Author's Note: Okay... This chapter is kinda lame. Mostly filler with plot hints. Uuuuuuuugh. Though, I had a bit of fun with the first segment of this chapter. The title of the newspaper that said "RADIO SAYS ADOLF HITLER DEAD" is true. I have it because my grandfather kept it. :) Lol, there's your interesting factoid for the day. Anyway, I apologize for how boring this chapter is. DX At least I put some Cigarette-smoking Man references in here. That aside, if you catch a spelling/grammar mistake, let me know so I can correct it! SAPPHIRE OUT!

Warning: Genderbends and very mild language will be used. Don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Hetalia or X-Files. Those wonderful shows belong to their original owners.

Time Traverser: YOU KNOW IIIIIIT!

Sindy Beilschmidt: Thank you! Honestly, I've always thought that I was bad at writing action, so that's a huge compliment!

Chapter Four: Not All is What it Seems

"So what have you got for us?" Mulder asked the members of 'The Lone Gunmen.' The three said men were huddled near one of their monitor screens with different pictures displayed upon it. Langly was the first to wave Mulder and his partner over, a slightly excited grin upon his face.

"You're going to love this, Mulder," said the straw-haired man, "We started doing some research on that name you gave us. At first, we couldn't find anything on him. It was like you had just given us a dummy name that didn't really belong to any living person."

"Then we stumbled onto an old news article," began Frohike, the short man's gap-toothed grin spread plainly upon his face, "dating back to 1920." Both Mulder and Scully rose their eyebrows in mild shock. They had both known that this Alfred F. Jones had a strange ability not to age from what they had seen, but they did not know to what extent this ability could have on the man given a period of decades.

The short man handed Mulder the old newspaper they had found, the paper so aged and unkempt that it almost appeared that the slightest shake would cause it to fall apart.

The agent's dark, pooling eyes scanned the circled article, his pale lips moving as he read the article aloud, "Stranger saves a child and his faithful pet from an almost certainly horrible demise. Late last night in our humble town of Boston, little Jonathan Whites and his dog Rosie were out for an ordinary day of fishing in their secret spot.

" 'Rosie and I always go out there,' says Jonathan, 'It has the best fish, but no one knows about it.' Jonathan was just finishing up his fishing when he slipped and fell into the secluded body of water. The boy tried to swim back to land, but his feet got caught on some kind of debris that kept him from being properly able to keep himself up. Rosie had jumped in after Jonathan had slipped and she too became trapped in the still unknown debris. Both Rosie and Jonathan would have surely drowned if a random stranger, who identified himself as Alfred F. Jones, had not heard the boy's cries for help. After helping the pair out of the water and bringing them to the boy's parents, Mr. Jones left and has yet to be seen again."

"So this Mr. Jones has a habit of disappearing from the face of the earth," Scully said with an irritated groan, "That makes everything so much better for us."

"After we found that," began Byers, "We started digging up things all over the place. We found tons of articles like the one you read. Mr. Jones would save someone, then vanish without a trace."

Frohike nodded in confirmation before continuing Byer's thought, "The guy sure gets around too. We found mentions of him in at least every state. What really shocked us, however, were the dates. Some of them were in the eighties, others in the thirties, and some even dated back to the 1800's! This guy really has an incredible life span."

"The 1800's?!" exclaimed Mulder, "That's amazing."

"And we also managed to find pictures of when Mr. Jones apparently was in World War Two." Frohike gestured to the monitor screen that had so far been paid little attention too. It showed a black and white picture of Alfred grinning next to another woman, who was scowling in what looked to be an old British uniform. Another picture showed Alfred laughing at the scowling woman, who was in a hospital bed this time with bandages and bruises strewn across her body. The last one was a photo of a grinning Alfred with a newspaper in his hands that had the bold print that goes as follows: 'RADIO SAYS ADOLF HITLER DEAD.'

"While this is all very interesting, have you found anything that might actually help us find Mr. Jones?" asked Scully, crossing her arms a bit irritatedly.

"And have you found out anything on what this Mr. Jones could be or have that would allow him to have this incredible life span?"

"So far, we haven't found anything specific, but I can give you a list of the most frequent places he's been. Maybe you'll be able to find him at one of those places," Langly offered, "And as for what he is, that's a bit more complicated. We don't have enough information to conclude what allows this man to live so long. If you find anything, though, be sure to tell us. We'll do our best to help out."

"G-Gilbert!" exclaimed Madeline awkwardly, trying to sound calm, "Everything is completely fine. There's nothing to worry about."

"Everything is fine?" said the disbelieving voice on the other end of the phone call, "You were on the news, Birdie, being dragged off by your idiot brother at an attempt to not be caught by the FBI. What kind of crap has your stupid twin pulled you into?"

Madeline frowned at the comment and snapped back, "Stop calling him an idiot, Gilbert. He's my brother. And I'm fine, I just — I'm not sure if I should or can explain what's going on right now. It's all complicated." Her violet-blue eyes flicked towards her brother who pouted at the knowledge that he was being insulted.

"You don't sound all right to me, Birdie. Are you sure you're okay? Is . . . " the man paused, knowing that the conversation might be overheard, "Is it okay too?" Immediately understanding what the man meant, Madeline's fingers, tempted to touch the thing in question, twitched, but managed to remain in place.

"Oui," she said a bit softer, "Everything is fine."

"Madeline . . . Please tell me what's going on. I'm worried."

Madeline felt her heart clench guiltily. "Gil, I can't—" Before she could even finish, Alfred snatched the phone from his sister's hands and pressed it to his ear.

"Thanks for the kind comments, Gilbo. If you want to really meet up with us, go to Selkinah, New Mexico. It's an old abandoned town. You'll know it when you see it. It looks like a western town from the movies."

"What—"

Just as Alfred was about to be questioned by Gilbert, the man shut his sister's cellphone, ending the call. He threw the object to Madeline, the female catching it then stuffing it into her pocket. She preceded to blink at her brother, looking at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Selkinah? I remember you talking about that place . . . Why are we going there, Al?"

Alfred sighed and stood up, putting his shirt and bomber jacket back on then ushering his sister to stand up as well. "It's a nice place off the map without any electricity or cameras to spy on us. I'll have Gilbert pick you up. I'll just wait until this whole thing cools down, then delete everything the FBI has on us," he explained as he shut the trunk of his car.

"I'm not letting you do this alone, Al!" Madeline snapped stubbornly.

"You'll have to convince that boyfriend of yours to let you stay, then. Though, he probably will be on my side," Alfred responded, moving to the front of his car, "Plus, it will be extremely hot there with no air conditioning or anything. It wouldn't be good for you." He opened the car door and sat down in the seat, buckling his seatbelt. Madeline repeated her brother's actions, a puzzled frown upon her face.

"Not 'good,' for me? If you're referring to how I was recently sick, I am completely fine now. I'm not even coughing." She crossed her arms and sat up taller as if to make a point.

"That's not what I meant." He looked a bit sadly at the female as if he knew something that she did not, then laughed the expression off. "Never mind, but I really don't want you getting into this."

"Too bad."

"You're so frickin' stubborn."

"And you're an oblivious idiot."

A man, probably in his fifties, laughed at the radio in front of him. The twin's heated argument continued to shoot back and forth until the point you would never be sure who would truly win the fight. The man's hair was graying and the first appearance of wrinkles had begun to distort his face. Though tough wrinkles around the eyebrows seemed to indicate that the man frowned more often than not, an amused smile was now upon his face.

"This is definitely an interesting experiment, leaking out that information to Mulder and the FBI after we had tagged them with those microphones."

The other man in the room nodded. This man seemed much taller and thinner with wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. He pulled a cigarette from his mouth, blowing the toxic smoke afterwards. A plastic smile pulled the edges of his lips upwards while his free hand rested comfortably in his pocket.

"It certainly is. I can only wonder if Alfred will find out that we were the ones who let the information out, and if Mulder will find out what the lad truly is," he said in a silky, amused tone.

"Only time will tell."

"Indeed."