completion.
Mulder looked at her and nodded slightly. “I know, it doesn’t sound like something I’d care about. But when you asked for my help with the IVF, I figured if I knocked you up, I’d better make an honest woman of you.”
Scully snorted. “Now *that* sounds like the Mulder I know.”
“And love?” he said in a hopeful tone.
“Stop fishing, Mulder.” She smacked him playfully and he grabbed her wrist. Sleep was forgotten in the ensuing tussle, as was the conversation. Until now.
Had they really been that light-hearted? Even once? At this distance, it seemed impossible to believe, even though she’d been a participant.
Yet there had been times. Granted, they seemed to occur at widely-spaced intervals, but they had occurred. Dancing at a Cher concert. Batting practice. A night out in Hollywood. Even just watching a silly movie and drinking beer. They’d had moments of freedom from fear, even normalcy.
Scully smiled to herself, remembering. Her expectations weren’t what they once were. She turned out the light and tried to sleep.
x-x-x-x
The next morning, she completed her transformation.
She’d purchased some clothes at a thrift store before they’d stopped for the night. She dressed William in girl’s clothes, and put a silly hat on his head. He was young enough to be mistaken for a child of either sex, though she could hear Mulder’s derisive voice in her head about her choice of disguise for him.
He’d probably be even less thrilled about Scully. She’d given herself a haphazard haircut, and dyed the tips black. She wore jeans that were threadbare at the butt and the knees, and a wrinkled, faded tee shirt. She cut her fingernails off and left them unpolished. Other than too-dark lipstick and heavy eye makeup, she went bare-faced. Her mole was visible for the first time in years. She felt like she was stripping away the old Dana, making way for something not yet fully realized.
She missed her cross. It had been a part of her for so long, but she’d been firm with herself. No reminders of her past. Nothing that could give her away. She’d put it in the safety deposit box, in the letter to her mother. She hoped her mother would understand her reasons. Not just for the cross, but for everything.
She’d have to wear a high-necked shirt until her hair got long enough again to cover the small patch. It itched slightly once in a while, just enough to remind her it was there.
She looked in the mirror and saw a stranger looking back. She hoped it would fool any watchers. She certainly couldn’t look any different than Special Agent Dana Scully. She wondered if Mulder would recognize her like this. She thought he would probably recognize her no matter what, just as she would recognize him.
Mulder might even be turned on by this look. You never knew with Mulder.
On the other hand, she might look entirely different again when she finally saw him. If she ever did.
Her head rang with unanswered questions. These same questions that she’d asked herself since deciding on this course.
Would the Gunmen’s invention work? If it didn’t, how would she know, one way or the other? How much time should she wait? They’d tried to think of every angle. They worked out codes and signals and contingency plans, but what if? What if?
What kind of patience did They have? Would They wait until William was grown to make a move? Or would They try to kill Mulder as soon as she got in touch? And how could she possibly know, or prepare, for either?
Was this a risk she was willing to take?
There was no going back now. She’d truly burned her bridges.
She’d never felt so alone.
=====
End of Part One. Continued in Part Two.