Unexpected Connection 2

by Nikita

Title: "Unexpected Connection 2"

Author: Nikita

Spoiler: everything...

Warning: Slash, if you don't know what that means chances are you don't wanna know, go watch an x-file repeat and stay safe from my twisted version. Contains m/m hurt/comfort, romance, schmoop, and sex...at some point or another.

Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Files or any characters or plot lines associated with it. Chris Carter and the wonderful actors (especially Duchovny) do. I'm not making any profit off this story or the characters within. Don't bother suing, I'm a grad student with lots of student loans...I haven't got a penny.

Author's warning: This is where my little series takes an AU turn into what 'should' happen to M and K now that CC has ended the series on such a sour note...

Additional warning: Character death. But bear with me...it isn't permanent.

Feedback: yes, please, may I have some more?? nik_cleo@hotmail.com

Looking for more? visit me at: www.koukla.net/nikita_slash

This is for Tammy, who wanted a sequel to my U.C. series...hope it is AU enough for you... and by the way...I need coffee... : )


Scully stared at the body on the table before her. She was numb. Horribly numb. Her eyes tracked over the body, searching for the scar on his shoulder, the scar on his leg. She looked at his face again and then nodded her head, eyes still on the body. The white bag was zipped up over the swollen, disfigured face and shattered scalp once more. She stood there staring at the covered body, unmoving.

Skinner stepped forward hesitantly and laid a hand on her shoulder. She turned slightly, not facing him, but no longer staring straight at the body.

"Scully...it's final. His medical history, dental records, and DNA...it's Mulder. I'm sorry."

She didn't respond. He waited a few minutes and then finally moved his arm around her and moved her towards the door. She resisted for a second and then let him guide her. Her steps jerky and unnatural. They exited the morgue and Skinner led her to their rental car.

As she sat, staring out the passenger window, she couldn't believe that she'd been so happy and excited just 24 hours ago.

She'd only been back from her flight a few hours when she'd received a knock on the door. Cautiously checking her peephole, she'd finally opened the door and peered out her corridor, gun ready. At her feet had been William. Quietly sleeping in a bassinet. No note. No explanation. No one in her building saw anything or anyone unusual (not that that surprised her...).

She'd spend hours with Skinner and a few other agents, questioning her neighbors and holding her son...tightly. In the end, Skinner had pulled strings to let her keep the baby, for now. Her lawyer was taking care of the details. She had been so unbelievably relieved to find her son at her doorstep instead of having to seek him, that she forgot to call Mulder until late that evening.

She'd had to go to the Lone Gunmen for a secure line. Mulder had said he'd stay at the motel for a couple of days in case she needed to contact him before he moved on.

She had let the phone ring. Staying at the gunmen's house, trying all night. After hours of trying had she finally given up and been driven home by Langly, William dozing on her shoulder.

Then...this morning she'd received the call.

Staring out at the desert passing, she was silent, screaming on the inside.

'Why?! Why, Mulder? How could you give up?! Was it even you? Did they follow us? Did I lead them to you? Was it murder set to look like you'd finally given up? Or was it me. Did I abandon you? You were so sad and so unnatural. But I thought it was just the stressful events and that you'd bounce back as you always did. You've always been so resilient. Did you finally crack? I never should have left. Why did I leave?!'

She remained completely still, silent and unmoving as Skinner parked at their hotel. A far nicer place than she'd stayed with Mulder. She moved automatically. Accepting the key he handed her and pulling her carryon luggage to her room. Not speaking to Skinner at all, she locked herself in and finally slid down to the floor just inside and cried.

Cried, sobbed, wailed...tore her hair and clawed the carpet, struggling to stifle the loudest noises so as not to be interrupted.

Skinner remained out in the hall; he heard her emotional outburst through the door. As horrible as he felt himself, he was tremendously relieved she was finally reacting. Her eerie silence had been unnerving.

He waited a moment and then decided to give her privacy. He went to his own room next door and settled down for a series of phone calls. It would be a long evening.

That night, when he finally was able to hang up the phone for the last time he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

Preparations had been made. Once the investigation was officially closed and declared a suicide, Mulder's body would be shipped back to Virginia for burial. Thinking about the last funeral they had had for Mulder, he wondered if it was that memory that made the whole thing unreal.

Since he'd first received the news until now, he hadn't felt anything. Like Scully, he'd been numb. He was detached enough to note that at his reaction was one of shock as Scully's had been. But why had she finally broken through and not him? She had sobbed and wailed next door until finally fell silent, probably into an exhausted sleep.

He lay in bed. Wide awake and numb. Unable to shed a tear.

He knew Mulder was dead. He knew it. And yet...Mulder had cheated death so many times before...

He lay awake all night until he finally gave up and raided the minibar, drinking just enough to relax him into sleep.

Just as he drifted off, he could swear he saw a figure in the corner of the room. He squinted and stared, nothing.

He dropped his head and fell asleep.



I have retreated from Mulder's side in less than a week.

I'm not cut off from him. Far from it. Should he need me or want me I'll be at his side in an instant.

But he doesn't, you see. Need me. Or want me. Oh, no. He's completely wrapped up in his quest.

Not for the truth. For Scully.

Do I sound jealous? I guess I am. But I also know it's futile...she's a skeptic. Always was, always will be.

But I won't begrudge him his attempts. Eventually...he'll see that we can't help on this side.



"Scully? Scully, damn it, will you look at me?!" I give up as Scully walks through me for the nth time today. She leaves Will in his playpen as she goes into the kitchen. I normally would follow, but decide to take a break. I'm not making any progress, anyway.

I 'sit' on the couch and glance over at the baby. Alex is there, making faces and talking to Will.

I haven't 'seen' him in days. How long, I'm not sure. Just that it's been a while. I know he's impatient with me. Sick of my attempts to contact Scully. I watch him; he seems to genuinely like William. He's so goofy right now: screwing his lips up and crossing his eyes. Will laughs and tries to grab his lips. Alex relaxes his face and smiles down at him. I find myself smiling, too. Something I don't remember doing in quite a while.

I'm caught when Alex then looks up at me and his grin widens a little. But there is sadness in his eyes that deepens as the grin fades. "Mulder. I thought I'd check in on you. Any luck?" as if he didn't know.

I feel my smile disappear, I don't bother to answer. He nods anyway and turns back to the child. "Hey, Willy...how's life treating you?" He points at a toy and Will tracks the finger and looks over at the toy, picking it up and holding it out to Alex.

Scully returns from the kitchen just as there is a knock from the front door. I 'look' and see that Doggett is standing outside waiting with flowers. I can feel my teeth grind...well, I can feel that they 'would' grind if I 'had' teeth. I hear silent laughter and glare at Alex. He gets a perverse pleasure at my reactions to Doggett. Not that he likes him any better than I.

"Agent Doggett. What are you doing here?" Scully is rather cool, knowing full well Doggett's true intentions and not particularly interested.

As he makes his excuses I turn back to Alex and he knows I want to leave for a while. We end up on a deserted beach. Waves rolling on the shore as warm sun beats down on the sand. It's real, but not as satisfying to us as it would have been when we were alive. It is a favorite location of ours. I remember my dreams during the artifact time and Alex often dreamt of warm exotic places when he was alive.

I stare out at the waves, I could walk out into them, but I can't swim like I long to. Not like I used to. Alex strolls past me and then sits in the sand. His clothes won't be messed up unless he wants them to.

He waits a while, but finally sighs. "Mulder. I know you want to believe that Scully will someday see you and listen to you, but you have to admit that even if she will...that day isn't coming anytime soon. And she and Will are in danger. We've waited long enough...we need to act soon. They may destroy the clones soon. They've been discussing their usefulness. With us both dead they may decide to use the clones, or just terminate them."

I know all this, but I'd been hoping... "You're right. We should go. Now." I sit down next to him and look at him as I haven't since I first died. I lean in and 'kiss' him. Not nearly as satisfying, but enough to convey my love.

He looks thunderstruck. Obviously not expecting my capitulation, then he blinks and laughs. "You love to surprise me, don't you? I thought I'd have to fight you over it for sure."

I grin and tweak his nose. We've both chosen fairly solid forms so it works. "I live for it."

He rolls his eyes, but then gets serious. "You know that we may forget things...there's no guarantee. We may forget everything for all I know. It might now even work..."

"Are you trying to talk me out of it now? I know the risks. That's why I wanted to try contacting her. But it isn't happening and I- we need to be alive again. Try to make a difference once more. Or isn't that what you said to me once before? Resist or serve. I think I'm ready to resist death once more."


I wake. It hurts. All over it hurts. My eyes hurt, my head... I groan as I sit up and blink at the white walls. Cold gleaming metal furniture, white sheets, white walls, white floors. I look down and see white pajamas and white slippers on the floor next to my(?) bed.

As I sit up I look at my hand. It's pale and thin. My fingers seem smoother and weaker than before. Before when? Before...I woke up. I woke up...but what happened before?

I can't remember. I was asleep and now I'm awake.

And I...who am I? My name? Where am I?

Apparently I'm a little neurotic as I can hear a little voice in my head mocking me: 'Who am I? Where am I? How unimaginative...I sound like a soap opera star.'

And I can feel a bitter wryness at that thought, but the truth is...I 'don't' know those things and not knowing is scary.

Far scarier than one can imagine. I feel a panic growing. Where am I? Why am I alone? Is there anyone around? Why can't I answer any of those questions?

Brief flash of red hair and another flash of a gun. My gun. Not my hair. I look at the backs of my hands. Very fine dark hair. I glance around...no mirror.

I stand, I'm wobbly on my feet. I think about shouting...trying to summon help, but something in me is wary of drawing attention so I stay silent.


Jesus, that hurt worse than I thought. I draw a breath in my new body and relish at the feeling of drawing air into lungs like I never did the first time I lived. Oh, sure, I had brushes with death that renewed my appreciation in the finer things of life, but never such gratitude at just...breathing.

I open my eyes and immediately wish I hadn't. Institution white surrounds me. Not a real color in sight. I sit a little unsteadily. My new body is weak and it also feels heavy.

Having a body at all feels heavy...the sheer weight of being in a human body was slowly forgotten in my insubstantial 'body' of not so long ago. I start to push myself to a standing position and am surprised to realize I have two arms.

Two fucking arms. Guess they decided not to lop one off to copy my old body. Definitely good news. I don't really remember the actual change. When I came into my clone's body and took residence.

Actually, the last thing I really remember is the beach and Mulder... Mulder! I have to find him...and soon.

Somehow I just know that he is in worse shape. I'm wobbling towards the door when I stop myself at that thought. I can feel him. A small tingle in the back of my mind. Nothing like the way we could communicate at death, but still something there. I feel his terror and blanked memories. His eidetic memory suffered more than mine. He can't remember even his own name.

I try to talk to him in our minds, but either he can't hear or his mind is in too much turmoil right now.

Just as I reach the door I hear footsteps. Shit. Time to jump back in bed like a good little clone until I break enough necks to get us out.

I lie down and close my eyes.

Two men step in wearing lab coats and carrying clipboards as they continue their discussion quietly.

"...but I thought clone series 435 was being terminated as well as series 113. Both original subjects are officially dead and I got paperwork last week..."

"Look, I told you, for all I know 113 'will' likely be terminated, but it isn't official yet. Series 435 is to be used now even though he is dead. The body was recovered and incinerated. A clone can claim his death was faked as long as it is used away from any eyewitnesses. Only close scrutiny will reveal a clone body type. I was told he's to be used for a short mission anyway. Maybe they'll terminate the series after that. I'm not arguing with them and I suggest you don't, either."

They trailed off and I could hear them making notes on their clipboards as their pens scratched on paper. "Well...it seems a waste of perfectly good clones to me. Maybe we could salvage some for lab use before termination."

"You want to argue with them? Go ahead, but leave my name out of it. I just want to do my job and go home. Wake him, will you?"

I feel a gloved finger poke me. "Wake up, 435b. Come on." I resist the urge to break it off and cram it down his throat. Instead, I open my eyes and stare at him coolly.

A beeper sounds and the one stands at the foot of my bed curses as he checks it. "Let's get him down to the surgical bay. We can run the tests later." The one leaning over me sighs and grasps my forearm and pulls. "Come on, let's go." He jerks me forward and then pulls me off the bed. I don't resist as he gestures me to put on the slippers and then tugs me after him. Not speaking to me.

I feel like a dog and have a hard time holding my temper. I figure when we reach the hall I'll kill these two and find my own way to Mulder. 'Surgical bay' doesn't sound like any place I want to be.

Just as they are opening the door a page rings out, "Dr. Sedgwick, report to Lab 3. Dr. Jacobs, report to Lab 3."

"Goddamnit, the batch must have become destabilized. Leave him. If we don't fix this fast..." They shove me back in the room and slam the door closed, an automatic lock sounds and I hit the wall in frustration. Damn it. I look at door, nothing for me to pick. Just my luck.


Rolling on my side I clutch my head. It hurts, but I'm getting flashes of memory as I lay here.

First Samantha's abduction, then scenes from my childhood, my years before the X-Files. Then my cases and Scully. It comes back at frantic speed that makes my temples throb and eyes burn.

I groan and clutch at the sheets, unable to stop as the pain thunders in my head. The door opens and I am vaguely aware of a hand on my arm, pulling it down from it's grip on my own hair. I can't hear what the voice is saying, but after a while I feel a sharp prick in my hip and the pain slowly fades away.

"113d, can you hear me?"

"Why are you talking to it like it'll understand you? You know that no programming has been instilled in this one."

"Yes, but maybe it'll be calmed by my voice. They are capable of hearing and sensing like animals. Just be soothing. Talk a little. Something's wrong. It shouldn't be in such pain. It passed stage 4 and was stable."

"Whatever, it doesn't seem to be stable, now. None of this series has been too stable. The first 2 broke out and the last one is comatose. Maybe that's why they're going to be terminated...some genetic default."

"No, this series is just more intelligent than some of the others. It doesn't accept the programming well. That's why I wanted to wait on this one...maybe different programming... anyway, it seems calmer now. Don't you? Your head stop hurting?"

I am torn between gratitude at the painkiller and a desire to yell at them both for discussing me like a rat. Worse than a rat, I don't even deserve the pronoun 'he'? I decide not to nod or speak, let them think what they want to. I let my arms drop back on the bed and stare at the one speaking. An old pale woman with her salt and pepper hair in a bun is smiling at me like I'm a baby. She pats my hand and then stands, gesturing a younger black man to follow her out of the room.

"Keep an eye on him and if he shows any further deviant behavior contact me and take him to Lab 1, okay?"


The men are returning and I'm ready this time. Crouched next to the door I await them with the hand fashioned garrote clutched in both hands.

I kill the first one easily and kick the second one as I finish the first off. But my luck changes when an unexpected second team joins the fight and I'm stunned by a large taser.

I finally regain my senses to find myself being dragged down the hall, both hands cuffed behind my back.

"...stand down security, he's restrained..."

"...surgery is ready, do you still..."

"...go ahead, we'll reassess him afterwards. Inform Dr. Jetty..."

I catch snatches of the conversation amongst the white coats in front and behind me. I close my eyes as the moving ground below me makes me nauseous.


The drug wore off hours ago, but with the return to consciousness I also returned to the blinding flashes of memory. My final moments in my old body leave me in tears, the memory of squeezing the trigger makes me cry out.

The young black man returns and leaves without a word. Soon a small group of large orderlies enters armed with tasers.

"I don't think those are necessary, he's in pain and Dr. Larson wanted him observed and taken to Lab 1 in case of further symptoms," the young man says.

The largest orderly/security thug rolls his eyes, "Look, you do your job and I'll do mine. I've already had trouble out of one of these clones today."

They grab me tightly and haul me to my feet. I sag with exaggerated helplessness and squeeze my eyes shut with pain. The pain is not entirely faked. The final memories of my time with Alex after my death are still playing in my head.


"No, no, no. Take him to Lab 1, first. They can prep him first and I'll be waiting in surgery." The small balding surgeon then turns to yell at a nurse behind him. "And 'you' I told you to get the bone saw out. How have you managed to remain employed here is beyond me." The doors of the surgery flap shut and the goons holding me turn me to the room next door.

If I could move a muscle I'd be tearing their eyes out. The very thought of the bone saw has nearly made me lose my bowels. I feel tears running down my face and am ashamed that they will be seen by these bastards. 'Oh, god, Mulder! Help!'

The door opens again as I'm being dropped on a lab table. Another security force rushes in and pulls a pale form with them. I can't see clearly and a goon steps in my field of vision.

A lab technician enters and scowls at the sight of so many men crowding her precious lab. I stare at her helplessly, I see an upside down young woman with black hair pulled tightly in a bun.

"Out, all of you!"

The goons aren't intimidated. "We have orders. This one is to be prepped for surgery. They are removing his left arm."

She lifts a black eyebrow at this and crosses her arms, geez, she's Scully with hair dye, I swear. "And this one?" She juts her chin at the other table and I try once more to look at the other patient, but all I can see is a massive expanse of white pants and a black leather belt.

"Dr. Larson ordered him brought here. He seems to be in extreme pain. Possibly mental trauma. I suspect he is instable, but Dr. Larson-" The young voice is cut off by the lab technician.

"That's right, that's right. Dr. Larson told me about him. He can stay. And this one, but I insist the rest of you go.

The goon blocking my view shifts slightly and I crane my neck to see his head jerk at the others. "You three go back to the main office, you two wait outside and I'll be staying." He looks back at the lab technician with his final words and she purses her lips.

"Fine, but you must remain by the door and out of my way." The goon shakes his head, but obeys. As the room finally clears I look at the other table again, but find my view obstructed yet again by a young black doctor.

"Dr. Larson told me to-" The lab technician waves her hands.

"Yes, yes, you can stay until she gets here. Make yourself useful and take some blood while we wait. But first, hand me that razor. I can't believe I've got to act as a prep nurse now." She shakes her head and looms over me. I brace myself and as she turns to accept the razor I strike.

Her head smashes against a wall and she falls, silent. The young doctor opens his mouth in shock as I rush to head-butt him, my arms still cuffed behind my back. The guard at the door grabs me from behind and I know it's a losing battle, but I'm not going out without a fight.

My arms are wrenched behind me painfully and my chest is crushed under his massive arms. I can't breathe. All of a sudden I hear a painfully loud gunshot near my ear and he goes rigid and his arms drop off me and I feel him fall behind me. The young doctor is lying in a tangle at my feet, panting as he stares with wide eyes at a sight behind me. I turn finally and see Mulder, red blood splattered on white hospital clothes. His face is covered in gore from the close range, his eyes are wild and he's gasping as if he's run a marathon.

To be continued...
(insert evil cackle here)

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