Part Two

Scully is just pulling into the driveway when he arrives, breathless. He bends forward and puts his hands against his knees, heaving. The heat isn't helping either; he thinks he might faint. Maybe he's not such a good runner as he has believed.

She catches sight of him through the windshield. Her forehead creases in what seems like confusion before she slowly gets out of the car. "Mulder?" she calls in his direction. He straightens up slowly, feeling every sore muscle in the process. Yeah, he's definitely too old for this. "What's wrong?"

She's about to come towards him, but he raises a hand to stop her. "No. Get back in the car."

"What? What are you talking about?"

He's catching up with her by then, and touches the small of her back, guiding her forward. This small gesture brings back memories, but he refuses to let nostalgia sidetrack him now. "I'll explain on the way, just come on."

"O… kay," she says slowly, giving him another curious look, but does as he asks.

It's still cooler inside the car, as the affect of the air conditioning hasn't completely worn off yet. He leans back in the passenger seat as she's putting the keys back in the ignition and pulls out of the driveway. His heart is still beating like crazy.

"So where am I going?" she asks, peeking sideways at him as they hit the main road.

"The main beach, as fast as you can."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"When we get there."

She laughs softly to herself, but doesn't face him. Nonetheless, the sound intrigues him.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just… You're acting all weird and cryptic again. Like old times. I think I just didn't realize how much I missed it."

"Going into the darkness with me?"

"Is that what I'm unknowingly doing right now?"

"Just the opposite, if I'm right."

He knows that she would have preferred a reply which is less vague than the one he's given her, just as well as he knows he should just tell her of his suspicions, but he can't find the words. He doesn't even know where to start. Even he, who will believe practically anything, can barely believe this. And besides, he knows her too well. She will never believe him without seeing it with her own eyes.

The road is incredibly shorter while driving. He springs out of the car as soon as she kills the engine, and hurries to help her out.

"Seriously, Mulder, what is going on?" she asks, having spent the entire drive in silence. There's a hint of impatience in her tone.

He puts his hands against her shoulders, locking his gaze with hers, but words still fail him. He struggles to speak. "When I was here earlier, I thought I saw…"

"What? You thought you saw what?"

"There was a bunch of kids playing on the beach. I thought one of them was…"

There's a faint glimmer in her eyes, as though she understands what he's desperately trying to tell her. She doesn't gasp or try to convince him it was all in his head. She says nothing, waiting for him to continue.

"I needed you to come and see for yourself."

She doesn't say anything for a long, excruciating moment. When she finally speaks, her voice is calm, but she is obviously shaken. "Where… where are they?"

"Just over there," he replies, gently taking her hand. "Come on."

xxxxx

She doesn't protest as he leads her forward. He doesn't need his photographic memory to know exactly where he's going. It is a small beach and he remembers exactly where the children were when he had first spotted them, less than an hour ago.

But when they finally get there, aside for three old ladies sunbathing in the distance, the beach is completely deserted. The silence is piercing; the sound of small waves crushing against the shore is mocking. He feels deflated, and even more defeated as he feels her eyes on him. He doesn't turn to face her, knowing that if he does, they will be filled with unuttered questions, or worse, tears.

"They were right here," he says, pointing at the place where he has seen the children play not too long ago. Then something in that spot catches his eye and he bolts forward. There's a castle, as well as other structures which are less definitive, in the sand.

He kneels next to the castle and traces his finger along its contours, feeling at loss. Her hand covers his, and he turns slowly to face her. Her eyes burn with emotion. Mostly it seems she feels sorry for him. He can only imagine what she must be thinking. Probably about how deluded he is, first chasing the phantom of his sister, then that of his long gone son.

"I'm not making this up," he says stubbornly as he rises to his feet.

"I didn't say that you were," she protests, hurrying after him. Storming away in the sand is difficult; she catches up with him in no time. "What makes you think it was him?"

"I saw him before." The words startle her. He can tell as much. "In my dreams. I see him often. He… looks exactly like you."

Her expression softens. She looks as if she's making enormous efforts not to cry. "Funny," she says eventually, and her voice is on the verge of breaking. "I always thought he would look exactly like you."

There's nothing he can say to comfort her. Already he feels as though he's breaking his vow to never cause her pain again. He wraps his arms around her and feels her ease into his embrace. He doesn't care how hot it is on the beach. He lays his chin against the top of her head and holds her closer. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and feels her shake her head in wordless reply. He holds her another moment before slowly pulling away. He takes her hand in his again and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles. "Come on. Let's just go home."

xxxxx

His insomnia hits him full force that night, and he spends a while just laying on his back and staring at the ceiling, at the shadows that the blinds and curtain make against the fall when the soft light from the street hits them in just the right angle. He knows there's no point fighting it, so he goes downstairs and watches some old horror film on mute. The black and white of the film slowly lull him to sleep. As his eyelids become heavier and heavier, he gets up and makes his way to the bedroom.

She's tossing and turning in bed, trapped in some sort of a dream. She looks anything but peaceful; her face is contorted as if she's in pain. As he slowly lowers himself into bed beside her, her unintelligible murmur becomes a name.

"No… William…"

He touches her shoulder as gently as he can. "Dana," he whispers, but wherever her mind is, she's too far gone to hear him. He shakes her ever so slightly. "Dana, it's okay. Wake up."

This time she starts, and her eyes snap open. They look remarkably blue when they meet his in the darkness. "Oh," she breathes, and for a moment he isn't sure if she's fully awake yet.

"It's okay," he murmurs. She scoots closer and he wraps his arms around her. She lays her head against his chest; he's horrified when he realizes she's trembling. "It was just a dream," he says, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "It's okay."

But it isn't okay. Neither of them is. Over the years, they have come to repress the loss of their son, find comfort in one another and in the fact that they have had each other, at least. They've made repressing their emotions into art. But now it's all coming back, and whether they will see those children again on the beach or not, he wonders if they will ever be able to recover at all.

Soon she's fast asleep, and he feels himself drifting as well. He feels her fingers grip his shirt, clinging to him with dependency he's never associated with her. His arms are still tight around her. He feels particularly vulnerable, but she is his touchstone. He knows he will be able to overcome anything as long as she's by his side.

xxxxx

A few days pass, and they're both relatively better. They don't speak of that day by the lake, but the words are there, hovering over them. The nights are surprisingly peaceful as well. He's grateful each morning he wakes up and realizes he has slept the night through. They've been to the beach several times since then, but the children, the redheaded little boy in particular, have never reappeared.

He begins to think that it has never happened. It really was hot that day. He chuckles when he realizes his attempt to rationalize things; like she would have done all these years ago.

"What's funny?"

He looks down at the sound of her voice. She's laying on her stomach on a purple towel, peeking at him through her sunglasses. Up until a moment ago, he thought she was asleep. "Oh, I just realized I was beginning to resemble you."

Her nose wrinkles almost on its own accord. "And that's a bad thing?"

"I guess I'm just not used to it, that's all," he replies, laughing at the disapproval he sees reflected in her eyes. "To question my every move, I mean."

"What were you questioning?"

"Nothing important," he shakes his head, desperate for a change of subject. He reaches for her beach bag and takes out a tube of sunscreen. "How about some more sunscreen?"

She eyes him somewhat wearily, but sits up anyway. She looks over her shoulder as he squeezes some lotion into his hands. "I know what this is about, you know."

"You'll thank me later."

"You know what I was talking about."

"I'm just looking after you."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

He stops himself from smiling, mostly because he's grateful for the distraction. "Are you underestimating my ability to look after you?"

"Of course not, I was just saying that under the circumstances you can't expect me to believe you were simply…"

But he barely hears her now. A noise at the farthest end of the beach makes him look up. And there they are, as noisy as he remembers, as they settle on the golden sand.

"Mulder, are you listening to me?"

He blinks and looks at her. Her sunglasses are now on top of her head and she eyes him with concern. "Scully," he says slowly, hesitantly. "They're here."

"Who's here?"

Her eyes follow his as he looks over his shoulder. She gasps, but he doesn't look at her to acknowledge the sound. His eyes are already searching for the little boy. "I don't see him," he says, aware of the hint of panic in his voice. He grabs a second towel from the bag and wipes his hands on it before getting up.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" she calls after him, but he's already halfway there. This time, he'll follow his instincts.