AUTHOR: Kate M
EMAIL: Enigma806@aol.com
TITLE: Sword of Time
RATING: PG-13 for heaviness
CATEGORY: Crossover (XF/Star Trek: The Next Generation), Scully Angst, character death (in flashback), MSR/UST.
SUMMARY: After living under various disguises, Scully finally reveals her true self to someone. She's a changed woman, though, and explains why.
DISCLAIMER: Who owns The X-Files and all it's characters? "Not I," said little Kate. "Then who does?" asked the big, bad lawyers. "Chris Carter, 1013 and FOX," said little Kate. "And who owns the Star Trek people?" "Not I. 'Tis Paramount." (Sorry, spent *way* too much time babysitting this week! You read kiddie books, they stick with you! Just be glad I didn't try to "Green Eggs and Ham" this disclaimer!)
ARCHIVE: Sure. Send me the link. CoX, Gossamer, Empheral, and ATXC are all okay. If the ST archive wants this too, they can have it.
FEEDBACK: C'mon, folks. Don't make me beg.
SPOILERS: Scattered ones for seasons 1-7. Except "Requiem"and "En Ami" nothing season 7 you haven't seen overseas yet. Not a post-Requiem fic, but there are "Requiem" spoilers. A lot of "Tithonus" spoilers.
TIMELINE NOTE: Taking place in the Next Gen universe, it follows that timeline. All events that occurred in TNG history happened here. 'Course, I made up an event or two of my own... G.
NOTES: (Alternatively titled "Kate Tries to Explain 50 Million Story Quirks and Thank Everybody and Their Mother".) Response to Church of X July Challenge #1. I want to warn everyone upfront that Scully will be a little out of character at points in this fic...but I think you'll understand my reasoning as you read it. The POV changes at times (well, most of the story) to a first-person Scully POV. It'll occasionally turn rambling--it's written as if she's actually talking, telling the story--I just wanted to save myself the quotation marks. :) They tend to get lost after several paragraphs...grin Most of the character death is breezed over, but I think you'll understand once you read. Thanks to CoX for giving the challenge that gave me this idea, and to my buddy Dawn Rochelle for pointing out the uncanny similarities between Dana Scully and Beverly Crusher that got me thinking...just count yourselves lucky. A Highlander crossover also came to mind. (There can be only one...) You don't really have to know anything about Next Generation to get this one, just that Beverly Crusher is the chief medical officer of the Enterprise, and that her husband Jack died years ago. That's not a big part of the story at all, just information so you won't be confused. She also has a kid, but that's also mindless trivia in terms of the fic.
A *very* special thanks to everyone who helped me with this fic and all your wonderful ideas! Couldn't have done it without ya! Well...I could have, but it wouldn't have been near as good. BSirious tossed me the Skinner-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-conspiracy idea (you'll see)...hope you like what I've done with it, B! And you would not *believe* how many people wanted me to have auto-erotic asphyxiation in this thing somewhere! Is it? Well, read it and see...I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no...(yes, I know I'm evil).
------------------------------
The sword of time will pierce our skins.
It doesn't hurt when it begins,
But as it works its way on in--
The pain grows stronger...watch it grin...
"Suicide Is Painless"--Johnny Mandel
------------------------------
U.S.S Enterprise 1701-E
Approximate Old Earth date: May 24, 2373
Dr. Beverly Crusher paused in the hall, and waited for the door to slide open. She entered the quarters of the newest member of her medical staff. "Doctor? Could we talk?"
The smaller woman looked up at her from her perch on the bed. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
"I like to get to meet my medical staff, Dr. Mulder," Beverly replied. "Helps me relate to them better."
"Sure," the woman replied. "But if you don't mind, I haven't been one much for formality as of late. Ever since I got hooked up with Starfleet, it's been nothing but 'Dr. Mulder'."
Beverly chuckled. "All right, we'll drop it then. I know what you mean, though. Samantha, right? You can call me Beverly if you want."
Dr. Samantha Mulder grinned to herself, as if she were pondering a private joke. "Call me Dana."
"Sure," Beverly agreed, admittedly a bit confused. "Why Dana?"
"I've had a lot of names through the years, but I've always been partial to Dana. I don't suppose that's really too strange...it's the name I was born with."
"Why'd you change it to Samantha then?" Beverly asked. She'd felt a connection to this woman the second they'd met...as though they shared so much more in common than their fiery red hair and crystal-clear blue eyes. She felt a kindredship to her--not knowing why. Beverly loved learning more about her.
Dana shrugged. "I don't know. It was one of the few I'd never had the...well, the emotional strength, if you will, to try. Thought it'd be a nice change of pace."
"Emotional strength?"
"The name 'Samantha Mulder'...it has a lot of intense personal memories attached to it for me," Dana admitted, moving to the couch. "I doubt I'll ever be able to go by Dana Mulder...Samantha was about as close as I could get without breaking down every time I heard my name."
Beverly pondered this, and slowly smiled. "I get the impression there was someone special in your life named Mulder."
"'Special' is the understatement of the year." Dana's expression grew wistful. "Mulder and I were soulmates. It took me much too long to realize it. I should have been Dana Mulder in *his* lifetime. Lord knows he gave me enough opportunities. I was just too much of a fool to realize it. Giving myself his name now...it would be too hard. So I used his sister's. He loved her very much, you know..."
Beverly hadn't really heard the last two sentences, or if she had, she hadn't paid attention. Her own memories, thought long buried, were rising to the surface. "I know how you feel, Dana. I know that sounds incredible, but believe me, I do. After my husband died, it was so hard to hear people call me Beverly Crusher. I'd lost him...but after awhile, I realized I needed that one part of him more than anything. Well, more than anything except for our son. But in time, I gave up the ideas of going back to my maiden name. Because the best way to keep his memory alive was to carry his name. Do you get what I'm saying?"
Dana nodded. "Yeah, I get it. And you make a very good point. But in the long run, what I call myself is irrelevant. The only one I'm keeping his memory alive for is myself. Everyone who ever knew him is dead now--myself being the notable exception. I'll keep the name another thirty years, perhaps forty...maybe even shorter if I tire of it before then...but then I'll fake my death, and change it, and fake some more birth records, and start over. Like I've been doing for longer than I care to remember. I've had many names. Christine Carter...Charlene Boyce...Kimberly Raven...they've all been me. There are a lot more, too...I was Margaret Skinner for a little while. It wouldn't mean anything to you, but *I* found it quite amusing."
"I'll take your word for it," Beverly said, smiling. "So why the act? Why keep changing your identity?"
"Because I don't want anyone to get suspicious," Dana explained. "I don't even know why I'm telling you. I trust few people anymore--well, I haven't really trusted anyone for the longest time. But I feel I can trust you, Beverly. Don't ask me why, but I don't deny my feelings often. Not anymore. So I'll tell you the truth about me...my whole story. But I do ask that it not leave this room."
"Of course," Beverly promised. "You've got my word."
"Good." Dana sighed, in a contemplative way. "I'm hardly the same person I used to be. But after so long, I've stopped worrying about that. Times change. People change. That's just the way life is. And, boy, should I know. Immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be. It's not a gift; it's a curse. At least in my experience. I should have listened to Fellig."
"Hmmm?"
Dana waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, long story. I suppose you're wondering about the immortality thing."
"I must admit I'm curious." Beverly settled back in her chair, and pulled her hair away from her face. "But I assume you're getting ready to tell me more."
"I'm functionally immortal, and I hate it. Despise it. Sure, it's been wonderful seeing humanity progress, but it's too stiff a price for me." Dana paused, and continued with her story. "I was born as Dana Katherine Scully, in '64. *19*64. To make a long story short, as I best understand it, I didn't die when my time came. Another took my place...a man who had warned me about the downside of immortality. I didn't listen to him. I didn't see how there could be such a thing as 'too much life'. I was wrong. You *can* have too much life."
Beverly--normally very open to different ideas--surprised herself with the tiniest hint of skepticism. "You were born in 1964?"
"I know this sounds more than a little crazy," the other woman sighed, "but I swear it's the truth. I was an agent with the FBI--Federal Bureau of Investigation. That's how I met Mulder. He was my partner. We didn't trust each other at first...neither of us believed a word the other said...but that changed quickly. We became best friends. He once told me I was the only one he trusted. We'd have laid down our lives for each other, no questions asked. We almost did a few times. It was dangerous work, but we loved it. It was an obsession for him...it was his life. And, as a result, it became mine. Then things happened...our division was closed down. We were assigned to boring assignments like background checks. It was because we'd gotten too close to the truth. The powers-that-were didn't like that. So they took it away from us. On one of those assignments I was assigned a new partner. His name was Peyton Ritter. Frankly, I didn't like him. But our suspect claimed to be immortal because he'd missed his chance at death. Some nurse had taken his place when it had been his time to die. So he went looking for death, for dying people, so he could face death and die. He hated his immortality. He'd only had 160 or so years of it, but that was more than enough for him. I thought he was crazy." She paused, looking down. "Now I know just how right he was."
"So you have a death wish?" Beverly asked, a little worried for her new friend's state of mind.
"No, not in the traditional sense. I've started to enjoy this life for now. I feel useful at least. I wish I could die, but I don't want to die right now."
"I see," Beverly replied, vowing to completely understand that last sentence eventually. "So what happened to make *you* immortal?"
Scully shrugged. "Ritter shot me. It was an accident, really...more or less. He didn't know I was in the room, he shot at our suspect, and the bullet went through Fellig and into me."
"Fellig was your suspect?" Beverly guessed. She was answered by a nod.
"Mmm-hmm. Anyhow, I would have bled to death before the ambulance got there. I was a doctor back then too, I knew these things. Besides, I could see death out of the corner of my eye. Or what I thought was death. I was there, dying. Then Fellig said something like, 'Close your eyes.' I knew what he had in mind. I actually lost consciousness at that point. Then I woke up in the hospital and was told I would live. But Fellig was dead. I knew what had happened."
"He took your place," Beverly said, comprehending. "He faced death for you...and you were left with the immortality."
"Precisely." Scully blew a lock of auburn hair away from her eyes. "I threw out the possibility at first, for years and years. I knew that people did not live forever, and that was that. Fellig had been extremely lucky throughout life, the way I saw it. I thought the ambulance had gotten there sooner and saved me. But I never thought I'd live forever. I guess I first noticed that something was kind of strange when I didn't seem to be getting any older after a point. I got to about 45, and I quit aging. Which was great, just strange. And then when I had lived well past my normal lifespan...well, I knew. So I faked my death, and started a new life elsewhere with a new name. It wasn't hard. It's easy for a doctor to fake a birth certificate, you should know that. I've kept up the same routine since. I go back to med school every 20 years or so to keep up...unless I just feel like taking a break from medicine for a while. My different personas have a tendency to die fairly young...55, 60. It saves me from having to explain why I literally have not aged a day. But if I really like it, a little makeup and haircolor can last me another few years. But it's the same cycle, over and over. I'm really sick of it. I'm over 400 years old!"
"I know someone who has you beat," Beverly replied good-naturedly, trying to cheer her up.
"Yeah, Guinan." Scully chuckled. "I met her back in 2026, in San Francisco. I think she's the only other person who knows my secret." She leaned closer to Beverly, looking at her seriously. "You know how they say the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence? It's true. People think living forever would be wonderful. It's a living hell sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. Everyone I ever knew when I started out life, when I had my life as I loved it...they're all dead. Mulder, my family, Walter Skinner, the Lone Gunmen...my daughters. They all died *centuries* ago! After my daughter Vera died is when the 'novelty' really wore off. It wasn't just the pain of losing a child...it was the pain of knowing that I was all alone too. Vera was all I had left. She was the only one...and then she died. And I didn't. I never would. I was sick of it. I was sick of it before then, too...but losing Vera was when I reached the end of my rope, so to speak."
"So do you want to tell me about it?" Beverly asked, then realized she sounded just like a psychologist. Ah, well, blame it on one too many late-night chats with Deanna.
"Sure, why not? You wanted the whole story, you'll get it. But this is gonna take awhile."
"No rush. We both just got off duty, remember?"
"Of course," Scully said. She paused a moment, and took a deep breath before continuing. "Feel free to cut me off at anytime, now."
And she began to tell her tale.
XXXXXXXX
Okay, it's like I told you. I was born on February 23, 1964, the third of four children. Billy was 7 when I was born, Missy was 2...and Charlie was born a year and a half later. My parents' names were William and Margaret. I was a tomboy when I was younger...my sister Melissa tried to feminize me once I was about 13, maybe 14. I was basically a happy, normal kid--or at least as normal as a Navy brat's life gets.
I'd always wanted to be a doctor, ever since I was six years old. Medicine was my first love. So I went to med school, I graduated...and on my graduation day I was contacted by a scout from the FBI. I took him up on his offer, and set aside my medical career to be a special agent for the FBI. I thought it would be the best use of my talents, the best way to make a difference. I became a forensic pathologist, and did some teaching at Quantico. I was pretty happy with my life, even though my parents still saw the FBI as an act of total rebellion. But I think they were more worried about my getting hurt than anything. Looking back on it now, they were probably right in that aspect. But in a way, they shouldn't have worried. I mean, just look at me now.
Then things changed. I was assigned to debunk what was known as the X-Files Project. It was just a project then, not a division. Mulder and I turned it into a division, with a little help from our boss, Walter Skinner. When Mulder and I were assigned to work together, we didn't exactly hit it off at first, but after an unusual trip to the "very plausible" state of Oregon, things started to change. Our very first case pulled us closer. We were the best of friends before anyone knew it. And I'd learned that there was a massive conspiracy there as well. "They" shut us down, and I was kidnapped by a man named Duane Barry shortly thereafter. I was turned over to others, and all I know for certain is that hideous tests were done to me. I'd rather not dwell on it. I was returned three months later, Mulder managed to get the X-Files back, and things went somewhat smoothly until the office was all but destroyed in a fire. It was a fire set to get rid of the X-Files for good; I'm still convinced of that to this day. A lot of other things happened, and it was during the time that Mulder and I were off the Files that I had my little adventure with Ritter and Fellig in New York City.
Oh, what about after that? Well, we had some definite adventures--including a haunted house that I'll have to tell you all about. Another time. It's a long story too, and I like to deal with one long story at a time. I'm kind of glazing over seven years worth of the X-Files, forgive me. Most of it isn't relevant. Except the one time a man named Clyde Bruckman was forecasting how I would die. He said I didn't. I thought he was flirting with me at the time; he had been earlier. Sometimes I wonder if he really was psychic after all.
Things really got interesting when Mulder was abducted. I found out I was pregnant shortly after that. We'd never slept together, it seemed impossible. And I certainly hadn't been seeing anyone. But I *had* been drugged by an...enemy...of ours a couple of months earlier, and as it turns out, he arranged for me to get pregnant during those hours. With Mulder's baby, no less. That was Vera. Her name meant "truth" and "faith"...the cornerstones of everything Mulder and I had searched for all those years. She was born a month before Mulder was returned. You should have seen the look on his face when I walked into that hospital room carrying her.
XXXXXXXX
"I'd imagine it was priceless," Beverly said, laughing.
Scully's expression livened a bit. "Priceless doesn't even begin to describe it. Especially since I wasn't able to *have* children."
"Huh?"
"It takes a lot of explanation...but during that time that I was missing, they did something to me that left me infertile. They also harvested my ova...to create children that they could run hideous experiments on."
Beverly gasped, thinking of her own child for a moment. "That's awful!"
"I found one of them, you know," Scully sighed, her eyes cast downward as she remembered the all-too-short life of her little girl. "She was three years old--her name was Emily. She looked just like my sister."
"What happened to her?" Beverly asked, fearing the answer.
"She had a rare form of anemia--they'd given it to her to test cures for it. She got sick...and eventually, she slipped into a coma, and died." The last words were extremely difficult for Scully, even after all these years. The pain of Emily's death sometimes was as fresh and real as if it had happened yesterday--as was the pain of all the deaths she'd had to endure in her life. Losing her children had been, without a shadow of a doubt, the hardest...but that didn't mean the others had been easy. Especially not Mulder. She didn't like to think about that, though, so she shifted her train of thought.
"I'm sorry," Beverly whispered. Her heart went out to the other woman--both as a mother and a doctor. She couldn't believe that there had been such evil in the 20th century world that there were men who would do things like that, least of all to a child. What truly scared her sometimes was the knowledge that the same evil still existed in the 24th century, lurking in the dark corners of the human (and not human, for that matter) psyche. Oh, great, now she was sounding like a psychologist again.
Scully managed a little half-smile, and nodded. "I was luckier with Vera, though. It was something I worried about for a long time, but she was perfectly healthy little girl. Normal in every way except her conception...and perhaps her parentage. And when Mulder found out everything about her, he was thrilled. He would have been a wonderful father to her."
"Would have been?" Beverly asked gently.
"We couldn't raise her on our own," Scully explained. "We had the means, the ability, and certainly the love...but not the safety. It was simply too dangerous--for Vera, not us. There were men who'd have made her a test subject like Emily...men who'd have killed her without a second thought...and men who wanted her just for who she was. We had to let my brother Charlie raise her. Well, Charlie and his wife. They had 3 kids already and were happy to take her--and they lived in England. It was farther away from 'ground zero', so to speak. Plus, Charlie didn't despise Mulder the way Bill did. So all in all, it was a good deal."
"Did you see her?"
"When we could. But she grew up thinking I was her aunt and Mulder was nothing more to her than a friend of mine that she happened to like. We couldn't bring ourselves to tell her the truth then. We didn't want her to feel like we'd abandoned her. So we didn't tell her that we were her parents. And we made my family swear not to tell her either."
"So what happened then?"
A tiny smile flitted across Scully's lips, and she sighed. "Well..."
XXXXXXXX
Things were really good for awhile, with the exception of Vera's absence. Most people in the Bureau knew that Vera was my daughter and Mulder's, they just assumed that she had been conceived in the natural way. We let them think what they wanted. After all, it gave them something to talk about. We didn't move in with each other, though...I think that really threw them for a loop. But we didn't care what they said. Mulder even asked me to marry him once, seriously. Like a fool, I turned him down as gently as I could. I didn't want to hurt him, but I wasn't ready to marry him. Looking back on it now, I realize I was scared. You know that feeling? You want something so badly, yet you're terrified of it. It was ridiculous. Actually, a song comes to mind. I hate the singer...you wouldn't know about Britney Spears, Beverly, just consider yourself lucky. But "sometimes I'm scared of you...when all I really want is to hold you tight". That was me with Mulder. Britney Spears actually served a purpose after all. It's a miracle. I only wish someone like Shania Twain or Celine Dion had sung the song. I actually liked them. Maybe Leanne Rhimes? Forget it. I'm getting way off track, and confusing you besides.
Things took a turn for the worse awhile later. Mulder died, and things were never the same after that. Not really. Oh, Skinner was wonderful, as were the Lone Gunmen. They were so supportive...but it didn't matter. Mulder was gone, and that was all I could comprehend for the longest time.
Oh, the Lone Gunmen? They were some friends of ours...conspiracy theorists, actually. I'd always thought they were slightly bent, but they were wonderful friends. Sometimes I don't know how I'd have ever made it without them.
A few months after Mulder died, I was finally able to go back to the X-Files. I figured that I'd have to carry the torch, like I did when he was gone...but this time for good. In retrospect, I'm almost glad we didn't have Vera with us then...actually, I *am* glad of it. She was spared seeing me the way I was at the time. I was a mess...but I eventually managed to pull it together and go on.
As it turned out, Skinner had dated a woman named Jana Cassidy back in their Academy days. She was another assistant director of the FBI...frankly, I didn't trust her, mainly because of the past between us. But it always seemed to me she was up to something.
When Cassidy wanted his help on a special investigation of hers, I was suspicious. I told Skinner as much, but he thought I was just being overly cautious because of losing Mulder. While that may have been true, it wasn't the whole story. He didn't listen to me, and decided to help his old girlfriend out anyway. I don't blame his generosity; I only wish he'd taken the time to look at it more closely. To see what he was getting himself into.
Sure enough, he was in over his head before he knew it. I tried to help him, but there really wasn't much I could do by that point except wish he'd have taken my advice in the first place and stayed the heck out of it. Jana Cassidy was a conniving little witch; I'd always known it. Or, rather, suspected it. I had proof, finally, but it was a little too high a price for my tastes. Some of my best proof has taken too high a price.
I can't remember exactly what trigged it, but I soon realized that their plan all along had been to use Skinner and lose him. They were going to kill him when he no longer fit their purposes. And, sadly enough, these people had the money, the connections, and the manpower to murder an assistant director and actually get away with it. I called him at home, but there wasn't an answer, so I rushed over to his apartment to warn him.
I was too late.
Always too late, I think sometimes. Too late to help Mulder, too late to save Skinner. Too late to say goodbye to Missy and have it mean something. Too late to find Emily, too late to find a cure for her. Too late for so much else.
Logically, I realize it isn't my fault that Skinner was killed. It was Jana Cassidy's, her little conspiracy's. But I blamed myself for months for being too late. That's not to say that I never do anymore, but it's gotten to a point where it doesn't occupy my thoughts every hour of every day. In other words, it's manageable. There's not a day that goes by I don't wish I had it all to do over, to change things. Sure, he'd have still died of other causes eventually, but I could have at least spared him the kind of death he faced. Shot in the chest, twice, point-blank range. My only comfort is in knowing that it was quick.
Would I haven taken his place, faced death for him? At the time, yes. In retrospect--no, because I now know about the immortality thing. And this is a fate I wouldn't wish on anyone. Well, maybe CGB Spender--but it wouldn't do me any good because he was pure evil. He'd just continue playing his games. And he never felt anything. The man shot his own son! How much far gone can one get? No...releasing an immortal CGB Spender on the world would be like inviting Armageddon.
When Vera was fifteen, I finally told her the truth about her past. I was so afraid she'd turn away from me, knowing how I'd all but lied to her for so long. But she didn't. With the miraculous love only a child can give, she turned *to* me instead. She never questioned a thing. Never questioned my motives. It still amazes me. But kids always keep you guessing.
She was so much like her father--I really learned that once she came to live with me. She had his quick intelligence, and quicker wit...she even looked a lot like him. After awhile, she even decided that she wanted to take his name. Charlie had nicknamed her "Destiny"...it was short for Destiny's Child. I always thought it was cute, but I had no clue just how *true* it was. I wouldn't for some time. She had been given to me--given to us--to serve a purpose. I think she knew it subconsciously all the time, but never realized it. I know every mother had high hopes for her child, but even this was beyond my wildest dreams. More on that later. If I get out of a sort of chronological order now, I'll never catch up. I may be immortal, but I'm not perfect. Hell, I never claimed to be.
XXXXXXXX
My mother's death was very hard for me--we were extremely close. But I took a small amount of solace in knowing that she had died peacefully--naturally, in her sleep.
Vera was a godsend through that. I know she was taking it pretty hard too, but she was there, by my side, the whole time. Always lending me a shoulder to cry on--or anything else I needed. I'd seen too much death in my life by then. It was so much different when I was working...forensic pathology is different. A new body on the autopsy table, nothing spectacular there. Another person died and it was my job to find out how. I might have felt for them, but I was always separated from it. After Mom died...I don't know, I guess it was the straw that broke my back. I couldn't do it anymore. I was sick of death.
There was a job opening at Georgetown University Medical Center...I took it. I still had my medicine--I hadn't gone so far as to throw everything away and do something completely different--but I went back to school for a little while and took a course in obstetrics. I could bring lives *into* the world for once, instead of figuring out why they'd left it. I'd only ever delivered one baby before that--and it had been an emergency situation--but I'd really liked it, in the end. So I resigned from the Bureau. I didn't lose my enemies in doing so, but at least I was a little happier. I'd started to heal after Mom's death...I had Vera...and the Gunmen were still on my side as ever. Things were all right. Nowhere near as good as they could have been, of course, but I'd almost gotten used to having a bunch of crap in my life. I was dealing with it, and rather well, I thought.
Until the accident.
Until fate decided to screw with my life yet again.
XXXXXXXX
I forget where we were going at the time, or why we were going there. In a way, I'm glad I wasn't cursed with Mulder's nearly photographic memory. Sometimes it's good to forget a few things every now and then.
In any case, Byers and I were driving on the Beltway when the accident happened. That wasn't unusual in and of itself--accidents were common on the Beltway. And I don't think it was *planned*, I just think we just had the bad luck to be in a wreck when some idiot was driving "under the influence". But it was one more piece of crap in my life that I really could have done without.
I remember coming to, and feeling something in my eyes--my blood. I'd gotten used to seeing blood--even my own blood--and lots of it. Even delivering babies brought with it a certain amount of blood--it's something you never can escape in the medical profession. You know that, of course...but the one thing I could never get used to was seeing other people's blood spilled so needlessly. I'm not squeamish--and even if I were, my work on the X-Files would have cured me of that--but I can't stand to see my friends suffering. Especially over something so stupid. Like a freaking car accident. Caused by a stupid drunk driver.
I remember how bad it looked. Luckily, it looked a lot worse than it was, but I was terrified at the time that I was going to lose another one of my friends right then and there. There was blood, everywhere. I should have known it wasn't as awful as it seemed right off the bat...Byers was trying to smooth his hair back into place and calm me down. I don't want to make him seem vain--really, he wasn't. Not at all. It's just that...well, you'd really have had to known John Byers. He always wore these 3-piece suits, despite the weather. Could've been the dog days of August, he'd still be in one of his suits...complete with natty tie. His hair was always perfect...his beard was always trimmed the same way. That's just the way he was. Some people thought he was obsessive-compulsive, and I can see their point. But if something was different about the way Byers looked--*that's* when we all started to worry.
All in all, we lucked out in the accident, if you really want to put it that way. The worst that was done to Byers were a few nasty cuts and a broken arm; I was just cut and bruised. But I think there was some psychological damage too. No, I *know* there was.
I'd developed the same abandonment issues I'd always cursed in Mulder. I was positively terrified that I was going to lose the people that I was closest too. Most people could understand it, but I hated any kind of weakness in myself. I always had. So I talked to Karen Kossef. She and I had a long-standing relationship, and she was one of the few people left that I could really confide in by that point. Oh, sure, I could confide in the Gunmen too...but this was one of those problems that I just couldn't see myself taking to them. I knew what I'd get. "We'll always be there." "We'll never leave you."
Those hollow reassurances weren't what I wanted.
I heard a song on the radio on the way to meet Karen. "Save Yourself", I think it was called. It wasn't my usual brand of music, but I listened to it anyway. "I cannot save you...I can't even save myself. So just save yourself." Amazing how stupid little details like that stick with you through the years. It struck me that this was my problem, in a way. I had--somehow or another--managed to get it into my head that I had to save everyone. And I couldn't. I was helpless myself in some ways. Okay, so maybe that wasn't totally my problem. But it was a good enough explanation at the time. I did go to see Karen, still, but it was mostly lip service. I figured I'd solved my own problem. I should have realized by then that solving my own problems led to most of my problems. Karen even suggested to me that many of my problems might stem from the fact that I never really told Mulder how I felt about him. She was kind enough to warn me that telling everyone how much they really meant to me wouldn't solve my problems...but it might make me feel a little better. At least I listened to her on that. It *didn't* provide an instant solution. But at least I knew none of them would have to wonder. I did feel a little better.
Most people I've talked to wonder why the accident was even that significant, in the scheme of things, if we were both all right. I wondered about that myself for a time. Then I realized that it was the one thing that made me wake up and realize I needed help, and shouldn't be afraid to go seek it. I needed to realize it, and it was better sooner than later. I'd already waited long enough.
XXXXXXXX
"So what happened after that?" Beverly asked. "From your tone, I'm assuming things improved somewhat."
"Yeah," Scully answered, "fortunately, they did. Langly had a run-in with a psychopathic serial killer with an obsession for crucifixion, but things turned out okay. He escaped, if just barely."
"'Psychopathic serial killer with an obsession for crucifixion?" Beverly asked, half-disbelieving.
"Sometimes it's best not to ask too many questions." Scully half-smiled. "That was definitely one of the odder situations Langly got himself into. But, other than that, everything was fine...until about 2019."
"When the new alliance really got strong?" Beverly asked, a bit surprised. She thought that had been a good thing.
"Yes, but it's the reasoning behind it. The alliance was started in 2017 by corrupt men in our government, Beverly. Men who knew what was coming. I suspected as much at the time...Vera was convinced of it. Most people thought we were just paranoid. But the alliance was nowhere near as strong as it could have been, and that's why it fell so easily when World War III broke out. 2019 is when it really picked up speed and everyone was truly enchanted with it."
"Except you and your daughter?"
"And the Lone Gunmen, of course." Scully shrugged. "Probably others, but no one we knew."
"So what happened?" Beverly asked, truly intrigued. She hadn't heard a story like this in a very long time--and all of it was true. That was the most interesting part.
"Well, you know that World War III broke out in 2053. But what you don't know--what they've never told you--is that it had been planned for years beforehand. *Decades*. Maybe even centuries, if you listen to some people's theories. It was in 2025 that things got *really* interesting."
XXXXXXXX
It isn't in your history books, Beverly--and it never will be--but World War III's first battle did not take place on March 28, 2053. It was on August 16, 2025. I'll never forget the date. I'd suffer more personal loss, I'd be wounded myself...and I'd deny everything later. Oh, not the personal loss--I'll never deny that. But I saw things that day...that simply couldn't be explained by my science or my belief system. So I denied seeing what I saw and chalked it up to traumatic stress.
You have to understand something. By the limits of 20th century science...extraterrestrial life was simply implausible, if not impossible. We didn't think warp drive was even possible! So, being a scientist--and a skeptic by nature--I completely discounted the possibility of aliens. Mulder and I counterbalanced each other nicely--he was a believer, all the way. So was Vera. I swear she had to have inherited that from him...Charlie never really had an opinion on the subject and Lord knows I never encouraged the idea.
But on that one day in 2025, I have to say my convictions were tested if not shaken.
It started innocently enough, but it always seems that everything does. I'd just gotten off work--earlier than usual, in fact. Vera met me for a late lunch, and we headed over to the Lone Gunmen's lair. I don't know what else to call it, frankly. They lived there, they worked there, they rarely *left* there... In any case, we ended up at their personal headquarters. Langly said that they had something strange for us to look at.
"Check this out," he said, showing us a video screen with a man's face on it. "Now where have we seen him before?"
"That's the Bounty Hunter!" I exclaimed, recognizing the man immediately.
"The alien Bounty Hunter?" Frohike asked.
I remember muttering something about how he wasn't an alien, and we didn't know what he was really up to. He was a man who had the ability to shapeshift. At the time, I figured--rather, reasoned to myself--that he had an extra layer of muscle right under the skin or something that allowed for this. We'd seen it happen before, with a man named Eddie VanBlundht. Mulder had reasoned that our shapeshifting friend was a sort of bounty hunter, so that's what we called him. We didn't know who he really was. I know now what he really was, but I still couldn't tell you who.
Vera was on edge, more so than usual. She had a sort of spooky sixth sense when something was going to happen--something else she'd gotten from her father. I'd learned that inexplicable as those premonitions might have been, they were worth listening to. So we decided to play it safe the rest of that day. The Gunmen went with Vera and I to the Bounty Hunter's last known location. We knew full well that we were tempting fate, but a part of me missed this--the excitement, the thrill of the chase...something I never got from medicine, much as I may have loved it.
There was a group of people there, and I felt strangely drawn to them. Not drawn emotionally, but physically. It was probably the chip I had in my neck--the one that was keeping my cancer in check. I think the Gunmen picked up on this right away. I'd never told Vera about the chip, so she didn't suspect a thing.
That's when we saw the Bounty Hunter. He was arguing with a man who had no face. Literally, he had no face. He--like others of his kind--had burned their faces, mutilated themselves, in exchange for a weird sort of protection. We'd called them the Faceless Rebels. They were in a war of sorts with the Bounty Hunter's people, a war that had been raging for centuries.
I don't know if you heard of the Georgetown Massacre or not, but that's what it was. That's what they called it.
It began when the Rebel was joined by several more...and apparently the Bounty Hunter had backup too. The people who were there...who'd either wandered by or been "called" there...they were innocent bystanders. We all were. But they were killed anyway. Not just by fire--which was the Rebels' only defense--but also by the Bounty Hunter's more...physical tactics.
We were innocent bystanders, but we didn't sit idly by. We fought. We fought long and hard...and lost. The Rebels were trying to destroy the Bounty Hunter aliens' work. The Bounty Hunters were trying to thwart the Rebel efforts. Those of us who were there and fought weren't fighting for either side. We were simply fighting to stay alive.
The media later called the incident the Georgetown Massacre. I suppose it was an appropriate enough title, even if it wasn't *technically* in Georgetown. They assumed a couple of gang members had started the whole thing. They didn't know the truth.
Things wouldn't have been as bad, but people pulled guns, and started shooting wildly. I understand their reasoning--they were scared, and being attacked, and they didn't know why. But more people got hurt. More people died. Luckily, no one hit any of the Bounty Hunters there...their blood contains a retrovirus that's deadly to humans--and to the Rebels. That's why the Rebels mutilated themselves they way the did. To protect themselves.
Out of the 78 people there that night (not counting the Rebels or the Bounty Hunters), only 7 survived. Those who didn't get caught in the Rebel flames were either killed by the Bounty Hunters or caught by a stray bullet.
I shouldn't have lived through that night, by any means. I was shot...I remember the blinding pain as the bullet tore into my chest. I remember collapsing to the ground--then waking up in the hospital. Vera was by my side, her arm in a sling. She told me that I was unbelievably lucky to have lived. At first, I thought she was just scared by the chest wound...but then I read my chart. I should have died almost instantly. The bullet was a through-and-through--given Fellig's physical reaction to such things, it doesn't surprise me. But it nicked my aorta before ripping through the rest of my chest. I'd have bled to death right then and there. But I didn't. And that's when I knew.
Forget what I said earlier about outliving my normal lifespan. I was already suspicious about the immortality issue, given that I hadn't been aging. But when I saw my chart, the extent of my injuries...I knew. I knew I'd inherited Fellig's curse. Given that I was awake and alert the day after the injury (and surgery), there was no longer any doubt in my mind.
XXXXXXXX
Beverly frowned--not in disbelief, she was just trying to figure this out. "So you *can* be injured?"
Scully chuckled softly. "I'm immortal, Beverly, not invincible. Yes, I can be injured, but I somehow manage to pull through every time, extremely quickly, and be perfectly fine. Fellig was different--it wouldn't even phase him. But in a way, I kind of like it. Makes me still feel somewhat human in a way."
"What happened after you woke up?" Beverly asked.
The smile faded from Scully's face, and she sighed, obviously battling her emotions. It was obvious this was the continuation of another dark chapter in the story of her life.
XXXXXXXX
EMAIL: Enigma806@aol.com
TITLE: Sword of Time
RATING: PG-13 for heaviness
CATEGORY: Crossover (XF/Star Trek: The Next Generation), Scully Angst, character death (in flashback), MSR/UST.
SUMMARY: After living under various disguises, Scully finally reveals her true self to someone. She's a changed woman, though, and explains why.
DISCLAIMER: Who owns The X-Files and all it's characters? "Not I," said little Kate. "Then who does?" asked the big, bad lawyers. "Chris Carter, 1013 and FOX," said little Kate. "And who owns the Star Trek people?" "Not I. 'Tis Paramount." (Sorry, spent *way* too much time babysitting this week! You read kiddie books, they stick with you! Just be glad I didn't try to "Green Eggs and Ham" this disclaimer!)
ARCHIVE: Sure. Send me the link. CoX, Gossamer, Empheral, and ATXC are all okay. If the ST archive wants this too, they can have it.
FEEDBACK: C'mon, folks. Don't make me beg.
SPOILERS: Scattered ones for seasons 1-7. Except "Requiem"and "En Ami" nothing season 7 you haven't seen overseas yet. Not a post-Requiem fic, but there are "Requiem" spoilers. A lot of "Tithonus" spoilers.
TIMELINE NOTE: Taking place in the Next Gen universe, it follows that timeline. All events that occurred in TNG history happened here. 'Course, I made up an event or two of my own... G.
NOTES: (Alternatively titled "Kate Tries to Explain 50 Million Story Quirks and Thank Everybody and Their Mother".) Response to Church of X July Challenge #1. I want to warn everyone upfront that Scully will be a little out of character at points in this fic...but I think you'll understand my reasoning as you read it. The POV changes at times (well, most of the story) to a first-person Scully POV. It'll occasionally turn rambling--it's written as if she's actually talking, telling the story--I just wanted to save myself the quotation marks. :) They tend to get lost after several paragraphs...grin Most of the character death is breezed over, but I think you'll understand once you read. Thanks to CoX for giving the challenge that gave me this idea, and to my buddy Dawn Rochelle for pointing out the uncanny similarities between Dana Scully and Beverly Crusher that got me thinking...just count yourselves lucky. A Highlander crossover also came to mind. (There can be only one...) You don't really have to know anything about Next Generation to get this one, just that Beverly Crusher is the chief medical officer of the Enterprise, and that her husband Jack died years ago. That's not a big part of the story at all, just information so you won't be confused. She also has a kid, but that's also mindless trivia in terms of the fic.
A *very* special thanks to everyone who helped me with this fic and all your wonderful ideas! Couldn't have done it without ya! Well...I could have, but it wouldn't have been near as good. BSirious tossed me the Skinner-on-the-wrong-side-of-the-conspiracy idea (you'll see)...hope you like what I've done with it, B! And you would not *believe* how many people wanted me to have auto-erotic asphyxiation in this thing somewhere! Is it? Well, read it and see...I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no...(yes, I know I'm evil).
------------------------------
The sword of time will pierce our skins.
It doesn't hurt when it begins,
But as it works its way on in--
The pain grows stronger...watch it grin...
"Suicide Is Painless"--Johnny Mandel
------------------------------
U.S.S Enterprise 1701-E
Approximate Old Earth date: May 24, 2373
Dr. Beverly Crusher paused in the hall, and waited for the door to slide open. She entered the quarters of the newest member of her medical staff. "Doctor? Could we talk?"
The smaller woman looked up at her from her perch on the bed. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
"I like to get to meet my medical staff, Dr. Mulder," Beverly replied. "Helps me relate to them better."
"Sure," the woman replied. "But if you don't mind, I haven't been one much for formality as of late. Ever since I got hooked up with Starfleet, it's been nothing but 'Dr. Mulder'."
Beverly chuckled. "All right, we'll drop it then. I know what you mean, though. Samantha, right? You can call me Beverly if you want."
Dr. Samantha Mulder grinned to herself, as if she were pondering a private joke. "Call me Dana."
"Sure," Beverly agreed, admittedly a bit confused. "Why Dana?"
"I've had a lot of names through the years, but I've always been partial to Dana. I don't suppose that's really too strange...it's the name I was born with."
"Why'd you change it to Samantha then?" Beverly asked. She'd felt a connection to this woman the second they'd met...as though they shared so much more in common than their fiery red hair and crystal-clear blue eyes. She felt a kindredship to her--not knowing why. Beverly loved learning more about her.
Dana shrugged. "I don't know. It was one of the few I'd never had the...well, the emotional strength, if you will, to try. Thought it'd be a nice change of pace."
"Emotional strength?"
"The name 'Samantha Mulder'...it has a lot of intense personal memories attached to it for me," Dana admitted, moving to the couch. "I doubt I'll ever be able to go by Dana Mulder...Samantha was about as close as I could get without breaking down every time I heard my name."
Beverly pondered this, and slowly smiled. "I get the impression there was someone special in your life named Mulder."
"'Special' is the understatement of the year." Dana's expression grew wistful. "Mulder and I were soulmates. It took me much too long to realize it. I should have been Dana Mulder in *his* lifetime. Lord knows he gave me enough opportunities. I was just too much of a fool to realize it. Giving myself his name now...it would be too hard. So I used his sister's. He loved her very much, you know..."
Beverly hadn't really heard the last two sentences, or if she had, she hadn't paid attention. Her own memories, thought long buried, were rising to the surface. "I know how you feel, Dana. I know that sounds incredible, but believe me, I do. After my husband died, it was so hard to hear people call me Beverly Crusher. I'd lost him...but after awhile, I realized I needed that one part of him more than anything. Well, more than anything except for our son. But in time, I gave up the ideas of going back to my maiden name. Because the best way to keep his memory alive was to carry his name. Do you get what I'm saying?"
Dana nodded. "Yeah, I get it. And you make a very good point. But in the long run, what I call myself is irrelevant. The only one I'm keeping his memory alive for is myself. Everyone who ever knew him is dead now--myself being the notable exception. I'll keep the name another thirty years, perhaps forty...maybe even shorter if I tire of it before then...but then I'll fake my death, and change it, and fake some more birth records, and start over. Like I've been doing for longer than I care to remember. I've had many names. Christine Carter...Charlene Boyce...Kimberly Raven...they've all been me. There are a lot more, too...I was Margaret Skinner for a little while. It wouldn't mean anything to you, but *I* found it quite amusing."
"I'll take your word for it," Beverly said, smiling. "So why the act? Why keep changing your identity?"
"Because I don't want anyone to get suspicious," Dana explained. "I don't even know why I'm telling you. I trust few people anymore--well, I haven't really trusted anyone for the longest time. But I feel I can trust you, Beverly. Don't ask me why, but I don't deny my feelings often. Not anymore. So I'll tell you the truth about me...my whole story. But I do ask that it not leave this room."
"Of course," Beverly promised. "You've got my word."
"Good." Dana sighed, in a contemplative way. "I'm hardly the same person I used to be. But after so long, I've stopped worrying about that. Times change. People change. That's just the way life is. And, boy, should I know. Immortality isn't all it's cracked up to be. It's not a gift; it's a curse. At least in my experience. I should have listened to Fellig."
"Hmmm?"
Dana waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, long story. I suppose you're wondering about the immortality thing."
"I must admit I'm curious." Beverly settled back in her chair, and pulled her hair away from her face. "But I assume you're getting ready to tell me more."
"I'm functionally immortal, and I hate it. Despise it. Sure, it's been wonderful seeing humanity progress, but it's too stiff a price for me." Dana paused, and continued with her story. "I was born as Dana Katherine Scully, in '64. *19*64. To make a long story short, as I best understand it, I didn't die when my time came. Another took my place...a man who had warned me about the downside of immortality. I didn't listen to him. I didn't see how there could be such a thing as 'too much life'. I was wrong. You *can* have too much life."
Beverly--normally very open to different ideas--surprised herself with the tiniest hint of skepticism. "You were born in 1964?"
"I know this sounds more than a little crazy," the other woman sighed, "but I swear it's the truth. I was an agent with the FBI--Federal Bureau of Investigation. That's how I met Mulder. He was my partner. We didn't trust each other at first...neither of us believed a word the other said...but that changed quickly. We became best friends. He once told me I was the only one he trusted. We'd have laid down our lives for each other, no questions asked. We almost did a few times. It was dangerous work, but we loved it. It was an obsession for him...it was his life. And, as a result, it became mine. Then things happened...our division was closed down. We were assigned to boring assignments like background checks. It was because we'd gotten too close to the truth. The powers-that-were didn't like that. So they took it away from us. On one of those assignments I was assigned a new partner. His name was Peyton Ritter. Frankly, I didn't like him. But our suspect claimed to be immortal because he'd missed his chance at death. Some nurse had taken his place when it had been his time to die. So he went looking for death, for dying people, so he could face death and die. He hated his immortality. He'd only had 160 or so years of it, but that was more than enough for him. I thought he was crazy." She paused, looking down. "Now I know just how right he was."
"So you have a death wish?" Beverly asked, a little worried for her new friend's state of mind.
"No, not in the traditional sense. I've started to enjoy this life for now. I feel useful at least. I wish I could die, but I don't want to die right now."
"I see," Beverly replied, vowing to completely understand that last sentence eventually. "So what happened to make *you* immortal?"
Scully shrugged. "Ritter shot me. It was an accident, really...more or less. He didn't know I was in the room, he shot at our suspect, and the bullet went through Fellig and into me."
"Fellig was your suspect?" Beverly guessed. She was answered by a nod.
"Mmm-hmm. Anyhow, I would have bled to death before the ambulance got there. I was a doctor back then too, I knew these things. Besides, I could see death out of the corner of my eye. Or what I thought was death. I was there, dying. Then Fellig said something like, 'Close your eyes.' I knew what he had in mind. I actually lost consciousness at that point. Then I woke up in the hospital and was told I would live. But Fellig was dead. I knew what had happened."
"He took your place," Beverly said, comprehending. "He faced death for you...and you were left with the immortality."
"Precisely." Scully blew a lock of auburn hair away from her eyes. "I threw out the possibility at first, for years and years. I knew that people did not live forever, and that was that. Fellig had been extremely lucky throughout life, the way I saw it. I thought the ambulance had gotten there sooner and saved me. But I never thought I'd live forever. I guess I first noticed that something was kind of strange when I didn't seem to be getting any older after a point. I got to about 45, and I quit aging. Which was great, just strange. And then when I had lived well past my normal lifespan...well, I knew. So I faked my death, and started a new life elsewhere with a new name. It wasn't hard. It's easy for a doctor to fake a birth certificate, you should know that. I've kept up the same routine since. I go back to med school every 20 years or so to keep up...unless I just feel like taking a break from medicine for a while. My different personas have a tendency to die fairly young...55, 60. It saves me from having to explain why I literally have not aged a day. But if I really like it, a little makeup and haircolor can last me another few years. But it's the same cycle, over and over. I'm really sick of it. I'm over 400 years old!"
"I know someone who has you beat," Beverly replied good-naturedly, trying to cheer her up.
"Yeah, Guinan." Scully chuckled. "I met her back in 2026, in San Francisco. I think she's the only other person who knows my secret." She leaned closer to Beverly, looking at her seriously. "You know how they say the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence? It's true. People think living forever would be wonderful. It's a living hell sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. Everyone I ever knew when I started out life, when I had my life as I loved it...they're all dead. Mulder, my family, Walter Skinner, the Lone Gunmen...my daughters. They all died *centuries* ago! After my daughter Vera died is when the 'novelty' really wore off. It wasn't just the pain of losing a child...it was the pain of knowing that I was all alone too. Vera was all I had left. She was the only one...and then she died. And I didn't. I never would. I was sick of it. I was sick of it before then, too...but losing Vera was when I reached the end of my rope, so to speak."
"So do you want to tell me about it?" Beverly asked, then realized she sounded just like a psychologist. Ah, well, blame it on one too many late-night chats with Deanna.
"Sure, why not? You wanted the whole story, you'll get it. But this is gonna take awhile."
"No rush. We both just got off duty, remember?"
"Of course," Scully said. She paused a moment, and took a deep breath before continuing. "Feel free to cut me off at anytime, now."
And she began to tell her tale.
XXXXXXXX
Okay, it's like I told you. I was born on February 23, 1964, the third of four children. Billy was 7 when I was born, Missy was 2...and Charlie was born a year and a half later. My parents' names were William and Margaret. I was a tomboy when I was younger...my sister Melissa tried to feminize me once I was about 13, maybe 14. I was basically a happy, normal kid--or at least as normal as a Navy brat's life gets.
I'd always wanted to be a doctor, ever since I was six years old. Medicine was my first love. So I went to med school, I graduated...and on my graduation day I was contacted by a scout from the FBI. I took him up on his offer, and set aside my medical career to be a special agent for the FBI. I thought it would be the best use of my talents, the best way to make a difference. I became a forensic pathologist, and did some teaching at Quantico. I was pretty happy with my life, even though my parents still saw the FBI as an act of total rebellion. But I think they were more worried about my getting hurt than anything. Looking back on it now, they were probably right in that aspect. But in a way, they shouldn't have worried. I mean, just look at me now.
Then things changed. I was assigned to debunk what was known as the X-Files Project. It was just a project then, not a division. Mulder and I turned it into a division, with a little help from our boss, Walter Skinner. When Mulder and I were assigned to work together, we didn't exactly hit it off at first, but after an unusual trip to the "very plausible" state of Oregon, things started to change. Our very first case pulled us closer. We were the best of friends before anyone knew it. And I'd learned that there was a massive conspiracy there as well. "They" shut us down, and I was kidnapped by a man named Duane Barry shortly thereafter. I was turned over to others, and all I know for certain is that hideous tests were done to me. I'd rather not dwell on it. I was returned three months later, Mulder managed to get the X-Files back, and things went somewhat smoothly until the office was all but destroyed in a fire. It was a fire set to get rid of the X-Files for good; I'm still convinced of that to this day. A lot of other things happened, and it was during the time that Mulder and I were off the Files that I had my little adventure with Ritter and Fellig in New York City.
Oh, what about after that? Well, we had some definite adventures--including a haunted house that I'll have to tell you all about. Another time. It's a long story too, and I like to deal with one long story at a time. I'm kind of glazing over seven years worth of the X-Files, forgive me. Most of it isn't relevant. Except the one time a man named Clyde Bruckman was forecasting how I would die. He said I didn't. I thought he was flirting with me at the time; he had been earlier. Sometimes I wonder if he really was psychic after all.
Things really got interesting when Mulder was abducted. I found out I was pregnant shortly after that. We'd never slept together, it seemed impossible. And I certainly hadn't been seeing anyone. But I *had* been drugged by an...enemy...of ours a couple of months earlier, and as it turns out, he arranged for me to get pregnant during those hours. With Mulder's baby, no less. That was Vera. Her name meant "truth" and "faith"...the cornerstones of everything Mulder and I had searched for all those years. She was born a month before Mulder was returned. You should have seen the look on his face when I walked into that hospital room carrying her.
XXXXXXXX
"I'd imagine it was priceless," Beverly said, laughing.
Scully's expression livened a bit. "Priceless doesn't even begin to describe it. Especially since I wasn't able to *have* children."
"Huh?"
"It takes a lot of explanation...but during that time that I was missing, they did something to me that left me infertile. They also harvested my ova...to create children that they could run hideous experiments on."
Beverly gasped, thinking of her own child for a moment. "That's awful!"
"I found one of them, you know," Scully sighed, her eyes cast downward as she remembered the all-too-short life of her little girl. "She was three years old--her name was Emily. She looked just like my sister."
"What happened to her?" Beverly asked, fearing the answer.
"She had a rare form of anemia--they'd given it to her to test cures for it. She got sick...and eventually, she slipped into a coma, and died." The last words were extremely difficult for Scully, even after all these years. The pain of Emily's death sometimes was as fresh and real as if it had happened yesterday--as was the pain of all the deaths she'd had to endure in her life. Losing her children had been, without a shadow of a doubt, the hardest...but that didn't mean the others had been easy. Especially not Mulder. She didn't like to think about that, though, so she shifted her train of thought.
"I'm sorry," Beverly whispered. Her heart went out to the other woman--both as a mother and a doctor. She couldn't believe that there had been such evil in the 20th century world that there were men who would do things like that, least of all to a child. What truly scared her sometimes was the knowledge that the same evil still existed in the 24th century, lurking in the dark corners of the human (and not human, for that matter) psyche. Oh, great, now she was sounding like a psychologist again.
Scully managed a little half-smile, and nodded. "I was luckier with Vera, though. It was something I worried about for a long time, but she was perfectly healthy little girl. Normal in every way except her conception...and perhaps her parentage. And when Mulder found out everything about her, he was thrilled. He would have been a wonderful father to her."
"Would have been?" Beverly asked gently.
"We couldn't raise her on our own," Scully explained. "We had the means, the ability, and certainly the love...but not the safety. It was simply too dangerous--for Vera, not us. There were men who'd have made her a test subject like Emily...men who'd have killed her without a second thought...and men who wanted her just for who she was. We had to let my brother Charlie raise her. Well, Charlie and his wife. They had 3 kids already and were happy to take her--and they lived in England. It was farther away from 'ground zero', so to speak. Plus, Charlie didn't despise Mulder the way Bill did. So all in all, it was a good deal."
"Did you see her?"
"When we could. But she grew up thinking I was her aunt and Mulder was nothing more to her than a friend of mine that she happened to like. We couldn't bring ourselves to tell her the truth then. We didn't want her to feel like we'd abandoned her. So we didn't tell her that we were her parents. And we made my family swear not to tell her either."
"So what happened then?"
A tiny smile flitted across Scully's lips, and she sighed. "Well..."
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Things were really good for awhile, with the exception of Vera's absence. Most people in the Bureau knew that Vera was my daughter and Mulder's, they just assumed that she had been conceived in the natural way. We let them think what they wanted. After all, it gave them something to talk about. We didn't move in with each other, though...I think that really threw them for a loop. But we didn't care what they said. Mulder even asked me to marry him once, seriously. Like a fool, I turned him down as gently as I could. I didn't want to hurt him, but I wasn't ready to marry him. Looking back on it now, I realize I was scared. You know that feeling? You want something so badly, yet you're terrified of it. It was ridiculous. Actually, a song comes to mind. I hate the singer...you wouldn't know about Britney Spears, Beverly, just consider yourself lucky. But "sometimes I'm scared of you...when all I really want is to hold you tight". That was me with Mulder. Britney Spears actually served a purpose after all. It's a miracle. I only wish someone like Shania Twain or Celine Dion had sung the song. I actually liked them. Maybe Leanne Rhimes? Forget it. I'm getting way off track, and confusing you besides.
Things took a turn for the worse awhile later. Mulder died, and things were never the same after that. Not really. Oh, Skinner was wonderful, as were the Lone Gunmen. They were so supportive...but it didn't matter. Mulder was gone, and that was all I could comprehend for the longest time.
Oh, the Lone Gunmen? They were some friends of ours...conspiracy theorists, actually. I'd always thought they were slightly bent, but they were wonderful friends. Sometimes I don't know how I'd have ever made it without them.
A few months after Mulder died, I was finally able to go back to the X-Files. I figured that I'd have to carry the torch, like I did when he was gone...but this time for good. In retrospect, I'm almost glad we didn't have Vera with us then...actually, I *am* glad of it. She was spared seeing me the way I was at the time. I was a mess...but I eventually managed to pull it together and go on.
As it turned out, Skinner had dated a woman named Jana Cassidy back in their Academy days. She was another assistant director of the FBI...frankly, I didn't trust her, mainly because of the past between us. But it always seemed to me she was up to something.
When Cassidy wanted his help on a special investigation of hers, I was suspicious. I told Skinner as much, but he thought I was just being overly cautious because of losing Mulder. While that may have been true, it wasn't the whole story. He didn't listen to me, and decided to help his old girlfriend out anyway. I don't blame his generosity; I only wish he'd taken the time to look at it more closely. To see what he was getting himself into.
Sure enough, he was in over his head before he knew it. I tried to help him, but there really wasn't much I could do by that point except wish he'd have taken my advice in the first place and stayed the heck out of it. Jana Cassidy was a conniving little witch; I'd always known it. Or, rather, suspected it. I had proof, finally, but it was a little too high a price for my tastes. Some of my best proof has taken too high a price.
I can't remember exactly what trigged it, but I soon realized that their plan all along had been to use Skinner and lose him. They were going to kill him when he no longer fit their purposes. And, sadly enough, these people had the money, the connections, and the manpower to murder an assistant director and actually get away with it. I called him at home, but there wasn't an answer, so I rushed over to his apartment to warn him.
I was too late.
Always too late, I think sometimes. Too late to help Mulder, too late to save Skinner. Too late to say goodbye to Missy and have it mean something. Too late to find Emily, too late to find a cure for her. Too late for so much else.
Logically, I realize it isn't my fault that Skinner was killed. It was Jana Cassidy's, her little conspiracy's. But I blamed myself for months for being too late. That's not to say that I never do anymore, but it's gotten to a point where it doesn't occupy my thoughts every hour of every day. In other words, it's manageable. There's not a day that goes by I don't wish I had it all to do over, to change things. Sure, he'd have still died of other causes eventually, but I could have at least spared him the kind of death he faced. Shot in the chest, twice, point-blank range. My only comfort is in knowing that it was quick.
Would I haven taken his place, faced death for him? At the time, yes. In retrospect--no, because I now know about the immortality thing. And this is a fate I wouldn't wish on anyone. Well, maybe CGB Spender--but it wouldn't do me any good because he was pure evil. He'd just continue playing his games. And he never felt anything. The man shot his own son! How much far gone can one get? No...releasing an immortal CGB Spender on the world would be like inviting Armageddon.
When Vera was fifteen, I finally told her the truth about her past. I was so afraid she'd turn away from me, knowing how I'd all but lied to her for so long. But she didn't. With the miraculous love only a child can give, she turned *to* me instead. She never questioned a thing. Never questioned my motives. It still amazes me. But kids always keep you guessing.
She was so much like her father--I really learned that once she came to live with me. She had his quick intelligence, and quicker wit...she even looked a lot like him. After awhile, she even decided that she wanted to take his name. Charlie had nicknamed her "Destiny"...it was short for Destiny's Child. I always thought it was cute, but I had no clue just how *true* it was. I wouldn't for some time. She had been given to me--given to us--to serve a purpose. I think she knew it subconsciously all the time, but never realized it. I know every mother had high hopes for her child, but even this was beyond my wildest dreams. More on that later. If I get out of a sort of chronological order now, I'll never catch up. I may be immortal, but I'm not perfect. Hell, I never claimed to be.
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My mother's death was very hard for me--we were extremely close. But I took a small amount of solace in knowing that she had died peacefully--naturally, in her sleep.
Vera was a godsend through that. I know she was taking it pretty hard too, but she was there, by my side, the whole time. Always lending me a shoulder to cry on--or anything else I needed. I'd seen too much death in my life by then. It was so much different when I was working...forensic pathology is different. A new body on the autopsy table, nothing spectacular there. Another person died and it was my job to find out how. I might have felt for them, but I was always separated from it. After Mom died...I don't know, I guess it was the straw that broke my back. I couldn't do it anymore. I was sick of death.
There was a job opening at Georgetown University Medical Center...I took it. I still had my medicine--I hadn't gone so far as to throw everything away and do something completely different--but I went back to school for a little while and took a course in obstetrics. I could bring lives *into* the world for once, instead of figuring out why they'd left it. I'd only ever delivered one baby before that--and it had been an emergency situation--but I'd really liked it, in the end. So I resigned from the Bureau. I didn't lose my enemies in doing so, but at least I was a little happier. I'd started to heal after Mom's death...I had Vera...and the Gunmen were still on my side as ever. Things were all right. Nowhere near as good as they could have been, of course, but I'd almost gotten used to having a bunch of crap in my life. I was dealing with it, and rather well, I thought.
Until the accident.
Until fate decided to screw with my life yet again.
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I forget where we were going at the time, or why we were going there. In a way, I'm glad I wasn't cursed with Mulder's nearly photographic memory. Sometimes it's good to forget a few things every now and then.
In any case, Byers and I were driving on the Beltway when the accident happened. That wasn't unusual in and of itself--accidents were common on the Beltway. And I don't think it was *planned*, I just think we just had the bad luck to be in a wreck when some idiot was driving "under the influence". But it was one more piece of crap in my life that I really could have done without.
I remember coming to, and feeling something in my eyes--my blood. I'd gotten used to seeing blood--even my own blood--and lots of it. Even delivering babies brought with it a certain amount of blood--it's something you never can escape in the medical profession. You know that, of course...but the one thing I could never get used to was seeing other people's blood spilled so needlessly. I'm not squeamish--and even if I were, my work on the X-Files would have cured me of that--but I can't stand to see my friends suffering. Especially over something so stupid. Like a freaking car accident. Caused by a stupid drunk driver.
I remember how bad it looked. Luckily, it looked a lot worse than it was, but I was terrified at the time that I was going to lose another one of my friends right then and there. There was blood, everywhere. I should have known it wasn't as awful as it seemed right off the bat...Byers was trying to smooth his hair back into place and calm me down. I don't want to make him seem vain--really, he wasn't. Not at all. It's just that...well, you'd really have had to known John Byers. He always wore these 3-piece suits, despite the weather. Could've been the dog days of August, he'd still be in one of his suits...complete with natty tie. His hair was always perfect...his beard was always trimmed the same way. That's just the way he was. Some people thought he was obsessive-compulsive, and I can see their point. But if something was different about the way Byers looked--*that's* when we all started to worry.
All in all, we lucked out in the accident, if you really want to put it that way. The worst that was done to Byers were a few nasty cuts and a broken arm; I was just cut and bruised. But I think there was some psychological damage too. No, I *know* there was.
I'd developed the same abandonment issues I'd always cursed in Mulder. I was positively terrified that I was going to lose the people that I was closest too. Most people could understand it, but I hated any kind of weakness in myself. I always had. So I talked to Karen Kossef. She and I had a long-standing relationship, and she was one of the few people left that I could really confide in by that point. Oh, sure, I could confide in the Gunmen too...but this was one of those problems that I just couldn't see myself taking to them. I knew what I'd get. "We'll always be there." "We'll never leave you."
Those hollow reassurances weren't what I wanted.
I heard a song on the radio on the way to meet Karen. "Save Yourself", I think it was called. It wasn't my usual brand of music, but I listened to it anyway. "I cannot save you...I can't even save myself. So just save yourself." Amazing how stupid little details like that stick with you through the years. It struck me that this was my problem, in a way. I had--somehow or another--managed to get it into my head that I had to save everyone. And I couldn't. I was helpless myself in some ways. Okay, so maybe that wasn't totally my problem. But it was a good enough explanation at the time. I did go to see Karen, still, but it was mostly lip service. I figured I'd solved my own problem. I should have realized by then that solving my own problems led to most of my problems. Karen even suggested to me that many of my problems might stem from the fact that I never really told Mulder how I felt about him. She was kind enough to warn me that telling everyone how much they really meant to me wouldn't solve my problems...but it might make me feel a little better. At least I listened to her on that. It *didn't* provide an instant solution. But at least I knew none of them would have to wonder. I did feel a little better.
Most people I've talked to wonder why the accident was even that significant, in the scheme of things, if we were both all right. I wondered about that myself for a time. Then I realized that it was the one thing that made me wake up and realize I needed help, and shouldn't be afraid to go seek it. I needed to realize it, and it was better sooner than later. I'd already waited long enough.
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"So what happened after that?" Beverly asked. "From your tone, I'm assuming things improved somewhat."
"Yeah," Scully answered, "fortunately, they did. Langly had a run-in with a psychopathic serial killer with an obsession for crucifixion, but things turned out okay. He escaped, if just barely."
"'Psychopathic serial killer with an obsession for crucifixion?" Beverly asked, half-disbelieving.
"Sometimes it's best not to ask too many questions." Scully half-smiled. "That was definitely one of the odder situations Langly got himself into. But, other than that, everything was fine...until about 2019."
"When the new alliance really got strong?" Beverly asked, a bit surprised. She thought that had been a good thing.
"Yes, but it's the reasoning behind it. The alliance was started in 2017 by corrupt men in our government, Beverly. Men who knew what was coming. I suspected as much at the time...Vera was convinced of it. Most people thought we were just paranoid. But the alliance was nowhere near as strong as it could have been, and that's why it fell so easily when World War III broke out. 2019 is when it really picked up speed and everyone was truly enchanted with it."
"Except you and your daughter?"
"And the Lone Gunmen, of course." Scully shrugged. "Probably others, but no one we knew."
"So what happened?" Beverly asked, truly intrigued. She hadn't heard a story like this in a very long time--and all of it was true. That was the most interesting part.
"Well, you know that World War III broke out in 2053. But what you don't know--what they've never told you--is that it had been planned for years beforehand. *Decades*. Maybe even centuries, if you listen to some people's theories. It was in 2025 that things got *really* interesting."
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It isn't in your history books, Beverly--and it never will be--but World War III's first battle did not take place on March 28, 2053. It was on August 16, 2025. I'll never forget the date. I'd suffer more personal loss, I'd be wounded myself...and I'd deny everything later. Oh, not the personal loss--I'll never deny that. But I saw things that day...that simply couldn't be explained by my science or my belief system. So I denied seeing what I saw and chalked it up to traumatic stress.
You have to understand something. By the limits of 20th century science...extraterrestrial life was simply implausible, if not impossible. We didn't think warp drive was even possible! So, being a scientist--and a skeptic by nature--I completely discounted the possibility of aliens. Mulder and I counterbalanced each other nicely--he was a believer, all the way. So was Vera. I swear she had to have inherited that from him...Charlie never really had an opinion on the subject and Lord knows I never encouraged the idea.
But on that one day in 2025, I have to say my convictions were tested if not shaken.
It started innocently enough, but it always seems that everything does. I'd just gotten off work--earlier than usual, in fact. Vera met me for a late lunch, and we headed over to the Lone Gunmen's lair. I don't know what else to call it, frankly. They lived there, they worked there, they rarely *left* there... In any case, we ended up at their personal headquarters. Langly said that they had something strange for us to look at.
"Check this out," he said, showing us a video screen with a man's face on it. "Now where have we seen him before?"
"That's the Bounty Hunter!" I exclaimed, recognizing the man immediately.
"The alien Bounty Hunter?" Frohike asked.
I remember muttering something about how he wasn't an alien, and we didn't know what he was really up to. He was a man who had the ability to shapeshift. At the time, I figured--rather, reasoned to myself--that he had an extra layer of muscle right under the skin or something that allowed for this. We'd seen it happen before, with a man named Eddie VanBlundht. Mulder had reasoned that our shapeshifting friend was a sort of bounty hunter, so that's what we called him. We didn't know who he really was. I know now what he really was, but I still couldn't tell you who.
Vera was on edge, more so than usual. She had a sort of spooky sixth sense when something was going to happen--something else she'd gotten from her father. I'd learned that inexplicable as those premonitions might have been, they were worth listening to. So we decided to play it safe the rest of that day. The Gunmen went with Vera and I to the Bounty Hunter's last known location. We knew full well that we were tempting fate, but a part of me missed this--the excitement, the thrill of the chase...something I never got from medicine, much as I may have loved it.
There was a group of people there, and I felt strangely drawn to them. Not drawn emotionally, but physically. It was probably the chip I had in my neck--the one that was keeping my cancer in check. I think the Gunmen picked up on this right away. I'd never told Vera about the chip, so she didn't suspect a thing.
That's when we saw the Bounty Hunter. He was arguing with a man who had no face. Literally, he had no face. He--like others of his kind--had burned their faces, mutilated themselves, in exchange for a weird sort of protection. We'd called them the Faceless Rebels. They were in a war of sorts with the Bounty Hunter's people, a war that had been raging for centuries.
I don't know if you heard of the Georgetown Massacre or not, but that's what it was. That's what they called it.
It began when the Rebel was joined by several more...and apparently the Bounty Hunter had backup too. The people who were there...who'd either wandered by or been "called" there...they were innocent bystanders. We all were. But they were killed anyway. Not just by fire--which was the Rebels' only defense--but also by the Bounty Hunter's more...physical tactics.
We were innocent bystanders, but we didn't sit idly by. We fought. We fought long and hard...and lost. The Rebels were trying to destroy the Bounty Hunter aliens' work. The Bounty Hunters were trying to thwart the Rebel efforts. Those of us who were there and fought weren't fighting for either side. We were simply fighting to stay alive.
The media later called the incident the Georgetown Massacre. I suppose it was an appropriate enough title, even if it wasn't *technically* in Georgetown. They assumed a couple of gang members had started the whole thing. They didn't know the truth.
Things wouldn't have been as bad, but people pulled guns, and started shooting wildly. I understand their reasoning--they were scared, and being attacked, and they didn't know why. But more people got hurt. More people died. Luckily, no one hit any of the Bounty Hunters there...their blood contains a retrovirus that's deadly to humans--and to the Rebels. That's why the Rebels mutilated themselves they way the did. To protect themselves.
Out of the 78 people there that night (not counting the Rebels or the Bounty Hunters), only 7 survived. Those who didn't get caught in the Rebel flames were either killed by the Bounty Hunters or caught by a stray bullet.
I shouldn't have lived through that night, by any means. I was shot...I remember the blinding pain as the bullet tore into my chest. I remember collapsing to the ground--then waking up in the hospital. Vera was by my side, her arm in a sling. She told me that I was unbelievably lucky to have lived. At first, I thought she was just scared by the chest wound...but then I read my chart. I should have died almost instantly. The bullet was a through-and-through--given Fellig's physical reaction to such things, it doesn't surprise me. But it nicked my aorta before ripping through the rest of my chest. I'd have bled to death right then and there. But I didn't. And that's when I knew.
Forget what I said earlier about outliving my normal lifespan. I was already suspicious about the immortality issue, given that I hadn't been aging. But when I saw my chart, the extent of my injuries...I knew. I knew I'd inherited Fellig's curse. Given that I was awake and alert the day after the injury (and surgery), there was no longer any doubt in my mind.
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Beverly frowned--not in disbelief, she was just trying to figure this out. "So you *can* be injured?"
Scully chuckled softly. "I'm immortal, Beverly, not invincible. Yes, I can be injured, but I somehow manage to pull through every time, extremely quickly, and be perfectly fine. Fellig was different--it wouldn't even phase him. But in a way, I kind of like it. Makes me still feel somewhat human in a way."
"What happened after you woke up?" Beverly asked.
The smile faded from Scully's face, and she sighed, obviously battling her emotions. It was obvious this was the continuation of another dark chapter in the story of her life.
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