Title: Familiar Author: Susan E-mail: touchstone98@tx.rr.com Classification: post-colonization vignette Archive: No archive without permission. Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. I wish they did. Author's notes at the end. Summary: In The Future, anything's possible... ***************************************************** Familiar by Susan ~~~~ A man walked into a building on a Tuesday afternoon. He didn't know the name of it or why he felt the need to go inside. All he knew was that it was where he was supposed to be. Almost immediately, a security guard stopped him, noting the grungy clothes he was wearing and the way his thick brown hair was sticking out on one side. "State your business, sir," the guard said as he patted the man's sides and checked his pockets. "My business?" he responded, clearly confused by the question. "Yes. Why are you here, sir?" He ran his hand through his hair and looked around. "I don't know." "You don't know?" Tilting his head, he let out a sigh. "I think someone told me to come here." Motioning for someone else to take over his post, the guard led the disoriented man into another room where he could sit down. "Who told you to come here?" The man bit down on his lip and closed his eyes, trying to remember something, anything. "I don't know," he finally said. "You don't know who told you to come here, but yet you know you're supposed to be here. Is that what you're saying?" Rubbing his dark tired eyes, he replied, "Yes." The elderly guard studied the person sitting in front of him, trying to figure out what he should do. Although the man was confused, he didn't seem drunk nor did he seem dangerous. If anything, he was in need of medical assistance, judging from the fresh red incision he had on his left arm. "What's your name?" he asked, crouching down in front of the scared man. "I'm not sure," he replied quietly as he protectively wrapped his arms around his waist. "What is this place?" "The Hoover Building. It's where the FBI has its headquarters. Does that sound familiar to you?" he asked, trying to get a better look at the man's wound. "FBI?" "Federal Bureau of Investigation." "Oh..." the man said, his eyes nervously darting around the room. "Your arm... it looks hurt," the older man commented, his heart suddenly filled with compassion for the dark haired stranger before him. "They were testing me," he said blankly. "Tests? Who was testing you?" "The White Group...They wanted to see what was inside of me, to see my blood." The guard's eyes instantly widened in surprise, and his chest suddenly felt uncomfortably tight. "We were told They had all been eliminated, that They were no longer a threat to us," he mumbled to himself. "What did you say?" he asked, feeling a heated surge of adrenaline shoot through his veins. "Shortly after The White Group began the colonization process, we were able to stop them with the development of a new and highly sophisticated vaccine. In fact, the woman responsible for creating it works right here in this building." Now it was his turn to be surprised. "She does?" "Her name's Dana Scully, and she's been with the FBI for quite some time now. Do you think she might be the reason why you came here today?" the guard asked hopefully. "I don't know...maybe." "Listen, I'm going to go make a quick call, and see if we can't figure this out. Just relax here for a minute. okay?" "Okay." The man watched intently as the friendly guard pulled a small circular gadget out of his pocket, pressed a yellow button on it, then walked over to the corner of the room and started talking. Within five minutes after the call was made, he heard footsteps out in the hallway, and then a knock at the door. Apprehensive about who was standing on the other side of the door, yet anxious to get some answers, he stood up from his chair and nervously waited for the guard to let whoever it was inside. Slowly opening the door, the guard took a step to the side so that the confused man could get a good look at the two people standing there. One was a petite woman with light auburn hair and silver rimmed glasses. The other, a tall thin man with grayish- brown hair holding a cane in his left hand. And both of them had tears in their eyes. "Is it really you?" the woman whispered, cautiously stepping closer to him and gently touching his cheek. The young man looked down into her familiar blue eyes and slowly lifted up his hand, placing it over the top of hers on his cheek. "Yes," he whispered, savoring the feel of her soft fingers against his sensitive skin. Then he turned to the tall man now standing next to him and held out his other hand. "I remembered, Dad...I remembered what you told me about coming here," he said, his own eyes rapidly filling with tears as he pulled both of his parents into his arms. "I knew you'd find a way, William," said Mulder, tightly hugging his son, then looking over at his wife. Reaching for her hand, he smiled at her and said, "We both did." ~end~ *Wow, this was really different for me...but it was also very satisfying.:) This is only the third post-colonization story I've ever written, and I would very much appreciate knowing how I did with it. Drop me a line at touchstone98@tx.rr.com possibilities http://possibilities.bravehost.com/ Originally posted April 2002.