|
Title: Departures III Summary: Mulder learns more about how his past will effect the future. Prologue Calgary International Airport "What made you think you could just walk out with her? What made you think there would be no repercussions from your actions?" the man asks, as he yanks on the sleeve of my jacket. I try to move past him, but he maneuvers around me. He is tall and young and I know I've seen him before. I just can't remember where. It almost as if he is a drunken blur. "She shouldn't have to live that life," I say, pulling away from the stranger and grabbing her hand. She looks scared and tired and lost. This isn't the world she is used to. I'm not the person she is used to. "Why? What is so wrong with the life she was leading, Agent Mulder? She was well taken care of. She was fed and clothed and educated. What do plan on doing for her that they couldn't?" he asks me sharply. "Giving her a family. Making up for what her mother took away," I say. She doesn't know about her mother yet. Not everything. I don't even think she is entirely convinced that I am her father. I'm not sure I believe it myself sometimes. But I know it to be true. "Don't you see what they are doing?" he asks, following behind us. "Don't you see what Alex Krycek is trying to do?" "No, I don't," I say, tugging her along faster with me. How in the hell does this stranger know Krycek? "He wants this to tear you and Dana apart. He thinks it will, and if he is right, then the course of history will be changed. Do you understand me?" he asks, nearly shouting at me now. I stop quickly, and he nearly bumps into me. "How do you know Scully?" I ask, more suspicious than ever. "Dana is mine to take care of. Her and her children," he says, and I have no idea what he is talking about. "And who is supposed to take care of me? They are obviously failing miserably," I say. "Besides, her children are also my children. I'm taking care of them." "This one isn't hers," he says, pointing at the girl holding my hand. "No, but she is mine. That is all that matters," I say, as we start walking again. "You don't understand. The effects may not be immediate. It may be years down the road, but *this,*" he say pointing at the girl trying to hide behind me. "This will tear it all apart." "I've had enough of this shit! For years I've lived with what my father did to my sister. I've lived with the fact that half the world apparently doesn't think my kids are mine, or Scully's, but they belong to some special project to be used as they see fit. I'm sick of it! I'm going home. I'm taking her with me. And to hell with the future!" I shout at him. He isn't bothered by my display. I wish I could remember where I saw him before. He is so damn familiar. "Agent Mulder, you are making a huge mistake. You don't know it now, but soon you will see how much this will effect the rest of your life. Everybody is going to pay. She just isn't worth it!" he shouts after me. "So you keep saying," I say back as we disappear into the terminal. She is nearly in tears now and people are staring at us, trying to determine if I'm abducting this little girl from the airport. "Why don't you just take me back?" she asks in a quiet voice. She is homesick and unsure of what is happening. It is all so overwhelming. Even for me. "Because I won't. I can't. You are more than just some encyclopedic source of knowledge for them. You are my daughter," I say. She smiles a little, uncertain about the truth behind that statement. All her life she has been told her parents are dead. Now that is half true. But this half is taking her home. July 20, 2002 The girl stands at the door, looking at us. I try to keep my emotions under control, but it is hard not to scream at someone. The person I really want to scream at is dead. Damn her. "Kestrel, come on and sit down with us. There is someone here I would like for you to meet," he says to the girl, and she follows him to the table. She looks uncertain as to where she should sit and he pulls a chair out for her next to Krycek. The two of them side by side is a startling sight. Almost as if I'm looking at Alex Krycek and Diana Fowley together once again. There is no way to deny who are the parents of this child. I can see a lot of Diana, but I can see more of myself. She has dark hair like her mother, but it could be like mine. Her eyes are dark. Darker than Christopher's. But besides her mother and me, she reminds me most of Samantha. Diana lied all those years ago. She knew for all that time that the child was alive, somewhere. Yet her own agenda was more important. "Surprised?" Krycek asks, looking smug. I don't want to say anything in front of the girl. There is a lot I could say, but the way I am feeling right now is not her fault. None of this is her fault. It is her mother's. And mine for trusting that woman. All I can hope for is that she did this with the best intentions. But sometimes that just doesn't make up for everything. Apparently my father had the best intentions in mind with Samantha. It still doesn't make the hurt any less. "Kessie, this is ..." the man says, looking at me for direction as to what I want to be called. "Fox," I say, thinking it is a little too early for 'dad' and having children call me Mulder is just going a bit too far. Especially my own children. "Kessie, this is Fox Mulder. Agent Mulder, this is Kestrel Elaine," he says, giving her no last name. "Hi," she says in a voice that is all at once confident but scared. I'm sure she doesn't have too many strangers coming to invade her subterranean life, let alone two unfamiliar men. "Kestrel, like the bird?" I ask, looking at her, wondering if Diana got to pick out her name. Did Diana ever get to see her or did they take her away from her immediately? I remember hearing Christopher's first cry and knowing that I could never leave him at that point. How could Diana? "Yes. Kestrel. Like the bird. Fox, like the sly little animal?" she asks, smiling a little. She cocks her head and looks at my face as if she might recognize me but doesn't know from where. All she would have to do is look in a mirror. "Yes. Like the animal," I answer her. "All the children here are named after birds. We have 26 Kestrels, all with a middle name beginning with a different letter of the alphabet," the man explains to me as if he is discussing a filing system for papers. Of course, he still goes nameless. "I prefer Kessie," she says, looking at me to make sure I got the point. "I prefer a lot of things besides Fox," I say and she smiles again. "So, Kessie, what is your area of expertise?" I don't know what they refer to it. I don't even know if these children have ever seen the light of day or if they have spent their whole lives in this bunker under the Rocky Mountains, studying in case the end ever comes. "Kessie is our expert on Incas and indigenous Andean people," the man says, smiling proudly. Kessie just looks down at her hands in her lap as if the whole topic bores her. "Have you ever seen the Andes, Kessie? Most experts like to see what they study. Have you gotten that chance?" I ask, and her eyes shoot up to meet mine. It is as if she has never imagined that it really existed beyond the pages of a book. "Agent Mulder, in order to protect the children and the work going on here, they must stay here. No, she has never seen the Andes," he answers curtly. "Or the outside of the mountain she lives under?" I ask and he narrows his eyes at me. "Um ... Mr. Mulder ..." she starts. "Fox," I say and Krycek gives me some sort of wry smile. "Yes ... it isn't all that bad here. We are safe. We know we will have a place when the end times come. All we have to do is study and follow the rules," she says, as if it has been drummed into her head a million times. They are safe. They are taken care of. Follow the rules and don't ask questions. "Kestrel, that will be all," the man says, and she obediently rises out of her chair and exits the room. "Agent Mulder, that will be all. Mr. Krycek will show you out of here and I believe your trip back home has already been arranged." "What? You expect me to just see her once and leave her behind here?" I ask, and I know I'm going to have to go into battle if I think I'm taking her with me. "Agent Mulder, she cannot leave here. She can't go with you. She is ours. Her future is guaranteed here," he says. He walks over to the windows that look out over his world and smiles. "I know what you are thinking. She is your child. You have a right to her. You will fight for her. But you must remember, we don't live under your laws. We don't exist in your system." "Aw, come on, Mulder. What would Scully say if you showed up at home with a kid? Diana's kid? If I recall, Scully didn't exactly like Diana too much. Leave the kid here," Krycek says. But I know he doesn't want me to. He's just goading me into the fight. "I'm taking her." "Her future is planned out. You cannot remove one piece of the whole. She has her place. We know who she is going to be partnered with someday and when. We know how many children she will have. We know what field her children will specialize in. Agent Mulder, I must really ask you to leave now," he says, and two men walk into the room. I assume they are to escort me out. Krycek stands up to join them. "I'm not leaving her here. I will get her out of here," I say and the men step towards me. "Such devotion you have toward this child already, Agent Mulder. You must have loved her mother more than I ever thought you did," the man says. He doesn't help with my removal. He is just the man in charge in name only. Not the one who gets his hands messy. "That has nothing to do with it and you know it," I shout at him. "She is a child and she deserves a family. And I will get her out of here if it is the last thing I do." "What now, Mulder? You going to just sit and pout forever?" Krycek says. We have set up camp somewhere outside of the mountain entrance. But I know I would never be able to find my way back without his help. I can't get to her without him. Her. She has a name. It is just so foreign to me. Kestrel. A small bird of prey. I wonder how it was decided that she should be a Kestrel and not a Robin or a Lark? Who decided that for her? Who watched her first steps? Listened to her first word? Wrote down when her first baby tooth came in? Did they do that for all these children? How could I take just her and leave the rest behind? Shit. I'm not the pied piper. I can't lead all the children out of here. But eventually, I will be able to. I just have to start with one. Kestrel Elaine. Kessie. "Come on, Krycek ... tell me what is going on here? Surely this is not your way of destroying me? What else do you have planned?" I ask. He sits across the fire from me, his face lit up like the devil that he is. This can't be his ultimate goal for me. "How do you plan on getting her out of there?" he asks with a grin. Does he think this will destroy Scully and me? No matter how much she hated Diana, she will realize that it is not Kessie's fault. She is mine, too. She is my responsibility. Just like I would have to accept any more 'Emilys' that might show up, Scully will have to accept this. "You tell me, Krycek. You are the man with all the plans," I say to him. I wish I knew how this would all turn out. What will happen if I take her? What if this is her only guarantee for a chance to live? "Getting her isn't the hard part, Mulder. Keeping her will be. We can get her out of there with ease. But they aren't just going to let you walk out of this country with her tucked under your arm," Krycek says. He picks up a stick and starts poking at the fire. "They are going to have to," I say. "Or else their secret little plan for the future won't remain secret." "Tomorrow morning, before the sun comes up, we will get her," Krycek says. He taps the embers with his stick and sends sparks flying up into the air. "I hope you know what you are doing. That you aren't just jumping into this without thinking it through." "Thanks for your concern." "Over there," Krycek whispers, pointing at what looks like a dormitory. Or Army barracks. There is row after row of utilitarian bunk beds, each containing a sleeping child. Each bed is denoted by a series of letters and numbers. The only personal touch added to the whole area is a sign with each child's name painted in big, block letters. I see no toys. No pictures or posters on the wall. No sign that they are children at all. Security is minimal. Who would even know to come look here to take a child? No one unless they were led here. Except for a latch on the door, there is no one here watching them. I wonder who they go to if they have a nightmare? Or get sick through the night? Someone must act as a parent to these children. Would I be thinking these things if not for Christopher? Would I even care? So much has changed over the past year and now I cannot help but to care. No matter what they say, this life these children are living looks even worse than my childhood. "Where is she?" I ask, and he pulls a clipboard down from the wall. I look over his shoulder at the names. All the children are indeed named after birds. Cardinal. Egret. Hawk. Heron. Ibis. Sparrow. Raven. And then there is Kestrel Elaine. "Row 17, Bunk 8. Bottom bunk," Krycek says. We both go down the long rows of bunks looking for the right one, trying not to wake anyone up. It isn't that hard to find. Everything is arranged so precisely here. I kneel down next to the bed and gently shake her. Her eyes grow wide with shock upon seeing two men next to her bed and I cover her mouth to keep her from screaming. She doesn't look scared. Maybe she has no concept of what can happen to little girls in the outside world. Maybe that privilege is only for the poor child who is an 'expert' on serial crimes. "Kestrel, I'm taking you home," I say to her and she looks confused. Very confused. She pushes my hand away. "This ... is my home," she says. She pulls her blankets up around her tighter, trying to protect herself from the situation we are putting her in. "No. A real home. A place with your own room. A yard. A real school. A mother," I say to her. I open the footlocker that has her name stenciled on it and dig through it looking for clothes. She owns nothing that is suitable for her age. Nothing that even appears that it is from the last decade, let alone this one. "My ... mother?" she asks and I do not know what answer to give her. Tell her that her own mother is dead? Is she ready for that? Her voice has no emotion when she says the word 'mother.' It is as if she can't miss what she never had. Maybe she doesn't even have a concept of what a mother can be. I hardly knew myself until Scully had Christopher. "No, it isn't your biological mother. But she is a great Mom. And you will have a brother and ... another brother or sister, soon. And I will be there," I tell her. She sits up in the bed and looks around cautiously. "So, are you my father?" she asks quietly. Her personality is so different than her self-assured, smooth as silk mother. Or even my headstrong personality. Although she can appear confident, it is a facade easy to shatter. Krycek stops moving, waiting for my answer. Kessie also stops moving, and holds her breath, waiting. "From everything I know right now, Kessie, I would have to say yes," I say, and she slowly lets out the breath she was holding. I'm sure she has a million questions. She isn't stupid. On the contrary, from what Krycek has told me, she is a star pupil in her area, putting that photographic memory to good use. "I will tell you everything you need to know once we get out of here. Come on." I grab some of her clothes and shove them into the backpack I brought along. She sits up and digs through the footlocker until she comes to an item hidden at the bottom. A teddy bear. "We aren't allowed to have them after we turn seven. I've been hiding him here for around five years," she says, looking at the treasured stuffed animal. How many stuffed animals does Christopher have? More than he could ever need. Yet this girl only has this one and she isn't even allowed to keep it with her at night. "Kessie, take what you need, but let's get going. I don't think I'll get a second chance to get you out of here if we get caught," I say, and she crams her teddy into the bag and slips her feet into her black shoes. There is no time nor is there a private place for her to change out of her night clothes. She can do that when we get back to camp. "We've got to hurry," Krycek says and he grabs Kessie's hand and pulls her toward the door. She looks back at me as I chase after them through the rows of beds, trying to keep up in the dark. We are barely out of the inner sanctuary of the mountain when we hear an alarm sound. They must have been waiting for me to make my move. "Krycek? Are they going to find us in this tunnel?" I ask, as I pull Kessie along behind me. "In a few minutes, we should be in an unmarked tunnel. They don't even know about it," he says. His breath is short and ragged from running and I don't sound much better. Kessie is perfectly silent. She doesn't know what to say or how to react. "You know about it but they don't?" I ask him, finding that hard to believe. Maybe he's dragging me into some sort of trap. "I know a lot of things they don't know," he says, and we make a turn into a part of the tunnel that has none of the lamps. We move into the darkness, feeling our way against the wall. It is cold and damp and occasionally my hand runs across water trickling down. I hold Kessie's hand tight in my other hand. She has yet to say a thing. Finally, we make another turn and Krycek turns on a flashlight. And standing before us is the man in the suit. The man who gave me his presentation just yesterday and told me I would never be able to take Kestrel out of here. "Krycek, you son of a bitch!" I say, wanting to kill him for bringing me to this man. Why would he go through all of this just to end up here? "Hold on a minute there, Agent Mulder. I'm not who you think I am. I'm here to help you," he says with a smile. The man from the parking garage. The man from the hotel room. Why would he be here? "Help me how? By taking her back?" I ask. Kessie hides behind me. Maybe she doesn't know there is more than one of these men in the world. Or maybe she knows them all. "No. I'm going to help you by telling you a few things. And giving you these," he says as he hands me a bundle of papers tied up in a folder. I look through them quickly. A birth certificate for Kestrel Elaine Mulder, born to Fox Mulder and Diana Fowley on November 16, 1991. At an Army base in Germany. A Social Security card for her. Medical records. Dental records. Immunization records. Everything we will need to get her into school. Plus information on her life, photos from when she was an infant and toddler. Photos from later that look like school photos. All to make it appear that she has been with me for her whole life. "Tell me about her," I say. I pull her from behind me and she stands next to me, staring at the ground. "She was born on November 16, 1991. We didn't make that up. And she was born in Germany. Those are her records. We didn't fabricate any of it," he says. He notices that 'I' signed the birth certificate. "Well, we made some of it up." "Did her mother ever see her? I need to know if she ever saw her before she gave her up?" I want to know how far Diana's coldness went in doing this. I need to know what she knew and never bothered to tell me. "No, she didn't. She didn't even know if she had a girl or a boy. It is easier on them that way. And for the child. She was placed with her 'family' here soon after she was born. Diana Fowley never had anything to do with Kestrel's life," he tells me and it doesn't make it any easier. "Why? Why in the hell did she do it?" I ask, hoping someone knows the answer. I wish I could ask her. After I got done wrapping my hands around her neck and shaking her, that is. "She said she wanted to save her. This was her only way. If she had other motives, I don't know of them," he says. "And what is going to happen if I take her out of here?" I ask. "Beyond the fact that I'm taking a part of the whole and they will have to get another Inca expert. What is she? Five of Twenty-Six?" "There are some things that even I do not know, Agent Mulder. The exact consequences of this are hard to determine. Just be prepared for the future, knowing you are changing it right now," he says. I can hear people moving this way, down the tunnel. "You better get out of here now. You don't have much time." "But I need to know ..." "You better get out of here now!" he shouts this time, nodding at Krycek. "Mulder, let's go!" Krycek says, grabbing my jacket and pulling me toward another branch of the tunnel. The noise of pursuit behind us grows louder. And all we can do is run. Carrot Creek, Alberta, Canada "This is the end of the line for me, Mulder," Krycek says as he pulls the car over on the side of the road. "Or should I say it is the end of the line for you." "What? Can't you get us into Edmonton at least? How in the hell do you expect us to make it on foot," I say, looking down at the only shoes Kestrel owns. We are halfway between the park and the nearest place with an airport to get us out of Canada and back into the states. "Damn it, Krycek, I don't even have any money." Krycek reaches under the car seat and digs out a paper bag. He hands it to me and I discover my weapon, my ID and enough cash to get us out of Canada without leaving a trail of credit card receipts. "There is a bus that leaves for Edmonton in the morning. Take a flight from there to Calgary. Then on to D.C. however you can. There is enough money there for you to make it that far. And buy her some clothes so she doesn't stick out like a sore thumb. And Mulder, I hope you know what you are doing," Krycek says with an mischievous grin. "What, Krycek? This can't be all you have planned? Come on? Where is the hell and brimstone you promised me?" I ask as I collect our few bags and we both get out of the car. "In time, my friend. You'll see. In time," he says to me out the window as he drives off. "Kestrel," I call out as I knock on the adjoining door to the motel rooms. I have them open a crack just in case she decides to bolt from here. But where in the hell would she go. She doesn't answer, but I know she is in there. The outside door never opened. "Kessie?" I walk in to her room and find her sitting up against the headboard of one of the double beds, holding on to her teddy bear and a pillow. She is watching the television. She said they had TV, but not like this. It was used to show educational programming, not the free range of 'entertainment' we have in the real world. "I know about war. It is a part of every civilization and I thought I had a grasp of it. I thought I knew what those words meant, what it felt like for those people to die," she says, sounding so much older than she is. Sometimes she is so childlike. The next moment it is as if she went from infancy to adulthood and skipped all the stages that should fall in between. I look at the TV screen and it shows the latest uprising in the Middle East. The images of people being carried off on stretchers and out of bombed-out buses and buildings move quickly across the screen. Young men, hardly past childhood, chant while waving their weapons in the air. "Just be glad you weren't the kid chosen to be the expert on the Holocaust," I say, as I pick up the remote control and begin flipping channels. "Kite Robert. He is that expert," she says, looking down. I hope she isn't feeling guilty for leaving them all behind. "Was he a friend of yours?" I ask, as I settle on a baseball game on some satellite sports channel. The Blue Jays are beating the newest expansion team. "Kite was the person I was supposed to marry someday," she says, her voice holding so little emotion about it one would question whether she had ever met this person. Or maybe it was just a fact of life. "Well, now you can marry some guy with a nose ring that you meet in college. Some guy I will hate properly," I say, sounding like a father of a girl. Shit. How did that happen so fast? "Baseball?" she says, looking at the television. Kessie is like one of those city kids who has only seen cows in pictures. She knows a lot. Just hasn't experienced a lot. "Baseball is a wonderful game. I'll have to teach it to you sometime. Take you to some games. You and Christopher ..." "Christopher?" she asks. "Is he your son?" "Yeah. You'll love him. He just turned one earlier this month. Walks. Barely talks. He's a complete gift from whomever it is that hands out babies," I say, missing him more than ever. Missing Scully more than ever. She would know better what to say to a pre-adolescent girl than I do. "Babies come from God," she states as if it is fact set in stone. I hope she knows all the other places babies come from because I'm not explaining it to her. Scully can handle that. We sit in silence, both of us leaning against the headboards of different beds, watching the ball game. After a half an hour, she picks up the remote control and begins flipping through channels again before finally turning it off. In minutes I can hear her softly crying, but I don't know what to do. I need to call Scully. But I don't know how in the hell I'm going to explain this to her. What is she going to say? Will she feel like I did when I first saw Emily? Afraid? Confused? I need her help so badly. Maybe this will destroy everything. Maybe she won't accept this. What have I gotten myself in to? The End
|