TITLE: Mobius
AUTHOR: L.A. Ward
EMAIL ADDRESS: LAWard@aol.com
URL: www.hometown.aol.com/laward/eclectic.html
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Sure, just let me know.
SPOILER WARNING: Anything through Season 7
including Requiem
RATING: PG-13 (for language)
CLASSIFICATION: X/MSR/A
X-file casefile with Mytharc
MSR
Scully Angst/Mulder Angst
SUMMARY: While investigating the disappearance of
a physicist, Scully finds someone she didn't
expect--Mulder.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never mine. Wish they were,
but they belong to Chris. Have no money so don't
bother to sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I cannot say enough nice things for
the wonderful people who undertook the task of beta
reading. Thanks to all of them, but special thanks to
Shari, Rosemary, and Fran.
*******************************************************
Long is the way. And hard, that out of hell leads up
to light.
John Milton
"Paradise Lost"
*******************************************************
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dana Scully's Residence
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
5:08pm
Dana paid the taxi driver. She really needed to track
down Dana Scully's car and begin driving. It made no
sense to continue paying the outrageous price of a
taxi. It felt wasteful.
Dana started up the steps to Scully's apartment
building then came to a halt when a young woman
approached her. "Dana, I'm not sure if you remember me."
"Maggie," Dana whispered in a state of semi-shock.
"You're Daniel's daughter. Of course I remember you."
Maggie looked uncomfortable and dropped her head to
stare at her shoes. "I found your address in my
father's things..." Her voice trailed off.
Dana wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about
that. For all that Dana had gleaned about Scully's
relationship with Mulder, she had no clue about what
relationship Scully may or may not have had with
Daniel.
Maggie shifted anxiously on the balls of her feet.
"Would you like to come inside?" Dana asked. "I
can offer you tea or something."
Maggie looked up and there was an impossible mix of
emotions in her improbably bright eyes. For Dana it
was like felt watching a deer trapped in headlights
...which was a strange thought. Under most circumstances
a deer wasn't the first animal Dana would associate with
Daniel's daughter. In Dana's experience Maggie had
always been a sullen and resentful young woman. But
this was a different life and Scully had never married
Daniel Waterston. Things were different here, and
as the two of them stood in the fading light of dusk
Dana saw that the previously recalcitrant Maggie
Waterston now looked as fragile as glass. If Dana
said the wrong thing she wondered if Maggie would
shatter.
Maggie glanced up at the apartment building,
With her hands shoved into her jeans' pockets
she decided, "Tea would be nice."
X X X
Syndicate Research Facility
Location Unknown, 5:13pm
"Have you got it?" Mulder asked.
"No."
"Here, let me help."
"No."
"You need help."
Scully glared at him. "And you need to sit down."
Mulder sighed as Scully pushed against the heavy
steel panel over her head.
"You can't push that open," he repeated. "You don't
have the upper body strength. If you would just let
me help--"
"I said SIT DOWN!"
Mulder stepped back. How did such a little person
contain such a big "don't give me any shit" voice?
Mulder crossed his arms and decided that the voice
probably came from the same place as her dogged
determination. One way or another Scully was the
unstoppable force intent on moving the immovable
object. He should help her.
Almost as if Scully heard his thoughts, she looked
Mulder dead in the eyes. "You just had major surgery.
I won't allow you to injure yourself."
"I think I could be severely--if not mortally--injured
if they catch up with us."
"I can open this," she insisted. And, amazingly, Scully
could. The heavy steel cover began to move.
Impressive, Mulder thought...but he could still claim
credit for being the one to find their means of escape.
When he had pointed to the sprinkler, Scully had
looked at him as though he had lost his mind. Exactly
what was he suggesting? Were they supposed to crawl
through a sprinkler pipe.
"The stand pipes," Mulder had explained.
"Huh?"
"Several years ago I profiled a case where the prime
suspect was the maintenance engineer at a hospital--"
"The janitor."
Mulder shrugged. "Yeah, the janitor, but he saw
himself as a mercy killer."
She arched a brow. "Involuntary euthanasia?"
"Succinylcholine in the IVs. Very nasty. He took out
three ICU patients, two terminal cancer patients,
and one particularly bitchy nurse. When I caught up
with him he tried escaping through a tunnel that ran
under the hospital."
He had Scully's attention. "What sort of tunnel?"
"One where the fire suppression stand pipes connected
to the city water system."
"The sewer," Scully concluded.
"Fire sprinklers run on a separate high pressure water
line that ties directly into a city water which
requires an exterior manhole."
"So we follow this sprinkler pipe to the stand pipes
and escape through the sewer," Scully had reasoned.
"Yeah." Mulder had dragged himself to his feet while
ignoring his splitting headache.
The plan had sounded simple and luckily it had been.
The sprinkler pipe that had dribbled on him in the
mechanical room had lead directly to a chase that
had dropped into the tunnel--or as Scully insisted on
calling it--the sewer.
At the moment, Mulder couldn't bring himself to argue
with Scully's description of the tunnel as a sewer. The
passage was dark, dank, and had a distinctly sewer-like
smell. He couldn't leave it fast enough.
Without a flashlight both Mulder and Scully had
depended on the pale stream on light bleeding through
two of the holes of what they hoped was a manhole cover.
They also hoped the sewer exit was a safe distance away
from the Syndicate's research complex. Mulder had no
desire to slosh his way through a sewer only to
deliver himself directly into the hands of the
Cigarette Smoking Man.
Scully gave one last groan and finished opening
the manhole. Self sufficiency was a real bitch.
Scully might feel quite empowered by her competency,
but Mulder felt useless.
Okay, so he had just come out of surgery, and he was
none too steady on his feet. He also had a blinding
headache and his bare ass was hanging out his surgical
gown, but it still went against his grain to watch
Scully struggle while he twiddled his thumbs.
Scully's breathing grew strained and loud in the
silence of the sewer as she pushed the cover aside
and poked her head through the manhole.
"Anyone out there?" Mulder asked.
"Not at the moment."
After Scully climbed through the opening, Mulder
looked at the workman's outfit in his hands. Just
before exiting the mechanical room Scully had found
the discarded clothing. Mulder hadn't been thrilled
with the idea of going commando in a stranger's
clothes, but he was somewhat less thrilled by the
idea of exiting the sewer with his ass hanging out.
Scully looked over the edge. "What's the hold up?"
"Costume change." He looked in Scully's direction.
"Aren't you going to avert your eyes or something?"
"You don't have anything I haven't seen before. I'm
a doctor, remember?"
When her steady gaze didn't move, Mulder muttered
good naturedly, "To hell with chivalry." He began
stripping and Mulder thought he saw Scully smile just
before she disappeared from view.
A few minutes later Mulder pulled himself out of the
tunnel. "It's still daylight," he realized in mild
surprise.
"Barely." Scully gazed at the hazy gray-blue sky
peeking through the dense foliage of towering pine
trees. Their manhole was in the middle of nowhere.
This wasn't what Mulder had expected. "Where the hell
are we?"
"I don't know," she said softly.
He frowned. "You don't know? How did you get here?"
"A UPS van."
He stepped back. "You're kidding."
Scully shot Mulder a look that told him she was
definitely not kidding. "It wasn't a normal UPS
van. It was a modified ambulance of some sort, and it
didn't allow for much sightseeing."
Mulder shifted uncomfortably in the dirty white work
coveralls. "So we're lost in the wilderness."
"Looks like it."
Noting the darkening sky he muttered, "We should
start moving. We don't have much daylight left."
Scully started walking west at a slow but steady
pace. However, even with their slow movement
it didn't take long for Mulder to begin breathing hard.
"Shit, I'm in better shape than this," he insisted.
"You've been unconscious for days. You've--"
"Had surgery. Yeah, I remember that."
Scully's brows drew together creating a frown line.
"How much do you remember?"
"Of what? Of what happened or of you?"
He watched Scully's face, mesmerized by the way
emotions and thoughts momentarily shaded her
features then hid behind a calm mask.
"Either." But under her breath she added, "Both."
"The last thing I remember is the rubbing of the
African artifact." He noticed that Scully nodded as
if she knew exactly what he was talking about...which
was strange because she hadn't been there. Then again,
that was only one strange thing in the midst of
hundreds. Mulder confessed. "After passing out in the
lab the only memories I have are disjointed and
disconnected."
Again Scully nodded as if she understood. And any way
Mulder looked at it, Scully understanding what he was
saying should have been impossible. He hadn't given
her any details. His explanation was half assed at best,
but Scully seemed to know the story almost as well as he
did. She understood...almost as if she had been there.
That should freak him out or at least make him feel
suspicious.
It didn't.
It felt...right.
Mulder gazed at Scully speculatively. "Is it my
turn to ask questions?"
Her blue eyes met his as she gave an almost
imperceptible nod.
He asked, "How can I have memories of you? Is it
some sort of previous life regression thing?"
She laughed. "As in 'I was born in 1843, and we knew
each other then?'"
He nodded and watched her expectantly.
"No, it's nothing like that."
"Damn." He couldn't help it. He was just a little
disappointed. He couldn't help thinking that past
life regression would make a great X-File. However,
noting Scully's frown it was clear she didn't feel
the same way. Mulder sobered. "So tell me, what is
it like?"
Scully didn't answer.
They faced one another across an extremely small
distance. All it would take was one lifted hand
and they would touch.
Mulder sighed. "Before I landed in the hospital, I
had never met you. But I have memories of you--memories
of us. Can you explain that?"
Scully began picking at the bark on a tree, but
still didn't say anything. Finally she turned
scrambled up an outcropping of rocks. She didn't
stop until she could stand and look out at the horizon.
It was only then that Mulder noticed that they were
standing on a ledge at a very high altitude.
Scully asked, "Where do you think we are?"
"You didn't answer my question."
She acted as if he hadn't said a thing. "We're too
exposed here. The Smoking Man's men can't be far
behind us."
She isn't going to explain, Mulder realized. He
wondered why? Scully didn't seem like an evasive
person. In fact she seemed to pride herself on
being as straightforward as humanly possible.
Falling back on his profiler skills, Mulder decided
that perhaps Scully wasn't avoiding HIS questions...she
was avoiding her own.
X X X
The surgeon shone a penlight into the Smoking Man's
eyes. After a moment he nodded then stepped away from
the bed. "Welcome back," he said while removing his
latex gloves.
Though he felt like hell, the Smoking Man managed a
grim smile. "It's good to be back."
The doctor didn't respond.
"You look concerned," CSM added. "Was the operation
not a success?"
The surgeon frowned. "This was an untested procedure.
There is no way to tell at this point whether
it will accomplish more good than damage."
"There has been damage?"
"When foreign matter has been introduced to the body,
there is always the potential for damage."
The Smoking Man gave a low, rumbling chuckle. "Do not
say that at this late stage of the game you're worried
about your Hippocratic oath."
"First, do no harm."
The old man smiled. "I'm alive, aren't I?"
The surgeon glanced away.
"Tell me, Doctor, what is your definition of harm? The
extinction of the human race?" The Smoking Man frowned.
"Or perhaps Mulder has not fared well. Is that it?
Have you lost a patient after all?"
The surgeon turned sharply as if reluctant to face his
patient, making the old man wish he could reach for a
cigarette. He could use one, but no doubt the doctor
would refuse him. Few people refused the Cigarette
Smoking Man and lived, but then this was his doctor...
and of course there was oxygen in the room.
"Is Mulder gone?" the old man asked again.
"Yes. So is the woman."
CSM slanted his gaze toward the doctor. "Mulder is
alive?"
"We have no reason to think otherwise."
He nodded. "So lovely Dr. Waterston accomplished
her goal after all."
The surgeon's brow knitted in a questioning frown.
"The only reason she came here was to rescue Mulder,"
the old man explain in his low, emotionless voice.
He stated flatly, "She won't succeed."
X X X
Dana Scully's Residence
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
5:40pm
Dana sat at the dining table watching Maggie Waterston
stare into a cup of green tea. Dana didn't say anything.
She was still in a state of shock at finding Daniel's
daughter standing on Scully's doorstep.
"I'm not sure where to start," Maggie told her.
Dana wasn't sure how to help her start. She had never
been able to talk to Maggie. Every encounter she had
ever had with her stepdaughter had been awkward and
tension filled.
Maggie lifted her startlingly bright eyes and announced
in a stark voice, "My father died two weeks ago."
Dana was speechless. Daniel was dead? It was the last
thing she had expected to hear. Her husband was dead...
only he wasn't her husband. Or rather he wasn't Scully's
husband. The sheer perversity of her situation made
impossible for Dana to feel possessive of anything. But
still, in another time, another life Daniel Waterston
was her husband and now he was dead.
The logistics of this nightmare were beginning
to make Dana's head hurt, but one thought began
a quiet litany inside of her. Daniel was dead. How
was she supposed to react to that? This shock
coming after so many others simply left Dana
feeling numb.
Maggie nervously fingered the handle of the antique
china cup. "Maybe I should have called you when it
happened." The younger woman glanced up anxiously.
"Is that what you would have wanted? Or would you
prefer that I not be here now? The last time I saw
you, I had the impression that you had moved on
with your life. You didn't seem interested having my
father in it."
Dana searched in vain for something to say.
Maggie pushed the tea cup away, stood, and began
pacing. "Then again maybe the reason I didn't call
you had nothing to do with you. Maybe I didn't
contact you because I knew my father wanted you
there." She stopped and asked, "Was that cruel?"
"Cruel?"
"My father didn't mention you by name, not after the
alternative medicine incident. But I know he wanted you
there. I knew it but I never did a thing about it. I
denied my father his dying wish. Is that cruel?"
"If he never mentioned me, what makes you think he
wanted to see me?" Dana asked logically.
Maggie laughed harshly. "Oh he wanted to see you. He
wanted one more woman weeping at his bedside. It
would have completed the picture since Mom refused
to play along."
Dana was startled. "Your mother?" Barbara Waterston
was dead. She had committed suicide years ago. She
had done it just after...Dana sighed. Those incidents
had never happened in this world. Scully had made
different choices. How many times must Dana face that
truth before it became real to her?
Maggie's smile twisted bitterly. "Mom told Dad where
he could stick it. She did come to his funeral though.
She even cried. She just refused to give him the
satisfaction of SEEING her cry."
Dana picked up Maggie's cup and walked toward the sink
to rinse it out. "Maybe you didn't call me out of
respect for your mother," she theorized.
Maggie shook her head. "Mom wouldn't give a damn if
I called you. Not any more. No, I...I didn't call
because I didn't want you there."
Then why are you here now? Dana wondered.
Maggie's hand moved jerkily, nervously as she paced.
"I didn't call because I didn't want to. But that
doesn't seem fair. You saved his life." She stopped
pacing. "He may not have wanted to admit it, and he
may have mocked you for it. But I know you saved his
life, and at the end he wanted you there."
"What about what you wanted?"
Maggie shrugged. "Dad never bothered with what I
wanted."
That was true of both Daniels. His priorities had
been simple--himself, THEN everyone else. The world
could go to hell and unless it directly involved him.
Dana said tentatively "Maybe you're not calling me
was your way of finally getting what you wanted. For
once your needs came first."
"Maybe."
Almost definitely.
Maggie rested her hands on the back of one
of Scully's dining chairs. "I...want to thank
you," she said haltingly.
Dana blinked. "What?"
"I want to thank you. More than anything else, more
than telling you of my father's death, that's why I
came here tonight."
Dana was surprised and confused. The one thing
she had never expected out of Maggie Waterston was
gratitude. For that matter she had never even
expected respect, yet somehow Dana Scully had earned
both.
"You gave me a chance," Maggie confessed. "A chance
for my father and myself to correct our mistakes."
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He may not have
taken that chance but still, there was one, and I
have you to thank for it."
"I'm sorry I couldn't have helped more," was all that
Dana could think to say.
Maggie shook her head. "It was enough. It may not
have been a happy ending, but I think it was a valid
one. Given the way my father was, I can't imagine a
different one. At any rate, you gave me time to come
to peace with who he was, to accept him warts and all.
Now I'm free to move on, and I have you to thank
for it."
Dana shook her head. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, and I've probably
said too much. I probably should have just sent a
card--"
"No," Dana protested. "No, it was good to see you.
I'm glad you came by."
X X X
Pisgah National Forest
6:13pm
Mulder leaned against Scully, and he hated it. Yes,
there was physical pleasure in being close to her,
but it bothered him to feel helpless, to be dependent
on another person. Call it male ego, but shouldn't
he be capable of ignoring a migraine and blurry
vision? Mind over matter and all that.
Mulder had been through some harrowing situations
in his life and had always dragged himself out of
them without leaning on a slender pair of female
shoulders. Of course in the past he had no choice.
There had been no one to lean against, no one to
help shoulder the burden.
He had to admit that it felt good to have
someone beside him.
Besides, it was easier to play tortured superhero
when you had a black rubber bat suit, and Mulder
was fresh out of latex. Not to mention the fact
that at the moment the best secret identity he
could qualify for would be 'Migraine Man.'
Trying to distract himself from his headache Mulder
asked, "Exactly how long did it take that modified
UPS van to reach the research facility?"
Scully stopped moving. "We left D.C. around 8pm and
it was daylight when we arrived." Closing her
eyes momentarily, she took a deep breath. Mulder
could feel her exhausted muscles trembling beneath
him. Scully's energy reserves were running out.
Ignoring his headache and dizziness, Mulder shifted
his weight onto his own feet. If the two of them were
going to make it, he needed to carry his own weight.
Unsteady on his feet, Mulder focused on questions
that needed answers. "So we're somewhere that can
be reached by car in ten to twelve hours." After
filling his lungs with the thin air, Mulder added,
"Somewhere with a fairly impressive elevation."
Free of Mulder's weight Scully bent over and rested
her hands on her thighs. Mulder thought her breathing
was more labored than before, but he didn't think she
would appreciate his pointing that out. "We're
lost in some mountain range south of D.C." Scully
concluded raggedly.
"South?"
Scully stood. "Don't ask me why. But this seems...I
don't know. Wouldn't it be colder than this in
mountains ten hours north of D.C.?"
"Maybe," he agreed. "But when it gets dark, I have a
feeling this will be more than cold enough."
Mulder watched the sun sink relentlessly toward the
horizon, a jagged, indistinct edge hidden by sparse
cloud cover. Soon the glowing orange orb would
disappear entirely, leaving them in a dark, near
moonless night.
Mulder frowned. "If this is south of D.C. we can rule
out the Adirondacks."
"The Appalachians, maybe?"
Mulder faced Scully. "Where? The Appalachians
cover a lot of terrain."
"I don't know." Scully gingerly touched the ugly
bruise beginning to mar her jaw. She flinched and
dropped her hand. "We should keep moving."
Mulder didn't argue. In silence they followed a trail
that sharply descended the mountain. Picking their
way down this path in the dark was going to be
dangerous if not fatal. Even as Mulder thought it,
Scully's foot slid, sending pebbles plummeting over the
rock ledge. Mulder caught her arm and pulled her sharply
toward him. Her small body collided with his. He stepped
awkwardly to the side but maintained his balance as his
hand clasped her shoulder. For a moment Scully rested
against him, her bright head pressed his chest. However,
only seconds passed before Scully pulled away.
Mulder missed the contact.
"We're going to have to stop for the night," Scully
announced. "If we keep going in the dark, one of us
is going to break his neck." She looked up at the
gray-blue sky that was deepening to a misty shade of
violet. "And, Mulder, you don't need to be exposed
to the elements. Under any other circumstances you'd
be hospitalized right now."
"Yeah, well, I specialize in 'other circumstances.'
I'll survive." He looked around them. "It wouldn't
hurt to have a better idea where we are though."
"Considering the lack of development, I'd guess some
national park," she surmised. "It would make a certain
amount of sense. Government owned lands could be a
a convenient place to hide a federal research
facility."
Mulder looked at her sharply.
"What?" Scully asked.
"I'm not used to a normal person taking my shadow
government conspiracies seriously. A militia nut
might buy into it, but most rational people call me
paranoid and crazy."
Scully frowned and looked offended for him. "You may
be overly enthusiastic, but you aren't crazy." She
looked around them. "So do you buy the theory that
our mystery men set up shop in a national forest?"
Mulder didn't miss her saying 'our,' as if the two
of them could possess something together, as if the
search was shared. The question of who this woman
could be was fast becoming his new obsession.
Suddenly pain shot through Mulder's temple and he
became aware of a faint buzzing noise.
"Mulder, you need to sit down," Scully insisted.
The buzzing grew louder until a helicopter passed
overhead. Mulder caught Scully's hand and pulled
her beneath the canopy of fir trees.
"Looks like they discovered we skipped out without
paying the bill," he muttered.
Scully glanced in the direction they had hiked.
"There can't be much distance between us and a
search party. We haven't exactly made record
time."
"And we aren't about to begin to. We're going to
have to lie low."
"Where?"
Another helicopter passed overhead. Pulling Scully
deeper into the shadow of the trees, Mulder searched
for a path of escape. "Somewhere out of sight of those."
A third copter buzzed by.
Scully pointed up the rock face. "Is that a cave?"
In the deeply shadowed light it was hard to tell, but
Mulder was willing to go on a hunch. He took Scully's
hand, and abruptly changing direction, they headed up
the mountain instead of down.
He drawled, "Let's hope we're not disturbing Yogi and
Boo-Boo."
*****************************************************
To know that what is impenetrable to us really exists,
manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most
radiant beauty, which our dull facilities can
comprehend only in the most primitive forms--this
knowledge, this feeling is at the center of true
religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only,
I belong to the ranks of the devoutly religious...
Albert Einstein
******************************************************
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pisgah National Forrest
9:53pm
Scully sat on the flat, slightly damp stone floor of the
cave as she watched beams of diffused light float in the
darkness.
"They're still searching," Mulder noted as he looked at
the woods below them.
Scully nodded. "They've been at it for hours."
He leaned his head against the stone wall and closed
his eyes. "So they get brownie points for persistence."
Scully didn't answer but tried to focus on the lights
in the fog only to find her own eyes drifting shut.
When she felt her breathing become deep and even,
Scully realized she was on the verge of falling asleep.
Swiftly jerked herself to an erect sitting position,
she glanced over her shoulder to see Mulder watching
her through one open eye.
"How long since you've slept?" he asked.
"Months." Scully saw him frown and amended her
statement, "I mean it feels like months. Actually,
it's only been a couple of days."
She had told the truth the first time. She hadn't
had a good night's sleep since he had disappeared.
"You need to rest." Mulder's voice was warm and
soft and comforting. For a moment Scully almost
believed she could rest.
"I'm okay," she reassured. "You're the one who
needs to lie down. You--"
"Just had brain surgery."
Scully glanced at him sheepishly. "Have I repeated
it that many times?"
He smiled. "I lost count at thirty-four."
She crossed her arms. "So when are you going to
follow my advice?"
"Immediately after you follow it. Do you really
need me to say 'physician, heal thyself?'"
Scully tilted her head toward the glowing lights.
"I'll follow my advice as soon as they leave."
Mulder moved closer to her. "You know watching them
search doesn't prevent them from finding us or make
them go away any faster."
"Perhaps. But I feel better standing guard."
"Okay, then." He shook himself a little and sat
up straight. "Seen any good movies lately?"
"No."
"What about television? Anything good on?"
"It's summer re-runs."
"Found any aliens?"
"Not a one." After a heartbeat Scully turned to
face him. "Mulder, we don't have to make small talk."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Good. I suck at small talk."
They sat in companionable silence for a very long
time. They didn't say anything. Maybe they didn't
need to say anything. Scully surreptitiously
looked at Mulder. From the moment she had met him
they had shared the ability to sit in silence without
the silence being awkward. It wasn't that they
lacked for things to say. They debated. They argued.
They discussed, but they were able to sit side by
side in perfect peace without a word passing
between them. Silence felt comfortable and comforting.
It felt safe...which was rare...which was very rare.
X X X
Pisgah National Forrest
11:48pm
Mulder watched Scully bring her knees up to her chest
as lights swiveled and danced, illuminating the
jagged outline of trees in the forest below the
cave where they sat. The searchers moved away
and the lights dimmed.
As they plunged into total darkness Mulder asked,
"Shouldn't we have knit caps and a handheld camera?"
Scully frowned. Mulder couldn't see the frown, but
he knew it was there.
"Blair Witch pop-culture reference," he explained.
"You know, weird sounds in the woods followed by
impenetrable darkness." When she didn't answer Mulder
added, "Okay, as pop references go, it's a couple of
years out of date, but give me a break, I just had
brain surgery."
Now she smiled. He couldn't see the smile any more
than he could the frown, but he knew the smile
was there.
A helicopter with blinding white lights buzzed by,
momentarily silhouetting the ghostly skeleton of dead
trees against a deep indigo sky. "What do you think
caused that?" he asked, indicting the trees.
Scully shrugged. "Insects. Acid rain. Forest fires.
Who knows."
"I read somewhere that it's a common problem in the
Southern Appalachians, particularly above fifty-five
hundred mark in the Black Mountains."
Now he had Scully's attention. "You think that's where
we are?" she asked.
"From the time frame you gave, it sounds about right."
Mulder winced and massaged his temple.
"Don't." Scully gently caught his hand then stretched
over him to check his bandage. "Are you in much pain?"
"I have the headache to end all headaches, but it's
manageable."
"Go lie down. Get some rest."
"You first."
She didn't move.
"Scully," he said softly. "The lights are moving down
the hill. They aren't coming back."
"They always come back," she said with the kind of
resignation that made Mulder wonder how long Scully had
been running from black helicopters. How long had
she been peering into dark corners? Long enough to
know the monsters that lived there were real.
Mulder recognized Scully's complete emotional exhaustion
even as he felt the determination that drove her. He
shared it. It was in him, and it was in her. Somehow,
fundamentally, they were the same. For so long his quest
had been a lonely one. No one understood, not really,
until now. But from the moment he had gazed into
Scully's tired blue eyes it was as if he had never
been alone, as if she had always walked by his side.
Unbidden, Mulder remembered the visions he'd had in the
hospital, memories of this woman taking his hand,
of standing by his side in the midst of more nightmares
than he cared to count. There were memories of her
sacrifices, and of Scully earning his absolute trust.
Memories that both were and were not real--as implausible
as that description sounded.
Mulder touched the bruise marring Scully's cheek.
"That must hurt like a sonofabitch."
"Only when you touch it."
He drew his hand away.
"That guy had a pretty hard left," Mulder sympathized.
"I'll survive. And after you whacked him with the bone
saw, I'm sure his headache is worse than yours."
Mulder arched a brow. "You think that's possible?"
"If there's justice in the world, it's possible."
"That's the best thing I've heard all night." His
eyes had grown accustomed to the dark so Mulder
could make out the lines and curves of her face.
"So... "
She tilted her head to the side. "So?"
"It was a conversational gambit."
"No talking. You need sleep." Scully pulled away
and stretched across the cave's floor. Mulder
watched as she twisted one way then another. She
looked uncomfortable.
Mulder remained where he was. "I'm not sleepy." He
wasn't sure if he said it because it was true or
just to have her turn and glare at him. He waited
patiently for her to say something, to say anything.
She didn't, and for a moment Mulder thought Scully
really had gone to sleep. He looked closly. No,
even considering how exhausted she must be, Scully
looked too uncomfortable to sleep.
He pressed, "You never explained how I know you."
The silence remained unbroken for a very long time.
Finally Scully asked--and from the tone of her voice
it was clear that she was reluctant to ask-- "DO
you know me?"
"Yes." It was that simple and that true...despite
the fact that knowing her was impossible.
"You're not him," Scully whispered in the darkness.
"Who?"
"Mulder. You're not him. You're not real."
"I'm just doing an amazingly lifelike impression
of him? Come on, Scully, what you're saying doesn't
make sense."
Her voice sounded small and hesitant. "Don't ask me
to make sense of this."
"Just resign ourselves to confusion?"
She turned over. "I can tell you what happened, but
I can't make sense of it." And she explained how
she had been assigned to investigate the
disappearance of Steven Doerstling. She described
her conversations with Mike Stilgoe, and her
decision to venture into the CESR. Then Scully
described finding herself in Georgetown Memorial's
M.I.C.U. gazing at him.
"You're saying you've fallen into an alternate
universe," Mulder realized.
"I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did."
"I never once said that," Scully snapped. "I said
that I was investigating a case where a physicist
theorized the existence of alternate universes."
"And then you fell into one."
"No." She shook her head. "That's impossible. Even
if alternate universes do exist, a person couldn't
fall into one."
Mulder watched her carefully. "So what's your
explanation for what's happening?"
"I'm probably in the I.C.U. of some hospital in
Ithaca. Odds are this is nothing more than a
desperate dream."
"Why would you be desperate to dream about me having
a headache the size of Alaska? And if it's your dream,
why am I the one with a headache? For that matter,
why would I be in your dream at all?"
"Because I'm desperate to find you," Scully confessed.
That pulled him up short. Her words held the
unmistakable ring of truth. Mulder blinked. "Why
would you want to find me?"
Her sad eyes moved over him. "Why wouldn't I? Do
you have any idea how much I want to save you, to
bring you back? This is nothing more than wish
fulfillment."
Mulder gazed at her doubtfully. "Exactly what wish
are you fulfilling? A latent desire to see me
lobotomized?"
Scully's expression made Mulder feel like an ass for
teasing about her. There was a world of pain in her
eyes telling him that Scully was dead serious when
she said she was desperate.
"Mulder, when you disappeared, I wasn't there to
save you. I can't help you. I can't find you. Now
suddenly I can do all three? Don't you see? Your..."
She took a deep breath. "Your abduction was connected
to the anomalous brain activity you experienced last
fall. It only makes sense that my desire to find you
has become mixed up with my memories and your
descriptions of your surgery. That would explain why
I arrived at this point in time--"
"Arrived," Mulder repeated. "You don't 'arrive' in a
dream. This is real, Scully, and you know it."
"No, it is a dream. It has to be. It's not even an
unusual one. Do you have any idea how many times
I've dreamed of having you back?"
The fervor in her voice affected him. Her loyalty to
him was astounding and unexpected and beyond anything
Mulder had ever known. And despite what Scully was
saying, it WAS real. "This isn't a dream, Scully. I'm
here. I exist."
"Then maybe I don't. Maybe I'm her. Maybe I'm Dana
Waterston and not Special Agent Dana Scully."
"Now you're grasping at straws."
"I know things that Dana Waterston knows," Scully
explained. "I'm aware of medical minutia outside
of my specialty, but not outside of hers. Maybe she
is the one who is real and Dana Scully is the dream."
"Am I a man who dreamed he was a butterfly or a
butterfly who dreamed he was a man?"
Scully slanted a glance in his direction. "Don't be
flippant."
"I'm not being flippant. I'm trying to figure out why
you would diagnose yourself as being schizophrenic
rather than admit to an extreme possibility."
"Mulder, this isn't paranormal."
"No, it's science so why aren't you buying into it?
Just say it, Scully. Say you've fallen into an
alternate universe."
She shook her head. "It's impossible."
"Impossible? You can see it. You can touch it. It's
all around you. How can you not believe your own
eyes?"
"Senses can lie. There are all kinds of hallucinogenic
substances that--"
"You can't do it, can you? Even with the evidence
staring you in the face, you can't believe."
Scully's eyes snapped with blue fire as she demanded,
"Instead of passing judgments on what I choose to
believe, you might ask yourself why you need to force
me to believe as you do."
"I don't--"
She cut him off. "Why do you need me to agree with you?
It's not my loyalty you want. You have that. And my
agreeing with you wouldn't make your beliefs any more or
less true. Beliefs are personal. Belief is faith, and
faith can't be proven."
"That's religion, not truth."
"And truth is your religion."
Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully stopped him.
"Don't mock faith, Mulder. You might not believe in
religion, but you've always functioned on faith. Always.
You couldn't martyr yourself to something you don't
believe in, something you don't have faith in. And,
damn you, you martyred yourself in this quest."
"I'm not dead."
"Aren't you? How the hell am I supposed to know?
You got on a plane to Oregon and never came home!"
Her voice broke, and she began to shake.
"Scully..."
"Damnit, Mulder, how could you? You dragged me into
your mad crusade then walked away!" She angrily wiped
away her tears. "Did you see the chance to find
answers? Is that all it took? You left me behind,
and don't give me that excuse that you didn't want to
lose me. You lost yourself. It's the same thing in
the end, and it's no more bearable...only I'm the
one who has to bear it."
"Scully, please--"
"You son of a bitch, you ditched me."
He dragged her into his arms but Scully struggled
against him.
"Let go." She pushed against his chest.
"No."
"Let go. Ditch me. It's what you do best."
"No."
"Damnit, Mulder!"
He held her tightly and threaded his fingers though
her hair, "I know I didn't mean to leave you," he
said urgently. "I would never willingly do that."
"Ha! You do it all the time."
"But not like this."
She stopped struggling.
He held his breath. "Scully...?"
"You never left me like this," she whispered. "This
time you didn't come back."
He cupped the back of her head and rocked her gently.
"I'm sorry."
Mulder felt a shudder pass through Scully as she buried
her face against the crook of his neck. He felt
her hot tears against his bare skin, but Scully never
made a sound. Not a single cry. Her grief was terrible
in its silence. There was no solace in her tears or in
his embrace. There was only agony and silence.
Helplessly he whispered, "I'm sorry."
A single sob escaped her. Her arms wrapped tightly
around him as her fingers clutched his shirt in
tight fists. Mulder searched in vain for words of
comfort, but what could he say that could compare to
the eloquence of her tears. .. so he held her. His
body wrapped protectively around hers, holding her
close, keeping her warm. They clung to each other,
providing anchors in a sea of loneliness and confusion.
Scully gave a huge sigh that seemed to pass through her
entire being before she fell limp against him. Silently
Mulder urged her to let go over her superhuman self-
control, to relax, to rest. Scully seemed so very
tired--tired to the depths of her soul.
"Rest," Mulder murmured as his hands moved over her
back. He felt her breath against his throat growing
soft and even. She didn't move but appeared content
to stay locked in his arms. Mulder let the silky
strands of her hair pass through his fingers.
"You aren't him," Scully said into the darkness.
"No, I'm not."
"He's still missing and now so am I. This isn't
home."
"Just an incredible facsimile."
Scully started to move away, but Mulder held her
against the wall of his chest. She didn't struggle.
It was as if Scully no longer had the energy or the
strength.
"You feel like him." She said with her palms pressed
flat against his chest and her head resting on his
shoulder. "You even smell like him. If I close my
eyes tightly enough I can almost believe you are him,
that you've come back...that this isn't a dream."
"It isn't a dream, Scully," he insisted gently.
"Maybe not, but you're still not him."
Mulder pressed his lips against the top of her head.
"Some part of me must be. Otherwise how can I feel
what he feels? Know what he knows?"
She lifted her head and gazed at him with tearful
eyes. "Do you?"
"Yes."
"How can one being be two people?" she asked before
giving a watery smile. "Other than garden variety
schizophrenia, that is."
"Light can be both a particle and a wave, right?
Can't this be something similar?"
"I don't see how."
Mulder frowned as he concentrated. "Contradictions are
part of the universe--or the multiverse as the case may
be--and every action has an equal and opposite reaction--"
"Don't talk science to me, Mulder, you're creeping
me out."
Without letting her go Mulder shifted their weight so
that he could lean back against the wall of the cave.
He closed his eyes. "Okay, what if I say that mystics
have pondered the true meaning of consciousness since
the human race wandered around in caves drawing on
walls--and, yes, I'm aware that at the moment we're
wandering around a cave but please note we aren't
drawing on walls."
"Your point being?"
"My point being that maybe only a thin veil separates
your world from mine. Maybe there are times when our
realities are close enough to see or touch, or maybe
even pass through. The Australian Aborigines believe
in the Alchera/Tjurjunga--the dreamtime. Their myths
describe people's spirits making journeys through the
void."
"As in someone's consciousness traveling to another
universe?"
"Maybe."
"That might explain why I'm not me." Scully paused and
looked dismayed by what she had just said. "I mean--"
She stopped and shook her head. "This isn't my hair
cut." She held out her hand and exposed a nearly
invisible razor thin scar on her forearm. "I didn't
have that. And there's no chip in my neck and...and
there are other things."
"Meaning even though you have Scully's memories, this is
Dana Waterston's body?"
"Yes."
"So only your consciousness, your sentience went from
one universe into another. What if whatever happened
in the CESR completed some cosmic circuit creating
a consciousness loop making it possible to be two
people at the same time?"
"So why would you be affected?" Scully asked. "You
weren't in the accelerator."
"Anomalous brain activity. If it was enough to read
the thoughts of everyone around me, maybe it was enough
to also reach through the veil." He opened his eyes.
"The beach. The figure I saw on the beach. It was me."
He paused. "That is, it was Mulder. Your Mulder.
Maybe the connection was made there, in dreamtime."
Scully sat up with an intent searching look on her
face. "So you might really know what Mulder is
thinking?"
"Knew. Whatever was done to me in the operation
quieted the voices, including his. I just remember
everything I've experienced up until that point."
"But you heard him thinking? He's alive?"
"I'm Mulder too, you know."
"Is HE alive?" she pressed urgently.
Mulder cupped her cheek, his thumb resting along
curve of her jaw. "Yes. He's alive"
"Thank God." Scully closed her eyes as her forehead
fell against his chest. "Thank you, God."
X X X
Syndicate Research Facility
12:13am
The surgeon entered the recovery room then rushed
forward. "You shouldn't be sitting up."
The Smoking Man eyed him with a cold stare. "Have
our fugitives been found?
"Your men are still looking."
"Tell me, Doctor, how many acres of national
forest are outside our door? Enough to conceal two
people who don't want to be found?"
"I'm sure your men are well-trained."
"Oh yes, they're well trained but our fugitives
have need on their side. Never underestimate
desperation as motivation." He leaned back against
the pillows and closed his eyes. "I miscalculated."
The Smoking Man opened his eyes to see the surgeon
looking at him questioningly. "I underestimated Dr.
Waterston," he explained. "I knew she had a plan
of action, but I thought to outmaneuver her. Now
I find she can think on her feet. Mulder has
acquired a formidable ally." The old man motioned
for a nurse to fluff his pillow and straighten his
sheets. Settling back against the cool, white
linens he announced without inflection. "They
both have to be eliminated."
****************************************************
Look and remember. Look upon the sky;
Look deep and deep into the sea-clean air,
The unconfined, the terminus of prayer.
Speak now and speak into the hallowed dome.
What do you hear? What does the sky reply?
The heavens are taken; this is not your home.
Karl Jay Shapiro
"Travelogue for Exiles"
*****************************************************
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Pisgah National Forrest
6:40am
Scully came awake slowly. First she was aware that
half of her body was freezing while the other half
was comfortably warm. Then she felt the weight of
something lying across her. Finally, her synapses
began to fire, and Scully remembered that 'something'
was Mulder.
He was pressed against her back with his knees drawn
up behind hers and his arm draped over her shoulder;
hence the reason her back was warm and snug while her
fingers and feet were freezing.
Briefly Scully remembered the verbal tussle preceding
their sleeping arrangements.
Mulder had noticed, "You're shivering."
"We're in the mountains. It's cold. I shiver.
It's perfectly normal."
"Is it normal to ignore the fact you're freezing?"
It was at that moment Scully had realized Mulder would
wrap his arm around her and settle himself against her
back. He would surround her with his warmth and
wordless comfort...and she would allow it. She longed
for it. Mulder had held her in exactly the same way
on their last night together in Oregon...which was
why she should say no even as he moved toward her.
Her memories were too painful to be resurrected.
Scully had warned him, "Don't try the 'let's share body
heat' excuse. I've heard it before."
Mulder gazed at her with an all too innocent
expression.
"It isn't raining sleeping bags," she had snapped.
"Is sleeping bag precipitation a common problem in
your reality?" He had grinned.
"It's a very rare phenomena," Scully said darkly.
"Almost unheard of."
"But not impossible," Mulder said as he settled against
her. "Besides, what's the alternative? Hypothermia?"
Scully had known she should push him away. For her own
sanity she needed to keep this familiar stranger
at a distance...The problem was she didn't want Mulder
at a distance. Not this Mulder. Not any Mulder. She
wanted to touch him and reassure herself that he was
here. Scully knew that he wasn't her Mulder, and yet
somehow he was...he most definitely was.
Scully rubbed the bridge of her nose. Now she was the
one with a headache. She was tired of trying to find
explanations for the impossible. She was sick of trying
to find order in chaos, of divining reason where there
was none. She wanted to close her eyes and believe.
Even if it was only for one short, deluded moment, she
wanted to believe that everything would be okay;
so when Mulder touched her, Scully hadn't pulled
away. She had sighed and allowed her eyes to drift
closed enjoying the feel Mulder's long fingers
intertwined with hers. As Mulder squeezed her hand
Scully let go, if only briefly, of her confusion and
allowed herself to be lulled into peaceful slumber.
Now it was morning. Sunlight was visible at the
mouth of the cave. It was time to sit up, stand
up, and face the day. Scully didn't want to.
She felt Mulder shift behind her.
"We should plan our strategy," Scully said still
clinging, though no longer quite as desperately, to
the rational side of her nature. "We aren't out of
this yet."
"What's there to plan?" he asked. "We leave the cave
and avoid the bad guys."
She started to move away. "So simple."
"It is if you let it be." Mulder pulled her back
against him. They lay in silence. Scully could hear
the sound of his breathing. It was so steady and
reassuring, so utterly and infuriatingly calm.
"Mulder, don't you ever plan for the future?" she
asked quietly as she glanced at him over her
shoulder.
His eyes remained closed. "I don't think about it."
"Never thinking about the future is the same thing as
not planning for it."
Mulder rolled onto his back. "Okay, I don't plan much
for the future."
"Why?" She leaned over him, bracing her arms on either
side of him. Only inches separated their mouths. "I've
been thinking about this a lot lately. Ever since--"
Scully stopped abruptly as Mulder brushed a strand of
hair away from her face.
Scully was momentarily distracted, but determinedly
pulled herself back to the point she was trying to
make. "At some point after you disappeared I realized
we've never been very interested in the future."
Her gaze locked with his. "Knowing what we know,
isn't that strange? You would think we'd be obsessed
with it. Instead we only seem to look to the past."
When it looked like Mulder would protest Scully added,
"Think about it. What are the questions we ask until
we're so sick of them that no answer would be enough
to satisfy us? What happened to your sister? Who took
me and put the chip in my neck? Who killed your father?
Who killed my sister? All of it is in the past. If the
answers were handed to us tomorrow, it wouldn't change
a thing."
Uncertainty almost overwhelmed her. "What if we've been
asking the wrong questions? What if we've been fighting
the wrong fight?"
Mulder's dark eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"We've spent so much time fighting the future, that
we never stopped to wonder if we should fight FOR it.
Why is that?"
A frown creased the area between his eyebrows. "Well,
there's always the old cliché about ignoring the past
and being doomed to repeat it."
"There's also a cliché about beating dead horses."
Scully sat up. "I just don't know if there are
enough answers for all of our questions. Maybe at
some point we have to say enough is enough and stop
looking to the past." Scully touched her flat stomach,
her depressingly flat stomach. "At some point shouldn't
we start looking to the future? If we had done that
I--" She stopped, frowned, and quickly turned away.
Mulder touched her shoulder and waited for her to
turn to face him. "If we had done that, what?"
"I wouldn't have lost you."
X X X
Glenwood Cemetery
Washington, DC
10:13am
Dana Waterston had driven down Lincoln Drive three
times. The first time she had told herself she had
only intended to drive by the cemetery. The second
time Daba had resolved to see Daniel's grave, only at
the last moment to decide against it and drive away.
Finally, on the third try Dana crossed the grass
reading the names on tombstones as she went.
She pulled at her shirt collar. It was impossible to
ignore the rising heat of the late summer day. With
Scully's endless collection of black clothing Dana felt
a bit like she had slipped into an oven set on broil.
There was a bead of sweat rolling down her spine when
she finally found the grave she was searching for.
Waterston was emblazoned across granite. She stared at
the headstone in dazed disbelief. The man who had
never been Dana Scully's husband lay six feet below the
earth. Dana knelt to lay lilies on his grave and
wondered what she was supposed to feel.
What was the rational response for a situation like
this? For that matter, what was the irrational response?
Miss Manners had never written the appropriate etiquette
for such patently bizarre circumstances. Exactly what
should she be feeling? What should she do? There were
so many ways to react, so many ways to feel.
"I never loved you." Dana was shocked at the words
that came out of her mouth...but they felt true.
"I was infatuated once," she confessed. "You were
fascinating. You had such control. I envied that.
I wanted that. I always wanted control."
Somehow she found herself sitting on the grass. It
might stain Scully's suit, but Dana found she didn't
care as a sense of self awareness began to overtake
her. "I was fourteen when Charlie decided that he
wanted to buy a motorcycle. Dad didn't want to hear
anything about it, but Charlie wouldn't give up.
He took a job as a bagboy at the supermarket. He sold
magazine subscriptions." Dana smiled. "He was
determined, and in the end he did it. It was old and
beaten up, but it was his. He was so proud."
Her smile disappeared. "Then Dad found out about the
bike and took it away. He said it was dangerous and
irresponsible. Dad sold it and said how disappointed
he was in Charlie." Dana noticed that she was
fingering the delicate yellow petals of the lilies,
bruising their soft buttery color. She pulled her
hands away. "My father was an admirable man, and I
loved him. I never wanted to disappoint him. I
never wanted him to look at me the way that he looked
at Charlie. So I had to keep myself under control.
I had to follow the rules. I was taught to admire
order and control."
Dana looked up at the way light filtered through the
leaves of the cherry trees shading this corner of the
cemetery.
"I never rebelled," she admitted. "At least not much,
not in public...not like Charlie." Dana smiled
ruefully. "Not even like Scully. At least she followed
her own path and joined the FBI. I, on the other hand,
followed my infatuation with control all the way to
you."
She laid her hand on the vibrantly green grass. "But
I never loved you."
Dana rose to her feet. "I realize that now. In
fact, I realize a lot of things. Charlie wasn't
irresponsible. Look at what he did to earn that
bike. He worked his ass off, and before Dad came
home Charlie took me for a ride. I loved it. I
loved every minute of it. I loved the freedom,
the wildness, even that thrill of danger. It was
exhilarating."
Dana looked at her hands clasped together so tightly
it turned her knuckles white. She deliberately
relaxed her grip and stretched her fingers. "For a
long time, I've denied that part of myself. I chose
control over everything, even my own spirit."
She stepped back from the grave. "I chose wrong.
That's the difference between what I'm feeling, and
what Scully feels about losing Mulder. Control is an
illusion. What's between Mulder and Scully is real.
It's visceral and constant and true. It's right. If
there is any sort of reason why this has happened to
me, I think it's to show me that I don't belong with
you, Daniel. I never did, and finally I'm strong
enough to face that."
She turned and walked away.
X X X
Pisgah National Forest
The Black Mountains, North Carolina
10:45 am
Mulder stood reading a marker. "Bee Tree Gap." He
looked at Scully. "Should we take that as a sign?"
"I'd rather take the sign pointing us toward the trail
leading to the visitor's center. They probably have
toilets."
He looked at the glyphs on the sign. "And a picnic
area. Good. I missed breakfast."
Scully gave him a look that said he was straining her
patience. So Mulder decided not to add how intrigued
he was that the sign also told them they were in the
Pisgah forest. If he believed in omens Mulder might find
significance in the fact that Pisgah was the name of
the place where after wandering the wilderness for
nearly 40 years, Moses finally saw the promised land.
Mulder looked at Scully. What a strange, contradictory
creature she was. She seemed to have such fierce
loyalty and affection for him and yet she also seemed to
consider him to be her personal cross to bear. She
sought out the irrational and then insisted on applying
logic to it. She could believe one moment and deny it
the next. She was an enigma and Mulder was damn glad
he had found her.
"So what are we going to do when we reach that road
below us?" Mulder asked. "Hitch a ride?"
"Something like that if we're lucky."
They slowly made their way down the steeply sloping
trail while also keeping an eye on what was behind
them. They may have found a way to hide in the
forest, but they hadn't found safety. Though there
was no sign of the searchers who had scoured the forest
last night, Scully and Mulder had agreed it was highly
unlikely that CSM's men would just give up.
Mulder reached the road first, but Scully was only a few
steps behind him. It was at least another mile to
the visitor's center. "I hope that visitor's center has
a hot shower and a Denny's," he muttered.
She grimaced. "Can't you do better than Denny's?"
"IHOP then."
Scully grumbled something about a bran muffin and
fresh honeydew melon. The idea didn't seem so great
to Mulder. He was thinking more along the lines of
a grand slam cholesterol fix. Just three quarters of
a mile to go. Then he heard something. "Car," Mulder
warned.
"Shouldn't we hide or something?"
He shrugged. "I was thinking more along the lines of
hitching a ride. I'm too tired and filthy to think
about hiding."
Scully didn't argue, that must mean she felt the same
way. A car came around the bend. No, actually it was
an ancient, battered VW van. In fact Mulder could
almost swear it was. . .
"You two look like hell," Frohike announced as the van
came to a stop.
Mulder shook his head. He must be hallucinating. "What
the--"
Langly jumped out of the van and demanded, "Are you
two going to just stand there?"
Scully nudged Mulder, and he started across the road.
Then it struck him that Scully didn't seem surprised
to see the Gunmen. As a matter of fact, now that
Mulder thought about it, the Gunmen didn't seem
surprised to see Scully either.
"What's going on here?" Mulder asked as he climbed
into the van. "And where's Byers?"
"He's waiting at the visitor's center with a rental
car," Langly explained as he threw a duffle bag at
Mulder. "Frohike and I have been up and down this
stretch of road half a dozen times in the last hour
looking for you."
Mulder unzipped the duffle bag. "How did you know
where to search for us?"
"GPS tracking device," Scully explained as she
took a seat next to him and buckled her seatbelt.
With a nonplussed look Mulder asked, "What tracking
device?"
Frohike snickered as he put the van into gear. "The
one in her bra."
Mulder's eyes widened in a look of amazement.
Langly was riding shotgun, but turned in his
seat to look at Mulder and Scully. "Oh yeah,
we've had a bead on you two from the beginning, but
we couldn't get close to you until now. Rangers wouldn't
allow us on the back roads but they couldn't keep us
off the public one. We've been up and down this
pain in the ass until we know each and every pothole
by heart. Nice hat, Mulder."
Mulder self consciously touched the dirty white
bandage wrapped around his head..
Langly added, "And that's quite a shiner, Scully."
Mulder almost smiled when Scully touched her bruised
cheek and looked as self conscious as he felt. Mulder
said, "The guy who gave her that shiner probably
looks much worse than she does this morning, and is
walking crooked to boot."
Frohike glanced over his shoulder. "Oh yeah?"
"Eyes on road, Frohike," Mulder warned.
Looking toward the duffle bag in Mulder's hands, Langly
told Scully, "Everything we talked about is in
there--passports, credit cards, bank book. Everything
you need to go totally MIA."
"Guns," Mulder noticed as Scully removed a Sig Saur P226
9mm pistol from the duffle bag. He arched a brow. "Any
other surprises in there?"
Scully handed him a 9mm Beretta.
"Thanks." Mulder tested the weapon's weight in his
hand, then checked the clip. Rummaging through the
bag he found six additional magazines of ammo, a pair
of Maglight rechargeable flashlights, two cell phones,
two Swiss pocket knives, and a pair of handcuffs. He
glanced at Scully.
"What?" She looked defensive. "I liked to be prepared."
"So I see." He returned to inspecting the contents of
the bag. "Hannibal and all his elephants didn't pack
this much gear to cross the Alps."
She zipped the duffle bag. "Hannibal and his elephants
are a couple of millennia out of date."
This was certainly a woman who believed in planning
ahead. Mulder caught Frohike's gaze in the rear view
mirror. "Where are we meeting Byers?" Mulder asked.
"At the picnic grounds."
Langly tossed a map to Mulder. "Those are the
directions to a safe house near Cape Lookout. Pirates
used to hide there during the 1700s. It should hide you
too."
"A friend of mine made a killing with a dot com,"
Frohike answered Mulder's unspoken question. "He has a
summer place on the Banks. I told him I needed a
vacation so not even he knows that you two are there."
Mulder glanced at Scully. "Sounds like you made
kickass vacation plans without telling me."
He thought he saw a sparkle in Scully's eyes as
she said dryly, "You were difficult to reach at the
time."
The van came to a halt. "Here we are," Frohike
announced. "Hey, who's that with Byers?"
"Shit," Langly said in a low hiss as a stranger
out from behind Byers. The bastard had a gun held
to Byer's temple.
"Hit the deck," Mulder ordered.
He didn't have to say it twice.
Once on the floorboard they all looked at each
other. "That's the guy who gave Scully the
shiner," Mudler explained.
The VW's floorboard was littered with empty beer
bottles and Cheetos bags which Scully gingerly
pushed to the side before reaching to straighten
Frohike's glasses. Frohike smiled.
I think Frohike's in love, Mulder mused.
"Now what?" Langly asked.
Mulder reached up to the seat and dragged
the duffle bag to the floor. He opened it
and began searching for the guns.
"You know what I want," the hitman called
from outside. "Get out of the van."
Scully's expressive blue eyes met Mulder's, and
he searched his suddenly blank mind for something
to say. Something meaningful. The kind of thing
the hero always said before he went to the shoot-out
in the O.K. Corral. Unfortunately the only words
wandering around his heard were R-rated expletives.
"Mulder's hurt," Scully called in a voice far too
large for her small body. "He began hemorrhaging
right after we left the research facility. I can't
move him."
"What the hell?" Frohike asked under his breath.
The hitman insisted, "You get out then."
Mulder grabbed Scully's hand as Frohike cried "No!"
"Look," Scully said calmly. "It's not Byers they want."
"No, it's the two of us." Mulder's gaze narrowed. "I
can't let you take this kind of risk."
"It isn't your choice."
"Let me do it," he insisted.
She gave a ghost of a smile. "I already told him
you're injured."
"Scully--"
"You can't stop me this time, Mulder. Not so long
ago I did what you wanted. I stayed behind. I've
regretted it ever since."
"At least you lived to regret it. I'd like the
same result this time."
She handed Mulder the Baretta. "That's going to
depend on you."
"This is dangerous," he growled as he checked
the ammunition.
"I know." Again Scully's expression lightened
with what could almost be called a smile. "Look
at it this way, for once you have my full
permission to protect me."
Mulder looked at the gun in his hand and then up
at the woman whose small form held the heart of
a lioness. "There won't be much time," he warned.
"Almost none."
"Seconds."
Her gaze held his. "Mulder?"
"Hmm?"
"I believe in you." With those words she opened the
van door.
Scully gazed at Mulder for just a moment. Her skin was
pale and translucent in the morning sunlight. Mulder
wanted to reach out and haul her back into the
van, back into safety. There was a pain in his chest,
as if an unseen hand had grabbed him and was sqeezing the
last drop of blood out of him. He hurt, and he didn't
need to be told that he hurt because of her.
Mulder didn't want was to lose her.
"Scully..."
Her foot hit the ground and it was as if time slowed
down as Scully stepped from the van. Every moment
seemed to stretch like those in a car accident when
you could see the crash coming but could do nothing
about it. Every second stretched into an eternity.
Mulder saw the determination in Scully's eyes as she
pulled away. He watched the way a single strand of
her hair fell into her face as Scully straightened
her spine and stood her ground. He saw the hitman
shove Byers to the side, dragging the gun away from
Byers' temple and aiming it directly at Scully.
There wasn't time to think, just react.
Mulder raised his gun and fired. And with the sound
still ringing in his ears Mulder saw Scully fall to
the ground.
******************************************************
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;
what is essential is invisible to the eye. . .
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
"The Little Prince"
******************************************************
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cape Lookout, North Carolina
5:14am
It was funny but Mulder had never before noticed how
similar dawn was to dusk. Light streaked the clouds
in various warm hued pastels even though half the sky
remained dark. It was a precarious balance that would
last only moments, but Mulder found himself wishing the
twilight would linger just a little longer...which was
curious for him. Usually it was the darkness that
inspired his imagination.
Seagulls cried overhead, and as Mulder turned to watch
their flight, his attention was caught by the beacon
in the distance. It was the Cape Lookout Lighthouse
which had stood vigil over the coast for over a hundred
years. It rose above the dunes and the sea grasses in
picturesque isolation.
Mulder sat alone on the beach contemplating all that
had happened. So much had changed and had changed him.
Mulder knew he should consider what 'they' had done
to him and why, but somehow the questions seemed
less important than searching his mind for
memories of Scully.
Mulder had always been alone. And then suddenly he
wasn't. And now?
"You've never been an early riser," Scully said.
Mulder turned to watch her approach across the sand.
"Have you slept?" she asked.
"I've slept." They had spent the night at the
'safe house' Frohike had arranged for them on
the Outer Banks.
Scully wrapped her windbreaker more tightly around
herself. "You slept well and yet turn up on the beach
at the crack of dawn? Why am I not buying this?"
"I never said I slept 'well.'"
Mulder stretched his legs in front of him and waited
for Scully to sit. When she did, she curled her arms
around her knees and joined him in watching the horizon.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked softly.
"Thinking about the future."
"Found any answers?"
He gave a half smile. "So far I'm stymied by the fact
that I can't find a way to talk about changing the
world without sounding like a hippie."
Scully smiled. "Now that's a question for the sages."
Damn, he was glad she was here. The memory of Scully
hitting the ground outside the Lone Gunmen's van would
remain seared into Mulder's brain forever. He hadn't
even paused to check whether his shot had found its
mark before bailing out of the VW to go to her side.
As Mulder had felt for Scully's pulse, Byers had
stumbled toward the van. Looking up, Mulder had seen
the assassin laying in an ever-growing pool of blood.
Then Mulder had felt movement at his side and turned
to find Scully gazing at him with an amazingly calm
expression. She had shown not one sign that her near
death experience had disturbed her in the least. In
fact she had sat up and matter of factly dusted off
her clothes. "I thought it was best to give him as
small a target as possible," Scully had explained.
Mulder hadn't been sure whether to hug her or shake her
until her teeth rattled. Instead of either option he
chose to give what he thought she most deserved--respect.
Then Mulder blew the moment by saying dryly, "Well, you
ARE short."
Scully had nudged him. "I meant falling to the ground."
"Oh, yeah." Mulder had stood and offered her his hand.
"I knew that."
Okay, so he had been full of shit. The bravado act was
to cover the fact that this incident would revisit him
in sweat-drenched nightmares for years to come. He had
nearly lost her. Mulder couldn't forget that as he
watched the sun rise over the water, so he blindly took
Scully's hand. She didn't say anything, just laced her
fingers with his.
The sun was considerably higher in the sky when to his
own surprise Mulder said into the silence, "They're
coming, you know."
She didn't ask who. "I know."
"They have to be fought."
"I know that too."
He looked down at their clasped hands. "Are we going
to be fighting alone?"
Scully tilted her head. "Meaning you here and me...
wherever I'll be?"
"Yes."
"The answer is yes." It was that simple, succinct,
and painful. She pulled away, and Mulder watched as
Scully studied the way sand slipped through her
fingers.
"I won't be here," she announced quietly.
"Are you sure?"
"Fairly sure." Now Scully looked at him. "She'll be
here."
"Dana Waterston."
Scully nodded. "I have more of her memories every
minute. I've even begun to 'remember' what she's
done in my life since I've been here. She and Dr.
Doerstling have developed sort of a consciousness
rubber band theory."
There was a sinking feeling in his gut and Mulder
intuitively knew what she was trying to explain.
"You'll be snapped back to your own life." It
wasn't a question.
"In theory." Scully stood and walked to the water's
edge. Mulder didn't follow, but he contented himself
with watching her back.
Finally he couldn't stop himself. He had to say it.
"Stay."
X X X
He doesn't know, Scully reminded herself. He doesn't
know how profound or cataclysmic a single word can be--
a word like 'missing' or 'pregnant'...or 'stay.'
A single word could change your whole life. It had
changed hers. She and Mulder had sat on his sofa
discussing her experiences at the Buddhist temple
while he was in England searching for crop circles.
Scully remembered Mulder asking, "How many different
lives would we be leading if we made different choices?
We don't know."
"But what if there was only one choice?" she had
countered. "And all the other ones were wrong, and
there were signs along the way to pay attention to?"
The last thing she remembered was Mulder saying, "All
the choices would then lead to this very moment.
One wrong turn and we wouldn't be sitting here
together. . ."
Later Scully had discovered that she'd fallen asleep
on the sofa and that Mulder had covered her with a
blanket. The clock on the VCR flashed twelve but that
gave her no clue about what time it really was.
She had started to rise then noticed Mulder standing
silhouetted in the doorway, his back against the light.
He'd had a towel slung low across his hips as if he
had just stepped out of the shower, and he held a
toothbrush in his hand. Mulder had said, "It's late."
"Too late?"
Something had flickered in his eyes before he shrugged.
"I don't know. You've driven over here in the middle of
the night more times than I can count. I suppose you
can drive home the same way now. There's nothing to
stop you."
"Do you want me to go?"
He'd looked surprised by the question.
Mortification washed over her. Scully jumped to her
feet and began looking for her shoes. "I shouldn't
have said that. I shouldn't--" She glanced at him
anxiously. "Forget I said that.
Scully was half way to the door before Mulder said,
"Stay."
She didn't look at him. She was afraid to look at him.
She felt stupid and awkward and the only thing she
could think to say was, "What?"
"Stay."
She wanted to. The desire had been there before, but
now it felt like compulsion. "I should go." She
breathed into the silence. "This would change
things."
Mulder shrugged. It seemed like such a nonchalant
gesture, but there was nothing casual in his eyes.
"Things change."
And there it was. A moment. A path. A choice. Go
forward into the future or stand where she was, staring
at a door, reluctant to walk though it but afraid to
stay where she was.
Scully looked at Mulder, at his thoughtful, searching
gaze. There was tension in him. There was a hint of
uncertainty as he watched her. Oh, he tried to look
confident and unconcerned. He tried to look as if he
was in control. If she denied him, Mulder would laugh
and pretend that this was just one more innuendo in a
string of many. But Scully knew him too well. There was
something in the way he fixed his jaw and held his
shoulders. He was serious. He was waiting for her
answer.
God, why was it so difficult? What held her back?
This was Mulder, the man whose face she had seen almost
daily for nearly eight years. There was almost nothing
she didn't know about him or he about her. It wasn't
even like they'd never had sex. The night he had come
to terms with his sister's death they had sat holding
each other until the embrace had turned into something
different--something heartfelt and warm and giving.
Something they had both desperately needed.
The next morning in silent agreement, they hadn't talked
about what had happened. They had stepped back into
their normal roles in each other's lives. It wasn't that
what had happened had been a mistake. It had felt too
right to ever be called a mistake. No, they had pulled
away because they had both known that to acknowledge
what had happened would be to change things. Forever.
That was what held Scully back as she stood halfway to
the door. This wasn't a moment shaded with loss or grief
or desperate need. This was the silence of the night.
Stillness surrounded them and the only sound to be
heard was that of their own breathing. Nothing pushed
or pulled them to make a decision or a choice. Nothing
but themselves.
Scully looked at Mulder. At the way he held himself
motionless, as if he knew that to move would be
to make this moment slip away, and it was a very
important moment.
Stay or go?
But why go when she would only return here tomorrow?
She always did. Scully returned time after time.
She'd had a million opportunities to walk away,
but she never did. Scully could have gone anywhere
tonight, or countless days and nights before it, but
she had chosen to be here...with Mulder...where she
would always choose to be.
Scully blinked. How strange to realize that the most
momentous decision of her life had been made so long
ago that she couldn't remember when. Which was the
the moment when she'd looked into his face and seen
more than a partner, more than a friend? Which was
touch of their hands that had started to mean more than
comfort or understanding? Did it matter? Or was all
that mattered was that it existed now?
Some things only became clear in hindsight. Scully
couldn't pinpoint exactly when she had turned her
back on any life save this one, but now she knew it
didn't matter. It was as inconsequential as trying
to pinpoint the exact moment when a child was
conceived. All that mattered was that something
extraordinary had been brought into existence.
Scully smiled at Mulder. Would it be enough? Please,
let it be enough because if she had to find the
words to describe how she felt, she would only
garble them. Words could not equal her emotions.
Moments passed, and Scully saw the tension ease in
Mulder's shoulders. A relaxed expression crossed his
face. Scully gazed into his familiar eyes and saw all
the understanding she would ever want or need.
Mulder reached his hand out to her, and Scully
took it. She felt the warmth of his palm pressed
against her own as he pulled her near. She felt his
breath across her face, and the gentle pressure of
his hand at the small of her back. And without a
single word, her decision was understood
by them both.
She stayed.
Mulder, this Mulder, brought Scully crashing back
to the present as he stood and crossed the sand.
"We can fight this," he told her. "You don't have
to go."
"I don't have a choice. I can feel it."
"But do you know it? Do you know without a shadow
of a doubt that this can't be fought?"
Scully shook her head, but it wasn't a denial. It was
only an expression of internal confusion. "Dana
figured it out with Dr. Doerstling," she explained.
"The switch between us was like a note being played,
and now the vibration is fading. The very fact that
I know this means that with every moment that passes
more of her is here. What I knew of her before
was long term memory. This was recent. My time here
is almost up."
"Fight it. Damnit, Scully, what's there to go back
to? A lone crusade?"
She lifted her chin. "Someone has to fight the
monsters."
"Alone?" Mulder demanded. "Is that what we're reduced
to? Fighting the 'good' fight but always alone?" Mulder
seemed unaware of the way he began to shift and move
as if there was more energy in him than he could
contain. "Stay, Scully, and we'll fight the monsters
together."
She gave him a watery smile. "Side by side."
"Marching forward one cursed step at a time."
Her smile died as Scully pulled away. "We have to
think of the future."
"Funny, I thought that was what I was doing."
"No, I..." She lifted her hands helplessly. "I'm
thinking of a different future."
"Yours and his?" Mulder said that like he thought
her Mulder was an entirely different person. Then
again wasn't that the way she had always referred
to Dana Waterston? "He isn't there, you know," this
Mulder pointed out with brutal honesty.
"I know." And the knowledge hurt. If she returned
home, Mulder would be lost to her...again. Standing
in the vibrancy of his presence it was possible to
keep the loneliness at bay. Her grief, though still
very real, seemed like little more than a figment
of her imagination. This Mulder was real, and he was
standing beside her. If she returned home, she would
be alone. This could be the end.
Mulder approached her. Scully turned her head and
held up her hand as if that would hold him back. It
didn't. He gently swept his fingertips over her temple.
"Please," Scully said out loud while inside she pleaded,
please, don't ask me to stay...and please don't let
me go. It was a contradiction, but then her entire life
was a contradiction. Science and faith. Skepticism
and belief. Contradiction was her nature...and
Mulder's. God knows, Mulder was a contradiction.
The heat of unshed tears burned her eyes. "Mulder..."
He kissed her.
Surprise rocketed through her, but as Scully felt
Mulder's lips pressed against her own, she relaxed.
Their mouths met, melded, then released only to meet
again...and again...to taste, to touch, to cling.
To break apart and to reunite.
Scully's hand moved over Mulder's shoulder. His hand
smoothed over her back. She pressed herself against
him, and he answered by holding her closer still.
When Mulder lifted his mouth just a few inches above
her own, Scully found that the limits of her vision
was Mulder's face, and that his face was all that she
needed or wanted to see.
"I have to go," she whispered and hated herself
for doing so. "There's no choice in this."
Mulder threaded his fingers through her hair.
"I want to say there is a choice."
"But there isn't."
"There are still questions to be answered," he told
her. "The future to think of."
Scully confessed, "The future I'm thinking of isn't
ours, Mulder. It's our child's."
Mulder stopped breathing. He pulled back
and looked at her. There was no way to describe
the way he looked at her. A lifetime of loneliness
and searching and pain shadowed his eyes, mixing
with something else. Joy? Satisfaction? Bemusement?
All those things and more must shadow her own gaze
as well.
Mulder pulled Scully against him. His arms enveloped
her, holding her tightly. So very tightly. She held
him too.
He placed an exquisitely tender kiss on her forehead
as they stood being battered by the wind kicked up
by the surf. They stood against it unbending and
unbreaking.
At last Mulder said, "So you have to go."
Scully nodded because she couldn't speak.
"It'll be okay," he promised. "Do you believe
that?"
Swallowing hard, Scully managed to say, "There's no
acceptable alternative."
He smiled as he cupped Scully's face between both his
hands. With his thumbs he gently brushed away her
tears. They stared at each other for a wordless
moment before Mulder kissed her one last time. It
was an infinitely gentle benediction.
Scully sighed and rested her cheek against his
shoulder. And reminded herself to breathe as the
sun rose over the ocean and seagulls cried overhead.
This wasn't the end.
****************************************************
"Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect, and
it is shameful to surrender it too soon or to the
first comer: there is nobility in preserving it
coolly and proudly through long youth, until at last,
in the ripeness of instinct and discretion, it
can safely be exchanged for fidelity and happiness."
George Santayana
Skepticism and Animal Faith IX
****************************************************
EPILOGUE
Dana Scully's Residence
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
6:45am
Scully slammed her hand over the snooze button
of her alarm clock, abruptly cutting off the music.
She didn't move. She didn't open her eyes. She
waited--and prayed--for her nausea to pass. Maybe
if she laid there long enough...
No. It was hopeless. A few minutes after running
into the bathroom she walked out with a towel in
her hand. Absently dropping it on the floor as she
climbed back into bed. Then she stopped dead in her
tracks.
Scully blinked and looked around herself.
It was her bedroom looking exactly as her bedroom
had always looked. Nothing was different. Nothing.
Her hand drifted down to her stomach. Her baby.
She had her baby. She closed her eyes and took
a deep, contented breath...then doubts began
to creep in. Had it all been a dream?
She had told Mulder that it was entirely likely
that everything she had experienced was just
wish fulfillment. As Scully sat in her own
tangled sheets looking at the familiar curve
of her own headboard she had to admit that the
dream theory made far more sense than any
"alternate universe." It was beyond belief that
a human being could fall into a parallel world,
much less do so unharmed. Then to return to her
old life in the blink of an eye? Impossible.
Scully looked at her relentlessly familiar
surroundings. She gazed at herself in the mirror
hanging over her dresser. Nothing had changed.
There was not one anomaly she could point to
that supported the idea that somehow she had
defied the laws of logic to experience something
that had never been definitively proven to exist.
How could anyone believe in something so extreme?
Scully did.
She lay back against her pillows with her hand
resting on her stomach, intently aware of the tiny
life that dwelled there. She gazed out her window
and almost laughed at her epiphany. "I believe,"
she said out loud, and Scully was amazed at how
good it felt to finally admit it. Then, more
solemnly she whispered again, "Mulder, I DO
believe."
X X X
Cape Lookout, North Carolina
7:14am
Dana Waterston sat with her toes digging into the
sand as she studied the brooding expression
of Special Agent Fox Mulder, a man who should
be a stranger to her but wasn't. A man she had
only met once in the emergency room. A man
for whom she had shed countless tears as she
sat in another woman's apartment.
Mulder looked over his shoulder at her. "I've
been thinking. . . "
She looked at him expectantly.
He turned and approached her then crouched
to meet her eye to eye. "About that evolutionary
universe theory of Dr. Doerstling's, is it me or
does it bear some similarity to the idea of a
Platonic Ideal?"
Dana frowned and searched her memory. She had
only read Plato in college, but from what she
remembered Plato had said something along the lines
that somewhere there existed a universal ideal, a
template, and everything else simply imitated or
reflected what truly existed in an ideal state.
Dana tilted her head to the side and said, "I'm not
sure I follow."
"If all these universes are evolving, and evolving
similarly, exactly what are they evolving toward?"
"The Ideal?"
A light entered his eyes. "The Platonic Ideal.
The single destination that all of us are trying to
reach. There may be billions of possibilities,
billions of universes, billions of versions of us,
but there is only one right answer."
He stood and offered his hand. "What do you
think, Waterston?"
"That it sounds an awful lot like fate."
Mulder shook his head. "Not fate. We have free will.
We make our own choices and mistakes. We can go
down the wrong paths."
Dana felt his hand tugging at hers, pulling her
toward him with gentle, constant insistence. As she
rose to her feet she asked, "And exactly what is the
right path?"
Mulder shrugged. "I don't know, but I have the
feeling that I'm supposed to look for it with you."
She didn't say anything. But she didn't pull her hand
from his as they walked down the beach...and somehow
Dana Waterston found herself believing that at
long last she had a sense of direction. She knew
where she wanted to go and where she needed to stay
--by his side.
THE END
AUTHOR'S END NOTES:
Andre Linde (who is mentioned in the story) is
an actual person who has written papers detailing
a theory for multiple inflationary expansions.
The theory of "evolutionary universes" was proposed
by Lee Smolin of Penn State University. Both
theories have been manipulated with a sci-fi/X-File
slant and are not accurately portrayed in this
story. Literary license was taken. The real theories
are nicely summarized and explained in Brian Greene's
"The Elegant Universe" ...which is an excellent book
for any non-science professional like myself who is
interested in learning more about string theory and
the way it relates to the Theory of Relativity.
The song that the character Mike Stilgoe is
singing and downloading off of Napster is
"Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden.
The song Scully hears in the bar is "The One I've
Been Waiting For" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
The songs that are implied to be playing on
Scully's stereo were "Do What You Have to Do"
and the acoustical version of "Possession"
by Sarah McLachlan.
And if I could choose closing credits I would
probably pick Sarah McLachlan's "Elsewhere."
AUTHOR: L.A. Ward
EMAIL ADDRESS: LAWard@aol.com
URL: www.hometown.aol.com/laward/eclectic.html
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Sure, just let me know.
SPOILER WARNING: Anything through Season 7
including Requiem
RATING: PG-13 (for language)
CLASSIFICATION: X/MSR/A
X-file casefile with Mytharc
MSR
Scully Angst/Mulder Angst
SUMMARY: While investigating the disappearance of
a physicist, Scully finds someone she didn't
expect--Mulder.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never mine. Wish they were,
but they belong to Chris. Have no money so don't
bother to sue.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I cannot say enough nice things for
the wonderful people who undertook the task of beta
reading. Thanks to all of them, but special thanks to
Shari, Rosemary, and Fran.
*******************************************************
Long is the way. And hard, that out of hell leads up
to light.
John Milton
"Paradise Lost"
*******************************************************
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Dana Scully's Residence
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
5:08pm
Dana paid the taxi driver. She really needed to track
down Dana Scully's car and begin driving. It made no
sense to continue paying the outrageous price of a
taxi. It felt wasteful.
Dana started up the steps to Scully's apartment
building then came to a halt when a young woman
approached her. "Dana, I'm not sure if you remember me."
"Maggie," Dana whispered in a state of semi-shock.
"You're Daniel's daughter. Of course I remember you."
Maggie looked uncomfortable and dropped her head to
stare at her shoes. "I found your address in my
father's things..." Her voice trailed off.
Dana wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about
that. For all that Dana had gleaned about Scully's
relationship with Mulder, she had no clue about what
relationship Scully may or may not have had with
Daniel.
Maggie shifted anxiously on the balls of her feet.
"Would you like to come inside?" Dana asked. "I
can offer you tea or something."
Maggie looked up and there was an impossible mix of
emotions in her improbably bright eyes. For Dana it
was like felt watching a deer trapped in headlights
...which was a strange thought. Under most circumstances
a deer wasn't the first animal Dana would associate with
Daniel's daughter. In Dana's experience Maggie had
always been a sullen and resentful young woman. But
this was a different life and Scully had never married
Daniel Waterston. Things were different here, and
as the two of them stood in the fading light of dusk
Dana saw that the previously recalcitrant Maggie
Waterston now looked as fragile as glass. If Dana
said the wrong thing she wondered if Maggie would
shatter.
Maggie glanced up at the apartment building,
With her hands shoved into her jeans' pockets
she decided, "Tea would be nice."
X X X
Syndicate Research Facility
Location Unknown, 5:13pm
"Have you got it?" Mulder asked.
"No."
"Here, let me help."
"No."
"You need help."
Scully glared at him. "And you need to sit down."
Mulder sighed as Scully pushed against the heavy
steel panel over her head.
"You can't push that open," he repeated. "You don't
have the upper body strength. If you would just let
me help--"
"I said SIT DOWN!"
Mulder stepped back. How did such a little person
contain such a big "don't give me any shit" voice?
Mulder crossed his arms and decided that the voice
probably came from the same place as her dogged
determination. One way or another Scully was the
unstoppable force intent on moving the immovable
object. He should help her.
Almost as if Scully heard his thoughts, she looked
Mulder dead in the eyes. "You just had major surgery.
I won't allow you to injure yourself."
"I think I could be severely--if not mortally--injured
if they catch up with us."
"I can open this," she insisted. And, amazingly, Scully
could. The heavy steel cover began to move.
Impressive, Mulder thought...but he could still claim
credit for being the one to find their means of escape.
When he had pointed to the sprinkler, Scully had
looked at him as though he had lost his mind. Exactly
what was he suggesting? Were they supposed to crawl
through a sprinkler pipe.
"The stand pipes," Mulder had explained.
"Huh?"
"Several years ago I profiled a case where the prime
suspect was the maintenance engineer at a hospital--"
"The janitor."
Mulder shrugged. "Yeah, the janitor, but he saw
himself as a mercy killer."
She arched a brow. "Involuntary euthanasia?"
"Succinylcholine in the IVs. Very nasty. He took out
three ICU patients, two terminal cancer patients,
and one particularly bitchy nurse. When I caught up
with him he tried escaping through a tunnel that ran
under the hospital."
He had Scully's attention. "What sort of tunnel?"
"One where the fire suppression stand pipes connected
to the city water system."
"The sewer," Scully concluded.
"Fire sprinklers run on a separate high pressure water
line that ties directly into a city water which
requires an exterior manhole."
"So we follow this sprinkler pipe to the stand pipes
and escape through the sewer," Scully had reasoned.
"Yeah." Mulder had dragged himself to his feet while
ignoring his splitting headache.
The plan had sounded simple and luckily it had been.
The sprinkler pipe that had dribbled on him in the
mechanical room had lead directly to a chase that
had dropped into the tunnel--or as Scully insisted on
calling it--the sewer.
At the moment, Mulder couldn't bring himself to argue
with Scully's description of the tunnel as a sewer. The
passage was dark, dank, and had a distinctly sewer-like
smell. He couldn't leave it fast enough.
Without a flashlight both Mulder and Scully had
depended on the pale stream on light bleeding through
two of the holes of what they hoped was a manhole cover.
They also hoped the sewer exit was a safe distance away
from the Syndicate's research complex. Mulder had no
desire to slosh his way through a sewer only to
deliver himself directly into the hands of the
Cigarette Smoking Man.
Scully gave one last groan and finished opening
the manhole. Self sufficiency was a real bitch.
Scully might feel quite empowered by her competency,
but Mulder felt useless.
Okay, so he had just come out of surgery, and he was
none too steady on his feet. He also had a blinding
headache and his bare ass was hanging out his surgical
gown, but it still went against his grain to watch
Scully struggle while he twiddled his thumbs.
Scully's breathing grew strained and loud in the
silence of the sewer as she pushed the cover aside
and poked her head through the manhole.
"Anyone out there?" Mulder asked.
"Not at the moment."
After Scully climbed through the opening, Mulder
looked at the workman's outfit in his hands. Just
before exiting the mechanical room Scully had found
the discarded clothing. Mulder hadn't been thrilled
with the idea of going commando in a stranger's
clothes, but he was somewhat less thrilled by the
idea of exiting the sewer with his ass hanging out.
Scully looked over the edge. "What's the hold up?"
"Costume change." He looked in Scully's direction.
"Aren't you going to avert your eyes or something?"
"You don't have anything I haven't seen before. I'm
a doctor, remember?"
When her steady gaze didn't move, Mulder muttered
good naturedly, "To hell with chivalry." He began
stripping and Mulder thought he saw Scully smile just
before she disappeared from view.
A few minutes later Mulder pulled himself out of the
tunnel. "It's still daylight," he realized in mild
surprise.
"Barely." Scully gazed at the hazy gray-blue sky
peeking through the dense foliage of towering pine
trees. Their manhole was in the middle of nowhere.
This wasn't what Mulder had expected. "Where the hell
are we?"
"I don't know," she said softly.
He frowned. "You don't know? How did you get here?"
"A UPS van."
He stepped back. "You're kidding."
Scully shot Mulder a look that told him she was
definitely not kidding. "It wasn't a normal UPS
van. It was a modified ambulance of some sort, and it
didn't allow for much sightseeing."
Mulder shifted uncomfortably in the dirty white work
coveralls. "So we're lost in the wilderness."
"Looks like it."
Noting the darkening sky he muttered, "We should
start moving. We don't have much daylight left."
Scully started walking west at a slow but steady
pace. However, even with their slow movement
it didn't take long for Mulder to begin breathing hard.
"Shit, I'm in better shape than this," he insisted.
"You've been unconscious for days. You've--"
"Had surgery. Yeah, I remember that."
Scully's brows drew together creating a frown line.
"How much do you remember?"
"Of what? Of what happened or of you?"
He watched Scully's face, mesmerized by the way
emotions and thoughts momentarily shaded her
features then hid behind a calm mask.
"Either." But under her breath she added, "Both."
"The last thing I remember is the rubbing of the
African artifact." He noticed that Scully nodded as
if she knew exactly what he was talking about...which
was strange because she hadn't been there. Then again,
that was only one strange thing in the midst of
hundreds. Mulder confessed. "After passing out in the
lab the only memories I have are disjointed and
disconnected."
Again Scully nodded as if she understood. And any way
Mulder looked at it, Scully understanding what he was
saying should have been impossible. He hadn't given
her any details. His explanation was half assed at best,
but Scully seemed to know the story almost as well as he
did. She understood...almost as if she had been there.
That should freak him out or at least make him feel
suspicious.
It didn't.
It felt...right.
Mulder gazed at Scully speculatively. "Is it my
turn to ask questions?"
Her blue eyes met his as she gave an almost
imperceptible nod.
He asked, "How can I have memories of you? Is it
some sort of previous life regression thing?"
She laughed. "As in 'I was born in 1843, and we knew
each other then?'"
He nodded and watched her expectantly.
"No, it's nothing like that."
"Damn." He couldn't help it. He was just a little
disappointed. He couldn't help thinking that past
life regression would make a great X-File. However,
noting Scully's frown it was clear she didn't feel
the same way. Mulder sobered. "So tell me, what is
it like?"
Scully didn't answer.
They faced one another across an extremely small
distance. All it would take was one lifted hand
and they would touch.
Mulder sighed. "Before I landed in the hospital, I
had never met you. But I have memories of you--memories
of us. Can you explain that?"
Scully began picking at the bark on a tree, but
still didn't say anything. Finally she turned
scrambled up an outcropping of rocks. She didn't
stop until she could stand and look out at the horizon.
It was only then that Mulder noticed that they were
standing on a ledge at a very high altitude.
Scully asked, "Where do you think we are?"
"You didn't answer my question."
She acted as if he hadn't said a thing. "We're too
exposed here. The Smoking Man's men can't be far
behind us."
She isn't going to explain, Mulder realized. He
wondered why? Scully didn't seem like an evasive
person. In fact she seemed to pride herself on
being as straightforward as humanly possible.
Falling back on his profiler skills, Mulder decided
that perhaps Scully wasn't avoiding HIS questions...she
was avoiding her own.
X X X
The surgeon shone a penlight into the Smoking Man's
eyes. After a moment he nodded then stepped away from
the bed. "Welcome back," he said while removing his
latex gloves.
Though he felt like hell, the Smoking Man managed a
grim smile. "It's good to be back."
The doctor didn't respond.
"You look concerned," CSM added. "Was the operation
not a success?"
The surgeon frowned. "This was an untested procedure.
There is no way to tell at this point whether
it will accomplish more good than damage."
"There has been damage?"
"When foreign matter has been introduced to the body,
there is always the potential for damage."
The Smoking Man gave a low, rumbling chuckle. "Do not
say that at this late stage of the game you're worried
about your Hippocratic oath."
"First, do no harm."
The old man smiled. "I'm alive, aren't I?"
The surgeon glanced away.
"Tell me, Doctor, what is your definition of harm? The
extinction of the human race?" The Smoking Man frowned.
"Or perhaps Mulder has not fared well. Is that it?
Have you lost a patient after all?"
The surgeon turned sharply as if reluctant to face his
patient, making the old man wish he could reach for a
cigarette. He could use one, but no doubt the doctor
would refuse him. Few people refused the Cigarette
Smoking Man and lived, but then this was his doctor...
and of course there was oxygen in the room.
"Is Mulder gone?" the old man asked again.
"Yes. So is the woman."
CSM slanted his gaze toward the doctor. "Mulder is
alive?"
"We have no reason to think otherwise."
He nodded. "So lovely Dr. Waterston accomplished
her goal after all."
The surgeon's brow knitted in a questioning frown.
"The only reason she came here was to rescue Mulder,"
the old man explain in his low, emotionless voice.
He stated flatly, "She won't succeed."
X X X
Dana Scully's Residence
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
5:40pm
Dana sat at the dining table watching Maggie Waterston
stare into a cup of green tea. Dana didn't say anything.
She was still in a state of shock at finding Daniel's
daughter standing on Scully's doorstep.
"I'm not sure where to start," Maggie told her.
Dana wasn't sure how to help her start. She had never
been able to talk to Maggie. Every encounter she had
ever had with her stepdaughter had been awkward and
tension filled.
Maggie lifted her startlingly bright eyes and announced
in a stark voice, "My father died two weeks ago."
Dana was speechless. Daniel was dead? It was the last
thing she had expected to hear. Her husband was dead...
only he wasn't her husband. Or rather he wasn't Scully's
husband. The sheer perversity of her situation made
impossible for Dana to feel possessive of anything. But
still, in another time, another life Daniel Waterston
was her husband and now he was dead.
The logistics of this nightmare were beginning
to make Dana's head hurt, but one thought began
a quiet litany inside of her. Daniel was dead. How
was she supposed to react to that? This shock
coming after so many others simply left Dana
feeling numb.
Maggie nervously fingered the handle of the antique
china cup. "Maybe I should have called you when it
happened." The younger woman glanced up anxiously.
"Is that what you would have wanted? Or would you
prefer that I not be here now? The last time I saw
you, I had the impression that you had moved on
with your life. You didn't seem interested having my
father in it."
Dana searched in vain for something to say.
Maggie pushed the tea cup away, stood, and began
pacing. "Then again maybe the reason I didn't call
you had nothing to do with you. Maybe I didn't
contact you because I knew my father wanted you
there." She stopped and asked, "Was that cruel?"
"Cruel?"
"My father didn't mention you by name, not after the
alternative medicine incident. But I know he wanted you
there. I knew it but I never did a thing about it. I
denied my father his dying wish. Is that cruel?"
"If he never mentioned me, what makes you think he
wanted to see me?" Dana asked logically.
Maggie laughed harshly. "Oh he wanted to see you. He
wanted one more woman weeping at his bedside. It
would have completed the picture since Mom refused
to play along."
Dana was startled. "Your mother?" Barbara Waterston
was dead. She had committed suicide years ago. She
had done it just after...Dana sighed. Those incidents
had never happened in this world. Scully had made
different choices. How many times must Dana face that
truth before it became real to her?
Maggie's smile twisted bitterly. "Mom told Dad where
he could stick it. She did come to his funeral though.
She even cried. She just refused to give him the
satisfaction of SEEING her cry."
Dana picked up Maggie's cup and walked toward the sink
to rinse it out. "Maybe you didn't call me out of
respect for your mother," she theorized.
Maggie shook her head. "Mom wouldn't give a damn if
I called you. Not any more. No, I...I didn't call
because I didn't want you there."
Then why are you here now? Dana wondered.
Maggie's hand moved jerkily, nervously as she paced.
"I didn't call because I didn't want to. But that
doesn't seem fair. You saved his life." She stopped
pacing. "He may not have wanted to admit it, and he
may have mocked you for it. But I know you saved his
life, and at the end he wanted you there."
"What about what you wanted?"
Maggie shrugged. "Dad never bothered with what I
wanted."
That was true of both Daniels. His priorities had
been simple--himself, THEN everyone else. The world
could go to hell and unless it directly involved him.
Dana said tentatively "Maybe you're not calling me
was your way of finally getting what you wanted. For
once your needs came first."
"Maybe."
Almost definitely.
Maggie rested her hands on the back of one
of Scully's dining chairs. "I...want to thank
you," she said haltingly.
Dana blinked. "What?"
"I want to thank you. More than anything else, more
than telling you of my father's death, that's why I
came here tonight."
Dana was surprised and confused. The one thing
she had never expected out of Maggie Waterston was
gratitude. For that matter she had never even
expected respect, yet somehow Dana Scully had earned
both.
"You gave me a chance," Maggie confessed. "A chance
for my father and myself to correct our mistakes."
Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He may not have
taken that chance but still, there was one, and I
have you to thank for it."
"I'm sorry I couldn't have helped more," was all that
Dana could think to say.
Maggie shook her head. "It was enough. It may not
have been a happy ending, but I think it was a valid
one. Given the way my father was, I can't imagine a
different one. At any rate, you gave me time to come
to peace with who he was, to accept him warts and all.
Now I'm free to move on, and I have you to thank
for it."
Dana shook her head. "I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything, and I've probably
said too much. I probably should have just sent a
card--"
"No," Dana protested. "No, it was good to see you.
I'm glad you came by."
X X X
Pisgah National Forest
6:13pm
Mulder leaned against Scully, and he hated it. Yes,
there was physical pleasure in being close to her,
but it bothered him to feel helpless, to be dependent
on another person. Call it male ego, but shouldn't
he be capable of ignoring a migraine and blurry
vision? Mind over matter and all that.
Mulder had been through some harrowing situations
in his life and had always dragged himself out of
them without leaning on a slender pair of female
shoulders. Of course in the past he had no choice.
There had been no one to lean against, no one to
help shoulder the burden.
He had to admit that it felt good to have
someone beside him.
Besides, it was easier to play tortured superhero
when you had a black rubber bat suit, and Mulder
was fresh out of latex. Not to mention the fact
that at the moment the best secret identity he
could qualify for would be 'Migraine Man.'
Trying to distract himself from his headache Mulder
asked, "Exactly how long did it take that modified
UPS van to reach the research facility?"
Scully stopped moving. "We left D.C. around 8pm and
it was daylight when we arrived." Closing her
eyes momentarily, she took a deep breath. Mulder
could feel her exhausted muscles trembling beneath
him. Scully's energy reserves were running out.
Ignoring his headache and dizziness, Mulder shifted
his weight onto his own feet. If the two of them were
going to make it, he needed to carry his own weight.
Unsteady on his feet, Mulder focused on questions
that needed answers. "So we're somewhere that can
be reached by car in ten to twelve hours." After
filling his lungs with the thin air, Mulder added,
"Somewhere with a fairly impressive elevation."
Free of Mulder's weight Scully bent over and rested
her hands on her thighs. Mulder thought her breathing
was more labored than before, but he didn't think she
would appreciate his pointing that out. "We're
lost in some mountain range south of D.C." Scully
concluded raggedly.
"South?"
Scully stood. "Don't ask me why. But this seems...I
don't know. Wouldn't it be colder than this in
mountains ten hours north of D.C.?"
"Maybe," he agreed. "But when it gets dark, I have a
feeling this will be more than cold enough."
Mulder watched the sun sink relentlessly toward the
horizon, a jagged, indistinct edge hidden by sparse
cloud cover. Soon the glowing orange orb would
disappear entirely, leaving them in a dark, near
moonless night.
Mulder frowned. "If this is south of D.C. we can rule
out the Adirondacks."
"The Appalachians, maybe?"
Mulder faced Scully. "Where? The Appalachians
cover a lot of terrain."
"I don't know." Scully gingerly touched the ugly
bruise beginning to mar her jaw. She flinched and
dropped her hand. "We should keep moving."
Mulder didn't argue. In silence they followed a trail
that sharply descended the mountain. Picking their
way down this path in the dark was going to be
dangerous if not fatal. Even as Mulder thought it,
Scully's foot slid, sending pebbles plummeting over the
rock ledge. Mulder caught her arm and pulled her sharply
toward him. Her small body collided with his. He stepped
awkwardly to the side but maintained his balance as his
hand clasped her shoulder. For a moment Scully rested
against him, her bright head pressed his chest. However,
only seconds passed before Scully pulled away.
Mulder missed the contact.
"We're going to have to stop for the night," Scully
announced. "If we keep going in the dark, one of us
is going to break his neck." She looked up at the
gray-blue sky that was deepening to a misty shade of
violet. "And, Mulder, you don't need to be exposed
to the elements. Under any other circumstances you'd
be hospitalized right now."
"Yeah, well, I specialize in 'other circumstances.'
I'll survive." He looked around them. "It wouldn't
hurt to have a better idea where we are though."
"Considering the lack of development, I'd guess some
national park," she surmised. "It would make a certain
amount of sense. Government owned lands could be a
a convenient place to hide a federal research
facility."
Mulder looked at her sharply.
"What?" Scully asked.
"I'm not used to a normal person taking my shadow
government conspiracies seriously. A militia nut
might buy into it, but most rational people call me
paranoid and crazy."
Scully frowned and looked offended for him. "You may
be overly enthusiastic, but you aren't crazy." She
looked around them. "So do you buy the theory that
our mystery men set up shop in a national forest?"
Mulder didn't miss her saying 'our,' as if the two
of them could possess something together, as if the
search was shared. The question of who this woman
could be was fast becoming his new obsession.
Suddenly pain shot through Mulder's temple and he
became aware of a faint buzzing noise.
"Mulder, you need to sit down," Scully insisted.
The buzzing grew louder until a helicopter passed
overhead. Mulder caught Scully's hand and pulled
her beneath the canopy of fir trees.
"Looks like they discovered we skipped out without
paying the bill," he muttered.
Scully glanced in the direction they had hiked.
"There can't be much distance between us and a
search party. We haven't exactly made record
time."
"And we aren't about to begin to. We're going to
have to lie low."
"Where?"
Another helicopter passed overhead. Pulling Scully
deeper into the shadow of the trees, Mulder searched
for a path of escape. "Somewhere out of sight of those."
A third copter buzzed by.
Scully pointed up the rock face. "Is that a cave?"
In the deeply shadowed light it was hard to tell, but
Mulder was willing to go on a hunch. He took Scully's
hand, and abruptly changing direction, they headed up
the mountain instead of down.
He drawled, "Let's hope we're not disturbing Yogi and
Boo-Boo."
*****************************************************
To know that what is impenetrable to us really exists,
manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most
radiant beauty, which our dull facilities can
comprehend only in the most primitive forms--this
knowledge, this feeling is at the center of true
religiousness. In this sense, and in this sense only,
I belong to the ranks of the devoutly religious...
Albert Einstein
******************************************************
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pisgah National Forrest
9:53pm
Scully sat on the flat, slightly damp stone floor of the
cave as she watched beams of diffused light float in the
darkness.
"They're still searching," Mulder noted as he looked at
the woods below them.
Scully nodded. "They've been at it for hours."
He leaned his head against the stone wall and closed
his eyes. "So they get brownie points for persistence."
Scully didn't answer but tried to focus on the lights
in the fog only to find her own eyes drifting shut.
When she felt her breathing become deep and even,
Scully realized she was on the verge of falling asleep.
Swiftly jerked herself to an erect sitting position,
she glanced over her shoulder to see Mulder watching
her through one open eye.
"How long since you've slept?" he asked.
"Months." Scully saw him frown and amended her
statement, "I mean it feels like months. Actually,
it's only been a couple of days."
She had told the truth the first time. She hadn't
had a good night's sleep since he had disappeared.
"You need to rest." Mulder's voice was warm and
soft and comforting. For a moment Scully almost
believed she could rest.
"I'm okay," she reassured. "You're the one who
needs to lie down. You--"
"Just had brain surgery."
Scully glanced at him sheepishly. "Have I repeated
it that many times?"
He smiled. "I lost count at thirty-four."
She crossed her arms. "So when are you going to
follow my advice?"
"Immediately after you follow it. Do you really
need me to say 'physician, heal thyself?'"
Scully tilted her head toward the glowing lights.
"I'll follow my advice as soon as they leave."
Mulder moved closer to her. "You know watching them
search doesn't prevent them from finding us or make
them go away any faster."
"Perhaps. But I feel better standing guard."
"Okay, then." He shook himself a little and sat
up straight. "Seen any good movies lately?"
"No."
"What about television? Anything good on?"
"It's summer re-runs."
"Found any aliens?"
"Not a one." After a heartbeat Scully turned to
face him. "Mulder, we don't have to make small talk."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Good. I suck at small talk."
They sat in companionable silence for a very long
time. They didn't say anything. Maybe they didn't
need to say anything. Scully surreptitiously
looked at Mulder. From the moment she had met him
they had shared the ability to sit in silence without
the silence being awkward. It wasn't that they
lacked for things to say. They debated. They argued.
They discussed, but they were able to sit side by
side in perfect peace without a word passing
between them. Silence felt comfortable and comforting.
It felt safe...which was rare...which was very rare.
X X X
Pisgah National Forrest
11:48pm
Mulder watched Scully bring her knees up to her chest
as lights swiveled and danced, illuminating the
jagged outline of trees in the forest below the
cave where they sat. The searchers moved away
and the lights dimmed.
As they plunged into total darkness Mulder asked,
"Shouldn't we have knit caps and a handheld camera?"
Scully frowned. Mulder couldn't see the frown, but
he knew it was there.
"Blair Witch pop-culture reference," he explained.
"You know, weird sounds in the woods followed by
impenetrable darkness." When she didn't answer Mulder
added, "Okay, as pop references go, it's a couple of
years out of date, but give me a break, I just had
brain surgery."
Now she smiled. He couldn't see the smile any more
than he could the frown, but he knew the smile
was there.
A helicopter with blinding white lights buzzed by,
momentarily silhouetting the ghostly skeleton of dead
trees against a deep indigo sky. "What do you think
caused that?" he asked, indicting the trees.
Scully shrugged. "Insects. Acid rain. Forest fires.
Who knows."
"I read somewhere that it's a common problem in the
Southern Appalachians, particularly above fifty-five
hundred mark in the Black Mountains."
Now he had Scully's attention. "You think that's where
we are?" she asked.
"From the time frame you gave, it sounds about right."
Mulder winced and massaged his temple.
"Don't." Scully gently caught his hand then stretched
over him to check his bandage. "Are you in much pain?"
"I have the headache to end all headaches, but it's
manageable."
"Go lie down. Get some rest."
"You first."
She didn't move.
"Scully," he said softly. "The lights are moving down
the hill. They aren't coming back."
"They always come back," she said with the kind of
resignation that made Mulder wonder how long Scully had
been running from black helicopters. How long had
she been peering into dark corners? Long enough to
know the monsters that lived there were real.
Mulder recognized Scully's complete emotional exhaustion
even as he felt the determination that drove her. He
shared it. It was in him, and it was in her. Somehow,
fundamentally, they were the same. For so long his quest
had been a lonely one. No one understood, not really,
until now. But from the moment he had gazed into
Scully's tired blue eyes it was as if he had never
been alone, as if she had always walked by his side.
Unbidden, Mulder remembered the visions he'd had in the
hospital, memories of this woman taking his hand,
of standing by his side in the midst of more nightmares
than he cared to count. There were memories of her
sacrifices, and of Scully earning his absolute trust.
Memories that both were and were not real--as implausible
as that description sounded.
Mulder touched the bruise marring Scully's cheek.
"That must hurt like a sonofabitch."
"Only when you touch it."
He drew his hand away.
"That guy had a pretty hard left," Mulder sympathized.
"I'll survive. And after you whacked him with the bone
saw, I'm sure his headache is worse than yours."
Mulder arched a brow. "You think that's possible?"
"If there's justice in the world, it's possible."
"That's the best thing I've heard all night." His
eyes had grown accustomed to the dark so Mulder
could make out the lines and curves of her face.
"So... "
She tilted her head to the side. "So?"
"It was a conversational gambit."
"No talking. You need sleep." Scully pulled away
and stretched across the cave's floor. Mulder
watched as she twisted one way then another. She
looked uncomfortable.
Mulder remained where he was. "I'm not sleepy." He
wasn't sure if he said it because it was true or
just to have her turn and glare at him. He waited
patiently for her to say something, to say anything.
She didn't, and for a moment Mulder thought Scully
really had gone to sleep. He looked closly. No,
even considering how exhausted she must be, Scully
looked too uncomfortable to sleep.
He pressed, "You never explained how I know you."
The silence remained unbroken for a very long time.
Finally Scully asked--and from the tone of her voice
it was clear that she was reluctant to ask-- "DO
you know me?"
"Yes." It was that simple and that true...despite
the fact that knowing her was impossible.
"You're not him," Scully whispered in the darkness.
"Who?"
"Mulder. You're not him. You're not real."
"I'm just doing an amazingly lifelike impression
of him? Come on, Scully, what you're saying doesn't
make sense."
Her voice sounded small and hesitant. "Don't ask me
to make sense of this."
"Just resign ourselves to confusion?"
She turned over. "I can tell you what happened, but
I can't make sense of it." And she explained how
she had been assigned to investigate the
disappearance of Steven Doerstling. She described
her conversations with Mike Stilgoe, and her
decision to venture into the CESR. Then Scully
described finding herself in Georgetown Memorial's
M.I.C.U. gazing at him.
"You're saying you've fallen into an alternate
universe," Mulder realized.
"I didn't say that."
"Yes, you did."
"I never once said that," Scully snapped. "I said
that I was investigating a case where a physicist
theorized the existence of alternate universes."
"And then you fell into one."
"No." She shook her head. "That's impossible. Even
if alternate universes do exist, a person couldn't
fall into one."
Mulder watched her carefully. "So what's your
explanation for what's happening?"
"I'm probably in the I.C.U. of some hospital in
Ithaca. Odds are this is nothing more than a
desperate dream."
"Why would you be desperate to dream about me having
a headache the size of Alaska? And if it's your dream,
why am I the one with a headache? For that matter,
why would I be in your dream at all?"
"Because I'm desperate to find you," Scully confessed.
That pulled him up short. Her words held the
unmistakable ring of truth. Mulder blinked. "Why
would you want to find me?"
Her sad eyes moved over him. "Why wouldn't I? Do
you have any idea how much I want to save you, to
bring you back? This is nothing more than wish
fulfillment."
Mulder gazed at her doubtfully. "Exactly what wish
are you fulfilling? A latent desire to see me
lobotomized?"
Scully's expression made Mulder feel like an ass for
teasing about her. There was a world of pain in her
eyes telling him that Scully was dead serious when
she said she was desperate.
"Mulder, when you disappeared, I wasn't there to
save you. I can't help you. I can't find you. Now
suddenly I can do all three? Don't you see? Your..."
She took a deep breath. "Your abduction was connected
to the anomalous brain activity you experienced last
fall. It only makes sense that my desire to find you
has become mixed up with my memories and your
descriptions of your surgery. That would explain why
I arrived at this point in time--"
"Arrived," Mulder repeated. "You don't 'arrive' in a
dream. This is real, Scully, and you know it."
"No, it is a dream. It has to be. It's not even an
unusual one. Do you have any idea how many times
I've dreamed of having you back?"
The fervor in her voice affected him. Her loyalty to
him was astounding and unexpected and beyond anything
Mulder had ever known. And despite what Scully was
saying, it WAS real. "This isn't a dream, Scully. I'm
here. I exist."
"Then maybe I don't. Maybe I'm her. Maybe I'm Dana
Waterston and not Special Agent Dana Scully."
"Now you're grasping at straws."
"I know things that Dana Waterston knows," Scully
explained. "I'm aware of medical minutia outside
of my specialty, but not outside of hers. Maybe she
is the one who is real and Dana Scully is the dream."
"Am I a man who dreamed he was a butterfly or a
butterfly who dreamed he was a man?"
Scully slanted a glance in his direction. "Don't be
flippant."
"I'm not being flippant. I'm trying to figure out why
you would diagnose yourself as being schizophrenic
rather than admit to an extreme possibility."
"Mulder, this isn't paranormal."
"No, it's science so why aren't you buying into it?
Just say it, Scully. Say you've fallen into an
alternate universe."
She shook her head. "It's impossible."
"Impossible? You can see it. You can touch it. It's
all around you. How can you not believe your own
eyes?"
"Senses can lie. There are all kinds of hallucinogenic
substances that--"
"You can't do it, can you? Even with the evidence
staring you in the face, you can't believe."
Scully's eyes snapped with blue fire as she demanded,
"Instead of passing judgments on what I choose to
believe, you might ask yourself why you need to force
me to believe as you do."
"I don't--"
She cut him off. "Why do you need me to agree with you?
It's not my loyalty you want. You have that. And my
agreeing with you wouldn't make your beliefs any more or
less true. Beliefs are personal. Belief is faith, and
faith can't be proven."
"That's religion, not truth."
"And truth is your religion."
Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but Scully stopped him.
"Don't mock faith, Mulder. You might not believe in
religion, but you've always functioned on faith. Always.
You couldn't martyr yourself to something you don't
believe in, something you don't have faith in. And,
damn you, you martyred yourself in this quest."
"I'm not dead."
"Aren't you? How the hell am I supposed to know?
You got on a plane to Oregon and never came home!"
Her voice broke, and she began to shake.
"Scully..."
"Damnit, Mulder, how could you? You dragged me into
your mad crusade then walked away!" She angrily wiped
away her tears. "Did you see the chance to find
answers? Is that all it took? You left me behind,
and don't give me that excuse that you didn't want to
lose me. You lost yourself. It's the same thing in
the end, and it's no more bearable...only I'm the
one who has to bear it."
"Scully, please--"
"You son of a bitch, you ditched me."
He dragged her into his arms but Scully struggled
against him.
"Let go." She pushed against his chest.
"No."
"Let go. Ditch me. It's what you do best."
"No."
"Damnit, Mulder!"
He held her tightly and threaded his fingers though
her hair, "I know I didn't mean to leave you," he
said urgently. "I would never willingly do that."
"Ha! You do it all the time."
"But not like this."
She stopped struggling.
He held his breath. "Scully...?"
"You never left me like this," she whispered. "This
time you didn't come back."
He cupped the back of her head and rocked her gently.
"I'm sorry."
Mulder felt a shudder pass through Scully as she buried
her face against the crook of his neck. He felt
her hot tears against his bare skin, but Scully never
made a sound. Not a single cry. Her grief was terrible
in its silence. There was no solace in her tears or in
his embrace. There was only agony and silence.
Helplessly he whispered, "I'm sorry."
A single sob escaped her. Her arms wrapped tightly
around him as her fingers clutched his shirt in
tight fists. Mulder searched in vain for words of
comfort, but what could he say that could compare to
the eloquence of her tears. .. so he held her. His
body wrapped protectively around hers, holding her
close, keeping her warm. They clung to each other,
providing anchors in a sea of loneliness and confusion.
Scully gave a huge sigh that seemed to pass through her
entire being before she fell limp against him. Silently
Mulder urged her to let go over her superhuman self-
control, to relax, to rest. Scully seemed so very
tired--tired to the depths of her soul.
"Rest," Mulder murmured as his hands moved over her
back. He felt her breath against his throat growing
soft and even. She didn't move but appeared content
to stay locked in his arms. Mulder let the silky
strands of her hair pass through his fingers.
"You aren't him," Scully said into the darkness.
"No, I'm not."
"He's still missing and now so am I. This isn't
home."
"Just an incredible facsimile."
Scully started to move away, but Mulder held her
against the wall of his chest. She didn't struggle.
It was as if Scully no longer had the energy or the
strength.
"You feel like him." She said with her palms pressed
flat against his chest and her head resting on his
shoulder. "You even smell like him. If I close my
eyes tightly enough I can almost believe you are him,
that you've come back...that this isn't a dream."
"It isn't a dream, Scully," he insisted gently.
"Maybe not, but you're still not him."
Mulder pressed his lips against the top of her head.
"Some part of me must be. Otherwise how can I feel
what he feels? Know what he knows?"
She lifted her head and gazed at him with tearful
eyes. "Do you?"
"Yes."
"How can one being be two people?" she asked before
giving a watery smile. "Other than garden variety
schizophrenia, that is."
"Light can be both a particle and a wave, right?
Can't this be something similar?"
"I don't see how."
Mulder frowned as he concentrated. "Contradictions are
part of the universe--or the multiverse as the case may
be--and every action has an equal and opposite reaction--"
"Don't talk science to me, Mulder, you're creeping
me out."
Without letting her go Mulder shifted their weight so
that he could lean back against the wall of the cave.
He closed his eyes. "Okay, what if I say that mystics
have pondered the true meaning of consciousness since
the human race wandered around in caves drawing on
walls--and, yes, I'm aware that at the moment we're
wandering around a cave but please note we aren't
drawing on walls."
"Your point being?"
"My point being that maybe only a thin veil separates
your world from mine. Maybe there are times when our
realities are close enough to see or touch, or maybe
even pass through. The Australian Aborigines believe
in the Alchera/Tjurjunga--the dreamtime. Their myths
describe people's spirits making journeys through the
void."
"As in someone's consciousness traveling to another
universe?"
"Maybe."
"That might explain why I'm not me." Scully paused and
looked dismayed by what she had just said. "I mean--"
She stopped and shook her head. "This isn't my hair
cut." She held out her hand and exposed a nearly
invisible razor thin scar on her forearm. "I didn't
have that. And there's no chip in my neck and...and
there are other things."
"Meaning even though you have Scully's memories, this is
Dana Waterston's body?"
"Yes."
"So only your consciousness, your sentience went from
one universe into another. What if whatever happened
in the CESR completed some cosmic circuit creating
a consciousness loop making it possible to be two
people at the same time?"
"So why would you be affected?" Scully asked. "You
weren't in the accelerator."
"Anomalous brain activity. If it was enough to read
the thoughts of everyone around me, maybe it was enough
to also reach through the veil." He opened his eyes.
"The beach. The figure I saw on the beach. It was me."
He paused. "That is, it was Mulder. Your Mulder.
Maybe the connection was made there, in dreamtime."
Scully sat up with an intent searching look on her
face. "So you might really know what Mulder is
thinking?"
"Knew. Whatever was done to me in the operation
quieted the voices, including his. I just remember
everything I've experienced up until that point."
"But you heard him thinking? He's alive?"
"I'm Mulder too, you know."
"Is HE alive?" she pressed urgently.
Mulder cupped her cheek, his thumb resting along
curve of her jaw. "Yes. He's alive"
"Thank God." Scully closed her eyes as her forehead
fell against his chest. "Thank you, God."
X X X
Syndicate Research Facility
12:13am
The surgeon entered the recovery room then rushed
forward. "You shouldn't be sitting up."
The Smoking Man eyed him with a cold stare. "Have
our fugitives been found?
"Your men are still looking."
"Tell me, Doctor, how many acres of national
forest are outside our door? Enough to conceal two
people who don't want to be found?"
"I'm sure your men are well-trained."
"Oh yes, they're well trained but our fugitives
have need on their side. Never underestimate
desperation as motivation." He leaned back against
the pillows and closed his eyes. "I miscalculated."
The Smoking Man opened his eyes to see the surgeon
looking at him questioningly. "I underestimated Dr.
Waterston," he explained. "I knew she had a plan
of action, but I thought to outmaneuver her. Now
I find she can think on her feet. Mulder has
acquired a formidable ally." The old man motioned
for a nurse to fluff his pillow and straighten his
sheets. Settling back against the cool, white
linens he announced without inflection. "They
both have to be eliminated."
****************************************************
Look and remember. Look upon the sky;
Look deep and deep into the sea-clean air,
The unconfined, the terminus of prayer.
Speak now and speak into the hallowed dome.
What do you hear? What does the sky reply?
The heavens are taken; this is not your home.
Karl Jay Shapiro
"Travelogue for Exiles"
*****************************************************
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Pisgah National Forrest
6:40am
Scully came awake slowly. First she was aware that
half of her body was freezing while the other half
was comfortably warm. Then she felt the weight of
something lying across her. Finally, her synapses
began to fire, and Scully remembered that 'something'
was Mulder.
He was pressed against her back with his knees drawn
up behind hers and his arm draped over her shoulder;
hence the reason her back was warm and snug while her
fingers and feet were freezing.
Briefly Scully remembered the verbal tussle preceding
their sleeping arrangements.
Mulder had noticed, "You're shivering."
"We're in the mountains. It's cold. I shiver.
It's perfectly normal."
"Is it normal to ignore the fact you're freezing?"
It was at that moment Scully had realized Mulder would
wrap his arm around her and settle himself against her
back. He would surround her with his warmth and
wordless comfort...and she would allow it. She longed
for it. Mulder had held her in exactly the same way
on their last night together in Oregon...which was
why she should say no even as he moved toward her.
Her memories were too painful to be resurrected.
Scully had warned him, "Don't try the 'let's share body
heat' excuse. I've heard it before."
Mulder gazed at her with an all too innocent
expression.
"It isn't raining sleeping bags," she had snapped.
"Is sleeping bag precipitation a common problem in
your reality?" He had grinned.
"It's a very rare phenomena," Scully said darkly.
"Almost unheard of."
"But not impossible," Mulder said as he settled against
her. "Besides, what's the alternative? Hypothermia?"
Scully had known she should push him away. For her own
sanity she needed to keep this familiar stranger
at a distance...The problem was she didn't want Mulder
at a distance. Not this Mulder. Not any Mulder. She
wanted to touch him and reassure herself that he was
here. Scully knew that he wasn't her Mulder, and yet
somehow he was...he most definitely was.
Scully rubbed the bridge of her nose. Now she was the
one with a headache. She was tired of trying to find
explanations for the impossible. She was sick of trying
to find order in chaos, of divining reason where there
was none. She wanted to close her eyes and believe.
Even if it was only for one short, deluded moment, she
wanted to believe that everything would be okay;
so when Mulder touched her, Scully hadn't pulled
away. She had sighed and allowed her eyes to drift
closed enjoying the feel Mulder's long fingers
intertwined with hers. As Mulder squeezed her hand
Scully let go, if only briefly, of her confusion and
allowed herself to be lulled into peaceful slumber.
Now it was morning. Sunlight was visible at the
mouth of the cave. It was time to sit up, stand
up, and face the day. Scully didn't want to.
She felt Mulder shift behind her.
"We should plan our strategy," Scully said still
clinging, though no longer quite as desperately, to
the rational side of her nature. "We aren't out of
this yet."
"What's there to plan?" he asked. "We leave the cave
and avoid the bad guys."
She started to move away. "So simple."
"It is if you let it be." Mulder pulled her back
against him. They lay in silence. Scully could hear
the sound of his breathing. It was so steady and
reassuring, so utterly and infuriatingly calm.
"Mulder, don't you ever plan for the future?" she
asked quietly as she glanced at him over her
shoulder.
His eyes remained closed. "I don't think about it."
"Never thinking about the future is the same thing as
not planning for it."
Mulder rolled onto his back. "Okay, I don't plan much
for the future."
"Why?" She leaned over him, bracing her arms on either
side of him. Only inches separated their mouths. "I've
been thinking about this a lot lately. Ever since--"
Scully stopped abruptly as Mulder brushed a strand of
hair away from her face.
Scully was momentarily distracted, but determinedly
pulled herself back to the point she was trying to
make. "At some point after you disappeared I realized
we've never been very interested in the future."
Her gaze locked with his. "Knowing what we know,
isn't that strange? You would think we'd be obsessed
with it. Instead we only seem to look to the past."
When it looked like Mulder would protest Scully added,
"Think about it. What are the questions we ask until
we're so sick of them that no answer would be enough
to satisfy us? What happened to your sister? Who took
me and put the chip in my neck? Who killed your father?
Who killed my sister? All of it is in the past. If the
answers were handed to us tomorrow, it wouldn't change
a thing."
Uncertainty almost overwhelmed her. "What if we've been
asking the wrong questions? What if we've been fighting
the wrong fight?"
Mulder's dark eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"We've spent so much time fighting the future, that
we never stopped to wonder if we should fight FOR it.
Why is that?"
A frown creased the area between his eyebrows. "Well,
there's always the old cliché about ignoring the past
and being doomed to repeat it."
"There's also a cliché about beating dead horses."
Scully sat up. "I just don't know if there are
enough answers for all of our questions. Maybe at
some point we have to say enough is enough and stop
looking to the past." Scully touched her flat stomach,
her depressingly flat stomach. "At some point shouldn't
we start looking to the future? If we had done that
I--" She stopped, frowned, and quickly turned away.
Mulder touched her shoulder and waited for her to
turn to face him. "If we had done that, what?"
"I wouldn't have lost you."
X X X
Glenwood Cemetery
Washington, DC
10:13am
Dana Waterston had driven down Lincoln Drive three
times. The first time she had told herself she had
only intended to drive by the cemetery. The second
time Daba had resolved to see Daniel's grave, only at
the last moment to decide against it and drive away.
Finally, on the third try Dana crossed the grass
reading the names on tombstones as she went.
She pulled at her shirt collar. It was impossible to
ignore the rising heat of the late summer day. With
Scully's endless collection of black clothing Dana felt
a bit like she had slipped into an oven set on broil.
There was a bead of sweat rolling down her spine when
she finally found the grave she was searching for.
Waterston was emblazoned across granite. She stared at
the headstone in dazed disbelief. The man who had
never been Dana Scully's husband lay six feet below the
earth. Dana knelt to lay lilies on his grave and
wondered what she was supposed to feel.
What was the rational response for a situation like
this? For that matter, what was the irrational response?
Miss Manners had never written the appropriate etiquette
for such patently bizarre circumstances. Exactly what
should she be feeling? What should she do? There were
so many ways to react, so many ways to feel.
"I never loved you." Dana was shocked at the words
that came out of her mouth...but they felt true.
"I was infatuated once," she confessed. "You were
fascinating. You had such control. I envied that.
I wanted that. I always wanted control."
Somehow she found herself sitting on the grass. It
might stain Scully's suit, but Dana found she didn't
care as a sense of self awareness began to overtake
her. "I was fourteen when Charlie decided that he
wanted to buy a motorcycle. Dad didn't want to hear
anything about it, but Charlie wouldn't give up.
He took a job as a bagboy at the supermarket. He sold
magazine subscriptions." Dana smiled. "He was
determined, and in the end he did it. It was old and
beaten up, but it was his. He was so proud."
Her smile disappeared. "Then Dad found out about the
bike and took it away. He said it was dangerous and
irresponsible. Dad sold it and said how disappointed
he was in Charlie." Dana noticed that she was
fingering the delicate yellow petals of the lilies,
bruising their soft buttery color. She pulled her
hands away. "My father was an admirable man, and I
loved him. I never wanted to disappoint him. I
never wanted him to look at me the way that he looked
at Charlie. So I had to keep myself under control.
I had to follow the rules. I was taught to admire
order and control."
Dana looked up at the way light filtered through the
leaves of the cherry trees shading this corner of the
cemetery.
"I never rebelled," she admitted. "At least not much,
not in public...not like Charlie." Dana smiled
ruefully. "Not even like Scully. At least she followed
her own path and joined the FBI. I, on the other hand,
followed my infatuation with control all the way to
you."
She laid her hand on the vibrantly green grass. "But
I never loved you."
Dana rose to her feet. "I realize that now. In
fact, I realize a lot of things. Charlie wasn't
irresponsible. Look at what he did to earn that
bike. He worked his ass off, and before Dad came
home Charlie took me for a ride. I loved it. I
loved every minute of it. I loved the freedom,
the wildness, even that thrill of danger. It was
exhilarating."
Dana looked at her hands clasped together so tightly
it turned her knuckles white. She deliberately
relaxed her grip and stretched her fingers. "For a
long time, I've denied that part of myself. I chose
control over everything, even my own spirit."
She stepped back from the grave. "I chose wrong.
That's the difference between what I'm feeling, and
what Scully feels about losing Mulder. Control is an
illusion. What's between Mulder and Scully is real.
It's visceral and constant and true. It's right. If
there is any sort of reason why this has happened to
me, I think it's to show me that I don't belong with
you, Daniel. I never did, and finally I'm strong
enough to face that."
She turned and walked away.
X X X
Pisgah National Forest
The Black Mountains, North Carolina
10:45 am
Mulder stood reading a marker. "Bee Tree Gap." He
looked at Scully. "Should we take that as a sign?"
"I'd rather take the sign pointing us toward the trail
leading to the visitor's center. They probably have
toilets."
He looked at the glyphs on the sign. "And a picnic
area. Good. I missed breakfast."
Scully gave him a look that said he was straining her
patience. So Mulder decided not to add how intrigued
he was that the sign also told them they were in the
Pisgah forest. If he believed in omens Mulder might find
significance in the fact that Pisgah was the name of
the place where after wandering the wilderness for
nearly 40 years, Moses finally saw the promised land.
Mulder looked at Scully. What a strange, contradictory
creature she was. She seemed to have such fierce
loyalty and affection for him and yet she also seemed to
consider him to be her personal cross to bear. She
sought out the irrational and then insisted on applying
logic to it. She could believe one moment and deny it
the next. She was an enigma and Mulder was damn glad
he had found her.
"So what are we going to do when we reach that road
below us?" Mulder asked. "Hitch a ride?"
"Something like that if we're lucky."
They slowly made their way down the steeply sloping
trail while also keeping an eye on what was behind
them. They may have found a way to hide in the
forest, but they hadn't found safety. Though there
was no sign of the searchers who had scoured the forest
last night, Scully and Mulder had agreed it was highly
unlikely that CSM's men would just give up.
Mulder reached the road first, but Scully was only a few
steps behind him. It was at least another mile to
the visitor's center. "I hope that visitor's center has
a hot shower and a Denny's," he muttered.
She grimaced. "Can't you do better than Denny's?"
"IHOP then."
Scully grumbled something about a bran muffin and
fresh honeydew melon. The idea didn't seem so great
to Mulder. He was thinking more along the lines of
a grand slam cholesterol fix. Just three quarters of
a mile to go. Then he heard something. "Car," Mulder
warned.
"Shouldn't we hide or something?"
He shrugged. "I was thinking more along the lines of
hitching a ride. I'm too tired and filthy to think
about hiding."
Scully didn't argue, that must mean she felt the same
way. A car came around the bend. No, actually it was
an ancient, battered VW van. In fact Mulder could
almost swear it was. . .
"You two look like hell," Frohike announced as the van
came to a stop.
Mulder shook his head. He must be hallucinating. "What
the--"
Langly jumped out of the van and demanded, "Are you
two going to just stand there?"
Scully nudged Mulder, and he started across the road.
Then it struck him that Scully didn't seem surprised
to see the Gunmen. As a matter of fact, now that
Mulder thought about it, the Gunmen didn't seem
surprised to see Scully either.
"What's going on here?" Mulder asked as he climbed
into the van. "And where's Byers?"
"He's waiting at the visitor's center with a rental
car," Langly explained as he threw a duffle bag at
Mulder. "Frohike and I have been up and down this
stretch of road half a dozen times in the last hour
looking for you."
Mulder unzipped the duffle bag. "How did you know
where to search for us?"
"GPS tracking device," Scully explained as she
took a seat next to him and buckled her seatbelt.
With a nonplussed look Mulder asked, "What tracking
device?"
Frohike snickered as he put the van into gear. "The
one in her bra."
Mulder's eyes widened in a look of amazement.
Langly was riding shotgun, but turned in his
seat to look at Mulder and Scully. "Oh yeah,
we've had a bead on you two from the beginning, but
we couldn't get close to you until now. Rangers wouldn't
allow us on the back roads but they couldn't keep us
off the public one. We've been up and down this
pain in the ass until we know each and every pothole
by heart. Nice hat, Mulder."
Mulder self consciously touched the dirty white
bandage wrapped around his head..
Langly added, "And that's quite a shiner, Scully."
Mulder almost smiled when Scully touched her bruised
cheek and looked as self conscious as he felt. Mulder
said, "The guy who gave her that shiner probably
looks much worse than she does this morning, and is
walking crooked to boot."
Frohike glanced over his shoulder. "Oh yeah?"
"Eyes on road, Frohike," Mulder warned.
Looking toward the duffle bag in Mulder's hands, Langly
told Scully, "Everything we talked about is in
there--passports, credit cards, bank book. Everything
you need to go totally MIA."
"Guns," Mulder noticed as Scully removed a Sig Saur P226
9mm pistol from the duffle bag. He arched a brow. "Any
other surprises in there?"
Scully handed him a 9mm Beretta.
"Thanks." Mulder tested the weapon's weight in his
hand, then checked the clip. Rummaging through the
bag he found six additional magazines of ammo, a pair
of Maglight rechargeable flashlights, two cell phones,
two Swiss pocket knives, and a pair of handcuffs. He
glanced at Scully.
"What?" She looked defensive. "I liked to be prepared."
"So I see." He returned to inspecting the contents of
the bag. "Hannibal and all his elephants didn't pack
this much gear to cross the Alps."
She zipped the duffle bag. "Hannibal and his elephants
are a couple of millennia out of date."
This was certainly a woman who believed in planning
ahead. Mulder caught Frohike's gaze in the rear view
mirror. "Where are we meeting Byers?" Mulder asked.
"At the picnic grounds."
Langly tossed a map to Mulder. "Those are the
directions to a safe house near Cape Lookout. Pirates
used to hide there during the 1700s. It should hide you
too."
"A friend of mine made a killing with a dot com,"
Frohike answered Mulder's unspoken question. "He has a
summer place on the Banks. I told him I needed a
vacation so not even he knows that you two are there."
Mulder glanced at Scully. "Sounds like you made
kickass vacation plans without telling me."
He thought he saw a sparkle in Scully's eyes as
she said dryly, "You were difficult to reach at the
time."
The van came to a halt. "Here we are," Frohike
announced. "Hey, who's that with Byers?"
"Shit," Langly said in a low hiss as a stranger
out from behind Byers. The bastard had a gun held
to Byer's temple.
"Hit the deck," Mulder ordered.
He didn't have to say it twice.
Once on the floorboard they all looked at each
other. "That's the guy who gave Scully the
shiner," Mudler explained.
The VW's floorboard was littered with empty beer
bottles and Cheetos bags which Scully gingerly
pushed to the side before reaching to straighten
Frohike's glasses. Frohike smiled.
I think Frohike's in love, Mulder mused.
"Now what?" Langly asked.
Mulder reached up to the seat and dragged
the duffle bag to the floor. He opened it
and began searching for the guns.
"You know what I want," the hitman called
from outside. "Get out of the van."
Scully's expressive blue eyes met Mulder's, and
he searched his suddenly blank mind for something
to say. Something meaningful. The kind of thing
the hero always said before he went to the shoot-out
in the O.K. Corral. Unfortunately the only words
wandering around his heard were R-rated expletives.
"Mulder's hurt," Scully called in a voice far too
large for her small body. "He began hemorrhaging
right after we left the research facility. I can't
move him."
"What the hell?" Frohike asked under his breath.
The hitman insisted, "You get out then."
Mulder grabbed Scully's hand as Frohike cried "No!"
"Look," Scully said calmly. "It's not Byers they want."
"No, it's the two of us." Mulder's gaze narrowed. "I
can't let you take this kind of risk."
"It isn't your choice."
"Let me do it," he insisted.
She gave a ghost of a smile. "I already told him
you're injured."
"Scully--"
"You can't stop me this time, Mulder. Not so long
ago I did what you wanted. I stayed behind. I've
regretted it ever since."
"At least you lived to regret it. I'd like the
same result this time."
She handed Mulder the Baretta. "That's going to
depend on you."
"This is dangerous," he growled as he checked
the ammunition.
"I know." Again Scully's expression lightened
with what could almost be called a smile. "Look
at it this way, for once you have my full
permission to protect me."
Mulder looked at the gun in his hand and then up
at the woman whose small form held the heart of
a lioness. "There won't be much time," he warned.
"Almost none."
"Seconds."
Her gaze held his. "Mulder?"
"Hmm?"
"I believe in you." With those words she opened the
van door.
Scully gazed at Mulder for just a moment. Her skin was
pale and translucent in the morning sunlight. Mulder
wanted to reach out and haul her back into the
van, back into safety. There was a pain in his chest,
as if an unseen hand had grabbed him and was sqeezing the
last drop of blood out of him. He hurt, and he didn't
need to be told that he hurt because of her.
Mulder didn't want was to lose her.
"Scully..."
Her foot hit the ground and it was as if time slowed
down as Scully stepped from the van. Every moment
seemed to stretch like those in a car accident when
you could see the crash coming but could do nothing
about it. Every second stretched into an eternity.
Mulder saw the determination in Scully's eyes as she
pulled away. He watched the way a single strand of
her hair fell into her face as Scully straightened
her spine and stood her ground. He saw the hitman
shove Byers to the side, dragging the gun away from
Byers' temple and aiming it directly at Scully.
There wasn't time to think, just react.
Mulder raised his gun and fired. And with the sound
still ringing in his ears Mulder saw Scully fall to
the ground.
******************************************************
It is only with the heart that one can see rightly;
what is essential is invisible to the eye. . .
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
"The Little Prince"
******************************************************
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cape Lookout, North Carolina
5:14am
It was funny but Mulder had never before noticed how
similar dawn was to dusk. Light streaked the clouds
in various warm hued pastels even though half the sky
remained dark. It was a precarious balance that would
last only moments, but Mulder found himself wishing the
twilight would linger just a little longer...which was
curious for him. Usually it was the darkness that
inspired his imagination.
Seagulls cried overhead, and as Mulder turned to watch
their flight, his attention was caught by the beacon
in the distance. It was the Cape Lookout Lighthouse
which had stood vigil over the coast for over a hundred
years. It rose above the dunes and the sea grasses in
picturesque isolation.
Mulder sat alone on the beach contemplating all that
had happened. So much had changed and had changed him.
Mulder knew he should consider what 'they' had done
to him and why, but somehow the questions seemed
less important than searching his mind for
memories of Scully.
Mulder had always been alone. And then suddenly he
wasn't. And now?
"You've never been an early riser," Scully said.
Mulder turned to watch her approach across the sand.
"Have you slept?" she asked.
"I've slept." They had spent the night at the
'safe house' Frohike had arranged for them on
the Outer Banks.
Scully wrapped her windbreaker more tightly around
herself. "You slept well and yet turn up on the beach
at the crack of dawn? Why am I not buying this?"
"I never said I slept 'well.'"
Mulder stretched his legs in front of him and waited
for Scully to sit. When she did, she curled her arms
around her knees and joined him in watching the horizon.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked softly.
"Thinking about the future."
"Found any answers?"
He gave a half smile. "So far I'm stymied by the fact
that I can't find a way to talk about changing the
world without sounding like a hippie."
Scully smiled. "Now that's a question for the sages."
Damn, he was glad she was here. The memory of Scully
hitting the ground outside the Lone Gunmen's van would
remain seared into Mulder's brain forever. He hadn't
even paused to check whether his shot had found its
mark before bailing out of the VW to go to her side.
As Mulder had felt for Scully's pulse, Byers had
stumbled toward the van. Looking up, Mulder had seen
the assassin laying in an ever-growing pool of blood.
Then Mulder had felt movement at his side and turned
to find Scully gazing at him with an amazingly calm
expression. She had shown not one sign that her near
death experience had disturbed her in the least. In
fact she had sat up and matter of factly dusted off
her clothes. "I thought it was best to give him as
small a target as possible," Scully had explained.
Mulder hadn't been sure whether to hug her or shake her
until her teeth rattled. Instead of either option he
chose to give what he thought she most deserved--respect.
Then Mulder blew the moment by saying dryly, "Well, you
ARE short."
Scully had nudged him. "I meant falling to the ground."
"Oh, yeah." Mulder had stood and offered her his hand.
"I knew that."
Okay, so he had been full of shit. The bravado act was
to cover the fact that this incident would revisit him
in sweat-drenched nightmares for years to come. He had
nearly lost her. Mulder couldn't forget that as he
watched the sun rise over the water, so he blindly took
Scully's hand. She didn't say anything, just laced her
fingers with his.
The sun was considerably higher in the sky when to his
own surprise Mulder said into the silence, "They're
coming, you know."
She didn't ask who. "I know."
"They have to be fought."
"I know that too."
He looked down at their clasped hands. "Are we going
to be fighting alone?"
Scully tilted her head. "Meaning you here and me...
wherever I'll be?"
"Yes."
"The answer is yes." It was that simple, succinct,
and painful. She pulled away, and Mulder watched as
Scully studied the way sand slipped through her
fingers.
"I won't be here," she announced quietly.
"Are you sure?"
"Fairly sure." Now Scully looked at him. "She'll be
here."
"Dana Waterston."
Scully nodded. "I have more of her memories every
minute. I've even begun to 'remember' what she's
done in my life since I've been here. She and Dr.
Doerstling have developed sort of a consciousness
rubber band theory."
There was a sinking feeling in his gut and Mulder
intuitively knew what she was trying to explain.
"You'll be snapped back to your own life." It
wasn't a question.
"In theory." Scully stood and walked to the water's
edge. Mulder didn't follow, but he contented himself
with watching her back.
Finally he couldn't stop himself. He had to say it.
"Stay."
X X X
He doesn't know, Scully reminded herself. He doesn't
know how profound or cataclysmic a single word can be--
a word like 'missing' or 'pregnant'...or 'stay.'
A single word could change your whole life. It had
changed hers. She and Mulder had sat on his sofa
discussing her experiences at the Buddhist temple
while he was in England searching for crop circles.
Scully remembered Mulder asking, "How many different
lives would we be leading if we made different choices?
We don't know."
"But what if there was only one choice?" she had
countered. "And all the other ones were wrong, and
there were signs along the way to pay attention to?"
The last thing she remembered was Mulder saying, "All
the choices would then lead to this very moment.
One wrong turn and we wouldn't be sitting here
together. . ."
Later Scully had discovered that she'd fallen asleep
on the sofa and that Mulder had covered her with a
blanket. The clock on the VCR flashed twelve but that
gave her no clue about what time it really was.
She had started to rise then noticed Mulder standing
silhouetted in the doorway, his back against the light.
He'd had a towel slung low across his hips as if he
had just stepped out of the shower, and he held a
toothbrush in his hand. Mulder had said, "It's late."
"Too late?"
Something had flickered in his eyes before he shrugged.
"I don't know. You've driven over here in the middle of
the night more times than I can count. I suppose you
can drive home the same way now. There's nothing to
stop you."
"Do you want me to go?"
He'd looked surprised by the question.
Mortification washed over her. Scully jumped to her
feet and began looking for her shoes. "I shouldn't
have said that. I shouldn't--" She glanced at him
anxiously. "Forget I said that.
Scully was half way to the door before Mulder said,
"Stay."
She didn't look at him. She was afraid to look at him.
She felt stupid and awkward and the only thing she
could think to say was, "What?"
"Stay."
She wanted to. The desire had been there before, but
now it felt like compulsion. "I should go." She
breathed into the silence. "This would change
things."
Mulder shrugged. It seemed like such a nonchalant
gesture, but there was nothing casual in his eyes.
"Things change."
And there it was. A moment. A path. A choice. Go
forward into the future or stand where she was, staring
at a door, reluctant to walk though it but afraid to
stay where she was.
Scully looked at Mulder, at his thoughtful, searching
gaze. There was tension in him. There was a hint of
uncertainty as he watched her. Oh, he tried to look
confident and unconcerned. He tried to look as if he
was in control. If she denied him, Mulder would laugh
and pretend that this was just one more innuendo in a
string of many. But Scully knew him too well. There was
something in the way he fixed his jaw and held his
shoulders. He was serious. He was waiting for her
answer.
God, why was it so difficult? What held her back?
This was Mulder, the man whose face she had seen almost
daily for nearly eight years. There was almost nothing
she didn't know about him or he about her. It wasn't
even like they'd never had sex. The night he had come
to terms with his sister's death they had sat holding
each other until the embrace had turned into something
different--something heartfelt and warm and giving.
Something they had both desperately needed.
The next morning in silent agreement, they hadn't talked
about what had happened. They had stepped back into
their normal roles in each other's lives. It wasn't that
what had happened had been a mistake. It had felt too
right to ever be called a mistake. No, they had pulled
away because they had both known that to acknowledge
what had happened would be to change things. Forever.
That was what held Scully back as she stood halfway to
the door. This wasn't a moment shaded with loss or grief
or desperate need. This was the silence of the night.
Stillness surrounded them and the only sound to be
heard was that of their own breathing. Nothing pushed
or pulled them to make a decision or a choice. Nothing
but themselves.
Scully looked at Mulder. At the way he held himself
motionless, as if he knew that to move would be
to make this moment slip away, and it was a very
important moment.
Stay or go?
But why go when she would only return here tomorrow?
She always did. Scully returned time after time.
She'd had a million opportunities to walk away,
but she never did. Scully could have gone anywhere
tonight, or countless days and nights before it, but
she had chosen to be here...with Mulder...where she
would always choose to be.
Scully blinked. How strange to realize that the most
momentous decision of her life had been made so long
ago that she couldn't remember when. Which was the
the moment when she'd looked into his face and seen
more than a partner, more than a friend? Which was
touch of their hands that had started to mean more than
comfort or understanding? Did it matter? Or was all
that mattered was that it existed now?
Some things only became clear in hindsight. Scully
couldn't pinpoint exactly when she had turned her
back on any life save this one, but now she knew it
didn't matter. It was as inconsequential as trying
to pinpoint the exact moment when a child was
conceived. All that mattered was that something
extraordinary had been brought into existence.
Scully smiled at Mulder. Would it be enough? Please,
let it be enough because if she had to find the
words to describe how she felt, she would only
garble them. Words could not equal her emotions.
Moments passed, and Scully saw the tension ease in
Mulder's shoulders. A relaxed expression crossed his
face. Scully gazed into his familiar eyes and saw all
the understanding she would ever want or need.
Mulder reached his hand out to her, and Scully
took it. She felt the warmth of his palm pressed
against her own as he pulled her near. She felt his
breath across her face, and the gentle pressure of
his hand at the small of her back. And without a
single word, her decision was understood
by them both.
She stayed.
Mulder, this Mulder, brought Scully crashing back
to the present as he stood and crossed the sand.
"We can fight this," he told her. "You don't have
to go."
"I don't have a choice. I can feel it."
"But do you know it? Do you know without a shadow
of a doubt that this can't be fought?"
Scully shook her head, but it wasn't a denial. It was
only an expression of internal confusion. "Dana
figured it out with Dr. Doerstling," she explained.
"The switch between us was like a note being played,
and now the vibration is fading. The very fact that
I know this means that with every moment that passes
more of her is here. What I knew of her before
was long term memory. This was recent. My time here
is almost up."
"Fight it. Damnit, Scully, what's there to go back
to? A lone crusade?"
She lifted her chin. "Someone has to fight the
monsters."
"Alone?" Mulder demanded. "Is that what we're reduced
to? Fighting the 'good' fight but always alone?" Mulder
seemed unaware of the way he began to shift and move
as if there was more energy in him than he could
contain. "Stay, Scully, and we'll fight the monsters
together."
She gave him a watery smile. "Side by side."
"Marching forward one cursed step at a time."
Her smile died as Scully pulled away. "We have to
think of the future."
"Funny, I thought that was what I was doing."
"No, I..." She lifted her hands helplessly. "I'm
thinking of a different future."
"Yours and his?" Mulder said that like he thought
her Mulder was an entirely different person. Then
again wasn't that the way she had always referred
to Dana Waterston? "He isn't there, you know," this
Mulder pointed out with brutal honesty.
"I know." And the knowledge hurt. If she returned
home, Mulder would be lost to her...again. Standing
in the vibrancy of his presence it was possible to
keep the loneliness at bay. Her grief, though still
very real, seemed like little more than a figment
of her imagination. This Mulder was real, and he was
standing beside her. If she returned home, she would
be alone. This could be the end.
Mulder approached her. Scully turned her head and
held up her hand as if that would hold him back. It
didn't. He gently swept his fingertips over her temple.
"Please," Scully said out loud while inside she pleaded,
please, don't ask me to stay...and please don't let
me go. It was a contradiction, but then her entire life
was a contradiction. Science and faith. Skepticism
and belief. Contradiction was her nature...and
Mulder's. God knows, Mulder was a contradiction.
The heat of unshed tears burned her eyes. "Mulder..."
He kissed her.
Surprise rocketed through her, but as Scully felt
Mulder's lips pressed against her own, she relaxed.
Their mouths met, melded, then released only to meet
again...and again...to taste, to touch, to cling.
To break apart and to reunite.
Scully's hand moved over Mulder's shoulder. His hand
smoothed over her back. She pressed herself against
him, and he answered by holding her closer still.
When Mulder lifted his mouth just a few inches above
her own, Scully found that the limits of her vision
was Mulder's face, and that his face was all that she
needed or wanted to see.
"I have to go," she whispered and hated herself
for doing so. "There's no choice in this."
Mulder threaded his fingers through her hair.
"I want to say there is a choice."
"But there isn't."
"There are still questions to be answered," he told
her. "The future to think of."
Scully confessed, "The future I'm thinking of isn't
ours, Mulder. It's our child's."
Mulder stopped breathing. He pulled back
and looked at her. There was no way to describe
the way he looked at her. A lifetime of loneliness
and searching and pain shadowed his eyes, mixing
with something else. Joy? Satisfaction? Bemusement?
All those things and more must shadow her own gaze
as well.
Mulder pulled Scully against him. His arms enveloped
her, holding her tightly. So very tightly. She held
him too.
He placed an exquisitely tender kiss on her forehead
as they stood being battered by the wind kicked up
by the surf. They stood against it unbending and
unbreaking.
At last Mulder said, "So you have to go."
Scully nodded because she couldn't speak.
"It'll be okay," he promised. "Do you believe
that?"
Swallowing hard, Scully managed to say, "There's no
acceptable alternative."
He smiled as he cupped Scully's face between both his
hands. With his thumbs he gently brushed away her
tears. They stared at each other for a wordless
moment before Mulder kissed her one last time. It
was an infinitely gentle benediction.
Scully sighed and rested her cheek against his
shoulder. And reminded herself to breathe as the
sun rose over the ocean and seagulls cried overhead.
This wasn't the end.
****************************************************
"Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect, and
it is shameful to surrender it too soon or to the
first comer: there is nobility in preserving it
coolly and proudly through long youth, until at last,
in the ripeness of instinct and discretion, it
can safely be exchanged for fidelity and happiness."
George Santayana
Skepticism and Animal Faith IX
****************************************************
EPILOGUE
Dana Scully's Residence
Georgetown
Washington, D.C.
6:45am
Scully slammed her hand over the snooze button
of her alarm clock, abruptly cutting off the music.
She didn't move. She didn't open her eyes. She
waited--and prayed--for her nausea to pass. Maybe
if she laid there long enough...
No. It was hopeless. A few minutes after running
into the bathroom she walked out with a towel in
her hand. Absently dropping it on the floor as she
climbed back into bed. Then she stopped dead in her
tracks.
Scully blinked and looked around herself.
It was her bedroom looking exactly as her bedroom
had always looked. Nothing was different. Nothing.
Her hand drifted down to her stomach. Her baby.
She had her baby. She closed her eyes and took
a deep, contented breath...then doubts began
to creep in. Had it all been a dream?
She had told Mulder that it was entirely likely
that everything she had experienced was just
wish fulfillment. As Scully sat in her own
tangled sheets looking at the familiar curve
of her own headboard she had to admit that the
dream theory made far more sense than any
"alternate universe." It was beyond belief that
a human being could fall into a parallel world,
much less do so unharmed. Then to return to her
old life in the blink of an eye? Impossible.
Scully looked at her relentlessly familiar
surroundings. She gazed at herself in the mirror
hanging over her dresser. Nothing had changed.
There was not one anomaly she could point to
that supported the idea that somehow she had
defied the laws of logic to experience something
that had never been definitively proven to exist.
How could anyone believe in something so extreme?
Scully did.
She lay back against her pillows with her hand
resting on her stomach, intently aware of the tiny
life that dwelled there. She gazed out her window
and almost laughed at her epiphany. "I believe,"
she said out loud, and Scully was amazed at how
good it felt to finally admit it. Then, more
solemnly she whispered again, "Mulder, I DO
believe."
X X X
Cape Lookout, North Carolina
7:14am
Dana Waterston sat with her toes digging into the
sand as she studied the brooding expression
of Special Agent Fox Mulder, a man who should
be a stranger to her but wasn't. A man she had
only met once in the emergency room. A man
for whom she had shed countless tears as she
sat in another woman's apartment.
Mulder looked over his shoulder at her. "I've
been thinking. . . "
She looked at him expectantly.
He turned and approached her then crouched
to meet her eye to eye. "About that evolutionary
universe theory of Dr. Doerstling's, is it me or
does it bear some similarity to the idea of a
Platonic Ideal?"
Dana frowned and searched her memory. She had
only read Plato in college, but from what she
remembered Plato had said something along the lines
that somewhere there existed a universal ideal, a
template, and everything else simply imitated or
reflected what truly existed in an ideal state.
Dana tilted her head to the side and said, "I'm not
sure I follow."
"If all these universes are evolving, and evolving
similarly, exactly what are they evolving toward?"
"The Ideal?"
A light entered his eyes. "The Platonic Ideal.
The single destination that all of us are trying to
reach. There may be billions of possibilities,
billions of universes, billions of versions of us,
but there is only one right answer."
He stood and offered his hand. "What do you
think, Waterston?"
"That it sounds an awful lot like fate."
Mulder shook his head. "Not fate. We have free will.
We make our own choices and mistakes. We can go
down the wrong paths."
Dana felt his hand tugging at hers, pulling her
toward him with gentle, constant insistence. As she
rose to her feet she asked, "And exactly what is the
right path?"
Mulder shrugged. "I don't know, but I have the
feeling that I'm supposed to look for it with you."
She didn't say anything. But she didn't pull her hand
from his as they walked down the beach...and somehow
Dana Waterston found herself believing that at
long last she had a sense of direction. She knew
where she wanted to go and where she needed to stay
--by his side.
THE END
AUTHOR'S END NOTES:
Andre Linde (who is mentioned in the story) is
an actual person who has written papers detailing
a theory for multiple inflationary expansions.
The theory of "evolutionary universes" was proposed
by Lee Smolin of Penn State University. Both
theories have been manipulated with a sci-fi/X-File
slant and are not accurately portrayed in this
story. Literary license was taken. The real theories
are nicely summarized and explained in Brian Greene's
"The Elegant Universe" ...which is an excellent book
for any non-science professional like myself who is
interested in learning more about string theory and
the way it relates to the Theory of Relativity.
The song that the character Mike Stilgoe is
singing and downloading off of Napster is
"Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden.
The song Scully hears in the bar is "The One I've
Been Waiting For" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.
The songs that are implied to be playing on
Scully's stereo were "Do What You Have to Do"
and the acoustical version of "Possession"
by Sarah McLachlan.
And if I could choose closing credits I would
probably pick Sarah McLachlan's "Elsewhere."
