Summary: This is a 'pre-episode/post-episode' piece. I have rewritten the season finale (or should I say 'prewritten' since I haven't seen it yet ;), tying up as many loose ends and staying as consistent as I could to what has come up during the sixth season. - S A MT UST/MSR Conspiracy/Mythology - PG13

Title: Lies and More Lies
Author: Vickie Moseley
Spoilers: Season six up to Milagro and spoilers for the finale
Summary: Have you ever read a spoiler and just knew you could
do a better job? This is a 'pre-episode/post-episode' piece. I have
rewritten the season finale (or should I say 'prewritten' since I
haven't seen it yet ;), tying up as many loose ends and staying as
consistent as I could to what has come up during the sixth season.
Finished: April 14, 1999
Category: S A MT UST/MSR Conspiracy/Mythology
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Read it and weep, Carter. You'll still make all the
money off the ratings from the final ep, but _I_ will know the truth

Archive: Yes
Note: The title is supposed to be connected to what I thought was
the title of the finale. Of course, as always, they changed the title
and I had the wrong ep anyway. But the story line was unchanged.
Then I got to thinking about it, and this title worked as well as any
other I could come up with. So I kept it :)
Dedicated: To Daniel, on his Bar Mitzvah (this is more for your
Mom, I know, but hey, it's your day--enjoy it!)

Lies and More Lies
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net
part one of seven

Highway outside of
Aztec, New Mexico
4:51 pm

"I hate New Mexico, Scully. Too many bad memories," Fox
Mulder exclaimed as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the
palm of his hand and wiped it unashamed on his pants leg.

In response, his partner reached over and cranked the rental car's
air conditioning to the number 4 setting, max-cool. "Better?" she
asked, swiveling the air vent nearest him to blow directly on his
face.

"No," he said with a pronounced pout. She leveled a cool glare at
him and he relented. "Yeah, a little. But not much."

She smiled and leaned back in the seat. "Hey, just for the record,
_this_ was your idea, Mulder. Skinner only signed off on the 302
you sent up. The only person around to blame for your discomfort
is _you_."

He took his eyes off the road long enough to glare back at her.
"You know, Scully, self-righteous indignation and sarcasm are
_not_ attractive qualities."

Her grin grew all the wider. "Let's get your mind off the heat.
What exactly did the 'boys' tell you this morning that set all this
off?"

Mulder stared out the windshield, as if looking for a good answer.
One that wouldn't draw his partner's wrath. "Umm, they had a
lead."

"A lead. Very good, Mulder. A lead on . . . what?"

He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Cassandra
Spender."

Scully's face closed off and she stared out the windshield,
contemplating her own response to that little bomb shell.

Cassandra Spender had gone missing the night the 'rebels' had
burned almost all the Elders of the Consortium. Scully was still not
convinced that the 'rebels' were of alien origin, but she was
convinced of their power and had seen for herself their willingness
to murder on an almost genocidal scale. She shivered,
remembering how she'd narrowly escaped a similar death by fire on
a bridge in Pennsylvania a year and a half before.

"Mulder, Cassandra Spender, in all likelihood, is dead. Like her
son, Jeffrey," Scully said softly. She didn't want to think it was
true, but she knew it was the most logical explanation for the older
woman's disappearance.

"Then she's 'risen again', Scully," Mulder snapped back. "She was
spotted at a convenience store, about fifteen miles from the New
Mexico/Nevada border, late yesterday."

Scully narrowed her eyes. "Want to go into the gory details? I
mean, she didn't just pop in to the store, say 'hi, I'm Cassandra
Spender, half the FBI is looking for me,' and then wander back out
in the desert, did she?"

"Langly published her picture in the April issue of the Lone
Gunman. One of their subscribers works at the convenience store
and recognized her from the picture. He had to wait until his shift
ended at midnight, but he e-mailed Frohike as soon as he got
home."

Scully shook her head, grimly staring at the desert landscape
around them. "Mulder, any one who subscribes to the Lone Gun
Man . . ."

"Remember, Scully, _you_ are now on their subscribers list.
Frohike gave you that for Christmas." He grinned at her and she
simply glared in return.

"Be that as it may, I don't think we're going to find this to be more
than a . . . a 'Cassandra' sighting."

"Cassandra sighting?"

She jerked her head to the left and shrugged one shoulder. "You
know, Mulder. Like an 'Elvis' sighting."

He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head in disagreement.
"Scully, you never found her body. The dental records didn't
match with any one found at the scene."

"Which means she was taken somewhere else and her body
dumped, Mulder," she said tiredly. "Look, I hope you're right. I
hope this kid or whoever it was really did see Cassandra. I would
love to think that she survived that night. I really would. I've just .
. ."

"Stopped believing in miracles," Mulder said sullenly.

She looked at him tenderly for a moment before looking back out
the window. "No. I still believe in miracles. I just know not to
expect them to come my way too often."

Stop-N-Gas
US Route 66
New Mexico

Mulder pulled up to the island and got out to pump the gas. A few
minutes later, Scully followed him into the store and waited while
another customer paid for their purchase and then left. She had her
badge out before her partner.

"Dave Lemund? I'm Special Agent Scully and this is Special Agent
Mulder. We're with the FBI."

The young man standing behind the counter squinted at her
identification. "Feds. Way cool. LadiesMan said you'd be out
here."

"LadiesMan?" Scully asked, turning to her partner with a raised
eyebrow.

"Frohike," Mulder supplied noncommittally, then turned to Lemund.
"Dave, you said you saw a woman matching the picture that was in
April's issue of the Lone Gun Man. Could you describe her for
us?"

"I can do better than that, man. I can show you," Dave said,
reaching under the counter and pulling up a small gray black and
white television. "Give me a minute."

Scully noted that their own images were on the screen, then
replaced by static. A new tape was inserted in a hidden VCR and
suddenly, a woman's face was on the screen. Scully let out a soft
gasp and looked over at Mulder. He was staring grimly at the
screen.

It was definitely Cassandra Spender.

Mulder looked around the small store, noting where the security
camera sat facing down at the counter. Then he looked outside.

"Dave, do you have cameras outside the building? To watch the
pumps."

Dave slapped his head in exasperation. "Shit, why didn't I think of
that! Sure we do. Just a minute and I can get them for you." He
rummaged around under the counter and came up with a VCR
cassette. Deftly, he ejected the previous tape and inserted the new
one. "We'll have to watch the time counter in the corner. She
came in about 6:55, which is 18:55 on the tape." He fast forwarded
until they were close to the right time. Two cars were at the
pumps. The license plates were clearly visible on both of them.

On the tape, it was difficult to see faces at the pumps, but a form
dressed in similar clothing came out of the store and got into the
passenger seat of the car farthest from the doors of the store. It
had to be Cassandra.

"Nevada plates. GRV 2987. I'll call the state police, run a check,"
Scully said, pulling her cell phone out and dialing.

Mulder continued to stare at the screen. As the car pulled away,
the driver was visible through the car's open window. Mulder's
chest constricted when he saw the man's face.

It was Jeffrey Spender.

After making duplicate copies of both tapes, the two agents started
making phone calls. Within hours, they had the name of the rental
agency just over the border in Nevada that had the car registered,
and had knew that Spender had rented the car under the name of
Jerry Smith.

It was eight o'clock at night when they made it to the rental agency.
It was in a small regional airport, and a lone woman, snapping a
piece of gum, was manning the counter.

Mulder flashed his badge as they approached. "I'm Agent Mulder,
I believe we spoke on the phone, uh, Mandy," he said comfortably
as he leaned on the counter.

Mandy smiled in appreciation. "Yeah, sure. I got the file right
here. Came in yesterday morning, paid cash, but we require a
credit card for security purposes. Oh, and we always make a copy
of the driver's license. It's all in here." She shoved the file folder
over the counter into Mulder's waiting hands.

He smiled and winked. "Thanks. Mind if we borrow this a
moment?"

"Hey, you're the FBI. Anything you want, you got," she said,
wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Scully shot him a deadly raised eyebrow as they moved away from
the counter to a bank of chairs in the lobby. "Mulder, you amaze
me," she said, shaking her head.

"What?" he asked, looking slightly confused.

She said nothing, just tried to bite back her smile and shook her
head again.

Mulder pulled out the page with the driver's license on it. He held
it up. The picture was grainy, but it was definitely Jeffrey Spender.
According to the rest of the document, his name was Jeremiah
Smith, and lived in Reno, Nevada. The credit slip showed the same
name.

"If these are phoney, which we know they are, they're damned
good," Mulder sighed heavily.

"Could old 'C.G.B' be involved? Maybe he and his son didn't
have the falling out he told you about. Maybe the blood in our
office was just a front, so he could get Jeffrey and Cassandra out of
the way and someplace safe," Scully suggested.

Mulder shook his head slowly. "If that's the case, what are they
doing 'tooling' around the southwest like they're on a Route 66
tour? No, I don't think he knows where they are, either."

"Well, they're obviously getting help from someone," Scully said
firmly, taking the rest of the pages and leafing through them. "But
if not C.G.B., then who?"

"Or what," Mulder muttered under his breath. "Why use an alias
that is tied with the rebel forces."

Scully's brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Jeremiah Smith. The man who can bring people back from the
dead. The man who can pose as anybody. And there was more
than one of them, Scully. Don't you see, it's a ready made alias.
There are Jeremiah Smiths all over the country."

"But none of them look like Jeffrey Spender," Scully reasoned.

"True, but any one of them could make themselves look like him, at
any time. When was that license issued?"

Scully squinted at the photocopy. "It's hard to read, but it looks
like this year. Two months ago. I can't see the date."

"That's OK, we don't need it. This is a set up. They put this cover
together for Spender, probably for Cassandra, too. They're on the
move. The question is . . . why?"

Scully shifted through the pages and came back to the one with the
credit receipt. "Well, at least we can find out where else they've
been. Maybe even catch up with them."

Mulder smiled. "And here all this time they told me you were just
another pretty face," he said with a wink.

Since it was already close to nine o'clock, and they hadn't eaten
since the plane, Mulder suggested they grab 'something' from a
nearby convenience store. Scully turned up her nose at the
selection of over baked pizza slices, pre-packaged three day old
chicken salad sandwiches and hoagies. She picked up a bag of
pretzels and some string cheese. Mulder opted for two slices of
pizza with what appeared to be pepperoni and grabbed them both
diet colas, paying for them along with the gas.

Scully munched on the pretzels while unfolding the map of New
Mexico that was in the glove compartment. "OK, according to the
credit card company, last night they stayed in the Ramada Express
in Bloomfield, which is just outside of Farmington."

"Pay dirt!" Mulder exclaimed.

"Not quite. That would be too easy. For lunch, there's a credit slip
from a Chili's in Albuquerque."

"Not exactly keeping a low profile," Mulder mumbled around
another bite of pizza. He chased it with a large swallow of cola.

"But they're traveling under an alias, Mulder," Scully reasoned.

"Which it took us about three seconds to see through," Mulder
countered. "If they're running from 'Daddy Spender', he'd have
them by now."

"OK, then we're back to the obvious. Maybe C.G.B. is hiding
them," Scully said pointedly.

Mulder shook his head in disapproval. "No, Scully, it just doesn't
feel right. When that black lunged son of a bitch hides, he _hides_.
Nobody sees a glimpse of him. Like when we all thought he was
dead. They're in the open. I don't like it."

Scully thought for a moment. "Like they're being used as bait?"

Mulder shook his head slowly. "Maybe. I don't know. But for
now, let's take a trip over to Albuquerque. Haven't seen it for a
while." He grinned at her and wiggled her eyebrows.

At midnight, Scully made another check with the credit card
company. "Mulder, they're checked into the La Quinta in
Socorro." She looked at the map in the dim green light from the
dash.

"What road's that on?" Mulder asked, craning to see the map and
keep his eyes on the road.

"Interstate 25, about 100 miles south, southwest of Albuquerque."

"That's the way to Roswell," Mulder said quietly.

Scully didn't answer. She knew it was true. It was right on I-25
that they took the turn off to the road otherwise known as the
'UFO highway'. Their contact never showed that night, but Scully
had a chill run down her back just thinking about it. Someone
stepping on your grave, she thought to herself.

end of part one

Vickie

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^



Lies and More Lies
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one
part two of seven

Highway in New Mexico
10:45 pm

"What do you want to do? Try to make it to Socorro tonight? See
if we can catch up with Spender and Cassandra?" Scully asked, but
she already knew the answer.

"I'd sure like to try," Mulder said with a hopeful expression.

They drove in silence for the next several miles. Scully drifted off
to sleep, Mulder was lost in his own thoughts and didn't seem up to
any conversation. She jerked awake when she felt the car slow and
pull off the road onto the gravel shoulder.

"Mulder, what are you . . ." She didn't have time to finish her
sentence when he partner burst out of the car and ran to the tall
grass at the side of the road. In the glow of the headlights, she
could see him double over and vomit on the tall dry grass.

"I knew that pizza was a rotten idea," she muttered and waited
patiently for his return. After several minutes, he came back and
leaned against the passenger side of the car. She opened the door
and got out, taking him by the elbow to help him in her just vacated
seat.

"No more pizza at gas stations," she intoned. He nodded meekly.
"Are you OK? Maybe we should stop for the night. We've been
tracking them pretty easily with the credit card charges. One more
night isn't likely to make a difference."

He shot her an icy glare, without words telling her that he had no
intention of stopping for the night.

She sighed. It was a long shot at best, her hope that he would slow
down and take care of himself. No, that's your job, Dana, she
reminded herself silently.

"OK, but try to get some sleep. And if you feel bad again, let me
know and I'll pull over."

He nodded and was asleep in less than a mile.

She ended up pulling over four more times before they reached the
outskirts of Albuquerque. Mulder was dozing fitfully between
bouts of nausea. In the light from the dashboard, Scully could see a
fine sheen of sweat glisten on his upper lip and forehead. It no
longer appeared to be 'bad pizza'. She was beginning to fear
serious food poisoning might be the culprit.

But more than worry over the cause of his illness, Scully was
concerned that he was getting dehydrated. She stopped at one rest
area and got him a bottle of water. He'd taken a few sips, but had
not succeeded in keeping any of it down. As she saw the lights of
Albuquerque coming at them across the hills, she made a decision
that she knew he'd fight tooth and nail, but she was intent to force
the issue. She was going to look for a hospital.

St. Jude's Medical Center
Albuquerque, New Mexico
1:35 am

Scully pushed aside the white curtain which made up the walls of
the emergency room treatment cubicle. Mulder was lying on a
gurney on his side, his hand protectively covering his stomach. He
looked pale and drawn and not at all well. She tiptoed over to the
plastic and metal chair just a few feet from him, hoping to let him
sleep. Her hope was in vain.

"Sign my life away?" he asked, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Just the fish," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. Can I ask you a question, Scully?"

"Shoot."

"Why do you always ask me that?" He opened one eye to catch her
reaction.

"I just love hearing your answer," she said with a big grin. "Has the
doctor been in?"

"No. A nurse came in. She wanted a 'stool sample'. I told her I
didn't have any on me at the moment, but the minute something
comes up, she'll get first dibs."

"Mulder," Scully sighed. "You can at least _try_ to be nice. We've
only been here an hour."

"Scully, get real. A stool sample? I'm tossing my socks, for God's
sakes!"

"They probably want to rule out salmonella," she said knowingly.

"They took blood. Let 'em find it there," he answered, defiantly
and closed his eyes again. "God, I'm tired."

"Then try to sleep a little. The doctor should be here soon."

"Did you call the motel in Socorro? Are they still there?"

Scully shook her head in mild amazement. The man had nothing
left on his stomach to throw up, and he was still thinking of the
case. "Yes, Mulder. In between filling out all _your_ medical
paperwork, I called the La Quinta and they double checked the
parking lot. The rental is still there. No one has checked out.
Spender and Cassandra are still there. Assuming they are the ones
using the credit card."

"Think they doubled back? Used a decoy?" he suggested, opening
his eyes to slits to look at her.

She shrugged. "It's what we'd do," she replied.

That merited a grin. "Yeah, but we're _good_, Scully," he smiled
brightly but it faded as his stomach acted up again. "I need the . . ."

She grabbed the emesis bowl laying by his hand and held it to his
mouth. Nothing was coming up anymore, it was only dry heaves.
He struggled with his stomach for several long seconds and finally
dropped back to the pillow, spent.

"Damn, damn, damn!" he muttered.

"Did the nurse give you anything for your stomach, Mulder?"
Scully asked gently. She wiped his mouth with a wet wash cloth,
and then brushed the damp curls from his forehead. She was
certain he had a slight fever.

"She said they'd give me compazine when the doctor had a look.
Where the hell is the son of a bitch, anyway?"

"I would suspect right here," said a young woman with dark brown
curls hanging in waves down her back. "Hi, I'm Dr. Beacon. You
must be Mr. Mulder."

He had the good grace to blush at his previous derogatory
statement, but Mulder opted not to apologize. He simple nodded.
Scully shook her head and extended her hand to Dr. Beacon.

"I'm Agent Scully, I'm Agent Mulder's partner."

Dr. Beacon raised an eyebrow. "Oh, OK, FBI. I see it here in the
notes. Well, since you're pretty far from home, let's see what's
going on and try to get you back on the road." She went on to
examine him quickly and efficiently.

"Well, you're definitely dehydrated. I'm gonna have Brandon come
in and start an IV. At this point, it's hard to tell what we're dealing
with. Could be a virus, could be food poisoning. salmonella takes
48 hours to come up in a culture, and by then, you'd be over the
worst of it, but we'll have to wait and see. Quite frankly, I think it
would be best to admit you and see how you're doing in the
morning."

Mulder immediately began shaking his head 'no'. "I can't stay. I'm
won't . . ." As he raised up off the gurney, attempting to get off it,
he swayed and grabbed out blindly. Scully caught his flailing arm
and lowered him back to the pillow.

"Mulder, you are _not_ going anywhere," she growled in a warning
tone.

"Scully, c'mon! We can't waste time sitting here while they rack
up a lab bill trying to find out I ate bad pizza!" He looked hard at
her, defiant at first, then melting into a full fledged beg. "Please.
Scully."

She determinedly shook her head. "No, Mulder. Not this time.
We are too far away from home. I'm not leaving here with you
unable to keep water on your stomach. Now, let them admit you
and I bet I can convince Dr. Beacon here to give you a nice shot of
compazine. Your stomach will settle and you'll sleep."

"Cassandra," he said cryptically to his partner, narrowing his gaze
to a glare.

"I'll deal with the 'Smiths'. You're not getting out of here before
noon tomorrow, if I'm right." She shot a look over to Dr. Beacon
who nodded in agreement, then left them alone.

"So I'll go down to Socorro and see what I can find," Scully told
him as soon as the curtain had fallen shut behind the doctor.

"You should have back up," he said with a decided pout to his
expression.

"I'll call the locals, _if_ I think it's necessary. Mulder, if this _is_
Cassandra, I don't consider her a threat. Remember. I'm not the
one who called in the CDC," she said in a sotto whisper.

He winced and frowned. "But if Smoking Man, Jr. is there . . ."

"I can handle the weasel. Believe me, we've tangled more than
once," she said with a sly smile.

"Why am I afraid to hear the rest of that story?" Mulder said,
unsatisfied, but helpless to change anything that was happening.

"We'll get you settled. Then, I'll head down there and I'll pull in
around sunup. I should catch them before they check out."

He sighed. "I don't like this, Scully. It smells bad."

"Now, why couldn't you have said that about the pizza?" she
teased.

A young man in pale blue scrubs came in with IV paraphernalia. "I'll
go get your bag so you can have your own toothbrush in the
morning," Scully told Mulder, patting his arm. "See you in your
room."

He grunted in response.

La Quinta Inn
Socorro, New Mexico
7:15 am

Scully pulled the blue Concord into the last parking space in the lot.
That put her directly in front of the door that Jerry Smith had taken
the night before. The rental car he'd driven in was just three spots
down to the right. Everything was in place.

The door opened to Room 132. Scully hunched down in the seat.
There, most definitely alive, was Jeffrey Spender. He was wearing
casual clothes, a beige polo and khakis and he put on sunglasses as
he exited the room. Scully ducked under the dashboard to escape
his notice. She waited a good couple of minutes and then slowly
stuck her head up. Spender was gone, but the rental was still in it's
original spot.

Gaining confidence, Scully eased out of the car and walked up to
the door Spender had just come out of. She knocked, taking a
deep breath.

"Jeffrey, I told you to take a key . . ." Cassandra Spender let the
sentence trail off as she stared in wonder at the woman at the door.
Without a second thought, she grabbed Scully around the
shoulders, pulling the younger women into the room and into a
fierce embrace all at the same time.

"Oh, my god, Dana! I'm so happy to see you standing there!"
Cassandra wiped away tears of joy from her eyes, then stuck her
head out the door, looking both directions. "Did Agent Mulder
come with you?"

"Um, no, Cassandra, he didn't. He's . . . well, he's not feeling too
well at the moment," Scully admitted.

Cassandra's eyes grew wide with fear. "What's the matter?
What's wrong with him?" she demanded anxiously.

Scully held up her hand. "Nothing serious. Well, nothing that can't
be fixed. He's got food poisoning. We found out you were out
here, in New Mexico. We've been tracking you since yesterday.
Mulder ate some bad pizza. He'll be fine. But Cassandra, where
have you been? We thought . . ."

Cassandra shook her head and smiled. "They wanted you to think
that. Or more importantly, they wanted 'him' to thing that. My
ex-husband. I was fine, the entire time. Not a scratch." She pulled
Scully over to a table and chairs near the window.

"But Jeffrey? We found . . . blood," Scully said slowly, confusion
evident in her voice and on her face.

Cassandra smiled, looking almost proud. "Yes, quite a show, huh?
The blood was my idea. I figured there would be some searching at
the local hospitals and maybe the morgue, but after a few days, the
trail would be too cold to follow. I learned a few things from all
those years of pillow talk," she said with a wink and a coy smile.

Scully swallowed hard at the obvious reference to the Smoking
Man. "Your ex-husband. Then he doesn't know you're alive?"

"Oh, for god's sakes, I hope not! We've worked very hard to hide
the fact from him and whom ever of his 'friends' there might still be
out there," she laughed out loud.

"Cassandra, Mulder and I found you quite easily," Scully said
gently. "I don't think he'd have a hard . . ."

"Dana, sweet, sweet, Dana. We _wanted_ you to find us. That's
why you did. That's the only reason you could," Cassandra said
with a gentle, almost loving smile. She took Scully's arm and
patted it. "I'm just so happy to see you."

Scully was still very confused. "Cassandra, how did you survive?
The bodies at El Rico, they were burned beyond recognition! What
happened?"

Cassandra gave a dismissive shake of her head. "A necessary clean
up action," she said calmly. "It's just a shame that he and his little
'cutie' were late for the party and managed to escape unharmed,"
she added hatefully.

"Little cutie? Who?" Scully asked, trying to make a little sense of
what she was hearing.

The door next to them opened. Jeffrey Spender stood with two
cups of coffee and a bakery bag.

"Agent Diana Fowley," Cassandra said firmly, as Jeffrey sat the
coffee on the table.

"Sorry, Mom. I doubted you," he said, giving almost no notice to
Scully. Then, he turned to his former colleague. "She said you'd be
here for breakfast, but I didn't think you'd make it. Guess that
means I'm not getting coffee," he said with a good natured shrug
and pulled a muffin out of the bag. "Two blueberry, one orange
and cranberry. Mom, that's for you."

Cassandra reached up and kissed her son on the cheek. "You spoil
me so, Jeffrey," she said with a smile.

"Wait a minute," Scully said, her head reeling. Sure, she suspected
Diana Fowley of being in league with her and her partner's
arch nemesis, but here was someone telling her that her suspicions
were correct. She wanted proof.

"How do you know Diana Fowley is involved with your
ex-husband?" Scully demanded.

Jeffrey reached over and took a sip of his mother's coffee. "He told
me. My father. When he arranged for her to be my partner. He
said she would help me, show me the ropes. She's been working
with him for over ten years."

Scully shook her head. "That's not possible. That would mean . .
."

"That she was working for _him_ while she was screwing your
partner?" Jeffrey said callously. His face softened at her horrified
expression. "C'mon, Dana. Surely you figured that much out.
That's why she worked with Mulder when he first stumbled on the
X files. But she was getting too close to him. I guess, at one point,
her 'emotions' were getting in the way. That's when she was
transferred to Europe. My father knew that with time and distance,
she'd regain her perspective. She's apparently very good at her
job," he said with a knowing smile.

Scully's stomach was rolling. She had to take a couple of breaths
to calm herself. "Mulder has no idea . . ."

"Of course not," Jeffrey said confidently. "If Mulder ever figured it
out, back then or now, her effectiveness would be compromised. I
dare say dear old Dad would have to consider 'termination'. Oh,
and by the way, that takes on a whole different meaning when you
work for my father," he added with a hand across his chest.

"But I thought . . ." Scully shot a confused look to Cassandra.

"Bullet-proof vest. No one would expect you to wear one in the
office," Jeffrey supplied. "Mom put some blood packets under my
shirt. They were pretty realistic. I almost lost my cookies when I
saw myself. And the blood on the office floor, that was taken the
night before. Just like donating blood at the Red Cross. Pretty
elaborate hoax, but it's worked so far."

Scully was having a difficult time keeping up with the discussion.
"Cassandra, you said you 'wanted' us to find you. Why? Do you
want our protection?"

The old woman laughed merrily. "Oh, no, dear. Quite the
opposite, I assure you. I want to make certain that _you_ are safe.
Dana, colonization is coming and it will be soon. I can't give you
an exact date, I know that's what you want. But believe me, when
it happens, there will be little time to do anything."

"Anything but die," Jeffrey added with a grim look of acceptance.

Cassandra glared at him and the younger man bowed his head in
compliance.

"They want you to join us," Cassandra said to Scully.

"Who? Who are 'they'?" Scully asked, her stomach tieing itself
into knots at the mere thought of what was being discussed.

"The Rebel Forces, of course. The ones who spared us at Ruskin
Dam," Cassandra said in a tone Scully was sure Jeffrey had heard
often as a child. "Dana, they _allowed_ you to live. They've made
this offer to Agent Mulder already. At the time, he wasn't ready to
believe them. But they are making the offer again. Come with us,
join with us. Together, we can defeat the Colonists."

Scully looked over at Jeffrey, who sat on the edge of the bed and
only offered her a nod in agreement.

"You said Mulder has been made this offer? When? He said
nothing to me."

"He probably blew it off. It was a year ago. That's how he knew
to go to the military base after the Ruskin Dam incident. I believe it
was Alex Krycek who delivered the message," Jeffrey explained.

A small grim smile formed on Scully's face at the mention of
Krycek's name. "No wonder he didn't believe it," she muttered.
"Look, Cassandra, Jeffrey, I need you to come back with me. I
have to go back to Albuquerque, to pick up Mulder. He's at St.
Jude's Medical Center right now . . ."

"He's in the hospital?" Cassandra asked in alarm. "You said it
wasn't serious!"

"It's not," Scully said, trying to assure the older woman with a
smile. "It's food poisoning. He became dehydrated and so the
doctor decided to keep him over night. I'm supposed to pick him
up around noon. But I want you to come with me. I need you to
tell him this, all of it, in person. Especially the part about Diana,
Jeffrey, if you don't mind."

"Don't tell me he still has the hots for her?" Jeffrey said in disgust.

"It's not like that," Scully snapped angrily. "He just . . . can't put
his past feelings for her behind him. He doesn't . . ." She was
finding it very difficult to accept that her partner would believe his
old girlfriend, one who had run out on him, over her. It was
impossible to admit it to anyone else.

"It's all right, Dana. We'll make him understand. But we can't go
with you. All of this," Cassandra said, motioning around the room,
"took a lot of time and preparation. We have to go back."

Jeffrey got up and pulled a card out of his pocket. "It's an
answering machine, nothing more. But if you leave a message,
we'll be in contact with you." He handed her the card and she
looked at it. It was blank except for a phone number.

Scully took that as her cue to leave. She stuffed the card in her
purse and stood. Cassandra got up, as well and took Scully into
one last hug.

"Oh, be safe, sweetie. This is Earth's darkest hour. And soon the
time to chose sides will be beyond us. You are either for the
resistance . . . or against it," she said darkly.

Scully briefly shook hands with Jeffrey and after one last sad glance
to Cassandra, who now wore a hopeful smile, she was out the door.

end of part two

Vickie

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^



Lies and More Lies
by Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one
part three of seven

St. Jude's Medical Center
Albuquerque, New Mexico
10:53 am

Scully wandered down the long hall until she reached Mulder's
door. It was standing half open, the white curtain drawn around his
bed. He's sleeping, she mused silently.

She walked around the curtain to the side of the bed closest to the
windows. In the muted light from the window blinds, she could see
that he was still feeling bad. He was on his side facing the window,
his face pale and sweating. His left hand was hosting the IV and
was lying at in an exaggerated straight line under his body. She
knew he hated IV's and he was always uncomfortable with them.
His other hand was clutching his stomach and was wrapped in
white gauze, a spot of red seeping through on the back of his hand.

Scully's brow fell into a worried frown. She reached over and
gently touched his forehead. His eyes dragged open and he blinked
at her.

"You're back," he said. His voice sounded far away and brittle.

"Yeah, just got here. Mulder, you haven't been getting better," she
accused, but a smile softened the hard edges of the words.

"Scully, this is _not_ a good hospital," he answered flatly. "I don't
think they gave me compazine, it sure hasn't worked on my
stomach. And when I was throwing up last night, I got tangled on
the bed rail and ripped the IV out." Scully winced at his words, but
he continued with his story.

"They put a band aid on it, but I soaked through it in no time flat. I
was bleeding like a stuck pig, Scully. That's how I got this." He
held up his hand for her inspection. "Look, it's still bleeding."

She took his hand and held it gently in her own, looking it over. It
did seem to be bleeding, but from the looks of it, it had slowed to a
mere trickle. "I'll talk to the nurse about this," she assured him.

"Oh, and they screwed up my blood work, too," he added with a
scowl. "Came in here at 7 this morning and took more blood.
Scully, you have got to get me out of here. I think they're running
a blood bank for vampires or something." His words were light,
but the expression he wore on his face betrayed his hidden feelings
of concern.

She affectionately ruffled his hair. He was warm, she noted.
"Mulder, hospitals have glitches all the time. Has your doctor been
in?"

"I got a new one. Beacon was only the ER doctor. New one is
named Garrett. He was in here about 8 and said he wanted to talk
to you. You're supposed to tell the nurse you're here."

"You told him I'm a doctor," she said with a knowing smirk.

That got the first grin she'd seen on his all morning. "You betcha I
did," he said with satisfaction. "Told him that your were gonna take
him _apart_," he added with a grin.

"Mulder, you didn't," she sighed.

"You're right, I didn't," he admitted sadly. "But I sure as hell
wanted to," he concluded, letting his eyes slide shut. "Scully, this is
not pizza. If it was the pizza, the CDC would be shutting that gas
station down by now!"

Scully sighed. Secretly, she agreed with him, but saw no reason to
alarm him further. Not until she talked to his doctor. "Mulder, I'm
going out to tell the nurse I'm here. Can I get you anything? Some
ice chips, maybe?"

He shook his head, eyes still closed. "I threw up ice chips an hour
ago. And believe me, Scully, they don't all melt like they should,"
he informed her. He sighed and seemed to melt down into the
mattress. She reached over and squeezed his arm.

"Be right back," she promised, but he was already snoring lightly.

At the nurse's station, she bumped, literally, into a short, older
gentleman in a lab coat. She excused herself and then turned to the
nurse on duty. "I'm Dana Scully. I'm Agent Mulder's partner and
he told me that Dr. Garrett wanted to speak with me."

"Yes, I do," said the man she'd just run into. He stuck out his hand
in greeting. "I'm Daniel Garrett, I've been given Agent Mulder's
case. Let's go over here to the lounge, I'd like to show you what
we've found so far."

When they were seated alone in the lounge, Dr. Garrett opened the
chart he held in his hand. "I must say, I was a little concerned that
the medical history given last night didn't include any information
on Agent Mulder's current condition," he said as he flipped through
the pages in front of him. "I would like to speak with his
oncologist in Alexandria, if that's all right with you."

Scully stared at him, opened mouthed. "Excuse me. Did you say
'onocologist'?"

"Yes. I need to find out if this is a reaction to chemotherapy or if
this is a more serious manifestation of the later stages of his disease.
I must say, I was surprised that his doctor would let him travel so
far from home at this point in treatment. Usually patients in the
later stages require hospitalization or at the very least, a hospice
setting."

Scully felt like she'd just been dropped into Munchkin land.
Nothing the doctor was saying made any sense. "Dr. Garrett, let's
back up. First of all, I gave the nurse in the ER Mulder's complete
history. He was hospitalized last November following a boating
accident. Since then, with the exception of a couple of tension
headaches and a sprained ankle from running after a suspect, he's
been completely healthy. He doesn't have an oncologist because
he doesn't _need_ an oncologist!" she sputtered in exasperation.

Dr. Garrett took her outburst calmly, then pursed his lips and
looked down at the chart in his hand. Silently, he handed the chart
to Scully.

It took several minutes to scan both sets of test results. Finally she
looked up at Dr. Garrett, fire in her eyes. "There's been a mistake.
The blood sample wasn't Mulder's," she said flatly.

Dr. Garrett cocked his head. "I'm afraid both samples were from
Mr. Mulder, Dr. Scully. And that's why I had the second set run.
If you notice, there are some trace elements in both of them which
speak to a previous virulent viral infection. You did mention that he
was seriously ill several years ago with a viral infection. Those
_are_ his test results, Dr. Scully." After giving his pronouncement,
he softened. "I'm very sorry. I naturally thought that since
leukemia is a relatively slow disease, at least progression-wise, you
would have been aware of it. I find it hard to believe that a case
this far along could have been asymptomatic, but as you know,
stranger things have happened."

Scully wanted to run from the room screaming. She wanted to
throw the chart at Dr. Garrett and then shot it and the doctor
several times. She wanted it all to be a huge mistake, or even a lie.

But the facts, the evidence, lay in her lap, accusing her. How could
she have missed it? She scoured her memory for any times that
her partner appeared overly tired, any time she's noticed him
experiencing prolonged bleeding or nausea. There were none, none
that she could put her finger on.

"Dr. Garrett, just this week, he ran ten blocks to apprehend a
suspect. He jogs every day. I know because sometimes he goes
out at lunch time and he uses a track not far from our office. I've
seen him there. He's been in excellent health. Just last Monday, I
broke my coffee mug and he cut his hand helping me pick up the
pieces. The cut closed up almost immediately, it didn't even
require stitches. He's not been sick. I just can't believe these
results."

"Well, if what you say is true, that does seem rather unusual. I've
seen rapid onset of AML but never overnight and never to this
stage so quickly. I think we should schedule a bone marrow
biopsy. Just to be sure," he conceded.

Scully stood up, using the height difference to her advantage. "This
time, Dr. Garrett, let _me_ oversee the tests. Please."

Mulder was in the middle of dry heaves when she returned to the
room. The nurse was holding the emesis bowl and Scully took it
from her and started rubbing his back. When he finished, he
dropped back to the pillows.

"This is _not_ a good time, Scully. Remind me, no more cases in
New Mexico!"

She nodded mutely and put the bowl in the sink even though there
was nothing to clean out of it. She moved back to the side of his
bed.

"Mulder, I need to talk to you and I want you to listen to
everything I say."

Instantly, he was alert and giving her his full attention. "OK,
Scully. I'm listening."

"The test results came back very strange last night. According to
them, you have Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Now, they did the blood
test twice. It was definite, both sets of results said the same thing.
The next step is a bone marrow biopsy. I wouldn't put you through
this unless it was absolutely necessary, but, at this point, we really
need to know."

Mulder laid there, wide eyed. After several moments, he spoke,
shaking his head. "Leukemia? Scully, that's impossible. I haven't
been sick. I twisted my ankle, but that's because the pavement was
broken. I haven't been sick, at least not until last night . . ."

She nodded, then interrupted. "Which is precisely what I told Dr.
Garrett. That's why we need to do the bone marrow biopsy. And
this time, I'm watching the procedure and I'll be overseeing the
tests as well. I won't let the sample out of my sight, Mulder, I
promise you," she said firmly.

"Bone marrow biopsy," he said with a cringe. "Bet that hurts."

She sighed and nodded. "You'll be given a local, but yeah, I'm not
going to lie to you, Mulder. It'll hurt like hell."

"But you'll be there with me, right?" he asked hopefully.

"If you promise not to break my fingers, you can even squeeze my
hand," she said affectionately.

"When?" he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"Dr. Garrett is making the arrangements now. Should be within the
next hour or two."

Mulder nodded. Suddenly, a thought seemed to come to his eyes.
"Scully, you're back. You didn't tell me what you found in
Socorro," he reminded her.

She could have slapped herself. She'd forgotten completely in the
light of the newest tragedy to befall them. She pulled up the chair
and sat down, still holding his hand.

"Brace yourself, Mulder," she said lightly. "Cassandra Spender and
her son were at the motel."

"Are you sure it was them?" he asked, licking his dry lips.

"Well, I didn't check for green blood, but at this point, that might
not tell us much anyway. At least about Cassandra," she reminded
him.

"True. So our boy Jeffy didn't die in our basement. Good. I
would be really pissed if his ghost decided to hang around and
haunt the place," Mulder said with a gleam to his eye.

"No, it was a set up. Spender was wearing a bullet proof vest that
day. Cassandra had equipped him with fake blood packets to
explode on impact."

"But the blood on the floor matched his in the files," Mulder said
with a furrowed brow.

Scully nodded in agreement. "Part of the plan. They were hiding
from Spender's father. Cassandra is . . . working with the 'rebels' I
guess you would say."

"So why was she risking her life going out in the open like that?
Ole Smoky could have picked up her trail with his eyes closed,"
Mulder countered.

"She said she wanted _us_ to find her."

Mulder's brow had some serious creases. "Why?"

"The rebels want us to join them. She was making us an offer. An
offer to help with the resistance."

"Why do I feel like I'm suddenly Humphrey Bogart? But that
would make you Ingrid Bergman," he said with a wink.

She bit back a grin that threatened to break on her face. "Mulder,
Spender the younger said you'd been made a similar offer before.
By Krycek, last year after Ruskin Dam."

Mulder closed his eyes, putting a hand to his ear as if wiping it
clean. "Yeah. Like I'd accept anything from that rat bastard," he
muttered. "Scully, I'm not convinced we know everything there is
to know. I don't mean to ignore Cassandra, I know that you and
she have become friends, but quite frankly, the woman could still be
seeing this all wrong. Remember, she's the one who thought the
aliens were the 'good' guys not that long ago."

"I know, that bothers me, too. She was misled once, these 'rebels'
could be misleading her, too. I don't know what to tell you,
Mulder." She got up and turned to the window, wondering if she
should even bother to bring up what she'd learned about Diana
Fowley.

"OK, Scully. Enough with the avoidance tactics. What else did
Cassandra and Jeffy tell you?"

She shook her head without turning. The man was uncanny, she
decided. She was tempted to ignore his question, but decided it
was a better topic than discussing his illness. She sighed and turned
back toward him.

"They told me some things about Diana."

"Is she alive?" She searched his face, scrutinizing it for any sign of
hopeful expectation. All she saw was curiosity. It made her feel a
little better.

"Yes, apparently. She missed the 'festivities' at the air base."
Scully tried hard to keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice, but she
was just too tired and wasn't succeeding.

"Then where's she been all this time?" he asked, now searching her
face for answers.

Scully pursed her lips, trying to phrase the next sentence. "She's
been working. For Spender, senior."

Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head. "Scully, we've been
through this. I know you and Diana never really hit it off . . ."

"Mulder, that is _not_ what I'm talking about and you know,"
Scully hissed angrily. "This is not some seventh grade jealousy
going here, Mulder. Give me more credit than that!"

"Scully, I just . . ." he stopped abruptly when his stomach took the
opportunity to start heaving again. Scully ran for the bowl, but it
wasn't necessary. It was just another bout of dry heaves. He no
longer even had enough saliva to spit.

"Shh, let's not talk about this now. I didn't want to bring it up in
the first place," she cooed, rubbing her hand across his back in
soothing circles.

He dropped back to the pillows. "OK, then let's talk about the
other subject." He looked her directly in the eyes, begging for the
honest he knew he'd find.

"Scully, could it be true? Do I have cancer?"

Scully didn't answer at first. She was too lost in her own thoughts.
In just a day, he'd become weak as a kitten. His face was flushed
and the skin hung off his bones. He'd been fine the day before, she
kept reminding herself. He'd been healthy and joking and . . .

She swallowed back her own fears for him. He was still waiting for
an answer.

"As you know, Mulder, I did considerable research on the subject
not too long ago."

He smiled ruefully at her reference to her own illness. "I know, so
did I, Scully. I must admit, I glossed over the sections pertaining to
leukemia. It wasn't of interest at the time," he said lightly, but his
eyes showed how her cancer still haunted him.

"Well, I _did_ read up on leukemia. On all treatments, as a matter
of fact. Just for my own information," she added with smile of her
own. Then, the seriousness of the situation returned to her like a
bucket of cold water. "Mulder, this isn't acting like any leukemia
I've heard of or seen in journals. Your blood is full of immature
blasts, a sure sign of the disease at later stages. But that's
impossible."

He sighed and nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Basically, this is all happening overnight. And that's the strange
part. I would expect you to show some symptoms, flu-like
symptoms over a period of weeks, joint pain, prolonged bleeding.
Over time, Mulder. Now sometimes, you can have asymptomatic
leukemia for a long period of time. But to be in the state your
blood indicates . . . you would have had it for weeks. Months. We
would have noticed. _I_ would have noticed."

He closed his eyes and bit his lip. "The CDC took blood samples.
That was only three months ago. Would it have shown up then?"

"Yes, I'm sure of it. With as many immature blasts as your blood
work indicated, we would have seen at least some of them back
three months ago."

"So this is engineered. Like your cancer. Like whatever almost
killed Skinner awhile back," he sighed, turning over onto his back.

She was biting her lip harder now. That would explain it. That
would make the most sense. And the motive was too obvious to
state.

"They want me dead and this is the way that will cause the least
suspicion," he said flatly.

"Mulder," she said sharply. "There are treatments available.
Chemotherapy and radiation. Bone marrow transplants. This is not
the death sentence it once was."

He looked at her with a mixture of sadness and compassion on his
face. "Scully, we both know that if they don't want me to survive,
I won't survive," he said gently.

"Then you're just giving up? Without a fight?" she challenged him,
anger flashing in her eyes.

"I never said that, Scully. I have nothing better to do at the
moment," he said with shrug. "I'm just telling you, don't get your
hopes up."

"No, Mulder. I remember a man who wouldn't give up, regardless
of the odds or even my own wishes. I learned a lot from that man.
I plan on following in his footsteps. We will win this. End of
discussion."

He said no more about it.

end of part three

Vickie