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Title: Five for the Price of One This story takes place between 8 p.m. and 9 p.m. on the day of the California presidential primary. All events occur in real time. Los Angeles "My informant was certain, Scully," Mulder insisted into his cell phone. "The breeding cult was supposed to meet here, in this field, tonight, for an important ritual." Scully's voice was perfectly clear, although there wasn't a cell tower for miles. "Look around you, Mulder. What do you see?" The last traces of a spectacular smog-fueled sunset, acres and acres of open land, a few rolling hills, something that resembled a brand-new transformer poking out of the grass a few dozen yards away ... "A perfect place for a ritual." "Mulder." God, he loved hearing that weary, aggravated tone right in his ear. Something about the thrum of her r's went right down his spine. "I still think we should head for Montana instead. These rumors about this place called Manticore, about genetically enhanced soldiers-" Cold metal pressed against the back of Mulder's neck and he nearly gasped. The unmistakable click of a hammer being pulled back sent a different kind of shiver down his spine. His hands went up, Scully's voice still faintly audible through the raised phone. "Where are my wife and daughter?" a hoarse voice demanded. Mulder wasn't sure he'd heard that right. "Your what?" The shooter jabbed the gun barrel into the back of his neck again, and Mulder staggered forward a step. He felt the phone being yanked from his hand. Scully's desperate "Mul--" was cut off. "My wife and daughter! You know where they are!" "I don't even know who the hell you are," Mulder replied, bafflement rapidly overcoming fear. Why did weird things always happen to him in LA? Come to think of it, why did weird things always happen to him, period? Before the obvious answer came to mind, a tall, slim woman in a blue rubber minidress bounded out of the shadows. He felt the gun barrel leave his neck, sensed his assailant turn in the woman's direction. As his confused brain tried to process her presence, she lashed out with a perfect roundhouse kick. He heard the unmistakable crack of foot meeting metal, thought he saw the gun fly out of the corner of his eye. Blue rubber dress? Mulder wondered, the idea failing to make sense. The woman looked at him, a frightened yet feral look in her eyes, her body coiled for another fight. I'm going to get my ass kicked by a woman in a blue rubber dress, he thought. He smiled. Before she could pounce, another voice sounded from the shadows. "Sydney!" a man called. "Sydney! Is it Khasinau?" The woman looked at the unconscious man on the ground. This was the first chance Mulder had to see his assailant, a man of average height, maybe Scully's age, blond, scruffy, battered, casually dressed. "Damn," the woman said in a surprisingly girlish voice. "It's not Khasinau." Her partner -- Mulder assumed that's who he was -- stepped close enough to be visible. "Sydney, I'm sorry," the man said to the woman. The tired, hangdog look on his young face and the gaze he was giving her were all too familiar. Just jump her, Mulder thought. Don't wait seven years. Then the man caught sight of Mulder. "Federal agent!" he shouted, pulling out his gun. "Freeze!" "Federal agent," Mulder replied. "I'm going to get my ID now." And he reached slowly into his breast pocket as the other man did the same. They flashed their badges at one another. "FBI," the young man sighed. "CIA," Mulder said in disgust. "Can't you guys do anything right?" "The CIA didn't escort Monica Lewinsky on a shopping trip," the young man sneered. "Vaughn," Sydney said, and Mulder recognized the tone; he'd heard it enough from Scully. "If this isn't Khasinau, who is it?" Both Mulder and Vaughn stepped forward to search the man's pockets. Each stopped and stared at the other. "I was here first," Mulder said. "I have a higher security clearance," Vaughn said. "My director could beat up your director," Mulder said. "No time for this," Sydney snapped, and knelt next to the man on the ground. When she reached into his jacket, his eyes flew open and he grabbed her throat. She gasped and scraped at his hands. "Federal agent!" he hissed at her. "Who do you work for?" Mulder pulled his gun first. "Federal agent. Let's see some ID." "Federal agent," Vaughn said, his gun also drawn. "Get your hands off her." The man shoved Sydney away, and as she tried to catch her breath, he pulled out ID. Mulder caught Vaughn giving his partner a worried look. Got that T-shirt, too, buster, he thought. "Special Agent Jack Bauer, CTU," Mulder read from the ID. "CTU? Never heard of it." "It's a super secret arm of the CIA," Bauer said, stifling a yawn. "Wait! I thought SD-6 was a super secret arm of the CIA!" Sydney exclaimed. "Who the hell are you?" Bauer demanded hoarsely. "Another federal agent?" Sydney and Vaughn exchanged glances. "It's a long story," she said. "What's SD-6?" Mulder asked. "It's a long story," Vaughn said. "I'll vouch for CTU. Even if they are a bunch of cowboys." "Cowboys?" Bauer growled, and leapt to his feet. He stopped only inches from Vaughn's face. "Look, desk jockey. Today we've already stopped one assassination attempt on a presidential candidate and captured at least one known terrorist. What have you done today? Your nails?" "Good one," Mulder said without thinking. Bauer wheeled on him. Somehow, he'd found another gun, and he leveled it at Mulder. With a strong sense of deja vu, Mulder pointed his own gun at Bauer. "Federal agent!" a familiar voice shouted. "Put the gun down!" "Scully!" Mulder shouted. "We're all federal agents! Well, except for her, I think-" "Shut up, Mulder." Scully edged closer. Bauer swung his gun in her direction. Mulder fired. Bauer dropped to the ground. The two sets of partners fell to their knees around him. "Through and through," Scully said, "right through the shoulder. He'll be fine." She smiled at Mulder knowingly. "Then why is he unconscious again?" Sydney asked. Scully gave Sydney the Look, and Mulder cringed. Scully always had had issues with tall, dark-haired women, especially those who could wear a blue rubber dress and not look ridiculous. "See this rock?" Scully said patiently. "He hit his head on it when he fell." "Well, we have to get him to a hospital," Vaughn said. "St. Mark's is the closest, I think." Sydney shook her head. "We can't. That's an SD-6 hospital." "I don't care what health benefits he has, he has to be seen in a hospital," Scully snapped. Mulder stuck a hand in his coat pocket and fingered the palm-sized shard of metal inside. Oh, what the hell, he thought, and pulled it out. He held it over Bauer's body and let go. It slowly spun over the wound. "Vaughn," Sydney breathed, cocking her head to look at the stylized inscriptions on the metal piece as it spun. "A Rambaldi artifact." "What?" Mulder said, baffled. "No, this is just one of my son's favorite toys. It just happens to have, uh, healing powers." "So that's where it went!" Scully cried, delighted. "William was so upset when I couldn't find it!" Bauer moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. Scully probed his shoulder. "Looks good. That extraterrestrial mumbo jumbo works every time," she said. "Scully, I think I just got very turned on," Mulder breathed at her. Suddenly, the low thrum of helicopters sounded in the distance. Bauer scrambled to his feet. "The Drazens," he growled. "Get out of here, now!" And he ran. Neither Sydney or Vaughn appeared to hear him. "K-Directorate?" Vaughn said. "SD-6 would be just as bad," Sydney replied. "I'm supposed to be on vacation, not consorting with the CIA. Let's go." And they ran. Mulder and Scully looked at each other. Scully raised an eyebrow at him. Mulder shrugged. They ran. The helicopters drew nearer and nearer. Scully and Mulder ran as fast as they could, the grass whipping and slashing at their ankles. "Oh!" Scully cried in surprise, and Mulder's gut clenched, until – "Oh!" he said in surprise. They'd stepped onto a wooden platform, decorated with a single yellow and orange flag on a pole in one corner. The helicopters buzzed overhead, shining light down onto them. A rail-thin starlet wearing too much makeup and not much else stood next to a man in an open-necked shirt and khakis. The starlet reached out and put sunglasses on Scully first, and then Mulder. "Welcome to Los Angeles," she purred. "Fox," the man said. "Dana. You are the last team to arrive. I'm afraid to tell you that you have been eliminated." "Dammit," Scully said. "We could have used the million dollars. Do you know how much it costs to raise a supersoldier alien baby?" Epilogue Seattle, Washington In the ruins of post-pulse Seattle, a tall young man with ginger-colored hair and piercing blue eyes stared down his prominent nose at the fit but curvy young woman in front of him. He thumped his chest. "I'm the One," William Mulder insisted. Max Guevara rolled her huge brown eyes and spread open the top of her zip-up sweater. "No dealio, homie. These tattoos say I'm the One." "Then if you're the One, can you do this?" William gestured, and pieces of a shattered building rose and danced in midair. Max considered. "No, but can you do this?" With a war cry, she leapt into the air and cold-cocked William with a perfect kick to the jaw. She landed on her feet, catlike, and brushed her hands on her leather pants. She shook her hair out of her face and pursed her pouty lips. "Wannabe," she sniffed, and walked away. -30- Author's note #1: Yes, I watch way too much TV. In case you're keeping score at home, that was XF, 24, Alias, Dark Angel, and yes, The Amazing Race. This train wreck began when poor Janet York was hit by that van, and my husband said, "They'd better not take her to an SD-6 hospital," and it was all over. Now if only aliens would abduct Wil and Tara... The Honorary SciMeth Beta Band: the long-suffering Barbara D., Mara, nlynn, and Anjou. Last-minute technical assistance by Noelle Leithe. Shari and Kris made me a new website! /happy dance/ Author's note #2: Bradys schmadys. Feedback to mrsblome@yahoo.com
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