DISCLAIMER: Okay, let’s get started (laces fingers together & stretches, popping them loudly): Mulder, Scully, Doggett, & Lone Gunmen are © to Chris Carter & 1013 Productions. Just coverin’ my bases-and ass.

Matt Bluestone, Sevarius, Elisa Maza, Xanatos, Angela, Demona, & the Wyvern Clan are © to Disney Inc.

Mr. Sinister, Emma Frost, Dark Beast, & Charles Xavier are © Stan Lee & Marvel Comics Inc.

Dara Gibson, her family (Patricia Gibson, et al), Athena, Olivia Bluestone, etc., are © to Kara Senecal, 2001. Some spelling mistakes, but ignore those for now.

Synopsis: Shortly after “Alone” (dammit, watch the show!!), Mulder receives a call from his old bud Bluestone; it seems another case of alien-abductee, now alien-returnee, has cropped up. But it’s defiantly NOT what either one expected.

THE X-FILES

Unnatural Selection

By Kara Senecal






10:09 A.M.

MAY 2, 2001

ROUTE 96

14 MILES OUTSIDE BOSTON, MA

When was it going to end?

Why didn’t they just kill her, end her misery, stop the pain?

A rasping groan scraped through her throat, echoing softly in the dark cavern. Were her eyes closed? Open? It was so dark that she had no idea. Even if there was light, there might be nothing to see; she had spent too many hours in the cell, collapsed on the gritty cement, bent over the drain in the center vomiting, looking up for help, but seeing nothing beyond the sterile metal door.

Nothing.

But she would rather see nothing than to awake again in the tank, an oxygen tube forced down her throat, her skin burning from the chemicals in the water, her muscles throbbing around the intravenous needles plunging into her limbs, with THEM standing on the outside, watching intently as she thrashed in pain, as her screams grew hoarse.

She tried to sit up, a task that had becoming more and more difficult as the experiments wore on. Planting a raw hand on the floor--cold, metallic?--she pushed herself up a centimeter, then immediately collapsed, her sour breath rushing out of her lungs.

God, let her die.

She tried to open her eyes, only to find that they were partially open already. For once, her eyes didn’t focus immediately, and a stray flicker of concern slipped through her brain. How come she couldn’t see? Seeing in the dark … it had been one of THEIR greatest achievements with her. She had heard THEM cheer as she tore through the room, dodging the traps and falls perfectly in the smothering darkness.

Her already tired heart gave a weak jolt, and she tried to shift around--how come she wasn’t tied up? There didn’t seem to be a collar around her throat …

Forcing herself to forget about her lack of manacles, she let her dry eyes roam the cavern, whatever it was; where was HE? HIM, the one who ordered her abduction.

She couldn’t see HIS piercing eyes illuminating the dark, nor could she hear HIS sneering chuckle as it hissed through HIS viper-like fangs.

Maybe that shouldn’t be so much of a surprise; last time she had been dragged into HIS dark lair, something happened to her and she snapped, screaming and lunging for HIM, seeing HIM flinch back in horror for the first time.

Catching the arm of one of the scientists in her fanged mouth, she had snarled monstrously, twisting the limb until it snapped, tore, ripped away from the elbow joint. He had screamed in confused pain, reeling back in terror as she spun around for a second attack, this time aiming for the throat.

It was the collar’s taser that brought her down, causing all of her muscles to freeze and stiffen, locking her into mid-leap, keeping her from finishing the job.

It hadn’t been the first time she attacked HIM, or his cronies, but it was the first time she had used her enhancements to their fullest potential, the first time she had used them on HIM, the first time she had wounded anybody so seriously.

That was a while ago, wasn’t it?

She didn’t know; she lost track of time since her abduction in tenth grade.

She didn’t know how long it had been since she had seen her mom.

She didn’t know how old she was anymore.

She wasn’t even sure she knew her own name.

Something behind her grated loudly, a strange, alien sound that made her shudder, despite how weak she was.

Hot, white light roared into the cavern, and her eyes instinctively squeezed shut against the invasion. Her tired heart thudded a little; what was it? Why was it so … bright?

Clumsy arms slipped under her body, and, suddenly, she was falling, rushing through thousands of feet of empty, warm air, thrown helplessly out of the transport.

She didn’t even grunt when she hit the ground; she kept her eyes closed, trying to scream at the strange yellow light that seeped through her eyelids.

Uncut grass lashed at her abused skin, and she shivered, chilled by the gusts of warm air. Somewhere nearby, animals snarled.

Her bones felt like a million pieces of shattered glass. Her empty stomach heaved against her ribs, and her brain seemed to explode inside of her skull.

God, let her die. Please.

She wanted to die.

But … before she did … she had to see where she was.

Forcing her heavy eyelids open, she gazed blankly through the forest of grass, at pavement and trees and blue sky and cottony white clouds and shiny snarling cars and tall signs.

Confused, she pushed herself up, just a little, looking up as the men slipped back into the white, windowless van, slamming the shimmery doors closed. Almost a second later, the van pulled away, cruising nonchalantly back onto the highway.

Not knowing what to do, she sat there, watching it go, feeling her skin erupt into blisters under the glaring sun … something she hadn’t seen in a year and a half.

They …

They left her there … like trash by the road.

All the strength in her finally disappeared, and she slid back to the grass, feeling herself fall again, back into unconsciousness.

“God, let me die,” she whispered, her voice sounding strange, even to her.

But what was stranger … was that she didn’t know who God was.

God, let her die.


2:34 P.M.

MAY 14, 2001

WASHINGTON D.C.

APT. #421:

Well, that was that.

Numbly, Special Agent Fox Mulder … no … ex-Special Agent Fox Mulder dragged himself back into his “spacious” apartment, not caring a bit when he heard the apartment door’s ‘2’ clatter to the floor as he closed the door.

Who cared.

Bile burned in the back of Mulder’s throat and, irritated, he shook his head, frowning angrily. Not knowing really what else to do, he yanked off his leather jacket, tossing it haphazardly onto the couch.

Stupid, stupid, stupid ….

It was all over. All of it. The FBI. His career. The X-Files. All gone. Just like that.

Like that.

Raking his fingers through his mussed hair, Mulder glanced temptingly towards the kitchen. Did he still have some bourbon left over, from before he got beamed up by … what ever the hell they were? Scully didn’t take it, did she? Probably not, but he’d bet any amount of money that those damned CSI guys made off with it. Might have taken the scotch too.

Damn. He really needed to get drunk.

But Mulder didn’t make an attempt to move. He stood there, staring into the kitchen, his hands still posed in mid-rake atop his head.

What would he do afterwards? After he got drunk, sobered up, hated himself for it, and repeated? What was he gonna do? Die? Drop out of existence for good?

He had nothing left.

Everything was gone! Everything he needed and loved--his parents, his little sister, his job, his life’s work--ah, damn it, even Molly the fish was gone!! Dead!!

Even Scully … Scully … was gone, with her baby, keeping closer contact with Doggett than she had with Mulder himself, locking herself in her apartment, eating $33.98 worth of pizza as she waited for her baby to come.

All …

All …

Gone.

The breath rushed out of Mulder’s lungs, and he allowed his arms to flop lifelessly back to his sides.

All gone.

Aimlessly, he staggered over to his desk, reaching for the can of fish food perched by his phone … should feed the fish. Just ‘cuz he didn’t want to live didn’t mean he should make the fish suffer.

He snorted at the thought. Dumb Mulder logic.

As he began to twist the glossy cover off, Mulder blinked, looking down in surprise at the small, fuzzy red blinking dot on it.

“What the--? Oh …”

Surprised, Mulder refocused his gaze, this time to his phone. He stared at the answering machine quizzically as it blinked incessantly, silently droning “Messages. Messages. Messages. Messages.”

Yeah, who’d be leaving messages on his machine now? Langly, asking him to drop by for steak subs and a debate on the Philadelphia Experiment?

Still, Mulder knew he had nothing to lose by checking.

Tapping the ‘play back’ button, Mulder unscrewed the cap of fish food, listening as the machine rewound, clicking and beeping.

“Yo, Mulder, Matt Bluestone here--”

Startled, Mulder glanced back at the machine. Matt?? Old Spooky Junior? Huh, Mulder hadn’t talked to him since … er … well, it was some time after he got out of the hospital ….

“--listen, I dunno if you’re interested, but my sister has a case in Boston, and she asked me to come down …. You too, she wanted you to come, if you weren’t still tied up at the FBI--”

Nope, not anymore. Mulder absently tapped the canister over the fish tank, still staring at the answering machine. Matt Bluestone had been one of his friends back at Quantico, just a few years behind him. Bluestone, his sister Olivia, and Mulder hung out sometimes, swapping stories of the paranormal.

Bluestone never really pursued a career in the paranormal, unlike Mulder--but good for him; Bluestone got pretty far in the terrorist unit until he was bounced from the Bureau, too bent on finding the Illuminati.

Mulder never really understood that.

“--Well, anyways, a girl was found by the side of a highway a few days ago. She had been kidnapped almost two years ago, and Livvy said that the initial reports stated that the girl had some, well, ‘experimental surgery’ preformed on her. It sounded like the case of alien abductees you and Agent Scully were telling me about. Whatever. It was bizarre, so I thought you’d like to know about it. Gimme a buzz. My number’s …”

Dropping the canister into the fish tank, Mulder dove for his desk, grabbing up a pen and hastily scribbling down Bluestone’s phone number.

Hmph. Maybe he had something to do after all … aside from getting plastered.


12:44 P.M.

MAY 16, 2001

BOSTON HOSPITAL, BOSTON, MA:


What a nightmare.

Mulder glanced at Bluestone, watching as his friend uneasily checked his watch for the third time; with the insanity of the Big Dig, getting lost in a forest of cranes and a labyrinth of detours, Mulder and Bluestone were an hour and a half late meeting Olivia at Boston Hospital and boy, did she sound pissed on the cell phone.

After an excruciatingly long wait, the elevator finally pinged, grating open its doors to the even more chaotic halls of the ICU.

Mulder drew in a long breath, choking on the smell of disinfectant. “Ahhh, hospitals … I seem to spend a quarter of my life here.”

Bluestone smirked, gently pushing through a throng of nurses. “Join the club … since Elisa found out she’s having a baby, I’m constantly driving her to the hospital for checkups.”

“What is it with our partners, Matt?” Mulder asked, side-stepping a defibrillating machine. “All of a sudden, they get pregnant. It’s like they joined a club or something …”

A miserable looking nurse behind a desk barked at them, demanding to know what they were doing, standing around the “INTENSIVE Care Unit” like a couple of dopes. Feigning courtesy, Bluestone drew his I.D. out of his trench coat pocket, flashing the badge briefly in the nurse’s face. “Agents Bluestone and Mulder from the FBI. We’re investigating--”

Instantly, the woman’s sleep-deprived eyes shot open. “Ohhh …. About Dara ….”

Surprised, Bluestone glanced at Mulder, who could only shrug.

“You knew we were coming?” he asked.

The woman nodded vigorously. “Yeah … took you guys long enough. Poor kid.” Standing, the woman leaned over the countertop, pointing around a corner. “Down the hall, room 27. Poor baby.”

Mulder nodded, trying to smile. “Thanks, miss.”

As he and Bluestone turned away, the nurse spoke up again. “Agents?”

They stopped, glancing back at her questioningly.

The woman hesitated, swallowing hard. “Please … find the guys who did it to her.”

Baffled, Mulder exchanged a glance with Bluestone. “Uh … yeah, we will.”

Scratching the back of his head, Bluestone turned away. “Sounds like Livvy didn’t tell me all about the injuries.”

Mulder nodded, his forehead creasing. “I’m getting a bad feeling about this--and hey, you do know that we’re not agents anymore, right?”

Bluestone nodded, smirking again. “Yeah,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder, back at the nurse. “But she doesn’t need to know.”

They almost walked by Room 27 at first; Olivia had to poke her head out the door and hiss at them to get their attention. “Hey!”

“Hey!” Smiling, Bluestone hugged his little sister. “How are you?”

“All right.” Smiling weakly, Livvy held her hand out to Mulder. “Good to have you back, Spooky.”

Mulder grinned. “Hi, half-pint. Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah … I wish it was under different circumstances, though.” Straightening, Livvy opened the door behind her. “C’mon … the doctors are waiting. Try not to make noise, guys.”

Almost tiptoeing, Livvy slipped back into the hospital room. Bluestone followed her, and Mulder swallowed hard, trailing the two; he didn’t like what he was feeling right now …

Closing the door behind him, Mulder was swallowed up by blackness. He blinked rapidly, forcing his eyes to focus. Grimacing, he turned, squinting as the darkness shifted from pure black to--er … lighter black.

Making out the silhouettes of Matt and Olivia, Mulder quietly crossed over to them, stepping around Olivia to view the hospital bed, illuminated by pale, blue light.

Seeing the girl, Mulder’s stomach gave a sudden heave, rushing up into his throat. He stifled a gasp, clapping his hand over his mouth.

Beside him, Olivia finally lost her nerve and glanced away, while Matt bit hard on a knuckle.

On the opposite side of the bed, a young doctor reached across, readjusting an oxygen tube in the girl’s scarred mouth. He frowned grimly as an artificial lung pumped air into the girl. “It’s awful.”

Mulder nodded quickly, willing himself not to ralph all over Livvy and Matt. He silently swore as he followed the vine-like patterns of stitches across the girl’s arms, along her collarbone and neck and face, disappearing under her hospital gown.

Another doctor stepped in between Livvy and Mulder, checking the girl’s intravenous.

Glad to have an excuse to step away, Mulder turned as Matt spoke, coughing on the words. “Livvy … who is she? What happened to her?”

Grimacing, Livvy glanced briefly at her brother, then turned to a nightstand, shoved into a far corner.

“Her name’s Dara Gibson,” Livvy said, her voice oddly raspy. She lifted a file off of the nightstand and handed it to Matt, hardly looking at him. “A year and eight months ago, Dara was on a field trip with her tenth grade English class to see a play in Cambridge.

“About halfway there, the bus hit something … a bomb, some kind of explosive, we don’t know for sure--but the bus tipped over. According to her English teacher and all of the sixty-eight students on that bus, something jumped on the side of the bus and tore the wall right off …

“It started to reach for Dara, and she tried to fight it off, but then … then something …”

Struggling for the right words, Livvy looked helplessly at Matt and Mulder. “Something … it wasn’t human … but it reached inside and grabbed Dara around the waist, pulled her out …

“The--the things didn’t go for anyone else … just her. Her teacher … he tried to save her--he jumped for her, but the things just threw him back …. He was hurt badly.

“No one was able to follow the things into the woods--they moved too fast. There were reports and sightings of those things … and a few with Dara … trying to run away …

“Almost a week later, while the police searched the woods, there was several hundred reports of--of--of a …UFO, flying over the woods.”

Shaking her head, Livvy folded her arms and turned away as Matt thumbed through the file. “Three weeks later the search was called off.”

Mulder arched an eyebrow. “You think she was abducted?”

“Well …” Uneasy, Livvy glanced at him. “It seems connected, don’t you think? But that doesn’t explain what the hell those things that grabbed her were.”

“What’d they look like?”

Just as the words died on Mulder’s lips, Matt Bluestone’s eyes widened in shock. “Like this?”

Glancing up from the folder, Matt held up a piece of sketch paper, holding it out to Mulder.

Surprised, Mulder accepted the paper, squinting at the sketch in the poor light. It took him several minutes before he was able to make out enough of the picture. “It looks like …”

“A mutant,” both Livvy and Matt said in unison.

“A wh--? Now no, hold on a minute.” His eyes narrowing, Mulder tilted the picture towards the lamplight around the girl’s bed. “It … it looks like … almost like a human …”

“With tusks?!” Snorting, Matt slapped the folder closed. “You’ve been out of the loop too long, Spooky; since you disappeared, there’s been a rise in mutations among teenagers. A lot of people started to reveal that they were mutants, and the whole world’s gone nuts since then …. There’s been a lot of hatred and violence towards mutants and anything else non-human.”

‘A not so subtle reference to the weirdness that has taken control of Bluestone’s life,’ Mulder thought, glancing up at the Bluestone siblings; not long after Matt had gotten tossed out of the FBI, he had gone to work in Manhattan, NY. Through design or fate, Matt had gotten involved with the sudden return of the legendary Gargoyles, and had been at the center of conflict for several months now.

Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Livvy reached into her pocket, drawing out a picture. “Not just that, you guys … Dara … Dara’s a mutant too.”

Mulder almost dropped the sketch. “She is?!”

“Ssh!” a doctor hissed.

Giving the doctor a fleeting glance, Livvy turned back to Mulder and Matt, holding the picture out to them. “Yeah … she had grown wings, and apparently … well, I don’t know the fullest extend of her powers, but her family said she could heal wounds … and she grew stronger from sunlight …”

Hearing that, the young male doctor straightened. “Which is one reason why we’re so concerned,” he said, gesturing for the trio to come closer. “Mr. and Mrs. Gibson said that Dara could somehow channel solar energy. But … but when Dara was found …” The words caught in his throat, and the doctor shook his head. Sadly, he reached down and lifted the girl’s right hand, so they could see the sunburns.

“She had been laying out by the side of Route 96 for, at the most, three hours.” Again, he shook his head. “You can’t get this bad of a sunburn, even after laying out in the sun for three hours. There’s just no way.”

Mulder blinked. “She can’t channel sunlight anymore.”

“It’s hurting her,” the female doctor agreed. She shrugged, looking down at her patient. “We keep the lights off or at low in here. She seems to do better with less light.”

“No one can explain it,” Livvy said, staring at Dara’s eyes, sunken and bruised horribly. “The whole case is frustrating; a mutant is kidnapped by other mutants, all three drop off the face of the earth after a UFO is seen, and suddenly, the girl’s returned a year and a half later, dumped by the side of the road …”

“With injuries too numerous and too various to possibly name,” the male doctor finished. He glanced up at Mulder and Matt, frowning. “Somebody did something to Dara … some sort of experiment. Look, look at the picture …”

Remembering that he had the glossy photograph in his hand, Mulder glanced down at it, his eyes narrowing at the picture of Dara, grinning at the camera, holding two young boys in headlocks, massive, feathery white wings spread out across--

“Her wings are gone,” Mulder said, his eyes widening.

The female doctor nodded. “Surgically removed. The scars are still on her back … whoever did it to her, they knew what they were doing … for the most part.”

“They treated her like a lab animal,” the male doctor said, his voice rising in anger. “They tattooed her arm with some kind of serial number!”

The female doctor gently turned Dara’s right arm over, so that the agents could see the pattern of black numbers and letters branded along her skin.

Matt shuddered. “Those numbers …. I’ve seen them on Holocaust victims …”

“If they numbered her, then there must be others,” Mulder said, feeling a rise of anger and disgust inside of him.

Livvy shook her head. “This is so frustrating …”

Mulder nodded, turning back to the doctors. “What else was done to her?”

The female doctor shrugged. “We’re not exactly sure yet … so much has been done on her …. We’re--we’re not even sure she’s going to live.”

Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Why would anybody do something like this?” Frowning, he turned to his sister. “Livvy, where’s her family?”

“Mrs. Gibson’s staying at the Holiday Inn a few blocks away,” Livvy replied, already beginning to turn. “The rest of the family’s back at Dara’s hometown … they’ll come by later tonight.”

“Could we talk to Mrs. Gibson?” Mulder asked, tearing his gaze away from the living corpse on the bed.

“I told her we’d come by later,” Livvy replied, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on …”

Sickened, Mulder gave a courteous nod to the pale doctors before trailing the Bluestone siblings out of the hospital room.

In the harsh, bright light of the ICU corridors, Mulder was able to see the photograph more clearly. He paused, staring at it, at the innocent girl who playfully mugged around with her brothers.

Mulder gritted his teeth.

Whoever did this to Dara Gibson, they were going to pay for it.


2:16 P.M.

HOLIDAY INN HOTEL, BOSTON, MA:

“She’s not a bad girl! She didn’t do anything to deserve this!”

Livvy gently hushed the sobbing woman, reaching out and grasping her hand. “We know, we’re positive that she didn’t do anything wrong …”

Her eyes monstrously bloodshot, Mrs. Patricia Gibson gazed up at Matt Bluestone and Fox Mulder, standing uncomfortably in the hotel room. “Are you going to get the guys who did it?”

Bluestone hesitated. “We are going to try our best to find them.”

Unsatisfied, Mrs. Gibson looked away. “I was so afraid that they killed her …. But when, when I saw what they did …” Choking on a sob, Mrs. Gibson shook her head wildly. “It was worse.”

His throat tightening, Mulder glanced away, back to the coffee table in the middle of the room, where Mrs. Gibson had displayed everything that she thought might be of use to the investigators of the case; Dara’s journal, her address book, newspaper clippings on Dara’s kidnapping, her scrapbook, the purse that was found in the woods the same night she had been taken, photo albums, I.D.s and passports, the certificate from her last physical …

Mulder, only half listening now, wandered over to the table, to examine the items: except for Dara’s mutation, she had lived her life as an ordinary teenage girl. She had a lot of friends. She was a B-student at her high school. Played sports. Starred in a play. Baby-sat. Read books. Watched TV. Liked animals. Didn’t smoke. Avoided drugs like the plague. Wasn’t close friends with gang members. Hardly dated. Drank once or twice, and didn’t like it. Kind of funny, sarcastic. Hated math.

Mulder shook his head; there wasn’t anything here that would suggest that she had enemies.

“… She was teased at school a lot,” Mrs. Gibson said, her voice finding its way back into Mulder’s head. “Because of … of her wings. And she was harassed too, sexually harassed. She hated her school.”

“Was there anyone who threatened her life at her school?” Bluestone asked.

Mrs. Gibson shrugged. “No, nobody said ‘I’m gonna kill you’, but, y’see, she usually dealt with them on her own, then got the school involved. She really wasn’t threatened like that.”

Mulder knelt down beside the coffee table, picking through Dara’s things. No, no, no … receipt from Walden Books … about thirty dollars in cash … a name crossed off in her address book?

Arching an eyebrow, Mulder stood up. “Mrs. Gibson, there’s a name scratched out in Dara’s address book … do you know who …” He squinted to read the blotted out name. “Kyle … something or other is?”

Mrs. Gibson nodded. “Yeah … he was a friend of Dara’s. He died after a car accident their freshman year.”

Damn. Frustrated, Mulder closed the book and placed it back on the table. Nothing. This was a dead end.

Twisting her soggy tissue in her hands, Mrs. Gibson glanced back at Livvy. “I’m so glad that Mr. Xanatos donated that money to us …”

Bluestone’s head snapped up from the pad in his hand. “Mr. Xanatos …?”

Mrs. Gibson nodded. “Yeah … the billionaire? He called us after he heard Dara was found. He said he felt horrible for what happened, and he wanted to do everything possible to help us.” She smiled weakly. “He’s paying for everything, even our hotel bills.”

Blood rushed into Bluestone’s face, and he shot an unreadable look at Mulder. Startled, Mulder held out his hands; what? What’s the matter?

Snapping his notebook closed, Matt nodded towards Mrs. Gibson. “Thank you, Mrs. Gibson, I think that’s all for now. I’ll keep in touch.”

Livvy stared quizzically at Bluestone as he spun away, stalking out of the hotel room. She glanced at Mulder, and he shrugged, holding up one hand, gesturing for her to wait for them.

Turning away, Mulder sprinted after Bluestone. “Whoa, Matt, wait up!”

Hardly giving him a glance, Bluestone stepped out of the hotel room, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. “Xanatos? Xanatos is involved with this now?” Bluestone keyed for a number. “I should have known …”

“What?”

Not answering, Bluestone put the phone to his ear, biting back a curse when all he heard was static. “Can’t get a reception in here … have to go outside …”

“Bluestone--”

Rolling his eyes, Bluestone beckoned for Mulder to follow.

Irritated, Mulder didn’t say a word until they reached the parking lot. He watched in angry silence as Bluestone keyed the number again. This time he got lucky.

“Elisa? Hey it’s Ma--wha, no I--sorry, were you busy? Well, I didn--Well, no--Wha, no, look, hang on; I need your help.”

He paused for a moment, listening to his partner speak. “Yeah, it’s about her.” Pause. “Yeah … yeah, you might wanna get--” He hesitated, glancing sidelong at Mulder. “--The guys involved. Maybe.

“Well, it looks like Mr. Xanatos has taken an interest in the reappearance of Dara Gibson … he’s been paying all the family’s bills--”

Mulder blinked in surprise as he watched a florist’s van pull into the parking lot. “And sending ‘em flowers?”

Bluestone fell silent for a moment. “Yeah … yeah. I can’t tell you a lot right now, but the girl’s been experimented on, and they look familiar--no, not aliens--No, you’re getting me confused with Mulder!

“No, Elisa--Elisa, the girl’s been experimented on, and it’s not by aliens--at least, I don’t think. But she’s been branded with a serial number … uh-huh … right, it might be him. Could you check into it? Okay …. Hmph … No, it’s looking bad for her. Okay, thanks, Elisa.”

Mulder frowned at Bluestone as he hung up. “Ya wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?”

Bluestone matched Mulder’s frown with one of his own. “I might as well,” he replied, pocketing the cell phone. “When I saw Dara’s injuries, and the doctors said she was experimented on, and she had those serial numbers on her arm, it reminded me of a couple of cases Elisa and I have worked on.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Waiting until the florist, weighted down with a huge bouquet disappeared into the hotel, Bluestone turned back to Mulder and lowered his voice. “There’s a scientist named Anton Sevarius who’s been accused of experimenting on humans without the government’s consent. Turns out that his father was an Axis Power scientist who did some crazy experiments on Jews in the concentration camps.”

“Y’think sonny-boy’s following his father’s footsteps?”

Bluestone nodded. “Sevarius used to work for David Xanatos, until … well, until Xanatos supposedly fired Sevarius for experimenting on humans. And the pattern, the style of the experiments on all those people match the ones on Dara Gibson.”

Mulder blinked. “So what are you thinking? Sevarius and Xanatos are working together again?”

“I kind of doubt it … but if Xanatos is involved, Sevarius can’t be too far behind.”

Mulder frowned. “So what’s your partner going to do?”

Bluestone shrugged. “Dig up some information, I guess.”


11:32 P.M.

THE AERIE BUILDING

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK, NY:

His office illuminated only by the lamp on his desk, David Xanatos savored the silence as he signed the check for the Gibson family. The silence was welcoming; it didn’t weigh heavily on his guilt.

Tucking the check into an envelope, Xanatos began to write out his address--

Black talon-tipped hands shot into view, one slamming onto his desk, chipping the wood and crumpling the documents. Xanatos gasped in terror as the second hand lashed out, catching him by his shirt collar.

“YOU BASTARD!!!” she roared, her eyes red and wild with rage. Hardly straining, Athena dragged Xanatos out of his chair, lifting him nine feet into the air. “WHERE IS HE?!! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!?!”

Xanatos felt the color drain from his face as he realized that the Gargress’ grip was slowly getting tighter around his throat. His eyes wide, Xanatos grabbed Athena’s wrist. “Lemme go!!”

“Why should I?!”

“I--can’t--BREATHE!!!”

For one terrifying, bizarre second, the corners of Athena’s snarling mouth twitched upward into a smile.

Instantly, the smile disappeared, as did the light in her eyes. Snarling viscously, Athena opened her hand, allowing Xanatos to plummet back into his seat.

“Whuuf!” he grunted, feeling the springs in his chair pop. Furious--and embarrassed, to say the least--Xanatos shot the tall Gargress his dirtiest look.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, massaging his horribly sore throat with one hand. “Does Goliath know you’re here?”

“No,” Athena snorted, folding her spread wings back and crossing her arms over her chest. “Tell the truth, Xanatos; where is Sevarius?”

“Sevarius?” Hearing the name, a wash of disgust coursed through Xanatos, and he looked away disgustedly. “I don’t know.”

A menacing growl rose in Athena’s throat, and her eyes turned just the slightest shade of orange.

“Honestly, I don’t know!” Xanatos bellowed, making his throat ache even more. “If I knew, believe me, I’d tell the world.”

Surprised, Athena arched an eyebrow. “You would?”

“Yes.” Forgetting his neck for a moment, Xanatos straightened himself in his chair, trying his hardest to hide the revulsion he felt. “It was one thing when Sevarius mutated Talon and the others … and another when he cloned Thailog ….

“But then he tried to extort me--threatened to kidnap my son, do something to him, or my wife … said he’d hurt my father ….

“Then he started cloning the dark fey … making those--” Struggling to find the right word, Xanatos waved his hand absently. “--Those--”

“Anetha …”

Hearing the whispered name, Xanatos’ head snapped up, and he stared at Athena in shock. “Uh … Athena …. I’m sorry, I forgot--”

Closing her shimmering eyes for a moment, Athena quickly shook her head. “Never mind, never mind that … I’m more upset about this girl in Boston.”

Xanatos blinked. “You heard about her?”

Athena snorted. “Elisa told me … asked me to investigate, seeing as how I’m more than willing to tear this bastard to shreds.”

Frowning, Xanatos leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk. “I don’t know where he is now, but I’ll help look for him. I swear.”

A muscle twitched in Athena’s cheek, and she shrugged, as though she only half-believed him. “All right … tell me everything you can about him. And this time--” here, she leaned forward, driving her face right into Xanatos’. “--I mean everything.”

Surprised, Xanatos nodded. “All right … I’ll even get you his shoe size.”


1:06 A.M

BOSTON, MA:

“Why didjya wait until now to call us, Mulder?”

“I’m just trying to keep you guys on your toes,” Mulder replied, sorting through a sheaf of papers. “You never know when I might need the Lone Gunmen’s help, y’know.”

Frohike snorted noisily into the phone’s receiver. “Pheh. Us Gunmen don’t work well if the sun ain’t up before us.”

Mulder shrugged. “Make some coffee.”

“I would … BUT SOMEBODY HAD TO USE IT TO PUT OUT A FIRE!!!”

Wincing, Mulder jerked the cell phone away from his ear as he heard Langly shout from far off, “I didn’t do it!! Jimmy’s the one who dropped a burning cigar in the box of paper!!”

“Oh, that is such a lie!!” someone else shouted.

“Why can’t the two of you just SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE?!!!” the usually mild-mannered Byers screamed.

“Bloody hell,” a female voice snarled, “ye’re all bloody--”

“DON’T START WITH ME, YVES!”

Mulder stared at the phone in his hand. “What the hell …?”

“Er--it’s been a long week,” Frohike said hurriedly. “Listen, we’ll find all we can an’ get it to ya at the Boston office’s fax. Can ya get it there?”

“Livvy can,” Mulder replied, pulling out a third envelope from the folder. “Oh, and Frohike--add ‘The Frost Academy for Gifted Children’ onto that list.”

“Oookay … and uh, Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

There was a slight pause on the other end. “That girl … is she going to be okay?”

The air rushed out of Mulder’s lungs in a suddenly exhausted sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Poor kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay, I got it all. Give ya a buzz later.”

“Sure. Thanks, Frohike.” Thumbing off the phone, Mulder glanced behind him, where he had spread out several papers that Dara Gibson’s father and brothers had brought with them when they arrived back at the hotel that night. Mulder frowned as he added a sixth letter to a pile from this ‘Frost Academy’, right next to the ‘Xavier Institute’ pile, and ‘The Essex University’ stack.

The only school that Mulder had ever heard of in that list was the Xavier Institute; it was supposed to be a highly rated school for people with mutant abilities in Upstate New York.

And, uh, that was about it.

But what put Mulder off was the number of letters from each of the schools; Dara had turned all of the schools down (as her parents and brothers attested), but the letters kept coming.

All had sent pamphlets and catalogues and crap, but, glancing through them, Mulder understood why Dara would have been reluctant to attend any of the schools; they all seemed to put emphasis on adapting her mutant skills instead of her education.

And, well, honestly? The students the schools interviewed for these pamphlets … they looked kinda scary.

Frustrated, Mulder stood up; none of this made any sense.

And Mulder didn’t think he could sleep until he had some sort of clue to work with.

Snagging his jacket, Mulder left a note for the Bluestone sibs on his bed then headed out of the motel. Where was he going? Damned if he knew, but the unease he felt in his stomach …

Trotting out of his motel, Mulder waved for a taxi, and he directed several nasty thoughts at the first two that buzzed by.

Catching the third taxi, Mulder directed the driver to Boston Hospital, and, remarkably, managed to get there in less than thirty minutes.

With it being Friday night/Saturday morning, the hospital was naturally chaotic, and it wasn’t difficult for Mulder to slip past the frenzied nurses. He didn’t dare look any of them in the eye; nurses seemed to have an uncanny ability to spot a trespasser by just glancing in their faces.

Carefully maneuvering through the ICU, Mulder found Dara’s room. A little concerned that there wasn’t at least a security guard nearby, Mulder warily let himself into the hospital room.

He blinked as pale light flooded the room, a startling change from the blackness earlier that day. Wincing, he rubbed his eyes hard as he crossed the room to Dara.

Her respirator whirred softly, providing an eerie background noise for the heart monitor. Dara, her eyes taped shut, hardly breathed; the respirator was doing it all for her.

Swallowing hard, Mulder opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated; they say that unconscious people could hear you speak, but with the condition Dara was in, could she?

Well, even if she couldn’t, Mulder would feel better stating right then and there that he was not a psycho.

“Dara,” he said, surprised that his voice was soft. “My name is Fox Mulder. I’m helping some people investigate your ….”

Your? Your what? Disappearance? Torture?

“Return,” Mulder finished. He frowned at himself, studying the stitches on Dara’s arm, the peeling sunburns. “I’m … I’m so sorry this had to happen to you.”

Briefly wishing that she could reply, Mulder turned away, searching the room for anything the doctors might have left behind.

“Bing-o,” he murmured, spotting a thick folder on a chair at the foot of Dara’s bed. Picking it up, Mulder opened it and sat down, as though he were reading a bestseller.

At first, Mulder frowned at the charts and medical jargon, muttering, “Scully, where are you when I need you?” as he shuffled through some cards.

A legal notepad had been jammed in the middle of the folder, covered in the stereotypical, hard-as-hell-to-read doctor’s script. Frowning, Mulder tilted it towards the lamp beside him.

“Whaddya mean, ‘drastic increase in height?’” he said, rereading the notes.

Wait a minute--Dara grew six inches?

Arching an eyebrow, Mulder pulled out his notepad, writing down the sudden ‘abnormalities’ Dara displayed, and which the doctors forgot to mention earlier; height increase, obvious eye surgery, extreme muscle development, bony growths on her scapulas, knees, forehead, elbows, elongated canines, discoloration of skin pigmentation, severe anemia …

“Scully, you’re gonna have a field day with this one,” Mulder said, tucking the notepad back into his pocket. Closing the folder, Mulder smiled at the silent girl. “Don’t worry, Dara … now that I know what they changed--”

His sentence ended in a horrified gasp as Dara’s head suddenly snapped to the right, then the left, as a spasm ripped through her.

“Dara!!” Mulder cried, leaping to his feet, reaching for her--

Her right hand shot into the air, catching his wrist. Mulder yelped in shock, trying to jerk away, but was held tight in the girl’s grip.

An animalistic snarl tore out of Dara’s throat. Her eyes struggled to open, and she spasmed wildly again.

“Dara--!” Mulder started, trying to pry her fingers off of his wrist. Around him, monitors screamed, warning signals flashed--

And claws sprouted from Dara’s fingertips.

Mulder nearly screamed, his mouth opened but his voice frozen in his throat. He stared in muted terror, watching as the stitches on Dara’s arm sealed over, the thread breaking and falling to the ground, her skin turning a bluish-green.

Her snarl turned into a shriek, and she sat bolt right up, the tape over her eyes tearing, a hellish red glow illuminating from her eyes.

Her grip on Mulder’s wrist tightened, breaking blood vessels, but he was too petrified to notice. He and Dara stared at each other; him trying to not to fly into a screaming fit, Dara looking as though she didn’t understand what was going on.

The red light in her eyes faded, turning back to blue. She gazed at him oddly, not noticing the oxygen tube in her mouth, or the broken intravenous needles in her arms.

Mulder blinked.

Dara’s face tightened in pain, a hiss racing from her mouth as her body seized up. The talons on her hands and the discoloration in her skin instantly disappeared as she lapsed into a violent seizure.

“Oh, shit,” Mulder gasped, backing away from the shaking girl. “Oh, shit, oh shit!”

More sirens screeched from the monitors, and, startled, Mulder tripped and fell back into the chair he had been sitting in earlier. Too shocked to move, Mulder hardly drew a breath as several nurses rushed in, all screaming at each other, struggling to hold Dara still and administer a tranquilizer at the same time.

Mulder stared at the chaos blankly. “Oh shit.”

Something suddenly entered his vision, shooting out with blinding speed. Mulder yelped as he felt razors dig into his bicep.

“MULDER!!!”

Baffled, Mulder spun around in his seat, looking up into the dark red face of a very pissed Livvy Bluestone.

“What the hell are you doing here?!!” she all but screamed, her eyes wild, her nails sunk deep into his bicep.

Remembering how little Olivia Bluestone had socked him one back during their days at Quantico, Mulder gasped in horror. “Oh, SHIT!!”

*******

“I cannot believe that you snuck into the hospital room of a critically injured girl at two in the

morning--”

“Well, Livvy--”

“You read the doctors’ files?!”

“Just the one on the table!” Mulder cried, throwing his arms up in exasperation, causing a few sleep-deprived heads in the Boston Field Office to turn in his direction.

Livvy was, to put it frankly, livid. All but tearing her trench coat off, she stormed over to her office, causing a few wayward papers to flutter off of desks as she passed. “It’s bad enough that I can’t get Matt out of my office--”

“Livvy--” Mulder pleaded, sprinting after her. “It’s just--”

“Mulder, I asked you and Matt to come down here and help me find the tiniest clue in this case--and you almost screw it up by going into Dara’s room without permission!!”

“But--”

“Do you realize that Doctor Greendale and Thomas thought you triggered Dara’s seizure?! They just about accused you of poisoning her!!”

“Well, you know I didn’t do that!” Mulder snapped, trailing her into her office and ignoring the baffled look on Matt’s face, who sat behind Livvy’s desk. “I thought there was more to all this than the doctors were telling us--or more than what you were telling me--”

Flinging her coat into a distant chair, Livvy spun around, her face twisted in rage. “Don’t you dare accuse me of not telling you everything!!”

“Hey, I’m daring,” Mulder shot back, driving his face right into hers. “I saw that file! The increase in height, her teeth, the growths all over her body? You never told me that!”

At first, Livvy paled. But then, when she realized what Mulder was talking about, all of the blood came roaring back into her face.

“All you had to do was ask,” Livvy said, her voice threateningly quiet.

Recognizing the warning signs, Matt gasped, leaping to his feet and racing around the desk to plant himself between Mulder and Livvy--a suicidal move on his part.

“Guys, relax,” he snapped, elbowing between the pair and gently--but firmly--pushing them away. “People forget things, right? Livvy forgot to tell you--she forgot to tell me until I poked around too.”

Disgusted, Livvy tore her gaze away from Mulder. “I would have told you,” she snarled, crossing the office to a gray countertop that bordered a wall behind her desk. Opening a file box, Livvy began to withdraw several huge folders. “But it was so crazy since Dara was found that I forgot. I forgot a lot of things, but if you’re gonna stand around and accuse me of lying--”

“We’re not doing that,” Matt said quickly. Forcing a smile on his face, Matt quickly elbowed Mulder in the ribs. “Right Spooky?”

“Uff!”

Livvy snorted. “Whatever. But here, here’s the copies of the medical file that Mulder went through all the trouble of finding.” Pulling out two manila folders, Livvy handed one to both of them. “You want to know everything--at least everything that I know and understand? Okay; somebody kidnapped Dara Gibson and experimented on her. Why, I don’t know. Where, don’t know. How …? Damned if anyone knows.

“But what they did … well, what didn’t they do? It’s like they changed her entire being; she went from channeling sunlight to suffering from it. She had eye problems, but, when we found her, the doctors could tell there had been surgery performed to correct it.

“They took her wings, and apparently weren’t too gentle about it. Those scars on her back are there for good.

“There’s also slight scarring along her spine, and some serious scarring at the back of her pelvic bone … we thought something might have been inserted, but x-rays didn’t turn up anything.

“She’s undernourished and severely dehydrated … her front teeth have grown--they look like fangs! And her skin turns colors sometimes … nurses have heard her make noises, like growls ….”

Livvy wasn’t lying. Mulder could feel it in his gut, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping. There wasn’t anything that she knew that could help them.

He shook his head. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Damned right it doesn’t,” Livvy snapped, folding her arms across her chest and leaning back against the counter. “That’s why I asked Matt and you to come … to try to help …”

Uneasy, Matt glanced up from his folder. “Er … I, uh, asked for some … outside help on this,” he said cautiously, his blue eyes flickering from Mulder’s to Livvy’s. “Hope you don’t mind, Livvy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who is it?”

“A friend,” Matt said, shrugging. Noting Mulder’s suspicious look, Matt grimaced. “An … unusual friend. Don’t worry; she’s trustworthy.”

“Is she?” Mulder asked, wondering what in the hell Bluestone’s ‘friend’ could be.

“Saved a few thousand lives a couple of weeks ago.” Closing the folder, Matt tossed it onto the desk. “She’ll be here tomorrow night. I’ll introduce you guys.”

“Hmph.” Mulder didn’t know whether to grin or stare at his old buddy in incredulity. If it was some kind of mutant … or Gargoyle …

Well, maybe that’d make it more interesting.

Forcing a heavy sigh, Livvy straightened. “Whatever … I’m exhausted. And I have to come back for work tomorrow at six.”

“Today,” Mulder corrected.

“Go to hell, Mulder,” Livvy said wearily.

Bluestone chuckled, sharing an amused glance with Mulder. Suddenly, realization crossed his face, and Bluestone gasped, smacking the heel of his hand against his forehead. “Damn! Livvy, can I ask you a favor?”

“Maybe; what?”

“My friend … she wanted to know if you could get a DNA test on Dara?”

Surprised--to say the least--Livvy stared at her brother. “W-well … I guess so … why?”

Matt shrugged. “She has a hunch.”

“And a tail?” Mulder inquired, tucking his folder under an arm.

Bluestone arched an eyebrow at him. “Possibly …”

“Cool!”

Finally tiring of this, Livvy waved her hands at them. “Okay, children, clear out; I dunno about the two of you, but I want to go to bed.”

“Not me,” Mulder said with a smirk. “I’m gonna meet somebody with a tail? Gee, I think I’ll be awake all night!”

“Good night, Mulder!!”

Laughing, Mulder headed out of the office, trailed by Matt--and the two broke into a dead run as Livvy, finally seeing the mess, howled at the pile of faxes in the corner of her office.


3:43 AM

MANHATTAN:

Raking her claws over the padlock on the door, Athena allowed herself into the dark house. “This’s his home?”

“Yes,” Angela replied, unconsciously shivering in the warm breeze. “He hasn’t been here for a couple of months.”

Her eyes glowing faintly in the fathoming darkness, Athena gazed about the room with baited breath. “Hmph … I don’t see anything … Sister?”

“One moment.” Extending one turquoise hand into the silent room, Demona closed her eyes, drawing upon the energies surrounding the room. “No alarms. That’s odd.”

Planting her hands on her hips, Athena snorted at the darkness. “If you were going to leave a house full of valuables, why wouldn’t you set up an alarm?”

“Maybe he wasn’t planning on coming back,” Angela suggested, finally stepping into the house.

“But where did he go?” Demona said, crossing the room to the sheet covered sofa along one wall. “It’s almost as though he just packed a suitcase and left.”

“Smart idea, on his part,” Athena snarled, her eyes darkening. Allowing herself one short snarl, Athena folded her wings against her back. “After what he’s done …”

Angela turned quickly to the elder Gargress, worry bright in her eyes. “Easy, Aunt … we’re all furious at him, but there’s nothing we can do--not until we’ve figured out where he’s gone.”

Surprised, Athena stared at her niece, then blinked, smiling at Demona. “She has her father’s peace-keeping skills.”

Demona returned the smile faintly. “I suppose she does.”

Nodding, Athena turned about the room. “I’d suggest we split up, but seeing how Lexington described this place as being a death trap …” Remembering, Athena glanced at Angela. “I still don’t like the idea of you lying to your father.”

Angela grinned. “I didn’t lie … I ‘omitted certain truths’, as Xanatos would say.”

“Oh, hell,” Demona groaned.

As annoyed as she was by Angela’s deceit, Athena still had trouble keeping herself from laughing. “Well … Angela, you know this place better than I do. Show us the laboratory.”

******

Sevarius hadn’t been gone long enough for any dust to settle across his equipment, but Athena struggled not to hope unrealistically; they might not find any clues as to where he might have gone.

Demona and her child went through several filing cabinets and trash bins in Sevarius’ office, looking for papers. Athena, not sure she knew what she should be looking for, explored Sevarius’ lab, growling at the various computers and tanks and--

“Sister!”

Startled, Athena spun around, her wings flying open in alarm. “Demona, did you find something?”

“I might have. Come!”

Drawing in a deep breath, Athena sprinted across the lab towards her sister and her niece, where they were crowded around a computer terminal.

“Look at this,” Demona snarled, tapping a talon on the glowing computer screen. “I turned it on, and this was the first thing I saw.”

Athena blinked, bending down closer to read the illuminated type. “Map coordinates?”

“To someplace called ‘the Savage Land’,” Angela answered, her eyes narrowing. “But … it looks like …”

“Like it’s in the North Pole,” Demona finished, scrolling through the page quickly.

Athena arched an eyebrow. “What is it? Some sort of … facility?”

“It mentions several buildings there,” Demona replied, leaning back in the computer chair to think. “Savage Land …? I might not be thinking of the same thing, but I could have sworn I heard of a ‘Savage Land’ recently …. I think it had something to do with that mutant leader, Magneto.”

“Magneto?” Athena repeated, standing straighter. “I thought he ruled Genosha.”

“He does,” Demona said, glancing up at her sister. “Now, at least. He had a stronghold somewhere else before …”

“I could have Lex look into it,” Angela offered, a hand reaching for a pouch at her belt that hid a cellular phone.

Athena nodded. “Might as well. He knows more about this bloody ‘Net’ than I do.”

Glad to have something to do, Angela turned away to make her call. Demona shook her head, her eyes fixed on the computer screen. “He must’ve left here in a hurry. Otherwise, he would have deleted all of this.”

“What would he be up to, though?” Athena asked, frustration rising in her voice. “This is all bloody confusing!”

Unable to answer, Demona looked away.

Angry, Athena turned away, walking towards a pile of trash Angela had been sorting. She busied herself with picking through it, frowning at several pieces with hastily written scribble.

“Look at this,” she said, glancing to Demona. “This note--it says ‘La Guardia Airport, 4-3-01, 8 A.M.’”

Accepting the note from Athena’s outstretched hand, Demona turned back to the computer terminal. “He must have taken a flight,” Demona mused, reading it over. “I’ll access the flight records to see if Sevarius appeared--later though; I can’t access the Internet from Sevarius’ computer.”

Placing a hand over the cell phone’s receiver, Angela turned to her mother and aunt. “Lex found something.”

“Already?” Athena asked in disbelief.

“Yeah … you were right, Mother; Magneto did have a stronghold in the Savage Land. He abandoned it several years ago, but--”

“Sevarius has been dealing in some real estate, eh?” Pocketing a few wadded pieces of paper, Athena stood. “Does Lexington have anything else for us?”

Angel nodded, listening to Lex yammer on for a moment. “He can show you back home.”

“All right.” Unfurling her wings, Athena gestured for Angela and Demona to follow. “We’d better go; there’s nothing here, really, and the sun will be up soon. I don’t want to be hanging around until then.”

“Agreed,” said Demona, powering off the computer and standing, the note clutched in one hand, while Angela told Lexington she would be home shortly.

Herding her family quickly through the laboratory, Athena felt her heart sink, and she reached into her pocket, finding the papers she had stealthily hidden from Demona. In her mind, the scrawled words echoed in her head endlessly.

“#56/08: DNA FROM SUBJECT: DEMONA.”


10:16 PM

MAY 16, 2001

BOSTON HARBOR:

“This is insane,” Livvy said, glancing briefly out of the car’s windshield as she handed a third report to Mulder.

“What?” he asked, only half interested; all of his attention was focused on the DNA reports. “The fact we might be working with some gargoyle-thingie? That we’re chasing mutants?”

“That Dara Gibson’s DNA has been completely altered,” Livvy answered, her voice filled with horror and anger. “These bastards, they changed her DNA! And she’s dying from it!”

‘Dying’ brought Mulder back to earth with a resounding crash. He grimaced, glancing to Livvy in the backseat. “Yeah, you didn’t tell us what happened this morning.”

Livvy winced. “Her heart failed, Mulder. The doctors almost let her go, but her parents …”

Her voice trailed off, and Mulder decided to keep his silence; this was emotionally draining for Livvy, and he didn’t want her to fall apart when they were moments away from meeting Bluestone’s ‘friend’.

Glancing briefly out to the docks to check on Bluestone as he waited, Mulder turned back to the folders in his lap; after he had seen a very worried, very pissed Livvy that morning, Mulder had retrieved the faxes from her office, frequently calling the Lone Gunmen up to quiz them on their findings.

Byers, Langly, Frohike, Yves, and Jimmy had made some frightening discoveries; though the Xavier and Frost schools were legit, the Essex school was not. In fact, it didn’t exist; Byers had traced the address, and found only a big field in the middle of Pennsylvania.

That, and this Anton Sevarius guy Bluestone talked about was gone. Gone as in “Poof!”, disappeared. Dropped off the face of the goddamn planet. Disappeared into thin, goddamn air.

The Gunmen had one report of a sighting of Sevarius in La Guardia Airport back in early April. He boarded an unmarked jet, and was gone.

Several more kidnappings similar to Dara’s had occurred several times before and after her disappearance, all involving young, very powerful mutants. And after each other abductions, an aircraft described as a UFO was sighted leaving the area where the abduction had taken place, a week afterward.

But, of all the abductees who were returned afterwards, Dara had suffered the worst of the alleged experiments--and was still alive. Other returnees had died from lesser injuries, and some had looked as though nothing had happened to them at all.

So, what had happened to Dara?

And why?

Why had they changed her DNA? And what, exactly, was the kind of DNA they spliced into her genes? The doctors couldn’t explain it; they said there were two different strands of DNA that had been spliced into Dara’s, but they were from … creatures. Humanoid, but so strange, so many different strands.

“Oh, here we go.”

“Huh?” Waking up from his trance, Mulder glanced back at Livvy, then forward, towards Bluestone, who waved for them to come.

His eyes narrowing, Mulder unbuckled his seatbelt. “This is gonna be an adventure,” he muttered, slipping out of the car and falling in step beside Livvy.

Noticing that Bluestone was standing by himself, Mulder quickly surveyed the area; where was Bluestone’s ‘friend’? Hiding?

“Guys,” Bluestone started, turning away slightly as they approached--and with a smirk that said he was going to love the expressions on his sister and Mulder’s faces. “I’d like you meet Athena.”

“Who?” Livvy demanded, peering behind him a bit.

“I don’t see her,” Mulder joined in, frowning.

Grinning, Bluestone pointed across from them, to a white fish delivery truck parked outside a warehouse.

Mulder hardly had time to blink.

With a loud ‘kerwham!!’, the creature dropped out of the sky, landing hard on the truck’s roof, shaking the entire vehicle. Its gigantic, bat-like wings arched over its head, and its eyes glowed a threatening yellowish red in their direction.

“Holy--!!” Mulder started, instinctively reaching under his coat and snatching his gun from its holster.

“Oh my God!!” Livvy cried, her hand flying for her own weapon.

“Easy!” Bluestone yelped, leaping in front of them. “Don’t shoot!”

“Matt, what the hell kind of company you been keeping these days?!” Mulder shouted, his eyes still fixated on the beast atop the truck.

“She’s not going to hurt anybody!” Bluestone insisted, “Honestly!”

“Unless they try to hurt me first,” a sharp, feminine voice hissed from the creature. “Put those things away!”

Startled, Livvy gave a strangled sort of yelp. Mulder gasped, feeling every hair on his body stand on end.

The creature’s eyes began to darken, changing to a viscous red. “PUT THE GUNS AWAY!!”

Bluestone glanced at Livvy and Mulder, his expression growing hard. “Guys, for the love of God, put the guns away! We won’t be able to get anything done if Athena’s afraid you’ll blow her head off.”

Uncertain, Mulder returned his stare to the creature. It growled softly, its tail slowly whipping over the roof of the truck.

Against his better judgment, Mulder slowly straightened, inserting the gun back into the holster--but leaving the strap unbuttoned.

Slowly, Livvy began to straighten. “Matt, I know some weird shit’s been goin’ on up in Manhattan, but do you really have to bring it here?!”

Bluestone shot his sister his dirtiest look. “Olivia, Athena is not a puppy. Not an ‘it’. She’s a sentient being. She’s a Gargoyle.”

Finally, the creepy illumination in her eyes faded, and the figure stood up, hopping down from the truck like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Thank you, Matt.”

He shrugged, stepping aside a bit to let Athena come into the lamplight. “No big. I just get irritated when people treat you like an animal.”

The Gargoyle smiled gratefully at Matt, and Mulder had to suppress a shudder; as human as that smile was, it was full of fangs.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said apologetically, pushing her raven hair back behind her pointed ears … and brow ridges … and horns … “I couldn’t slow my drop, so I landed hard on the truck.”

Livvy blinked, then glanced at Mulder. Mulder was only vaguely aware that he returned the look blankly; he was so in awe of Athena that his mind was completely empty.

He hoped he wasn’t drooling.

Grinning at the dumb looks on their faces, Bluestone gestured to Livvy and Mulder. “Athena, this is my sister Olivia--we call her Livvy …”

Livvy smiled weakly. “H-h-hi …”

“And this is our friend from school, Fox Mulder.”

A cold jolt tore through Mulder, and he found himself standing at immediate attention as the tall Gargoyle turned to rest her dark green eyes on him. “Hello.”

“Uh …”

“Fox, is it?” She smiled. “We had a king named Fox once.”

Mulder’s eyes flew open. “You did? Have a king, I mean?”

“Yeah … way before my time, though.” Gracefully, the Gargoy