Chapter one

Moonlight flooded the empty street facing the apartment building. There were no clouds to hinder the twinkling stars in the heavens. Everything was at peace for her at that instant; no job to worry about, no-one there to bother or prod her. At that moment, Dana Scully was free from the world, conspiracies, the FBI, even Fox Mulder, her off-beat partner. Yet, even as she sat on the steps of the apartment building, gazing heavily into the cosmos, she knew deep down that it couldn't be that way. She knew she could not fool herself into believing what was untrue. Scully took a sip of espresso and set her mug down on her knee.

I have seen too much, she thought, and I can never turn back.

This revelation was something that she could at least fathom, but the whole truth was not something that could be as easily understood. It wasn't as trivial as this thought that filled her mind, and with that same thought, the evening was marred with unpleasantness. Here she was, trying to get some relaxation in the midst of her crazy life, and her reality had to sneak up behind her and devour the calmness.

Scully stood to go inside, taking a last drink from her mug of espresso. The coffee tasted as bitter as the truth, and she swallowed with a frown on her face. As she lowered the cup from her mouth, it slipped through her fingers and shattered against the concrete. She laughed in mockery of her unfortunate mug and the dismal outcome of the evening.

" 'Once upon a midnight dreary...' as they say," she muttered. She stooped down and cautiously picked up the shards of china. Shaking her head, she dumped the pieces into the trash can in the entryway and headed down the lonely hall to the elevator.

Turning the key in the lock, she stepped inside her apartment. The room was dark, though the streetlight flooded through the curtain, not the way she had left it. Had the lamp been on? Her door had been locked, she was sure of that, but what of the lamp? Scully didn't remember turning it off. I must have, she told herself. She thoughtlessly set her sticky hand on her wooden desk and reached across the endless stacks of papers and files; more work to keep her from having any kind of 'life.' Click! the switch turned but the light remained off. Click! Click! Again she turned the switch, and sighed to herself when nothing happened.

The bulb must have gone out when I was outside, she realized. She had worried about the light, but it had been an irrational concern. Her whole life was filled with irrational concerns! Scully felt silly, scolding herself for even thinking something was wrong, and laughed aloud at her fear, hoping to cover the unease in her stomach. She would have to get another bulb from the coat closet. It was as simple as that.

She went into the dark kitchen and flipped the light switch. But nothing happened. Scully quizzically flipped the switch again, but the light refused to turn on.

"That's strange," she muttered to herself as she washed off her hand. Halfway to the closet, Scully froze, her muscles tensing up, her mind shouting at her to prepare to defend herself from an unseen foe. Had she imagined the footstep? She pushed back the instinct to fight, one that came from years of being in the FBI. That would do no good. If someone was there, she would most likely be overpowered. Perhaps she had imagined the noise, but her senses told her something was wrong. She slowly turned around and heaved a sigh as she surveyed the very dark, but empty room.

Yet the thought still plagued Scully's mind, and she instinctually organized the options in her mind. Her gun was on her desk, too far away to reach if someone was really there. Or there was a base-ball bat in the closet, which she could reach with more ease. Not a noise had been heard since she had stopped moving, save the sound of her own breathing. Shaking off the chilling feeling that was creeping up her spine, Scully moved again toward the closet.

You need to relax, she told herself, You're turning into a paranoid mess. Reminds me of someone I know.

That was when the intruder struck, from behind. She tried to scream, but her assailant pressed a hand against her mouth and her arm was pinned behind her back in a painful joint-lock. A voice hissed into her ear.

"Don't move, and you don't die."

The voice was strangely familiar. Scully sharply took in a breath of air. She was imagining it; the voice wasn't... couldn't be...

She was shoved toward the couch and she tried to yell, but nothing came out. Instead she clamped her mouth shut as a syringe was pulled out of the darkness. The invader's face was still in shadow, yet Scully could tell by the slender fingers and sleek figure that it was a woman. She stepped forward and tapped the syringe, not rushing, almost daring Scully to cry out.

" 'Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered week and weary...Only this and nothing more.' Is that right, Agent Scully?"

She took one step forward, then another, until her figure loomed above, black as pitch. She plunged the needle into Scully's arm, and in doing so, moved forward into a beam of light that stole through the blinds from the street. As Scully's vision blurred, she gasped in shock. Her attacker was herself.

Spinning, twisting; everything was blurred. Blurred, but slowly coming into focus. There was no real pain, only slight discomfort. Scully woke to find herself bound and gagged in her bedroom. The darkness swarmed around her, threatening to swallow her whole. What she had seen now seemed like a day-dream; half true, half fantasy. She knew the possibilities, but this...this was far to much for her. She had been attacked before, many times, but nothing could ever come close to this assault. It left her with a strange feeling. What was it that she felt? Violation? Perhaps. Shock; anger; fear; aggression? It was far worse than an attack on the stairs of a governmental building, far more horrible than being kidnapped by Duane Berry or the deranged Donnie Pfaster. She shuddered at the thought of all these things she had gone through, realizing that those kind of situations just don't go away. Not when you're part of a governmental conspiracy. Not when you're Dana Scully.

That was when Dana 4 walked into the room, carrying a candle and a black knapsack. She looks exactly like me, thought Scully, a clone .

She wore black hiking boots which were mostly hidden by a pair of leather pants. Her hands were covered by finger-less biking gloves. A long black trench coat was tossed aside against the far wall. No wonder Scully hadn't seen her. The clone didn't turn around when she first addressed Scully.

"I cut the electricity. You'll have to deal with it for now."

Scully murmured incoherently, and the clone looked up with the same intelligent, piercing blue eyes. It was like looking into a mirror. Scully shivered, and shifted her gaze toward the floor. The clone approached her, pulling off her gloves, and crouched down, a blank look on her face.

"What? You want something?"

Scully nodded emphatically. At this the clone extended her hand, causing Scully to flinch, but instead of hitting her as she expected, the clone reached around the back of the frightened woman's head and began to untie the gag.

"If you scream, I'll have to kill you," she said in an emotionless voice. "Understand?"

Again Scully nodded. The clone removed the gag and set it aside. For a moment, Scully just sat there, shifting her sore jaw. After a moment, she found her voice and spoke.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

The answer came instantaneously, "Because I was told to. I was not made to question, just to perform. I don't mean to cause you any fear. My orders are not to assassinate you, but to replace you until further instructions are issued to me. As I told you before, I cut the power to your apartment. I'll have to turn it on again."

It sounded more like a programmed speech than an explanation. Scully pondered this a moment, trying to take in the situation, and then said, "What do I call you..." ...If I decide to talk to you at all, she thought maliciously.

The clone stood and paused before answering, "I am Dana 4. You may call me 4, if you would like."

"Four? Is... that's how many there are... isn't it..."

"Yes," she answered, "I will be returning shortly."

4 walked to the bed, and turned with another syringe.

"I'm sorry, but this is the only way..."

Then...

the darkness.

4 returned sometime later, just as the groggy Scully began to regain consciousness, this time carrying a glass of water. The grandfather clock that Scully had recently acquired struck one.

"Are you thirsty, Agent Scully?"