"Umbra 37/?"
By Dawson E. Rambo

Author's Note : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any other
tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter remain his
property and the property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television, a
unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All rights are reserved and these characters
are used without permission. Any characters created by the author remain
his property.

Original Posting        : September 5, 1997
Archive Entry           : "Umbra 37"
Classification          : Action Adventure, MSR
Rating                  : R (Violence, Language, Adult Themes)
Spoilers                : Erlynmer Flask, Deep Throat, most of 3rd season

Enjoy!
------

  "Half the work that is done in the world is
   to make things appear what they are not."
	- E. R. Beadlel

  "The truth is forced upon us,
   very quickly, by a foe."
	- Aristophanes

  "The enemies of the future are always
   the very nicest people."
	- Christopher Morley

  "A man cannot be too careful in
   the choice of his enemies."
	- Oscar Wilde


	"Cut the shit," Mulder said. "Give me one good reason why I
should trust you."
	The smoking man looked at Mulder as if questioning the young
FBI Agent's sanity. "Mr. Mulder, you just shot me point-blank and it
didn't affect me in the least. Surely you understand the implications
of what you've witnessed here tonight."
	Mulder shook his head. "I don't give a flying FUCK about
implications. I asked you a question. Give me a reason to trust you."
Mulder turned his head towards Graves' body. "Tell me why you killed
that man. Why you used him to draw us in, to draw us to you. That is
what happened, right?"
	The smoking man nodded. "Yes. Graves was used to...test you,
to see if you were worthy."
	"Worthy of what?"
	"Of the destiny that has been set out for you, of course," the
smoking man replied, his voice even and melodic as always. It was so
annoying, Mulder thought.
	"By whom?"
	The smoking man shook his head. "Not yet, Mr. Mulder. We have
to get there...together. You have to earn the right to ask certain
questions and expect to have them answered." He shook his head. "You
know, that always was your problem, and it concerned me for a very
long time." He nodded at Scully. "That was one of the reasons we put
you two together; we knew that...among other things, Scully would
teach you patience, teach you that there is a proper way to do things,
that there is a time and place for everything."
	Scully looked very pleased with herself for a moment until the
smoking man turned his attention on her. "Don't look so smug, Dr.
Scully. You were partnered with Mulder for other reasons as well. One
of them is to learn what he has to teach you: That there is a time to
break the rules and do what's right."
	Scully, having spent almost five years as Mulder's partner,
didn't even hesitate. "Who's definition of right, sir?" The way she
said it, 'sir' sounded like it was spelled c-u-r.
	"Ah," he said. "That is the question, is it not?" Turning his
attention back to Mulder, he continued: "Remember the time you came to
visit me, Mulder? When you asked me who was I to decide what was
right?"
	Mulder nodded.
	Scully shot him a glance, questioning.
	Later, he thought to her. She nodded, refocusing on the man
across the table from her.
	"Well, you're very close to finding that particular bit of
information out. But before we go there, I have some questions for
you."
	"I'm not in a particularly talkative mood," Mulder snarled.
"I'd rather you do the talking and <I> do the questioning."
	The smoking man silently shook his head. "But, a compromise.
You ask one, and then I ask one. Is that acceptable?"
	Mulder nodded. "You first."
	"As you wish."
	"Did you order Scully's abduction?"
	Interesting, Scully thought at the same time the smoking man
did. His first question wasn't about Samantha, but about his partner.
Scully felt a warm wave of affection washing through her. The smoking
man cocked an eyebrow. Good, he thought. This bodes very well for
Mulder's ability to grasp...objectives.
	"Yes," he answered.
	He watched as Mulder fought to keep control. His hands
clenching and relaxing by his sides, Mulder felt fire flowing in his
veins, saw nothing but white-hot flashes behind his eyes; he could
hear the blood pounding in his ear, could feel the desire to leap
across the table and just...just...
	How do you kill something that can't die? he wondered.
	"My turn," the smoking man said. "Do you consider yourself a
brave man, Mr. Mulder?"
	Mulder opened his mouth to give a snide reply and then thought
better of it. He'd probably never get a better chance; the man had
agreed to answer questions as long as the dialog remained two-way.
Antagonizing him wasn't on the agenda; he could kill the man later,
after.
	"I don't know. Maybe."
	"Let me ask it another way. Do you ever get afraid?"
	Mulder nodded. "All the time. I wouldn't be human if I didn't
get afraid."
	The smoking man nodded. Mulder grinned. "That was two
questions."
	The smoker thought about it and nodded again, conceding the
point. "Proceed, Mr. Mulder. I do reserve the right to defer answering
a question...temporarily."
	"Why the fuck did you kidnap her?"
	Again with Scully, the smoker thought. He considered his
response, wanting to give the impression of sharing information, but
not ready to reveal certain...aspects of the overall Project until he
was sure Mulder was on board.
	"It's complicated. Part of it was to distract you, of course.
You were getting close...too close to certain aspects of the Project.
We were aware of how closely you'd...bonded with your partner, and we
knew that her disappearence would cause you to...falter in your
search."
	"The rest of it?"
	"Not quite yet, Mr. Mulder. But I will say this. Part of the
reason she was taken was to...explore a thing or two about her. So
much of our time has been wrapped up in you, in making sure that you
were the right man for the job that certain...research items were
overlooked when it came to your beautiful partner."
	Hearing that man call her beautiful made Scully's skin crawl.
	"My turn. This is a hypothetical question, Mr. Mulder. Please
think about it carefully before you answer it. Are you ready?"
	Mulder nodded.
	"If I could promise you a cure for cancer, would you kill an
innocent person?"
	Mulder sat back, letting his breath out. "I'm not sure I
understand."
	"It's quite simple, Mr. Mulder." The smoker stood, slowly
pacing as he spoke. "Assume that I am what you have been looking for
your entire adult life; I am an extraterrestrial that has come to this
planet for reasons unknown; assume that I posess technology beyond
your wildest dreams. Now, I come to you, as the leader of the world,
and I ask you to kill one person, one innocent person in exchange for
a cure for all known and future forms of cancer." He stopped
pacing next to Graves' body and looked down at the slumped form before
glancing back at Mulder. "Would you do it?"
	Mulder wrestled with the question, but he already knew the
answer. "Yes. I would."
	The smoker dropped his cigarette on the floor of the warehouse
and ground it out with the toe of his shoe. "I'm very pleased to hear
that, Mr. Mulder. I believe it is your turn to ask a question."
	"I've been wanting to ask this forever. What is your name?"
	Scully smiled. Just like Mulder to ask such a question.
Then she frowned. Something the smoking man had said a moment ago was
nagging her, playing at the back of her mind. What was it? Leader of
the world; that was it. He'd told Mulder to assume he was the leader
of the world! Scully shivered.
	The smoker moved back to the table, his face open and
friendly. "Where I come from, we don't have individual names for
each...well, what you would call a person, or a soul. We're not
numbered or...counted in that way. It's not important for each...
person, again, your word...to have an individual way to be addressed.
But what I am called...how I am referred to, when such things are
necessary, is much like what you might call an...advisor. Or perhaps
consultant. The word...the sound we make, at least, means that in the
context we're discussing. So that's what I am...a consultant."
	Mulder asked, "On what topic?"
	"You are so curious, Mr. Mulder, but I believe that it is my
turn to ask?"
	Mulder nodded.
	"A second part to the question I asked previously. You've
already indicated that you would kill an innocent person in order to
secure a cure for cancer; that is admirable, Mr. Mulder. Very brave.
But...would you kill your mother for it?"
	Scully pursed her lips, thinking. If the smoking man was
betting that Mulder's answer was going to change because of <that>, he
might be losing this particular wager.
	And again, Mulder surprised both of them. "If by 'my mother,'
you mean someone close to me, someone that I know personally as
opposed to some stranger, I'd have to say that it would depend. If you
literally mean my mother, yes, I'd kill her. She's lived a long,
somewhat difficult life. If you mean someone like Scully, I'd have to
say no."
	The smoker nodded, and then added, "Dr. Scully is never in
danger, Mr. Mulder, as least as far as I and this Project are
concerned. You need to believe that, for reasons that will become
clearer later." He waited a beat. "But I admire your honesty in
answering, because it displays a trait in you that I admire. I believe
you would kill your mother to secure a cure for cancer for this world.
But I also know that you wouldn't be able to put a bullet into her head.
You'd make it as painless as possible, and you'd grieve for her, and
you'd be wracked with guilt for the rest of your natural life. And
that is what I need, Mr. Mulder. That is what we all need."
	And now the questions were piling up in Mulder's head.
	He asked the first one to pop into his mind. "Who is 'we'?"
	The smoking man sat down, sighing heavily. "I will defer that
question until later. You may ask another."
	"So what kind of consultant are you?"
	"I guess that actually is another question in disguise. What
you are really asking, of course, is 'Why am I here?' Isn't that
right?"
	"I suppose," Mulder acknowledged.
	"Quite simply, to save this planet."
	"From who? Ourselves?"
	The smoker grunted. "As capable as you all are at blowing
yourselves to bits at the slightest provocation...no. Not from
yourselves. From...something else. The reason I am here, Mr. Mulder,
is not to take your planet over. I am not the point man in an attempt
to colonize your world."
	"Are you a shapeshifter?" Scully asked.
	"No," the smoking man answred. "They are...bodyguards, if you
will. They help me with certain aspects of my job."
	"I have a question," Mulder said. "Why was Melissa killed?
And my father?"
	The smoking man sighed. "Mistakes, both of them. You are aware
that Melissa was killed because the men that were sent were looking
for Agent Scully." He paused. "I did not send him."
	"Krycek," Mulder muttered.
	The smoker nodded. "Yes, Alex was...a protogee of mine, you
might say. But...he was seduced by the power, by the pull of being
able to make life and death decisions. He felt that you two were
getting too much...attention. That he could do everything that we had
planned for you, Mr. Mulder."
	"My father?" he prompted.
	The smoker grinned. "We seem to have gotten away from the
agreement. But I will answer your question. Your father was also
killed by Krycek, as you suspected. But he was acting alone. Your
father was aware of a great deal regarding the Project, Mr. Mulder,
and he was going to tell you too much too soon. I sent Alex to speak
to your father, to explain more of the plan to him. Your father and I
had a falling out a great many years ago; he disagreed with what he
knew of the plans for you. He thought that it was too much to ask one
person, that person being you. I felt that if he knew the stakes...
the real stakes, that he'd understand and at least agree to remain
silent a short while longer. But when Krycek got to the Vineyard, you
were already there, and your father was preparing to talk. He took the
action that he thought was necessary, dictated by the situation."
	Mulder nodded, absorbing this.
	"Your father's death has caused me no end of grief, Mr.
Mulder. Hard as this may be for you to believe or accept, he was my
closest friend for a long time."
	Mulder didn't answer.
	"So Melissa was the innocent that had to die to cure this
planet of the cancer you metaphorically speak of?" Scully asked.
	The smoker turned sad, tortured eyes to Scully's face and
nodded.
	"So..it wasn't my fault," Mulder whispeed. "Dad. Melissa.
Samantha. None of it."
	"Not a single whit of it, Mr. Mulder," the smoker said. "I am
powerful...but I am not a god. There is only so much that I can
control. Sadly, some of the plans escaped my ability to do so, and
innocent people died as a result."
	"What about my sister? Samantha? Graves said that she never
existed."
	The smoker nodded. "Samantha Mulder never lived, was never
abducted and never died. She was a plant that was inserted into your
memory by...me. And some others."
	"Why?"
	"I suppose the answer might be 'motivation.'"
	"Motivation for what?"
	"Now we're getting into the areas that are sensitive, Mr.
Mulder. Areas that are going to cover things that you have always
wondered about, things you have always suspected.
	"One of the abilities that my...people, if you will, possess
is the abilty to see certain eventualities. You might call it
predicting the future, but it's not as easy, as simple as that phrase
makes it seem. I can see...possible futures, if that makes any sense.
I have the ability to see what might come next, if certain
circumstances occur.
	"One of the things that I have seen is this cancer that I
speak of. Another was your birth. Your father and I were so close that
I was able to see one of his possible futures. And when I saw you, I
got an...impression, if you will. That you were the one. I've never
had a stronger impression on any other world. You are the chosen, Mr.
Mulder."
	"Chosen for what?"
	"You will be the savior of this planet. I could see that
happening, but only if certain other things were to happen. Part of
who you are is based on your ability to see beyond the moment and into
other possible moments. Your ability to think in non-linear terms.
Your fantastical memory. Your ability to, as you say, accept extreme
possibilities. But...your birth was not an easy one, Mr. Mulder. Your
mother was unable to have any more children. And...although it is
impossible to fully explain, it was a requirement that you suffer a
great loss, that you become a haunted, driven man. Those of us that
understand the full scope of what is to come decided that we would
give you a loss. And so the memory of Samantha was custom-made for
you, and implanted into your mind when you were twelve years old."
	Mulder stood and walked away from the table, one hand on his
hip, running the other hand through his hair. "Let me get this
straight," he said slowly. "The past twenty or so years of my life
have been spent being tortured by a memory that doesn't exist?"
	"That is one way to describe it, yes," the smoker said slowly.
	"I should kill you," he said softly.
	"As I said, I can understand you anger. I will accept
responsibility for it. But you must understand that we have no choice.
YOU have no choice, Mr. Mulder. They are coming. They will be here
soon."
	Mulder held up a hand. "Wait a minute. My friend...the one
that you had killed...told me that 'They' had been here for years."
	The smoker nodded. "Another ruse to get you to continue your
search. He was an accomplished liar, as I'm sure you're aware."
	"Was he human?" Mulder asked.
	"In a sense."
	"What about all the other things we've seen? What about the
hybrid experiments?"
	The smoking man nodded. "Now you're beginning to see the
pieces of the puzzle, the outline of the project. You assumed, as we
wanted you to, that there are aliens trying to colonize the planet.
That is not the truth. There are those that are here that are working
to create hybrids, but not for the reason that you suspect. We are
trying to become...better, Mr. Mulder. Better able to defend
ourselves. Humans have things that we do not, things that we need to
survive. You are a young race; you have only been walking upright for
a few thousand years. We, on the other hand, have been around for
millions of years. Tens of thousands of generations of us.
	"And there are only a handful of us left. We do have the
survival insinct, Mr. Mulder. We are only trying to survive."
	"Abductions?" Scully asked. "The women that died? The
implants?"
	"The implant was...a mistake. It was originally intended to
allow us to control certain aspects of your physiological and
emotional development. But the original design for the implant was not
for human beings; it was for another race. We made what we thought
were adaquete changes, but they had an opposite effect. They ended up
killing the women. And only the women. The men that have implants do
not get sick; they do not die."
	"What went wrong?" Scully asked.
	"We underestimated you," the smoker replied. "Part of the
implant's technology works to strengthen individual resolve. To make
you stronger, more able to stand up to hardship. We had no
understanding of the native ability of this race to do so. Certain
people, when exposed to the implant's...influence, if you will, react
by producing what you might call antibodies. And that reaction causes
the health problems." He hesitated "We have stopped using the
implants."
	"Am I going to get sick?" Scully asked.
	"Yes."
	She shuddered. "Am I going to die?"
	"No. You will be sick for a time...but you will not die."
	Scully sighed.
	"So lay it all out for me," Mulder said. "Who are you, what
are you doing here, what are the shapeshifter's role...Jerimiah
Smith...the oil-worms...all of it."
	The smoker shook his head. "Some of those things...the worms,
for instance...are just tangential issues, things thrown in your path
to frustrate your search and strengthen your resolve to find the
truth. You may not believe it, Mr. Mulder, but you are this planet's
last, best hope."
	"Why should I believe you?"
	The smoker shrugged, turned to Scully and focused on her eyes.
She felt something tickling the base of her brain, almost as if the
man's nicotine-stained fingers were probing around inside her skull,
prodding, rearranging things. In her head, she heard...his voice.
	[Can you hear me?]
	"Yes," she said, amazed.
	Mulder felt something tugging at the back of his mind. He
heard...Scully.
	[Mulder...he won't believe this.]
	"Believe what?" he asked.
	Shocked, she turned to him. [Can you hear me?]
	[Yes,] he responded, his eyes widening. [Can you hear ME?]
	[YES!] she shouted in his head.
	[One of the reasons you were both selected is that you have
innate psychic abilities. You have a very strong telepathic link. We
knew, by examining you both, that you would work well together as a
team.] The smoker's thoughts hesitated for a moment, and Mulder had a
sensation in his head as if he was reaching for something, trying to
grasp something just outside of his range. [Falling in love was not
what we had planned, but it has turned out to be an advantage. It has
only strengthened the link between the two of you.]
	[I loved Scully from the moment I saw her,] Mulder thought. He
saw Scully turn to him, a smile splitting her face.
	[Me, too,] she thought, and he heard.
	[You will learn how to control this process, how to hide
things from each other and from others like you. It is a requirement.
You will need to learn how to protect your thoughts from being
captured.]
	[Why?] Mulder asked.
	[Because the cancer that is coming can read thoughts. And the
one thing you must not allow is for them to know your thoughts, Mr.
Mulder. That is the only way to defeat them.]
	[Mr. Mulder,] the smoker said in his head, [now comes the
difficult part. This mission, the LIBERTY BELL mission, was half truth
and half lie. It was put into place for a reason, similar to the
reason you were led to believe that it was. In the event that the...
cancer arrived early, we needed a way to take over the military of
this country in order to defend this planet against invasion. Only
when it became apparent that you were working out was the specific
objective of the mission shifted. It became a test of sorts, a way to
see if you had what it took to make the tough decisions.]
	[Why?]
	[Because there are tougher decisions coming, Mr. Mulder. I
cannot reveal more to you at this time. To do so would risk you losing
your mind, becoming what you call 'insane.' And if that were to
happen, this planet would be doomed.]
	Mulder felt the frustration welling up inside him. "What
happens now?" he asked aloud.
	"Several things. First, I will turn down the ability in both
of your minds to communicate in the way that you have been. I will not
turn it off. You will still be able to sense feelings, emotions,
certain base thought patterns. But not specific words. You must be
trained, first, how to keep those thoughts private before learning how
to share them correctly." He turned to Scully and focused on her.
	[Mulder?]
	No answer.
	[Dammit! Mulder!]
	[Scully?] she heard, but it was faint, fading.
	[DAMN YOU!] she thought to the smoker. He frowned and spoke.
	"It is for the best, Agent Scully."
	"Fuck you, asshole," Mulder said.
	"You're not going to like the second procedure, either. I will
be erasing your memory of this discussion. Well, not erasing, exactly.
More like...hiding it from your concious mind. In another few years,
we will have another discussion, another talk about what is to
happen."
	"But-!" Mulder said, taking a step towards the smoker.
	"No...it is for the best, Mr. Mulder, and I will show you why.
Please come here." The smoker held out his hand, offering it to
Mulder. Not knowing why, Mulder took it. The smoker offered his other
hand to Scully, who also took it. "Please join hands," he said softly,
nodding to their free ones.
	Scully took his hand.
	"Now...what I am about to show you is an image of my world, my
home. A before and after, if you will."
	He closed his eyes, and both FBI agents felt a tickle at the
back of their brains...and then images started flowing. Slowly at
first, and then gaining speed, they saw what the smoking man wanted to
show them.
	They saw a planet, flush with greens and browns, with
shimmering lakes and softly bubbling streams. They saw...creatures,
obviously intelligent, walking on two legs, but with four arms, two of
the arms short and stubby, close to the body, used for purposes that
neither agent could divine. The images speeded up; Mulder saw the
planet dying, saw the slow encroachment of the invaders, saw the pain
and torture, heard the screams of tens of millions of beings as they
were cut down in an instant, a brief flash of pain and death and dying
and hatred towards the invader, saw the planet start to die, withering
on the vine of life, slowly wasting away...until there was nothing
left.
	"Scavengers," he whispered.
	"Yes," the smoker replied. "Very apt." He hesitated. "Now... a
little more." He closed his eyes and increased the frequency and
intensity of the images. Mulder twitched, his eyes screwed shut,
trying to ignore the horrific images the man was sending his way.
	"Stop..." he whispered. "Please...stop."
	They dropped hands. "That," the smoker said softly, "was...
how can I say this so you'll understand? That was a grain of sand, Mr.
Mulder. The reality is all the beaches of this world...and the
deserts combined." He paused. "Squared."
	"How long?" Mulder asked.
	"Five years, minimum. Agent Scully is right; the energy needed
to move across the galaxy at the speeds required are almost impossible
to comprehend. More fuel than has ever been known to this world. But
they will come here, Mr. Mulder. That I can promise you."
	"How do you know?"
	"Because this is not the first time I have done what I am
doing here."
	Mulder gulped. Scully gasped.
	"Tell us."
	"No. Not now. It is not the time. You still have more training
to undergo, more battles to fight before I can allow you to know
more."
	The smoker moved back to the table and sat. "And that is why I
must remove your memories of this meeting. I must return you to the
memories that you had just before you came into this room. Graves
brought you here, he resisted, and you shot him dead, Mr. Mulder. You
will be hailed as a hero, as a savior of the White House. But you will
still hate me, even if you do now. You will still think that I am out
to stop you. You will still think that your sister was abducted by
aliens. You will still search, still question, continue on with your
work, because I need that time to train you, to show you what is to
come and to prepare you for it."
	Mulder nodded. "You said this isn't the first time you've done
this. Have you saved other worlds?"
	The smoker nodded. "Not as many as I'd like, but more than I
expected."
	"Do you think we can be saved?" Scully asked.
	"I certainly hope so, Miss Scully."
        "How much does Skinner know?" Mulder asked suddenly.
        "Not much. He is a Guardian, so he knows some...aspects."
        "Stone? How much did he know?"
        "Next to nothing."
        "Did Graves sacrafice himself?"
        "After a fashion. He knew more than Skinner. Last night, he
learned most of it."
        "Would you have let those people die?" Mulder asked. "The CBX
devices? Graves' device?"
        "In a heartbeat, Mr. Mulder. In an instant."
        "WHY?!" Scully cried.
        "Because dying of a chemical weapon is much more preferable
way to go than...what is coming."
        "So what happens next?" Mulder asked again.
        "This," the smoker said.
        There was a flash inside Mulder's mind, and Scully's mind.
        And then nothing but blackness.
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END OF CHAPTER 37