Another Life

All went so fast. This is a nightmare.

I feel so completely useless.

I seem to have lost all my skills, my ability to think straight and, above all, my guts. I don't know what my next move has to be. I don't know…

That's wrong, Mulder, you know. You must focus on the only clue you've got right now. Three words. And you'll find…

Believe in yourself, have faith.

King of faithfulness, our Walter Skinner. I can't believe what he'd been capable of. In less than a couple of hours the team force he'd raised up had found Scully's car, while I was pointless and powerless, circling around the whole town.

When I rushed to the abandoned car one FBI gloved hand held out a tiny piece of paper to me. The only visible evidence they've found on their first thorough search.

A few scribbled words. Three words that meant nothing.

It wasn't sufficient for me. I stormed into the car, ransacked it for a few minutes, frantically, like a mad man, and they had to pull me out with all the cops available.

It had been an insane move. Potentially destroying and spoiling evidence. Did I lose my marbles?

Maybe it's just that I'm getting old, too old for such a shitstorm… Worse than any alien colonization or black-oiled virus. My miracle baby girl, abducted. So ungodly unfair. So inhuman.

Dana, oh, my sweet Dana… What have they done to you? What are you getting through? Are you even safe and sound? Alive?

Dana, I can't stand the idea of any stranger hand laid on your skin, any harsh words being barked at your ears, any disturbance of your blessed pregnancy; I can't stand, but I can't and I couldn't prevent it.

I have to wait. To be patient until the forensic crew finds more. Till Skinner's team finds something valuable.

Focus. Focus on the words. Payback the Price. Payback the Price… The answer is there.

I'm spinning the three words in my mind, trying to make sense, trying to remember all the people Scully and I have pissed off too hard, during all those years. In the last few months, did we stumble upon freaks who would dare go berserk on a pregnant woman? I don't think so… But I can't rule out any FBI case we were involved in, recent or old, hard or simple, involving monsters or killers.

Could it be not related to our FBI work? Seems so improbable… Related to Scully's previous job as a Doc? Well, I'll have to dig that.

Payback the Price… I'm sure there's something specific to understand. Where are my hunches?

"Mister, are you Agent Fox Mulder?" a nurse suddenly asks from the threshold of the hospital chapel, her hand resting on the handle of the door she just opened.

That's a polite but dispensable question, as Mulder happens to be the only person in the room and has clearly specified he would be found there.

"Yes," Mulder answers, turning around from his pew and facing her. "Is Walter Skinner out of drowsiness? Am I allowed to visit him now?"

"I'm afraid he just had a sudden and unexpected severe complication… As I'm speaking he's been wheeled to the surgery room. They sent me to tell you not to come back until tomorrow afternoon. You won't have access to him before. We'll text you as soon as there's any news, bad or good. I'm very sorry."

"But… Why, what?"

"I don't know any of the details of his condition and everyone is very busy right now. I really have to leave you, they're waiting for me… Very sorry and goodbye, Mr Mulder."

Then, she abruptly closes the door on Mulder's inarticulate words.

Just a moment ago, instead of waiting in a corridor, Mulder stepped into the chapel. He thought he would find solace, inspiration and a way to connect with Scully. None of it was to be found here, just more bad news.

Is Scully's God trying him?

Out of energy and hit by despair, Mulder collapses onto the floor down the central aisle, rolls on his back and stares at the ceiling and its lights, a pale imitation of a starry sky. Stretching his two arms as to crucify himself on the bare floor, he offers his body and soul to whatever is pulling the strings of his fate.

"Try me! Try me!" Mulder shouts to the fake sky, as tears are spilling out of his eyes. "Leave her alone! Leave my baby alone! Let Skinner live! Take me instead of them… Take me back to your death's realm! I can pay back the price on my own… I'm willing to pay! Please… Take me to the void or to another life… It doesn't matter if I…"

Mulder suddenly stops and lets the sentence float uncompleted. Not by lack of dark suggestions for the upper puppeteer, but thanks to two words that have triggered his guts.

"Another life? The simulation… Price? Erika Price?"


For my Unborn Child

Something's odd upstairs. I can feel it.

Mulder? Are you home? And why are the lights off?

Step after step I'm climbing the stairs, one hand under my belly, the other on the railing. The baby keeps kicking hard, I don't want to rush despite the sense of urge invading me.

Mulder? Is that you?

Reaching the landing, I can spot a glimmer coming from the baby's room. The door is ajar, someone might be there.

Mulder?

I open the door wide in one straight gesture, and I'm facing the crib that sits in the middle of the room.

A silhouette stands by, tall and gray, unlit.

Yet, recognizable to my eyes.

Wil… Jackson?

He holds in hand the doll that ornates the bottom of the crib, then stretches it out to me over the little bed. I step forward, seize one tiny arm of the offered doll, and the toy remains standing in the air, hovering between the two of us, a conduit linking me to my son.

Then, I realize that the connection extends to my baby daughter.

For my unborn child suddenly stops all its frantic previous movements as soon as I touch the doll. For I now feel a warm sensation starting from my womb, running through my spine, my arm, then to the very end of my fingertips.

For the doll seems to glow in the semi-darkness.


And the Doll as a Conduit

I've wondered for a couple of minutes what would be my best move after receiving the baby's SOS. Finally, it didn't take me long to come up with a course of action.

Night was falling, I had sparse infos, but I've got my own intuition. Sometimes I just can feel stuff in my bones, maybe due to my spooky DNA.

By that time I wasn't far from Farrs Corner in Virginia. Maybe those last weeks I knew I had to get closer. I was already targeting them.

So here I am, in their unremarkable nest, just about lost in the countryside. Pretty and simple house. I can smell love and comfort inside, sprayed with lively spirit and happy messiness.

I thought there would be people around, maybe cops, maybe my birth father – I have a strong feeling he's out there, seeking his loved ones. I've seen no one so far. Though, I was extremely cautious when approaching the yard then the house, and I even found the back door open. Surprising, but maybe on purpose.

Climb the stairs, go find the baby room: the first act of my plan. I have to somehow reach the baby and my birth mother, have to get info. For that, I need to build a strong bridge between me and them.

The path to the child room is easy to follow; I could have done it a blind on my eyes as soon as I entered the house. I just have to feel the vibes, the ones that definitely connect me to the people who live here. Amazing how I don't seem like a complete stranger in this house. That's cool and homey.

All this is new to me, but as always I follow my instincts, tracking invisible waves of energy. Something is calling me from the crib. It's a doll. A rag doll. Odd, ugly and old-fashioned, but it summons me, somehow. Weird.

I zero in, sending thoughts to my birth mother while holding the doll tight in my two hands.

And in a matter of seconds I reach Dana, so easily.

I'm as surprised as her when she realizes the power of the baby in her womb. The doll even warms up and glows in the darkened room, definitely the booster we needed.

And, yeah… my amazing sibling is able to send me raw intel, with all its senses, using Dana and the doll as a conduit and amplifier.

Really, really fucking amazing.