Samantha took a deep breath, groaning loudly at the pain in her back. The wind was knocked out of her as soon as her body hit the ground. If not for the backpack securely strapped to her back, she would have surely broken a rib. She laid on the cold asphalt for a few moments, trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened. She was going to find that genie and punch her lights out. That very thought reminded her of when her mother worked for the FBI. Maybe they were more alike than she initially thought. The image settled her inner rage, and Samantha opened her eyes.

She was no longer in the field. Instead, she laid in the middle of an alley. She could hear cars honking, conversations between strangers, kids throwing temper tantrums. She was in the city. Her ears started to ring from sensory overload. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach; What had that genie done to her? It was completely dark outside now, and the stars were absent from the night sky, blocked by the city lights. She slowly sat up, wincing at the pain in her back. The building directly in her eyesight was one she knew well; her parents had taken her to the Hoover building where they had spent years of their life dedicated to the X-Files. It was a good thing it was just across the street because it had been the first landmark she could think of. It would take a few minutes to reach the front entrance. She would have to call her mom from the front desk, swallowing her pride and begging for forgiveness. And a ride.

Samantha shivered. It was cold: far too cold for the time of year. She noticed the people walking past the alley wore jackets rather than nothing at all. She frowned. It was September. Why the hell did it feel as if it was 40 degrees outside? She slowly stood up, leaning against the brick wall next to her for support. She brushed the gravel off her jeans while pulling her leather jacket closer to her chest, desperately trying to warm up. She frowned at her surroundings; something definitely wasn't right, but she started her walk toward the Hoover building. She wouldn't get any answers sitting in a dark alley by herself.

A short while later, Samantha found herself opening one of the doors of the Hoover building. It was completely empty except for one security guard, sitting behind the front desk scrolling through his phone. It looked like an older model, but she figured older people tended to not upgrade their phones too often. He turned it off and placed it face down on the counter, annoyed at Samantha's presence.

"Sorry, we're about to close," he said, his eyes flickering toward the door as if wordlessly motioning for Samantha to leave.

"Could I make a quick phone call? It's urgent." Samantha asked politely.

"Our phones aren't open to the public."

"But I really need to call my mom. Could I borrow a cell phone? It'll just be for a moment," Samantha pleaded, begging the security guard to give her a chance. She had stupidly left her phone at home, thinking it would only give her parents a way to track her location. She had run away with a few measly dollars, no weapons, and no phone. Why the hell didn't she think this through?

The man behind the counter sighed, reaching for his phone. His eyes scanned the length of her body, taking pity on her messy appearance.

"Here," he said, sliding his phone across the counter.

"Thank you so much," Samantha replied, trying to figure out how to use it. The set up was odd. The apps were displayed on the screen at the same time rather than in separate folders. She had only seen her parents with this set up. "Hey, how old is your phone?"

His eyes lit up, eager to show off his new gadget. "It's the Iphone X. I've only had it for a few months."

"A few months? Why not buy the newest phone?".

The security guard laughed, pulling her eyes away from the screen. "The Iphone X is the newest phone."

Her eyes darted to the news app left open on the phone. Since when was Donald Trump relevant enough for the news to report what he says? No one had heard from him since the end of the 2020 presidential election. In fact, she had recently done a report on him for her history class. His old twitter post flashed across the screen. The last photo she had last seen of him was from his obituary. The date of the news article made her physically raise the phone closer to her face.

January 31st, 2018

"Have you been reading any recent news?" Samantha asked, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion.

The security guard frowned, tilting his head. "Yeah, that article was just released today. Crazy, right?"

"But… it says January 2018," Samantha said slowly.

"Yeah and what about it?" The security guard replied, looking at Samantha as though she had a concussion.

A chill wracked through her body. She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her beating heart. She clutched her shirt, a queasiness settling in her stomach. The genie… this is what she did. She sent her back in time. Samantha felt faint, stumbling away from the front desk and accidentally dropping the guard's phone.

"Bathroom. Where's the bathroom?" Samantha choked out, lips as pale as the white floor beneath her.

She barely registered the security guard pointing to a women's restroom sign as she scrambled to an empty stall. Samantha emptied what little contents there were in her stomach, breathing heavily against the stall door. Don't panic. Don't panic. She had only been sent back in time. No problem. Piece of cake. 2018… what had been happening in D.C in 2018? It was a full year before she was born. How the hell is she supposed to know what's happening?! Other agents in the FBI have told her all sorts of stories about the different case files her parents had faced, but she had never bothered to ask when they happened: Tooms, the smoking man, that one time Jackson manipulated two girls into thinking the other was a monster. Once a jerk, always a jerk.

Jackson. He was still on the run in 2018. Samantha wondered if her parents were trying to find him right now, missing him around every corner. She took a deep breath, dragging herself off the floor and away from the empty stall. She looked in the clean, sparkly mirror that hung above the communal sinks. Her skin looked colorless in the dull lights of the bathroom. Her lips returned to its usual shade of pink. Samantha took another deep breath as she tried to work out the timeline in her head.

Her parents got married for legal reasons 18 months after she was born, but they've been together on and off since the 90s. Their history is too complicated to put into words. Her mom must be pregnant with her by now, her parents should be together at this point in time. Right? Not that it mattered because she couldn't stroll up her childhood home and say, "I'm your daughter from the future!" Yeah, that wouldn't go over well with them, especially her mom. Maybe Jackson could help her… although she knew it took him several years to master his powers, so he wouldn't offer much help.

Was grandma still alive? She tried to recall everything her parents told her. Had she died before or after her parents encountered Jackson? No, she died during an X-Files case about a picture coming to life, that was definitely before Jackson became relevant. She groaned, tears stinging her eyes.

Samantha looked in the mirror once more, staring into her hazel eyes. She looked too much like her mother for her to go unnoticed. No matter what she said, she couldn't set foot in the Hoover Building in the daytime and not have someone assume she was a part of the Scully family. If word got back to her mother, she would no doubt want answers.

There was no way she could conceal her appearance, so she needed to leave as soon as possible. She took one last look at her reflection in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.

She fixed everything she could. Her lips were clean. Her hair was brushed. And a stone cold expression concealed her inner turmoil. It was weird. She has never had a secret to protect before. Besides the dozens of times she skipped school, she was an open book. At this moment, discretion was needed.

The security guard had resumed scrolling through his phone, completely forgetting about Samantha for the time being. She exhaled. She had walked into the bathroom as a complete basket case and walked out without a sweat on her face. She slowly approached the exit, sticking to the outer walls in an attempt to be subtle. She glanced over at the security guard. His eyes were still glued to the screen. Samantha sighed in relief, shaking her head. She left the Hoover Building in search for a place to stay the night.

By the time she started to cross the parking lot, the church bell nearest the building was just striking midnight. Samantha was exhausted. All she wanted, more than anything in the world, was a nap in her soft, comfy bed. Or at the very least, take her incredibly uncomfortable sneakers off her sore feet. The city was less crowded than usual, considering it was late at night. She wondered what day of the week it was.

Samantha's shoulders sagged. What now? She couldn't exactly order food at some random restaurant with no money. Not only would the staff call the police, every local new station would want a picture of her face. This couldn't be too long after her parents supposedly got back together, so they should be more focused on their relationship status than the girl who looked like a perfect combination of the two of them. Maybe she could pretend to be an orphan. Oh yeah, it's all coming together.

Two figures caught her attention. Samantha crouched behind a large pick-up truck, listening for approaching footsteps. Skinner and Arlene were walking down the middle of the street, arguing over something related to her parents.

"You shouldn't try to push them together," Arlene said.

"Alright, I heard you say that twenty years ago and look where we are now. I just… they belong together. Everyone can see Mulder giving Scully heart eyes from the moment he saw her." Skinner replied. Samantha frowned, furrowing her eyebrows. What were they talking about?

"I know, honey," Arlene said, rubbing his shoulder, "But I don't think locking them in a room will solve anything."

Skinner stopped walking, pausing in front of the pick-up truck that Samantha was hiding behind. She held her breath. They were less than six feet away from her. "Did you hear her voice when she talked about finding her son? She was relentless," He said, begging for Arlene to understand. "Wouldn't it be better for her son to meet his parents when they are together?"

"How are you going to do that? And don't say make them share a hotel room. You already did that a few weeks ago." They continued to walk down the street and out of eyesight.

Samantha stood up from her hiding spot, staring at the direction they left in. Why were they talking about her parents like that? As far as she knew, her parents were together when they conceived her. A frustrating confusion crowded her mind. Maybe she misunderstood the history behind her parents' relationship while she was growing up. She dropped her head in her hands, tears wetting her palms. This was going to be incredibly difficult without basic information of what the hell was going on. Samantha raised her head from her hand. She could worry about everything later. Right now, she needed a place to sleep.

The church caught her eye, a disdain settling in her chest. Her mom may be catholic, but she didn't hold herself to the same standards. If she was having a particular bad day, she would send up a prayer. It was either sleep in the church attic and not get caught or catch pneumonia. She'll choose the former. Samantha was so lost inside her mind that she didn't see someone rounding the corner of the church, colliding into her.

"OH!" A man's voice yelled, bouncing back and holding his nose. He was dressed as a priest. Samantha stared wide eyed at the man.

"I'm so sorry," Samantha apologized.

"Dana?" The priest said, rubbing his face with a disgruntled expression. "Did you dye your hair?"

Samantha froze, panic rising in her chest. Her hopes of not being recognized were obliterated. This wouldn't be easy, lying was not one of her strongest qualities. "Um, no, I-I'm not Dana. I actually don't know who that is," Samantha said, stringing together the first words she could think of, praying they saved her ass. The two stared at each other for a few moments before the priest believed her.

"Oh. What is your name, my child?"

"I'm Sa-brina. I'm Sabrina," Samantha replied with a forced smile, mentally slapping herself for almost revealing her real name. Sabrina? That was the first name she thought of?

"It's nice to meet you, Sabrina. If you'll excuse me, I should be heading home. Long day of masses tomorrow." The man nodded and scurried off, not giving Samantha a second glance. She felt her heart ache. She wanted to ask the religious man how he knew her mom, to ask her mom what to do. One of her parents would know what to do in this situation. They always did. Samantha felt a twinge of guilt. How could her mom love her now after saying all the horrible things she said earlier?

Eventually, Samantha pulled her eyes away from the direction the priest had gone, crossing the street to break into the church. Her mom didn't know this, but her dad had taught her how to pick a lock at 12 years old. He figured there would be a day when she needed to get into a restricted area. In his mind, that place would most likely be a government owned facility with armed guards. Not a holy sanctuary.

She picked the lock on the side door, wary of catching too much attention. After climbing the stairs to the church attic, she laid down in the corner of the room. Her jacket was zipped up as far as it could go. With her bag under her head as a makeshift pillow, she curled into a ball, waiting for sleep to come.

Tomorrow would be the real challenge.

Author's Note

Hey, guys! Totally forgot to post this chapter. I'm going to try and post the next chapter within the next couple days. Currently in my freshman year of college at NYU, so they try to drown me in essays. Hope everyone has been having a nice week. :)