A/N: Ok. Mulder and Scully are not together yet. Obviously the first scene is colonization, so the rest is post colonization.

This should be better than my first. Should be. This time I have an outline that is great if I do say so myself, and I won't lose track of my characters like I did in my first. This one is planned. (HaHa, I know how it ends:)lol)

I could really use somebody to help me out, let me know what they honestly think, what needs work, etc. before I post something.If you're interested, email me. (The damn thing won't let me post my email, so it will be on my page.)

I can't promise regular installments (sorry). I was going to write it all and then post it, but I just couldn't help myself. I wanted to see what you guys think. So let me know!

Omniscient POV

A long, low rumble issued from the steadily blackening sky, though no sign of lightning was to be found. Scully shot a furtive glance at the city behind them – the city they were frantically running from – only to see families standing out on their lawns, looking skyward. Small toddlers buried themselves into their respective parental units, innately sensing an imminent threat. She felt a momentary pity for them, because they knew nothing of the peril they faced. "Scully, they're coming!" Mulder urged her, his voice echoing her own terror. If they hurried quickly enough, they might be able to take refuge inside one of the many caves that resided in the large cliffs that loomed above them. If not, they would be caught defenseless in the stretch of barren desert that lay between the city and its protective precipice.

Despite this, she stopped her sprint and allowed her gaze to rest upon the ever darkening heavens. A part of her might have felt abandoned by the god she had once put so much faith in. But more so than fear, or abandonment, was a sense of change. Later, she would isolate this single moment as the beginning of the long and bloody revolutionary war that followed. But all there seemed to be felt was the last of liberty, and of, in a sense, the last of humanity. Freedom sizzled in the air as if it were a dying spark. She was not the first to realize that life was about to drastically change.

Mulder's dexterity was excellent for the tall, lanky man he was, but even so, a miniature cloud of dust rose at his feet in his desperate attempt to stop. What in hell was she doing? "Scully! They're coming!" He pleaded as he shook her, and as her head fell slowly to allow her gaze to meet his, he saw in her eyes the reality they'd known all along. Somehow knowledge could not prepare them enough. He didn't think anything could.

"No Mulder," she shook her head, fear – horror – evident in her endlessly bright blue eyes. "They're already here." Without another word, they linked hands and ran like hell for the caves, still a hundred yards away.

The fact that they could very well get caught out here in the open hung like a thick mass in the air, oppressive and bleak. Even worse, the sky had begun to turn a shade of crimson red that resembled blood too much for comfort. They were near, and with just fifty feet left to go, Scully's foot caught and she crashed to the ground. Mulder spun around and yanked her up, an act she was extraordinarily thankful for. With a miraculous effort, they made the rest of the distance and ducked into a cave just as the first of the alien aircraft breached the clouds.

It was cloaked in a black deeper than a clear night sky, cold and never ending. It did not reflect light, and somehow that made it worse. Just watching, a frigid cold crept into her stomach worse than fear. It might have at one time resembled panic, but panic was an understatement. Shock came closer, and awe was in the ballpark. But this... this defied definition.

And then, of all things, she began to weep. Perhaps it was the loss of her family, perhaps the loss of life as it used to be. Perhaps she cried about her future, perhaps it was her past. Perhaps she was scared, for her or for Mulder, or perhaps it was all of these. Perhaps it was none. This I do not know, and don't pretend to.

She turned and buried her face, wet with tears, into his chest, and together they held each other, knowing the same thing. It whispered in the air, echoed off cliffs, rang in the thunder: This is the end.

Someone else was also watching as the first of the aircraft entered the ruby sky. His left hand was in his pocket, and with his right he took a long drag from his cigarette. Finished, he flicked it to the ground and withdrew his hand from his pocket to reveal a pack of Morleys. He took one out and lit it; his left hand and its contents returned to the pocket. After another long drag, he let his hand fall to his side as he tapped the ashes off the end. He sighed. It was going to be a long day.

No one knew much of this man. He held little satisfaction for the things he had caused, though the result of his work right in front of him. He was not proud. His job was self preservation – how could he be proud? He did not expect to get into heaven. He did not expect to be forgiven. He did not even expect mercy from the aliens. He knew that he would die. Everyone would. But self preservation was what he did, and he was going to try his damndest to succeed.

From behind him, a voice spoke, "Mulder and the woman are nowhere to be found; they left the city." The voice belonged to Alex Krycek. A small frown of disdain graced the man's lips, and then it was gone. "The caves below are being searched, but the hybrids say it could be days."

For this, the man said only two words of response. "Find them." And that was all.

In the midst of our journey together, we encountered a truth beyond which imagination could not so clearly describe. In our preparations, we failed to anticipate the magnitude of this truth and its result. We have been through my cancer and your death. We have solved a mystery whose nature is so horrifying that you felt my ignorance of it was far better than my knowledge and anticipation. We have encountered new obstacles now that the time for this truth has come and passed, and at this time, you must know that in torture and in death, my loyalty to you shall never waver, for beneath my breast beats a heart that is not simply mine but yours as well.

She woke entangled in his arms, her ear on his chest, his soft and slow heartbeat echoing in her mind. It gave her indescribable comfort just to know he was alive and holding her. She let her eyes drift closed once more, content as she was. His hand began to move up and down her back in a soft, soothing motion, and she knew that he had awakened, but chose not to say anything, and so did he. In the still quiet she reached out for his hand and took it in hers. They laced their fingers together and continued to lay together, his one arm moving up and down her back, his other holding her hand. She allowed her remaining hand to rest on his chest. Anyone watching would have seen two lovers, but this was not quite the case.

Slowly and without words they drifted asleep together once more in each other's arms, neither quite willing to admit that they could spend an entire lifetime that way. Their dreams were peaceful, and of wonderful things neither of them expected to see again. It was unfortunately their last joy for a time in a world falling apart around them.

The stars twinkled amidst a jet black sky. No moon was to be found, and perhaps that was just as well. Mulder had started a small fire deep inside the cave, minimizing the danger of being revealed but not eradicating it. They needed the warmth anyway. He stood watch now, at the mouth of the cave, leaving her in silence. It had been 2 nights, now going on 3, since the afternoon the aliens came. They had awoken after the first night, even more entangled in each other than when the night began, to see the remains of the nearby city. Everything had been burned, and the horrified screams of the dying still rang in the air as hybrids searched the wreckage.

The scene had been unbearable as bodies were tossed away, frozen with expressions of pain and fear. She had begun to cry when the small bodies of babies and toddlers split and broke as they hit the ground. Holding her, Mulder had cried too. Smoke still drifted from its ruins, but by now the hybrids had abandoned it.

Mulder's silence only continued.

By now she had begun to fear for him, afraid it was tearing him apart. Some things she just could not fix. And while he remained quiet, speaking only when he had to, in his eyes she saw the horror she had once held, the guilt she never had, and the grief she always will. The fire crackled once more, but Mulder remained still. In almost a whisper, she beckoned, "Mulder." For a moment he did not respond but continued watching the burned and barren city. Finally, just as she was about to repeat her plea once more, he turned to her and sat down.

Quietly, he whispered, "We have to leave." And they did; for so many reasons, she knew that it was imperative that they leave. She nodded. Almost as if he did not notice her agreement, he added, "We can't stay." He met her eyes then, and for the first time in days, he was completely there. And then, without warning, a tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, trailing down his cheek and dangling below his chin before falling. Again he repeated, "We can't stay."

And as he buried his face in his hands, she groped for words but did not know what to say.

Scully POV

William--

That was how it began. Many tears (A/N: Yes, tears.) later, I can see that. In the midst of this nightmare, I sometimes lose sight of the life I had before that afternoon, before I knew of the oncoming disaster. Sometimes remembering helps. Sometimes it doesn't. Adjusting to life has been difficult for the both of us, and sometimes we help each other through the pain. Sometimes we're better off doing it alone. I can't help thinking about what my life would have been like if I never would have met Mulder. And when I'm really bitter, my fantasy life without him is fabulous. It's just a small secret, a dirty little secret, but I know every other minute of our life that Mulder is everything to me.

Things are different than they used to be. When you were born, you didn't have to fight for a bowl of beans. You could sleep without watch because we all assumed we were safe. Home wasn't a bowl of dust; we had grass and trees and water was plentiful and clean. The president wasn't forcing women to birth "our future soldiers of humanity." The fighting age was 18, not 10. Military service was voluntary, and no one had thought to take 2-year old boys and girls out of their homes and raise them to kill.

Wherever you are, William, I pray every day that you found a way to escape these horrors.

I pray that you don't sleep under that stars, ready for attack. I pray that you are not forced to pile the bloody bodies of your comrades and light fire to them. I pray you don't have a captain to whip you for misfiring. I pray you have not found your way into a POW camp.

But a part of me prays that you are dead, too, so that you would not know the life that is before me now.

Your father has refused to fight, and due to his status, they have allowed us to be immune to the horrors of this war. But I know that you could be out there, shooting at hybrid children, battling with adult aliens.

If ever you should find this, I want you to know that I love you, and so does Mulder, and we would have done everything in out power to prevent you from fighting, if only we could find you. And perhaps you were lucky and escaped. But I know that in all reality, you probably weren't. You are probably mercilessly slitting the throats of unknowing hybrids, stabbing stilettos in the necks of aliens.

Know that if we had chosen to fight, we would have done so right alongside you.

William POV

My comrades and I, once a brigade of 400, now dwindle to perhaps fifty if we we're lucky, and as we perch in quiet amongst the trees, I reflect on all that I have seen in this war. I was just a kid when colonization began, and I don't really remember much. I was taken from my adoptive parents right after the invasion, and taken to fight with the Humanity Arms. I was just a kid – I remember that well. I was sacred, and at first I could barely shoot a gun. Whipped constantly, it wasn't until I was about 11 that I was of any use to the Arms. I can still remember why.

It was at that age that they told me about my parents.

I'm going to find them someday. I swear it.

My thoughts were interrupted by a bullet that nicked my ear. I can feel the warm blood flowing down my neck and being absorbed in my shirt. Along with my other comrades, I leap from the branch I was sitting on, moving in the general direction of the enemy. More bullets whiz past, some of them lit on fire. One of my buddies retreats, aflame. I run past him.

This is what war does to a person.

I breach the forest. I don't like what I see. In the open pasture is what remains of our guard. Blood and ash is all that remain. The rest of my unit has paused too, and almost at the same time we charge. We meet the invaders head-on. I shoot and stab and light whoever stands in front of me. Faced with a hybrid unit, I think enough of us might survive long enough to make it back to the main camp. Though luck seems to have graced us, I never rely on luck.

Then I freeze. Before me is a hybrid. A kid, really, and nothing more. Maybe 10 or 11, and I can't help but remember myself at that age. Though I'm 17 now, I recognize in his eyes exactly what used to be in mine: sheer terror. He can barely hold a gun. He's covered in blood, and I think I know what he's been doing. I think he's been hiding under the bodies.

So I do the only thing I know to do, the very thing I was trained to do. I shoot him.

Like I said, this is what war does to people.

I wake screaming, just as I always do. Tears streaming down my face and sweat running down my chest, I assure myself that I'm not that heartless. Really.

It's at these times I wish I could know my mom, to feel her hold me and rock me after my nightmares. She'd tell me that I'm the tenderest person she knows, that she's proud of me, that she loves me always.

And in the still quiet, endless black of my tent, I begin to cry again, this time for a different reason.

Omniscient POV

Scully's eyes blazed open in the dark of her and Mulder's little shanty hut. They'd lived in this little dust bowl for about a week now, the longest they'd ever stayed in one place in a long time. She'd never heard that sort of noise before. Mulder's eyes flew open beside her.

It had been almost natural to them to sleep together (A/N: But not sleep together, if you know what I mean.) and when Mulder suggested that it may be better (for protection, of course!) she knew he was right. It wouldn't do them much good this night, however.

There it was again. "Shhh," Mulder cautioned. They both knew the noise well. The cocking of guns. From beneath his pillow he drew a gun, and she followed suit. Then something unexpected happened.

It happened quick, and thinking back, Mulder marveled at how little chance they had. They could hearfluid hitting the ground outside the hut, and though Scully was clueless as to its purpose, Mulder leapt up to his feet. "We have to go!" And with that they dashed out of the hut just as it was being lit aflame.

They stopped at a dead halt at their door. They were surrounded by guns, all aimed at them. The masked men were laughing as they dragged Mulder and Scully helplessly away...

A/N: So what do you guys think? I have to know, please! The button is right there, just go ahead and do it! It will make my day:) :)