Nine

Rural Virginia – October 2005

"Haul up!" Shannon declared, her voice firm but not very loud considering Scully was only ten metres ahead. She stopped immediately and turned around, her orange backpack so full it seemed to swing after her even though it was strapped around her waist. Scully returned to them quickly as Skinner and Sarah sat down in the sand.

"What's wrong?" she asked, slipping into physician mode and taking in the sweat on their faces and Sarah's heavy breathing. She dropped her pack in preparation to retrieve medical supplies if needed. Sarah had promised her she did not have asthma or diabetes, but Scully had almost every conceivable medication with her just in case any of them were taken by surprise.

"I just got really hot all of a sudden," Sarah whispered, blushing as Scully took her pulse and touched her forehead. Skinner retrieved a bottle of sports drink and offered it to his niece. She drank gratefully as Scully decided they all may as well take another break. She sat down in the sand and allowed herself to lie back, pulling her hat over her face to cover her eyes from the hot sun.

"It's not time for Siesta yet, Dana," Skinner teased, laughing as she shrugged silently.

"What's she doing?" Sarah asked curiously.

"I'm napping!" Scully huffed. "It's hot. I'm over it."

"This is only day six," Shannon pointed out. "It could take months-"

"I know and I expect Siesta to be a standing arrangement for all of those months," Scully replied, giggling to herself under her hat when she felt the weight of Shannon's glare and the playful roll of Skinner's eyes. "Sarah do you feel faint?" she asked more seriously.

"The drink helped," Sarah answered. "I'm not going to pass out. I'm just a bit disoriented. My balance in this sand, it's so much effort, but I'm okay. You and Walter sticking by me is making a huge difference. I think I just panicked."

"Your pulse was up," Scully confirmed. "We'll take a ten minute break just to be on the safe side. Any objections, oh wise leaders?"

"No," Shannon and Skinner both replied simultaneously. Scully heard Skinner collapse back in the sand not far from her and suppressed another giggle at his satisfied sigh.

"Just ignore them," Shannon told Sarah when she realised the young woman was looking around curiously, not sure where anybody had really gone to but aware they were close. "You can lie down too if you want."

"I'd rather sit and finish this drink," she assured Shannon, her voice strong. Shannon shrugged and sat down against the raft, knees up.

"Suit yourself." She took the opportunity to look at her very mortal companions. So far none of them had gotten heat-stroke or met with any serious travel injuries, but they were all sweating and tired, and it showed most obviously in Scully. Her fair skin was bright red, more red than her hair. It was from heat more than sunburn, for Shannon had watched her meticulously and repetitively coat herself in thick sunscreen for the past week. Shannon no longer needed to bother with sunscreen. She just didn't burn.

Or at least if she did it healed so quickly she never noticed.

"Are you tired yet?" Sarah asked her, looking in her direction from under her large hat. When Shannon spoke, Sarah narrowed her focus and turned her head to exactly where it should have been had she been able to see Shannon speaking.

"I wish I was," she admitted. "But no. I'm a bit stiff, but it's nothing a gentle massage and a rest overnight won't fix."

"Where are we now?" she asked. "Can you describe it?"

"We're in the sand, Sarah," Skinner mumbled tiredly from beside her, his voice muffled by his baseball cap. He had copied Scully and put it over his face so he could close his eyes behind his sunglasses in relative darkness.

"No shit," Sarah shot back with a playful huff. She turned her head back towards Shannon. "No really. Are we following a map or do you just instinctively know?"

"We have a map," Shannon replied. "But I do know where to go. It's not instinct, it's just because they told me. Inside information, you know?" Sarah smiled and nodded. "And your Uncle is right. We're surrounded by sand right now. There are no buildings on the horizon in any direction, and the sky is bright blue. No clouds."

"Are there ever clouds anymore?"

"As we move south there will be," Shannon promised.

"So do you know where we are? Are we in West Virginia or, what's more west than that...Ohio? Kentucky? Or are we south, like in North Carolina?"

"That's ambition for you," Shannon teased. "We're still in Virginia."

"Are you SERIOUS?" she exclaimed, loud and animated in her genuine surprise. "Oh my God this is going to take FOREVER!"

"So I keep saying," Shannon laughed. "Don't stress over it though. There's no hurry. We've been making very good time actually. I'm proud of us."

"I am slowing you guys down so much!"

"You're not going any slower than the raft," Scully pointed out from underneath her hat. "And we have made good time. Does anyone want food before we start up again?"

"Narr," Skinner sighed, sitting up reluctantly at Scully's call that they end their break. He brushed sand off his grey t-shirt before reaching back and taking her hand, helping her to sit.

"Thanks," she offered with a smile as she pushed her hat back onto her head. Her hair was in a low ponytail so didn't get in the way, but she reached back to shake the sand out of it best she could. "I'm just going to put more sunscreen on before we get going."

"Jesus," Skinner teased as he watched her search her pack. "You go through that faster than water." Scully rolled her eyes. She did not, she thought. She was wearing a long-sleeved, white cotton shirt over her red singlet top and her brown, long cotton pants, and her hat had a wide, thick brim. She was only really putting sunscreen on her face, neck, hands and feet, and she had fair skin; blame the Irish, she thought to herself gruffly.

"When you're red as a lobster by nightfall I'm not helping you," she huffed. "You can go 'Doctor Scully' someone else. No Vitamin E for you."

"Give it," Skinner urged, swiping the bottle just as she held it out to him, anticipating the move. Their fingers brushed and they laughed.

xxx

Two hours later, Scully debated whether or not to tell her friends she knew where they were. Sarah's long fingers were wrapped around her elbow and Skinner was strolling along behind them, beside Shannon as she towed the raft over the sand. It had held up well since they had left, and they were all pleased by its performance across the terrain. Scully was also immensely pleased with Shannon. The woman simply did not complain. She felt no pain. She was a machine. Literally.

But that was completely beside the point, she reasoned, returning her attention to the familiar directional sign just up ahead. She was sure the plan was to continue straight, but only a couple of hours walk off the right exit ramp, and Scully would be home.

Home.

It seemed as though she had left it behind so long ago, but it had been less than three months, perhaps somewhere around ten weeks. She had lost track of time for a while in the house while she had been recovering, and she had never really gotten it back. Shannon, Skinner and Sarah had not been keeping a calendar like she had been in the bunker. They hadn't been able to help her.

Scully was not sure what she wanted to do, or what she was supposed to say. They were only perhaps ten minutes from the exit, so she had to decide fast. Did she want to go back? What did she expect to see or do there? All that would happen was that she would be reminded of all she had left behind. The underground bunker she had left after five weeks was a time capsule of her life. Time capsules were not meant to be reopened.

It would bring back so much pain, one part of her mind said. All she would see was her letter to Mulder, and an empty house covered in dust that had once belonged to them. She had been proud of that house despite its relative state of disrepair. She had been proud to be with Mulder there. Going back would only remind her of what she had lost.

Still, Scully saw that home in her dreams nearly every night. She missed it. She missed her pillow, and the fire in winter, and the way Mulder liked to light the gas stove with matches just to frighten her for a laugh. She missed her lawn and the way the grass grew tall just outside the front door, the colour of wheat, swaying gently in the spring breeze.

None of those things existed for her anymore. So what was the point? The last time she had allowed herself to feel pain she had done something incredibly stupid, and she did not want to go back there. Yes, she still felt an ache inside her, yes, she would carry her grief with her for the rest of her life, but no, she did not want to feel it so intensely, not ever again. She had just started getting the nightmares under control, or at least under some semblance of control. She did not want to go back to taking nightly sleeping pills.

But maybe just one more look, another part of her whispered. One last goodbye.

She sighed deeply, her heart torn in two, her brain sitting midway between her attachment to her past and her determination to embrace her future.

Sarah heard her sigh and frowned, squeezing her elbow.

"Are you all right Dana?" she asked in a concerned whisper, keeping the question private.

"Just homesick," she replied softly.

"Where are you from?" Sarah asked curiously. Scully was surprised the question had not come up earlier, but she was not surprised it had come up then. The answer was easy.

"Here," she hissed. Sarah stopped mid-stride and gripped Scully's elbow, turning to face her, her cane planting firmly into the sand at her side.

"What?" she exclaimed. "Here?" Scully nodded and even though Sarah could not see her Scully knew she could sense the gesture.

"What's going on?" Skinner asked as he and Shannon caught up, the raft behind them slowing to a careful halt controlled by Shannon.

"Did you know Dana lived here?" Sarah asked him impatiently. Skinner looked around him, confused.

"There's nothing out here," he replied. "We're on a highway."

"Not right here," Scully corrected, embarrassed at the way Skinner and Shannon were suddenly looking at her, as though she had said the wrong thing by mentioning her former home, as though that made her weak. "Off the exit. That way." She pointed.

"How far that way?" Shannon asked suspiciously.

"A couple hours walk," she sighed, removing her sunglasses and idly cleaning them on the loose, white shirt that covered a dark blue singlet top. "Maybe more. I don't know."

"We could go, if you want," Sarah decided automatically.

"No, that's not what I meant by mentioning it-"

"You were upset just now thinking about it," she argued. "You want to see it again."

"How could you possibly know that?" Scully asked, emotional and at a loss to explain the girl's uncanny intuition.

"Because," Sarah wept, reaching up under her sunglasses to brush unshed tears from her unseeing eyes. "I would give ANYTHING to see my home again. Wouldn't you?"

"You don't understand what I left behind," Scully mumbled, instantly feeling guilty for assuming Sarah did not understand. The woman was blind, for God's sakes. She would never 'see' anything again. But was she transferring her desire to see onto Scully, in suggesting that it was Scully who wanted to see her home, or did Scully genuinely want to go there one last time before leaving it behind forever?

"Dana," Skinner whispered, earning her attention. He could see the internal struggle in her blue eyes and managed an understanding smile. "Why don't you take a minute to think about what you want to do, and whatever it is, we'll go with you." Scully frowned in an effort not to cry at the fact Skinner was assuring her of his unquestioning support. He had always supported her at the FBI as her boss, and now as a friend. He had saved her, she remembered. He owed her nothing and yet he was prepared to let her go home.

But did she want to?

"I need to take a walk," she admitted, unable to make such a decision with them all staring at her. She backed away from Sarah so as not to startle her with movement, and then she turned and wandered aimlessly towards the off-ramp. She put her sunglasses back on and then stuffed her hands into her baggy pockets.

"What do you think?" Shannon hissed once Scully was far enough away not to hear them.

"I have absolutely no idea," Skinner admitted. "She's only ever said she and Mulder had an argument and he walked out. I don't know if that was normal for them or not. I don't know the state of their relationship when all this happened. She doesn't talk about those things. I have no idea what her home life was like or whether she was really happy."

"She said she was homesick," Sarah mentioned, clutching her cane for balance. "Whatever was there, she misses it. She couldn't feel the grief required to cut her wrist without having been happy at home, Walter. The loss would not have been so great."

"We all miss it," Skinner pointed out gently. "But Mulder was always volatile. I don't know what became of him. It's Dana's choice. Only she can answer those questions."

xxx

"I don't know if I can do this," Monica admitted as Gibson dragged her up the wooden stairs of the old hospital. "It's too sad."

"No look," he replied. "How many babies do you think were born or in care here when this happened? In a town this small? There are empty ones there Monica. Nobody died in them. We'll just take an empty one, and get some other stuff we might need, and then it's done and ready and when John gets back he won't be stressing."

"And what other stuff do you suggest?" Monica asked, amused to hear his answer. Gibson growled low in his throat.

"I dunno. Forceps?"

"Gibson Praise!" Monica exclaimed. "Hell NO!"

"What?" he exclaimed. "You asked! I don't know! I just thought it would be cool to get sort of a crib ready. Don't you think John would like that? He'd be painting a spare room by now if things were different."

"Oh he'd be long past painting," Monica admitted with a chuckle. "Okay, lead me to the nursery. But do not mention forceps again, am I clear? The LAST people I would trust with those are the three of you!"

Gibson laughed and nodded in agreement as they reached the top of the stairs and turned left. She followed him in silence to the tiny nursery he had discovered on a previous visit into town. Monica forced herself not to look inside any of the half-dozen cribs and instead focussed on Gibson as he led her straight to an empty one. She peered warily inside once he pointed it out. It was certainly empty, apart from a hospital blanket folded on top of the tiny mattress. A part of her heart melted at the thought of her child in something so small in just a few more months.

"So we'll take this one then," Gibson determined. The look on her face was enough to tell him she was convinced, let alone having access to her maternal daydreams. "I'll get this, and why don't you look around for, I don't know, maybe a medical textbook or a pamphlet on all this stuff. John wants to brush up and he never got a chance to read any of the books you bought. We all should have a more 'medical' knowledge anyway."

Monica nodded thoughtfully and disappeared through a nearby door. Gibson returned his attention to the crib. It was tiny, he agreed silently with his friend. And it would be very strange to have an actual person in there sooner rather than later. Monica was getting pretty big, though she still said she was around six months. The boob-tube she still wore around her middle for their walks was stretched tight, and she was going to need to either stop walking so much or find something stronger to support her very soon.

Not that she ever really seemed to complain, not even to herself. Gibson still thought her attitude was amazing. However, they'd had a relaxing week and since John and Mulder had left their stress levels had plummeted. They had joked a lot more, and Gibson was having fun thinking about all the cool stuff they could set up in the house for the baby. He had never been around babies, and he knew he would never get the opportunity to have one of his own, so he may as well-

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

Gibson froze. The smile on his face disappeared and his heart began to beat quickly in his chest. He frowned and concentrated harder.

I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.

It was still there, he realised. It, whatever 'it' was, was fading in and out. He could barely hear it but then all of a sudden it was strong. Then it faded again. It had come to him suddenly, as though an invisible line had been crossed.

"MONICA!" he shouted in a panic before he could stop himself. He heard her jogging and he gripped the plastic edge of the crib as he shut out Monica's instant concern for him and concentrated.

-part of myself behind, and what will...if it's still there...can't, but do I need...one more time? I...

"Gibson, what?" Monica exclaimed, shattering any focus Gibson had on the faint words in his mind as she burst back into the nursery and stared at him from across the floor. They were separated by the row of cribs and his wide eyes rose to meet hers.

"I heard someone," he announced in a stunned whisper. Even as he said the words they did not seem real. Monica's lips parted in surprise. She did not need to confirm that he meant he had heard someone besides the two of them; that much was obvious. She knew Gibson had not heard another living soul outside their party since they had come above-ground. Her stomach started to churn with nausea. She realised he was gripping one of the cribs and decided she wanted to hold onto something too, so she walked over and braced herself against a nearby desk.

"Where?" she asked. It seemed to be the most important question.

"Far away," he answered. "But not too far I...They keep going in and out, as though they're in range and then out of range. Sort of like a radio tuner. That's how it is, but this is...No other channels are playing, you know?" Monica nodded, speechless. "They're, I think it's a woman but it's hard, it's too far away. She keeps saying, 'I don't know'."

"Sane or insane?" Monica asked.

"Sane, I think," he mumbled, frowning.

"Speak aloud what you hear," she urged. Gibson nodded, shutting his eyes. Monica knew it must be a strain to focus on a voice so far away when hers was right beside him, so she tried to clear her mind and just listen. She shut her eyes also, took a deep breath, and drew herself into a peaceful emptiness, silently praising herself for taking so many yoga and meditation classes over the years. Within a second her only thoughts were the hearing of his words, and her mind was blank.

"Don't cry," Gibson said, speaking not to her or himself, but echoing what he heard in his mind. "You can do this...a strong...I don't know what to tell them. If we go we'll have to stay the night and I...sleep in that room, staring at that picture of them I left behind, seeing it there and knowing he's with her...don't want him to see me fall apart again. Not after last time. But he wanted me to think, does he want me to go? Does 'he' want to go? Do I want to go... Monica, it's stronger now. Maybe I do, so what if I do? Do I deserve to go, when Sarah and Skinner can't-"

Monica gasped first and opened her eyes as Gibson stopped mid-sentence. They stared at each other for a long minute.

"Please tell me you did not just hear the name Skinner?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as her eyes filled automatically with tears. "Is it him? Is it Walter?"

"Hang on," Gibson urged, pursing his lips and covering his face with his hands as he took himself back.

xxx

Scully allowed herself to sink to her knees in the sand as tears trickled down her cheeks. She did not deserve to go home. She just didn't. It was right there, she hadn't even realised they had been walking in that direction until she had finally read one of the signs. It was right there but she could not bring her friends there. Those people had saved her life, they had given her safety and company and laughter, and how could she bring them back to that house of pain? So many wishes had been wished in that house prior to her departure, and she had left the best part of herself behind there for safe keeping. Her life.

She did NOT want it back.

xxx

"Oh shit," Gibson whispered. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh FUCK!"

"What?" Monica asked, staring at him intently as he again opened his eyes. She had never seen him so pale. He looked positively terrified. "What is it? Trouble?"

"Oh no," he replied. Monica was not sure if that was the answer to her question or simply an expression of dread. "Oh no, I have to go."

"Whoa," she ordered, crossing the floor and reaching for his shirt before he bolted. She held on tightly with one hand and grabbed his stubbled chin with the other, forcing him not to move and to look up into her eyes. "Hold up," she ordered, managing a worried smirk. "And where do you think you are going?"

"I have to stop them!" he insisted. "I have to stop her. Trust me. Trust me Monica. I swear. Wait here. Please, please wait here. I'll be back. I'll be back. It might be after dark but I promise you on every single person who lost their life in this hospital I will be back. If I don't go, something really important will be lost. Just, trust me. Please!"

"I trust you," Monica whispered, releasing him. He was breathing heavily and staring at her with wide, pleading eyes filled with tears. Monica had never seen him cry. He had not even threatened to cry. Not even when Mulder had broken down many times in front of them, not even when she had broken down. She did trust him, but she was scared. She had not been alone since it happened. He had to know she was scared.

"I promise," he assured her, reaching for her hands and gripping them tightly. "Monica, I would take you if you could run fast enough, but I really need to go now."

"I'll be waiting for you," she urged, blinking back tears. He pressed his lips together seriously and nodded twice, before wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. Monica was stunned. He had never hugged her before, but maybe she was not the only one who was afraid. She rubbed his back before they parted, and then she gave him a gentle push as she took a step back. "Now go, Gibson. Save the world or whatever you have to do. I'll see you later." He nodded. "Oh and hey," she urged, pointing to his bag by the door. "Leave me some chocolate and water, will you?"

xxx

Gibson had never been much of a runner. He had never gone to a proper school, so he had never participated in track events. He was short and uncoordinated physically, but mentally he was spot on and he had never doubted his ability to hear the thoughts of other people. He had never once questioned his sanity.

Until now.

As he sprinted over the sand, his small daypack bouncing against the back of his sweaty shirt, he really was beginning to question whether he was suffering from some sort of heat-stroke or isolation-induced dementia. That happened, right?

The sand was heavy and thick beneath his sneakers and with every step he ran he kicked more into his shoes and socks. He hadn't bothered with his sunglasses and was glad he was running to the east, away from the sun as it lowered slowly into the western sky.

The voice had come back finally, and other voices. He knew he was making ground a lot faster than they were leaving it, but he was still a long way behind. He had been running and power-walking for nearly an hour and it felt like his heart was about to explode right out of his chest, the stitch in his gut was becoming unbearable. He knew he should stop and catch his breath. But with every second he wasted, they got further away.

He wasn't sure exactly how far away they were, but he knew he was outside the town. The buildings were all behind him. He stopped running and stood as tall as he could on his top-toes, scouring the horizon in front of him. He had been going in the right direction, he was sure of it.

He could not see anything or anyone in the distance, but his glasses were smudged with sand and sweaty fingerprints, and he could see that there was a steep rise just in front of him. If he could just get onto that rise, maybe he would have a better vantage point. Maybe he would get better reception, so to speak.

Taking a deep breath, he sprinted.

Running up sand was Hell, he decided quickly. It was torture. It was damn near impossible considering it moved underfoot. It was like running up an escalator that was going down. Gibson growled and struggled to ascend. There was a reason he had directed Mulder, Monica and John around such obstacles. If there was one other thing he was not, it was a natural born climber. He swore and crawled up the last portion of the dune before reaching somewhere near the top and finally collapsing with exhaustion and the sudden desire to vomit.

His throat ached as he drew in loud gulps of air and attempted to swallow, his mouth dry. He took the backpack off and opened it to retrieve some water. He only took a small sip, still feeling sick, but as he replaced the cap he allowed himself to smile. He had actually done it, he had reached the summit, and in record time too.

Finally sure that he was not about to die from over-exertion, he allowed himself to search for the voices he had pushed away to focus all his energy on catching up. They came back to him, but they were more subdued and reflective than he had been prepared for. His heart was still beating furiously and it was hard to settle down to truly absorb the melancholy thoughts of the people he had found. People. Other humans. Survivors.

Gibson searched the bag for his sunglasses and put them on over his glasses, and then he stood on top of the mountain of sand and looked down into the valley in front of him. He wondered briefly how long he had been gone from the hospital; perhaps an hour and a half. It seemed as though he had been running for days.

His hot, hurried breath caught in his throat when he spotted a huddle of darkness in the distance. It was hard to tell whether or not it was moving, but adding the image to the voices he knew it was them. A female supersoldier was towing a crate of some sort. A blind woman was counting her steps and holding onto her uncle. The uncle was more concerned with her progress than the decision that had been made, but they were all trying very hard not to ask questions of the tortured woman leading them away from him.

They were so far away they were smaller than ants. They were barely more than specks on the horizon. But they were there. Gibson scratched his cheek as he tossed up his options. There would definitely be no more running, at least not for a few more minutes. He would never survive. There was really only one other option. He would not know if it worked until he tried, and it was worth a shot because they were definitely moving away. Their voices were getting much harder to hear with every step they all took.

He took a few deep breaths, and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"SCULLY!"

xxx

Scully froze at the sound that reached her ears. It had almost sounded like her name. She turned around and stared curiously at the others. None of them had spoken since she had returned to them after a long, private think about her options. She had brushed the tears from her cheeks and gestured that they move on and avoid the exit that would lead her to her old home. Her new home was with them, she had decided. They had complied in silence. She was glad. One word out of her mouth and she would have been inconsolable.

"DANA!"

"Uh, did you hear that?" Sarah asked softly, looking around vaguely as she and Skinner also stopped walking and came to stand beside Scully, who had her hands on her hips. "It sort of sounded like-"

"I know," she replied. "I thought I was hearing things but it sounds like a person."

xxx

Gibson was ecstatic that they had heard him, and he knew they had turned and were looking his way. Excitement overcame any modesty he had left and he jumped up and down and waved his arms a few times, before again cupping his mouth.

xxx

"AGENT SCULLY!"

"There," Shannon announced, stretching an arm out as she located a small figure raised above them on a far-away dune; an eraser-sized blip on the horizon. Skinner and Scully squinted, but Shannon had superior eyesight to them both. Skinner's glasses were dirty and Scully suspected she actually needed her eyes tested again. The reading glasses in her pack would be useless in this situation, she knew.

"DANA, COME BACK!"

"Can you ALL hear that or is it just me?" Scully asked after a long pause. She had to make sure she was not going mad. She had just decided not to go back, and now some voice she could barely understand but which seemed to be addressing her as a federal agent was urging her back? It sounded loopy. It was insane. But in the distance she thought she could see the tiny, fuzzy person Shannon had pointed out. Shannon and Sarah had heard him too, and they were definitely NOT insane.

xxx

Gibson growled in frustration when he realised their hesitation. What more did he have to do? It wasn't as though he had the energy to start quoting her thoughts, not shouting them out all that way for everyone to hear. But he had to do or say something to convince her that he was real, that it was safe. And yet, he did not want to give away too much. He wanted to see her first. He wanted to tell her to her face. Plus, he was losing his voice. He only had to think for a moment before the perfect words presented themselves.

"WALTER SKINNER! TELL DOCTOR DANA SCULLY OF THE FBI THAT SHE OWES ME A GAME OF CHESS!"