Agent Dana Scully M.D.

It was that last thought that sent her out of bed, finally, giving up on sleep as she flipped quietly through channels until William finally stirred, bright and early, as always. He hardly noticed her dark mood as he fussed and whined, his sore teeth and gums making him fractious as he piddled with breakfast as she tried to force coffee into herself. He had been even less thrilled to be dressed and loaded up in the car to go to his daycare, howling most of the way there until she got him inside, upon which time his entire personality changed to that of an angelic saint. Frustration didn’t even begin to describe her mood as she returned to her car and made her way to campus, fighting Midterm students and parking. By the time she even got to her office, she was in the mood to lock herself up, hide away, and pray that no student came looking for her.

Unfortunately, even as she rounded the corner, she saw someone sitting just outside of her office door. She had already sighed and begun to mentally prepare herself before it occurred to her that the man waiting patiently couldn’t possibly be a student. He was at least 80, far too old to be the average college student, and certainly no one she remembered having in her class. He sat straight in the heavy chair that sat out there, one hand laying on the cane at his side, his silver head resting against the wall by her door. She cleared her throat as she approached, causing him to look up with a broad smile.

“You must be the talented and amazing Doctor Scully I’ve been hearing about!”

That caught her short, but she smiled, recognizing the compliment. “Someone clearly has been telling you some sort of line if they said those things about me.”

“I doubt my daughter would lie to me like that. She hasn’t lied to me since she was seventeen, and I caught her in the backyard, in the dark, with a boy. She learned better! But, she says good things about you.”

It took her only seconds after that to realize who she was indeed speaking to. “Doctor Jones, I presume?”

“I could be Livingston, but that would flip the tables a bit, no?”

Scully laughed, unlocking her office to let the older gentleman in. He rose slowly from his seat, leaning on his cane, but still tall and proud despite the age that now withered him.

“Come in, sir! Have a seat.” She waved to one of the two leather seats by her chair, the one not currently occupied by a stack of ungraded papers. “Can I get you coffee? Water?”

“I’m fine!” He waived her offer off as he settled into the creaking leather. “If I knew that you were so pretty and accommodating, I’d have been here to see you sooner.”

“Well, you are here, and that’s what matters.” She perched on the other side of the desk, trying to bite back the grin of delight and amazement. Gabriel Jones was a figure of legend in her household growing up, as were all the Howling Commandos. The old films had been a staple of television viewing, and while Scully was well aware that the real life heroes were very different than the sanitized, Hollywood depictions, she couldn’t help but feel like a figure of history and legend had just alighted into her office.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir! I can’t even tell you how special it is that you stopped by!”

“Well, Wanda kept telling me to get over here and I kept putting it off, but I happened to be by today. Had coffee with some of the donors and advancement, you know the types, all wanting to pump hands and look impressive. Had enough of that and decided to come find someone with a brain to talk to.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m honored! Ever since your daughter told me that her father was the famous Gabriel Jones, I’ve been bugging her to meet you. You were a hero of mine growing up!”

“You watched those stupid movies?”

“Well, I was also seven and convinced you all could walk on water, Captain America especially!”

“Well, Cap probably could walk on water, but the rest of us were just average, Army Joes, doing a job.”

“I don’t know, taking down HYDRA and defeating Johann Schmidt seemed more than just the average Army work.”

“Still fighting and dying, just like everyone else.” He nodded, solemnly, a sad sort of wistfulness about him as he regarded her. “Wanda tells me you were in the FBI before she dragged you over here.”

“I was for about ten years. I worked in a small division for most of it, investigating unsolved and strange cases.”

“The X-files, I heard about them.”

That surprised her. Few people outside of the FBI knew about them and those that did often mocked them. He didn’t seem to be doing that. “I’m sorry, how did you know about them, sir?”

“I’m not ‘sir’, I’m Gabe, and as for how I heard about them, I knew Arthur Dales from my days in SHIELD. He had been Army buddies with someone, maybe Sawyer, but anyway, he would come and chat with us on some of the more interesting cases he had going on.”

“You were in SHIELD?”

“For a bit, yes. We were all under the auspices of the SSR, which eventually was closed down after the war and rolled into SHIELD when it was formed. I was there for a while, till the kids started come along and getting older and I realized I wanted to be around to see them grow up. Left SHIELD, finished up my degrees and went into teaching history and public policy.”

“I know, I’ve read some of your articles.” The fact that Dr. Jones was an intellectual on top of being a hero had caused her no small delight, especially given his long career in academia. “So do you really speak five languages?”

“Seven? Been bored in my retirement.” He laughed brightly, as he leaned back comfortably. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved teaching and researching. By the time I got into it, I could actually have the sort of voice I couldn’t have when I was a kid in the 40’s, getting a degree that may or may not allow me to work in the nicer establishments of Washington DC. But, as much as I loved doing it, there was a part of me that missed the old life.”

“The Commandos?”

“Yeah.” He grinned with broad reminiscence. “I didn’t even start out the war with those guys. I was in the 92nd Infantry, the Buffalo Soldiers, because that’s where they stuck the black kids that signed up. We got sent to Italy to serve as support there. That’s how I met Barnes and Dugan. They were in the 107th and all of us were sent to face Schmidt. We all just happened to be captured together. War has that habit, I guess, putting folks together that would never have talked to one another until they were forced to live in the same, ten foot cage.”

That was the least of the horrors that Scully knew most soldiers faced in World War II. “Despite all that, you still wanted to fight?”

“Hell, yes! I saw what they could do, HYDRA.” Something dark and grave passed over his expression, a ghost of old terror, never forgotten, rising to the fore. “We were just sitting ducks there when they came up over the hill with their lasers, blowing tanks to kingdom come. Whole platoons cut down in an instant. We had no choice but to surrender. And then to be drug to Schmidt’s hell, forced to work till we dropped, or like Barnes, till we nearly died. I saw most of my unit go that way, drug off to wherever Zola had them. None of them ever made it out.”

Scully didn’t know what to say to that. She knew death intimately, saw it on it’s most basic, fundamental, scientific level everyday. And she knew something of the horrors faced by soldiers in World War II, but admittedly had only paid half attention to them. Like many historical events, they seemed so distant and outside of her, not something real and tangible. Seeing the grief of someone who lived it, even after sixty years, made it all too palpable.

“Anyway, when Cap came and got us out, the Army offered to send most of us home, discharge us on medical leave. I thought about it, frankly, more than just a little bit. After all, most everyone I knew was dead, and here I was, a colored boy with a college education doing grunt work and nearly getting killed for it. I had half a mind to come back home to Howard and walk away from it all. But, then Cap comes along, all truth and justice and wanting to punch Hitler in the jaw, and I’m signing up to join his suicide squad along with Dernier. Never regretted it for a second.”

This conversation was hitting uncomfortably close to home for her. “Even when it would have been safer for you to go back home and lead a quiet life?”

“One could have argued there wasn’t much of a quiet life back home, either, not for someone who looked like me. Maybe I knew that and didn’t want to have to face that. Maybe I wanted a bit of revenge for those that didn’t make it out, like I did. But, I figure, a lot of it was Steve.”

Captain America. Even the name caused a thrill, knowing that this man knew someone she so revered. “What was he like?”

“Steve Rogers?” That caused Gabe to laugh outright, a wheezing sound as he shook his silver head. “I’d love to tell you half the crap those movies put out there was bullshit, but a lot of it was true. First time he came waltzing into our prison, all by himself, not an ounce of self-preservation to him, saying he was ‘Captain America’ and that he’d punched Hitler 200 times. We all thought he was nuts. We didn’t realize it wasn’t that he was crazy, it was just that he was stubborn and convinced his will was bigger than yours. But, he grew up this scrawny Irish kid from the wrong side of Brooklyn, so I suppose he always had that chip on his shoulder.”

“As a scrawny, Irish kid myself, I understand that feeling intimately.”

Gabe only chuckled. “Yeah, but you are a hell of a lot prettier than Rogers was.”

“Oh, I’ve seen pictures. I don’t know about that.”

“Lord, you too! Barnes was always floored by it, these women throwing themselves at Cap and he wouldn’t know what to do. Of course, he only ever had eyes for Peggy, so I don’t think he even noticed.”

Shaking his head, he sighed fondly. “Steve could be obtuse like that, but in a good way, you know. He never saw differences the same way others did. Didn’t matter to him if you were white, brown or yellow, didn’t matter if you were even American, only that you wanted to do the right thing and were willing to take a stand when no one else would. Guess when you grow up like he and Barnes did, those things don’t matter as much, maybe.”

There was no hiding the deep sadness welling up in his fond words. “You must really miss them.”

“The Commandos? Yeah, everyday. There’s really only Peggy, Morita and me now. Jim’s harassing his grandkids and traveling the world. Peggy’s only now retiring from SHIELD. Thought they would have to carry her out on one, frankly, didn’t think she’d ever leave. And here I am, mostly retired, teaching a class now and again, stumping for my alma mater, going to museum openings.”

“Don’t suppose it’s as exciting as taking out HYDRA.” Despite herself, Scully couldn’t help but think of Coulson’s visit and his simple request, or the fact that deep down, underneath the pain of loss and fears for her son, she had really wanted to say yes.

“No, but it’s a good life for a man just turned 80. Besides, there’s others to fight those fights now. My grandson, Antoine, he’s joining up with SHIELD when he’s done with his degree. Says someone has to carry on the family legacy.”

Someone has to carry on.

The last conversation Scully had with Mulder before he disappeared had been outside of Skinner’s office, the fateful evening when Alex Krycek had shown back up in their lives. He’d begged her to stay, to leave the X-files, to go be a doctor and live her life and leave the mystery behind...to leave him behind. She tried, she really had. But Coulson’s visit loomed, along with the implied threat of what still lay out there. Spender, as far as anyone knew, was still alive and was still dangerous. It didn’t matter that she left the X-files and the FBI behind, that she had stopped asking questions, that she was attempting to lead a normal life, if he was still out there, he was still scheming. And knowing he had likely been with HYDRA the entire time made the danger even more overt. If he had used his own children in his heinous experiments, what was to say he wouldn’t come for his grandson?

“Do you know Phil Coulson? He’s an agent with SHIELD.”

Something sharp flickered in Gabe’s eyes, but he played off at being nonchalant. “I’ve heard the name, yeah. One of Fury’s agents, said to be really good. How do you know him?”

“He came to visit me last night.” She eyed Gabe pointedly, sensing he knew far more about that than he was willing to let on. “I found it interesting he rushed to see me on a Sunday evening, on my way back from Baltimore, right after your daughter made me a nice job offer to stay and teach here.”

“I’d only say it was interesting if I knew what a SHIELD agent was doing at your house.”

“Making me a counter-offer.”

“Well, then, that is interesting. SHIELD wants to recruit you.”

“Apparently, he heard from sources about me.”

“SHIELD could use a woman of your talents.”

“So could your alma mater.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Wanda would be upset if you left her. She’s been thrilled to have you. But like Antoine keeps telling me, someone has to carry on.”

As simple as that, she realized her decision was made.

“I have a feeling your daughter is going to be mad at me.”

She noticed him almost as soon as her headlights ran across the quiet, unmarked sedan sitting serenely by the trash bins. It wasn’t precisely a parking spot there, but visitors often liked to use it if they were only there for a short time, and the manager rarely made a fuss about it. Still, while people liked parking there, it was rare they sat in their cars, slumped in the seat, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Scully may no longer be an FBI agent, but she wasn’t an idiot.

She pulled into her spot, glancing in her rearview mirror towards the car and the occupant. He sat up after she had parked, and she could see at least part of his face through the darkened windshield.

Quietly and as coolly as she could, she reached across to the glove compartment, where her Smith and Wesson lay under a pile of registration papers, a spare diaper, and one of William’s stuffed toys. She carefully pulled it and the holster, clipping it under her light jacket as she stepped out, half an eye on the car in the back as she rounded to where William was still out like a light. As she did, the man in the car opened his door.

She spared him a glance as she opened passenger’s side, busying herself with gathering William’s scattered things. In reality, she was watching the man as she tugged at his sport coat, buttoning it neatly in front of him. He was an inconspicuous enough person, the sort you’d expect in a special agent: pleasant features, serious demeanor, strong jaw, dark haired, not too tall, not too small, the sort of pleasant attractiveness that didn’t draw attention to himself. The typical agent type. But from where? FBI would just call her or show up at her door, they’d not be secretive about it. The CIA, maybe, but why in the world would they want to play cloak-and-dagger games with her? The same applied to the NSA. This left only one group, really, one she’d hoped would leave her the hell alone since she stepped away from the X-files. She had no wish to play in Spender’s sick games anymore, and he’d better stay the hell away from her son.

“Excuse me,” he called, as her hand tightened on the handle of William’s overnight bag. She set it on the ground, looking around her SUV at him.

“Yes?” Her hands wandered to her hips, the impatient mother trying to get her child into the house. She slid the right one ever so closely to the small of her back, where her holster lay.

He smiled, a pleasant smile, all things considered. “I saw you driving up with the little one. I thought I could help.”

Little one? Scully doubted there was any way in hell he could have seen William’s car seat in the back, especially in the twilight. “I think I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? I mean, I can help carry something inside.” He continued forward, all careful concern. Scully didn’t hesitate to let her right hand whip behind her back. Before he had another step, her weapon was trained on him, pointed right in the middle of his kindly, concerned face.

“You can also stop where you are and tell me who you work for.” She barely raised her voice above a whisper, desperate to keep William asleep and not in the middle of this. Her heart thumped painfully as she stepped away from the car, closer to the stranger who took a step back, hands slowly moving upwards, palms out.

“Easy! I was just offering to help.”

“Convenient, as you were also hiding out in an unmarked sedan behind my building, waiting for me to arrive back home. Why?”

Something flickered across his stoic face for a moment, but he only sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Do I look scared?” She flicked the safety off her gun. The man swallowed hard.

“I’d read your file. I knew you were good, but...perhaps I underestimated things.”

“My file?” She knew it. She almost rolled her eyes with the predictability of it. “Who are you with? The CIA? NSA? Can’t be the Bureau, they’d just come by my office to bother me.”

“None of those, no.” His calm demeanor barely flickered as she raised her aim even higher. “I’m not from any US based agency. I work for something more international.”

“Interpol?”

“Close. SHIELD.”

Well, that was unexpected.

She lowered her gun, flicking the safety back on. The man raised a dark eyebrow archly and she wondered if that was what his relieved expression was.

“What does the likes of SHIELD want with me?”

“To talk to you, Doctor Scully. That’s all. Your work has caught our attention and they are interested in you.”

She considered. It was Sunday evening, and here he was, lurking outside of her apartment. If he wanted to kill her and take her son, he could. So far, he seemed on the level.

“Well, if you are offering to help me, you can take the suitcase and his diaper bag.”

This brought a hint of a smile to his expression as he gladly took the items from her, waiting patiently for her to unhook William from his seat. He barely whimpered as she cuddled him close on her hip, keys replacing her hand gun. She jerked her head, a silent request for him to follow her as she led the way to the front of the building, where her apartment door lay.

Once inside, she nodded towards the living room as she carried her sleeping son, warm and snuggly, into his room. Whoever her guest was, he’d have to wait as she stripped William down ,out of his clothes, and changed him into pajamas. William barely woke enough to whine pathetically as she cooed at him, smoothing dark curls off his forehead as she settled him into his bed. He rolled over, asleep again before she even wandered away.

The stranger stood by her fireplace, studying the photos above, a motley collection of pictures of her family over the decades. She noted him studying in particular one of William’s hospital photos, when he was little more than a scrunched up face swaddled in blankets, a tiny hat covering his dark head. The old fear and apprehension rose within her, her fingers itching for her weapon once more.

“What does SHIELD want with the likes of me?”

He spun around, a polite smile on his face. “Why wouldn’t they?” He gestured to her comfortable armchair. “May I have a seat?”

She nodded as he settled across from her couch where she chose to sit, watching him as if he were a suspect, liable to strike at any moment. “I don’t believe you gave me your name.”

“Agent Phil Coulson.” He reached inside his blazer as Scully tensed, but he merely produced a simple card emblazoned with the name ‘Philip Coulson” in black text. To the left, the stylized seal of an eagle was produced in silvery gray, surrounded by the full name of the organization he claimed to be from, the “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division”.

“I always felt it was a long way for you all to go to spell the word ‘shield’.” She murmured, setting the card on the coffee table in front of her, a reminder of who he was.

“It is a bit obvious, but I suppose it expresses our charter nicely.”

“Ahh, yes, an international anti-terror and intelligence agency focused on global security.” She knew of SHIELD by reputation. As an FBI agent, she’d had to deal with them far less than Interpol, but the idea was similar; an extra-government organization centered on the idea of providing intelligence for global protection independent from the agendas of any one particular government or regime. Of course, Scully had found it amusing that was their chartered goal, though they were mostly based in the United States and served a very specific point of view.

“So, again I have to ask, what does SHIELD want with the likes of me?” She returned them to the topic at hand, namely why he was lurking at her apartment on a Sunday evening.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“I suppose a better question is why you are here at my house this time of night wanting to chat with me about a secret spy organization?”

“I’d have chatted with you during the day, but you were busy.”

She pursed her lips as he smiled at her in his equinaminous way. “Agent Coulson, I am not in the business anymore. In case you haven’t noticed, my priorities have changed. I’m a mother, I’m a teacher, and I don’t go around playing cloak-and-dagger games.”

“You used to. In fact, until you had your son, you were a full FBI agent, working on the X-files.”

“I’m well aware of what I used to do.”

“You asked why SHIELD wants you and I told you.” His fingers steepled as he sank further into her chair, clearly at ease. “You have a background in physics from the University of Maryland and a medical degree from Stanford, and yet you went into pathology with the FBI only to be stuck on the X-files detail with Fox Mulder.”

“I wasn’t stuck. I was assigned.” She bristled, even after all these years.

He at least had the grace to look apologetic before moving forward. “You were assigned. Your cases weren’t unknown to us, nor is the work you and Agent Mulder did; hauntings, alien abductions, the unexplained. I was a particular fan of the flukeman incident.”

“I am glad someone was.” She still had nightmares about it.

He beamed, briefly. Clearly he meant what he said. “You’ve been on SHIELD’s radar for quite some time. Your unique skill set and experience intrigued us.”

“What about alien abductions and ghost sightings could possibly interest SHIELD?”

“We are interested in global security.” His smile was enigmatic. She wondered if he practiced that a lot.

“I have a feeling that’s all classified and you can’t tell me.”

“Let’s just say that you and Agent Mulder were a lot closer than anyone would like to acknowledge to the truth of a lot of things.”

The truth? She smirked, throwing herself deep into the cushions of her comfortable chair. “What truth is that, Agent Coulson? That there are aliens in the universe who have made a habit of making off with ordinary people or that there is a massive conspiracy to experiment on the public in the most grotesque ways?”

“Both. What do you know about HYDRA?”

“You mean the old Nazi organization? I know of it, of course, mostly from history courses ages ago and watching the old Captain America films with my father growing up.”

“I loved those movies.” A hint of delight worked its way through his equanimity.

“I thought HYDRA died off with World War II. Wasn’t that what the Howling Commandos were up to?”

“Yes. But as we both know, conspiracies aren’t easy to kill off like that.”

That caught her attention. A sick feeling rose inside as she processed, both because of what Coulson was saying and what he wasn’t. “Are you implying that they had something to do with the work Mulder and I did?”

“I’m implying they had everything to do with it.”

“And why would you assume that?”

He slipped a hand into his suit coat, pulling out a slim, long white envelope. He passed it over to her as she studied the unlettered outside of it. She stared at it for long moments, before flickering her gaze to his in silent question.

“A photo you might be interested in. We found it recently in some files, ones that were hidden.”

She reached for it, plucking it out of his grasp. Inside she could feel the thicker stock of photograph paper. Flipping open the flap, she pulled out a black and white photo, obviously taken from a concealed camera, perhaps something from a covert operation. The lab they were in was clear enough, subjects being hooked up to machines by technicians, some looking quietly placid, others fearful, even in tears. Above them on an observatory platform stood two men, watching the scene. The shorter man was older, a shock of white, thinning hair stick around him like a halo. She didn’t immediately recognize him. His companion though, that face she would recognize in her nightmares.

“That’s Spender!” She flipped the photo around to point to the tall, lanky man with a mane of dark hair, not yet the grizzled older man she hated.

“Well, Busch to be more precise, but yes.” Coulson leaned forward as he took one corner of the photo. “Carl Gerhard Busch, born October 29, 1926 to German national parents with ties to the growing Nazi party. When his parents divorced, his father returned, but he stayed in America with his mother. She remarried to a man named Spender, hence the name.”

That was far more than Scully had ever found out about the mysterious smoking man who had terrorized her life for so long, and she had the Lone Gunmen looking. “How did you find that out?”

“We have a file on him. We’ve had one since the 1950s, when he first appeared on the scene as a State Department operative working alongside Bill Mulder. The two of them met in the Army. College kids, they got fast-tracked as officers working in the liaison office, then stepped sideways to State. On his own, Bill Mulder wouldn’t have drawn our attention, but Spender did. His biological father, Gerhard Busch, was a high ranking member of HYDRA, key in it’s growth and organization. He disappeared after the death of Schmidt and was never found.”

“And you thought his son knew where he was?”

“It was suspected that the elder Busch fled to America, along with other former HYDRA operatives, perhaps under the protection of his son. We never found Gerhard.”

Perhaps, because his son had killed him, too.

“Who is the other man?”

“His name is Richard Reinhardt, the head of the bioengineering division of HYDRA. He was the former second to Arnim Zola, who headed up much of the scientific research HYDRA conducted.”

“Zola was captured during the war.”

“He was and never saw a day of prison for it.” Only the slightest tick hinted at Coulson’s displeasure at that fact. “After the war he was brought over to the US to do research.”

“Project Paperclip.” Scully spat the words out. She knew that particular Cold War side project all too well. As if by muscle memory, she turned towards the large, plate glass bay window in her apartment, the one Duane Berry had broken through and take her to Skyland Mountain, turning her entire life upside down. She shivered.

If Coulson knew anything about that, he was polite enough not to mention it. “Higher ups championed keeping Zola around after the war, if nothing else because the SSR and later SHIELD could use his research. He died of cancer in 1972. On his death, SHIELD higher ups suggested looking at other options, other scientists brought over by the government and given amnesty.”

“And this is why you looked into Reinhardt?” The pieces began falling into place almost against her will.

Coulson nodded, looking less than pleased by the fact. “That picture was taken by one of ours, doing some reconnaissance work before approaching Reinhardt. We knew he’d been working for years for a US project, deep undercover. It wasn’t clear what or for whom, and SHIELD wasn’t willing to offer him a position without knowing what he’d been up to. That picture was shot at a US Army research facility at April Air Force Base in San Bernardino County, California.

April Air Force Base?

That name rang like a klaxon as Scully scanned the photo again, picking out the individual patients, some with downturned, blurry faces, others whose features came out quite clearly. “When was this taken?”

“August of 1974.”

That was well within the timeframe. Even as that thought floated to the top of Scully’s brain, she found what she was seeking; a young girl, only nine-years-old, dark haired and elvin faced. She recognized her as surely as she’d recognize her own son. William had the same distant, forlorn expression when he was tired or sick, the sort that melted the heart of most anyone who saw it, especially his daycare workers. That familiar ache, the searing pain of Mulder’s loss, roared to life as she held the photograph with shaking fingers, seeing for the first time visual evidence that the girl who had disappeared on that long ago night in 1973 had been alive long after she was thought gone.

“Samantha,” she breathed, reverently touching the glossy face.

“The best we can tell, she was a part of a program being headed up by Reinhardt, research, using alien technologies.”

“And SHIELD did nothing to stop them?” Anger at the sight of this woebegone girl who had cost those who loved her so much flooded her as she snapped back, directing her ire at Coulson.

“SHIELD doesn’t exactly have the capacity to just call out a foreign government without hard evidence of wrongdoing. Not long after this, our agent was compromised, we had to extract. We were never able to get hard evidence again. The operation was kept so tight, we weren’t even able to get a team put together for removal. Contrary to popular belief, while SHIELD is capable, we aren’t all powerful, and HYDRA is very crafty at hiding when they want to.”

“And you are certain it is HYDRA?”

“Well, the remnants, at least. The core died off long ago, but there are still seeds of it all over. SHIELD roots them out where they can. Which is where our interest in you comes in.”

The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place painfully. “You want me to search for Spender.”

“No one knows him better.”

Did anyone really know him at all? Scully wasn’t so sure. She stared at the photo of the younger Spender in stark black-and-white, looking out over his subjects, a curl of smoke circling up over his head lazily. In panic, she dropped the photo on the coffee table, throwing herself up and out of her seat, pacing blindly to the window Duane Berry had come through.

“You don’t know who you are dealing with here.” She turned on Coulson who watched her quietly.

“We’ve followed Spender for years.”

“Yes, but you’ve not had to deal with him.”

“In all fairness, Doctor Scully, SHIELD is well versed with dealing with all matter of demons.”

“Not this one, you aren’t.” She stalked back towards the mantel and the one photograph of Mulder she had up there, a snapshot of him from a Yankees game she’d taken him to, weeks before he disappeared. He had a ball cap on, crunching on his ever-present sunflower seeds, attempting to teach her the finer points of the game and failing. She’d deliberately played at being confused, of course, just to irritate him as he tried, in vain, to explain a box score. He waxed poetic about Derek Jeter at one point, calling him the greatest Yankee since Mantel. He’d been happy that day.

And then he was gone. Vanished, as if he never existed. Just like his sister.

“This man took everything from me,” she murmured into the silence of her apartment. “He had me kidnapped and tested on, gave me cancer, ripped away my life and my choices out of his own cruelty. He killed my sister. He killed my friends. He created my daughter only to die as a lab experiment. He toyed with Mulder for decades, puppetted his life, stringing him along only to rip his hope and his integrity away time and time again, crushing him gleefully, all the while knowing he was his own son. And I can’t tell you what he did to the one son who did carry his name, how he abused him, abandoned him and his mother, using them and discarding them when it suited. He plays his games, acting as if we were nothing, as if we were little more than toys. You say you know what you are dealing with, but do you really?”

“Perhaps not as much as you, but if we did, we wouldn’t be coming to you, asking you to join us.”

He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it. She blinked against the film in her eyes as she turned to face him. His expression was sympathetic, but quietly expectant as well. Did he understand what he was asking of her, approaching her like this?

“If I agree, I am putting my son in danger. I won’t do that.”

“We will work with you to help protect you and your son. Unlike the FBI, we take the threat seriously.”

“That’s what our old boss said, right before Fox Mulder disappeared.”

“I’m well aware that asking you back into this life is dangerous, Doctor Scully. I’m also aware of what you sacrificed for your work before and what we are asking you to do again. But without you, Spender still is running free without any check to his plans. How many other people will he suck up into his machinations by then?”

He was right, but it didn’t make her want to rush back into the breech anymore. “I’ve had an offer from Howard University, full time faculty.”

“We’ve heard. It’s why we moved.”

She wasn’t shocked he knew about the offer, only that they had moved so quickly to try and secure her. “Then you know that it’s a good job, with a possibility for growth. It’s a quiet, sedate job, without the threat of bodily harm or death that would leave my son orphaned.”

“But is it what you want?”

That caught her by surprise. “How would you know if it was or wasn’t?”

“If it was what you wanted, Doctor Scully, you’d have signed the paperwork last week when it was offered to you.”

Coulson wasn’t an idiot, she’d give him that much. “I feel I need to give full consideration to that offer, first.”

“Fair.” He nodded, rising from her sofa. “Whatever you decide, let me know.”

That was it? She had expected more of a high stakes sell from the world’s most secret intelligence organization. “You’ll just let me go, make my own decisions? Won’t make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

“I’m not in the business of making promises I can’t keep or idyll threats to scare people into doing what I’d like.” He buttoned his blazer with a hint of a smile. “Besides, you are right. Coming to work for SHIELD is dangerous, and you have a child to think of. As long as Spender’s alive, he is a threat, and your son will need protection. Either way, you have to choose what is best; working for us to stop him or working far away and hoping he takes no notice. Only you can make the right decision for you.”

As if that made the choice any better.

Clearing his throat, he crossed his hands in front of him respectfully. “I think I’ll leave you with that for the night, Doctor Scully. You can reach me by the information on the card.”

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly as she showed him out the door. She let it click as she locked the door, leaning for long moments against it, listening to his footsteps down the hallway. No matter how hard she tried, Spender kept coming back, like a god damned cockroach. Last time she’d seen him, he said he was dying. He had more than likely been lying. Wherever he was, she had no doubt that he would, eventually, come looking for her - and for his grandson.

As if on instinct, she wandered to William’s nursery. Oblivious to the adult conversation in the living room, he was asleep, laying on his back, one leg cocked sideways as he hugged his toy alien, Spooky, in one chubby arm. Tears stinging, she reached down in his crib to brush his tangle of fine, dark curls from his forehead, chuckling wetly at the little snuffle and snort he loosed before turning away from his mother’s ministrations.

“What are we to do, Will?” She sighed, pulling back to watch him sleep quietly and contently, without a care in the world.