Amarillo

by J. Millington


Web page: http://home.earthlink.net/~varmstro
Pairings: Mulder/Skinner Rating: PG13
Warnings: This story contains m/m relationship (slash).
November, 2003


Note: This story was written for the Poetry Lyric Wheel.
Poem provided by Ursula.

****
He rememberd Amarillo.

He remembered every detail of the case they had been working: each bit of
forensic evidence, the pitiful confession of a troubled soul, the way
the hair on
the nape of Scully's neck curled when she had it pulled back at the
motel. He
remembered the way the wind had seemed to blow constantly across the barren
landscape coating everything with a fine layer of dust.

He picked up a handful of dirt and let it dribble through his fingers.
It fell
straight down; the air was still this afternoon but a fierce wind was
coming, and
he hoped that mankind would be able to live it through.

Mulder sat in the shade under the bridge and gave another long pull of
his water
bottle. Almost empty. No matter. Time was almost up.

He leaned his head back and centered himself, focusing just enough. Gibson's
consciousness met his and flickered in and out giving Mulder the
impression of
Black Hawks and Hummers and infantry in formation. At least they were
finally
coming, no way to know if they would be too late.

No way to know, really, just what they might be too late for.

Mulder took a deep breath and stood, shouldering his pack he strode off once
again. Maybe help would get there in time and maybe it wouldn't. In any case
Mulder knew where he needed to go and when he needed to get there.
Something was going to happen and he felt it drawing him.

He passed the sign, Amarillo 5 miles. He and Scully had started this
journey in
the southwest and never strayed far. Events seemed to be centered here. New
Mexico, Texas. He laughed to himself. Those 'Land of Enchantment' and
'Texas,
It's a Whole Other County' tourist campaigns seemed to play well with
the most
foreign of foreigners. But in the case of the coming invasion, these
foreigners
weren't coming to see the scenery, they were coming to dominate it and
the rest
of the planet as well.

He could feel it in his bones. And since Gibson Praise had joined them,
he could
see it with his mind as well. When they joined up with Gibson once again
none of
them had been prepared for the new awakening of Mulder's latent talent.
The link
between Mulder and the young man had surprised them both and scared them
both
shitless. Mulder's talent was strong and so much different than it's earlier
manifestation.

Mulder found that this time he could turn the ability on and turn it off
at will,
only Gibson could block him out completely. Gibson had always been
resigned to
know more than he wanted about everyone but with Mulder's help he could
now block
out unwanted input. Together they had found that they could eavesdrop
unseen and
unnoticed on the approaching forces. Gibson had assured him that their
intrusions
to humans went unnoticed, but Mulder decided to play it safe and tap in
as seldom
as necessary.

Besides the young man he'd been working with there only three people
whose mental
presence he really craved. The first was now a blank to him, buried in an
unmarked grave by the banks of the Washita River, Scully's absence was
like a
scar on his soul.

The second presence he would touch from time to time as a talisman. A
comfort.
Even though there were separated by a couple thousand miles, Mulder found he
could brush across the presence of William's childish mind and find
solace in his
simple thoughts. There lie his hope and the hope of the world. That the
children could live free and human.

The third mind whose presence he craved he didn't dare contact. Skinner had
excellent control but Mulder couldn't risk it. If he should cause his
lover to
react, to show inappropriate emotion at the wrong time in front of the wrong
people it could spell disaster.

Skinner's position was too precarious. One wrong move might attract deadly
attention.

The distant rumble of a truck startled him and Mulder jumped down into a
gully
beside the road, hoping for enough cover. A pickup appeared around the
corner
and passed by, not slowing down. Probably hadn't seen him.

As they traveled Mulder and Gibson found that they could tap into the
aliens at
any time, anywhere; it hadn't really mattered where they were. Scully would
watch over them, gun in hand as they made contact.

The hardest part for them was finding the best way to get the
information back to
Skinner and those who could use it. They had tried to send it securely but
nothing was sure. Sometimes their information had been passed by indirect
methods but the most sensitive and most crucial bits had to be delivered in
person.

The couriered information had passed without compromise but not without
price.
They had found that out when John Doggett died. He had been filling the
gas tank
of his car when two black Suburbans flanked his vehicle. In the struggle and
gunfire there had been a small explosion, then a huge fireball as first
the gas
pumps and then the underground storage tanks had been ignited.

At least he had died before they could interogate him. Monica had stayed
alive
long enough to make it back and tell them her story. There hadn't been
time to
grieve for them. There was never enough time to do justice to the memory
of the
dead. All they could do was move along and fight on.

Now he was alone. The crucial weakness of the enemy and best hope for
mankind
had had to be delivered in person. With Doggett and Reyes and Scully
gone there
was no left to trust. Law enforcement officers had Mulder's face and
fingerprints; he was a wanted man. It was all up to Gibson.

A disturbance on the horizon caught Mulder's eye and squinted trying to
make out
what it was. He felt a wave a disorientation wash over him. He shook his
head
and found that he had dropped to his knees. This was it. The sound of
helicopters, faint but getting nearer, filled the air but the sound of his
approaching reinforcements was driven out by an indescribable fury. The
enemy
had heard as well.

Mulder made a mental grabe; reaching out to Gibson he shouted, "Now!"
and hurled
himslef into the threatening storm. The world swirled into chaos around him,
into something beyond comprehension, into blackness.

******

Steadying awareness of nothing, of everything. In and out, one breath after
another.

Mulder found that the simple act of breathing anchored him. He reached
out for
Gibson and sensed the young man's sleeping dreams. He reached out for
William
and got an impression of puppies and sunshine.

He blinked and realized that his eyes had been closed. He drew another
breath
and realized that he was streatched out in a bed. Another breath and
realized
that he was not alone.

Strong arms enfolded him and held him close. He tilted his head and
caught sight
of Skinner's tear-stained face. Without a word Mulder reached out and
joined him
at last enfolding his lover in the warmth of his mind.

The End


from Ursula:
Rainer Rilke Sense of Something Coming

I am like a flag in the center of open space.
I sense ahead the wind which is coming, and must live
it through.
while the things of the world still do not move:
the doors still close softly, and the chimneys are full
of silence,
the windows do not rattle yet, and the dust still lies down.

I already know the storm, and I am troubled as the sea.
I leap out, and fall back,
and throw myself out, and am absolutely alone
in the great storm.