Ten
The words came to them slurred in a distant echo, but they were words and they were clear enough to be understood. Skinner paled at the sound of his own name and Scully took a step forward when she let the words play around in her mind. How could he know, she wondered? How could anybody know who they were from that far away if it WASN'T him? It had to be. It had to be Gibson Praise.
When they had first met perhaps eight years earlier, many people had called him a chess prodigy. But to Mulder, he had always been a little cheater. No fair when you could read the opponent's mind, after all. To her, he had always been a little boy that needed love.
"I've changed my mind," she announced, her voice calm and clipped. "We have to go back."
xxx
More than an hour later, Skinner looked up at the dune which was suddenly much steeper and higher than it had seemed from so far away.
"Where'd he go?" Shannon asked curiously, also staring upwards, expecting to see the man who had shouted to them still there.
"It's okay," Scully promised. "He knows where we are. He'll find us."
"Anyone want to tell me what's going on?" Sarah asked from beside Skinner as Scully again surged enthusiastically to the lead. They would walk around the bank of sand and into town. She was pretty sure she knew where she was, and she was absolutely certain that on the other side of the sand she would find Gibson Praise. It HAD to be him.
"Gibson is a young man," Skinner explained as he and Sarah trailed with Shannon. "Who Mulder and Scully studied and protected many years ago. He can read minds."
"Excuse me?" Sarah gasped with surprise. "Really?"
"Oh!" Shannon sighed with recognition. "That kid. I heard of him all right. I can't believe it! How did he get here?"
"I don't know," Skinner replied, lost. "I didn't even know he was still in touch with Dana. I didn't think he was."
"Is he safe?" Shannon asked. "Trustworthy?"
"Yes," Skinner promised without hesitating. "He testified at Mulder's trial on their behalf. He is an ally and, I think, their friend, in an odd way."
"He heard her then?" Sarah asked. "He recognised her thoughts and called out to her? And to you?"
"He knows me also," Skinner confirmed. "And yes. He would have heard all of us. Like when the radio screws up and you get two songs playing at once. Multiply that by however many people are around, and that is what he hears."
"That's crazy," Sarah concluded. "He reads MINDS?"
"He's probably reading yours right now and laughing."
xxx
Scully beamed when she approached the outskirts of her hometown, abandoned but for the short and stocky young man sitting smack-bang in the middle of the sand, waiting for her. Night was falling quickly but behind her Skinner had his torch on, and its light illuminated all that was before her in a wide, strong beam.
Tears stung her eyes and once she got close enough she unstrapped the pack from around her waist, slid it heavily from her shoulders and let it fall to the ground. He was walking to her by then. He knew she did not want to run. He knew how tired and sore she was. He knew it all, and she had never been so incredibly happy in all her life.
"Now that's not true," Gibson told her, his voice low and his smirk long. Scully had not seen him since Mulder had escaped from the prison, though she knew Mulder had corresponded with him by email. He looked the same and yet different, more grown up. He had a thin, stubbly beard. But he was still Gibson, she realised. And he was still alive.
"Oh my God," she whispered once he stopped in front of her. There was a long minute of silence as they stared at each other. Gibson, as usual, waited for Scully to come to him. He could hear that she wanted to hug him, and though he had hugged Monica earlier that afternoon, it had been a long time since he had even seen Scully.
She looked older, he realised sadly. Her hair was tied back but it was longer and much thicker than he remembered. It was lighter too, but her face was bright red from heat, and she was sweaty. Her blue eyes were wide and filled with tears, and her nose looked different, longer also perhaps. There were more lines around her eyes and mouth, from age and exhaustion. He knew as well as anyone how long she had been away from home. Now she had come back. He had never, ever expected her to. Not in his wildest dreams.
"I thought you were dead," he told her honestly. "I think I'm in shock."
"I think I am dead," she admitted. "Or dreaming. Is it really you?"
"I dunno," he teased, leaning around her. "Assistant Director Skinner," he called. Skinner, Sarah and Shannon had caught up and were keeping their distance, but he knew it was not fear keeping them back, but respect. He appreciated that. "Is Dana dreaming?" he asked in jest.
"If she is, we all need serious medical attention," Skinner replied with a wide grin.
"Ah," Gibson hummed thoughtfully, staring back up at Scully and softening. "Is there a doctor in the house then?" Scully sobbed then and pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around him and pressing his torso to hers, holding his head to her shoulder with strong hands. Gibson could do nothing but rest his hands on her waist and let her hold him. He had never been embraced so firmly or securely in all his life. "Uh, Scully?" he croaked after what seemed like an hour in her arms. "Dana you're kind of crushing me here."
"Oh God, sorry," she gushed, stepping back and brushing her hands over his shoulders and down his long arms, staring at his clothes and his fingers and then up to the glasses on his face. She rested her palm to his scruffy cheek as he grinned at her. Scully could not help but smile back. She wasn't sure Gibson had ever smiled at her. Not like he was now.
"There's a first for everything," he told her aloud. She let him go to brush the tears from her cheeks as she took another step back.
"Um," she announced finally. "This is...everyone. Skinner, and uh, Shannon McMahon, and Skinner's niece Sarah."
"Hi," Gibson greeted, going right up to Sarah and taking her nervous hand, shaking it. She was pretty, he thought, but so far out of his league they may as well be on two completely different planets. "It's okay, I won't hurt you. The others know enough about me to know that, but you don't so...it's cool okay? You all are in for SUCH a treat."
"Why?" Skinner asked, torn between suspicion and hope. Gibson was nothing if not mischievous, but he was also gentle and kind, and Skinner knew his suspicion was misplaced; a product of the times. Still, it was hard to ignore.
"You'll see," Gibson sung. He knew exactly what Skinner had been thinking but also knew they were surprised enough to tolerate him stringing them along for a little while. Skinner watched him turn back to Scully and take her hand. "Come on," Gibson urged, tugging her gently along for a few steps. "Put your bag back on, and I'll take you home."
"Home?" she whispered. "My home? Is that where you've been?"
"Yes," Gibson answered, not giving her any more information. She could do without it for the time being. "But we have to make a stop on the way. There's someone we need to collect, and since it's almost dark boy is she going to be pissed off with me!"
xxx
Monica felt only a little fear in sitting on the sand outside the hospital. Beside her was the transparent plastic crib filled with a few extra towels and books she had found. The sun had disappeared completely perhaps half an hour earlier, and as she nibbled on the remainder of her chocolate she realised Gibson had not taken a torch with him. Had he? Surely there had been one in the backpack. They would not have gone anywhere without it. Unless he had taken it out for some reason at the house and not put it back in. They had never meant to be out so late.
She sat in darkness, without any light of her own, but her eyes were well enough adjusted to see her immediate surroundings, and she knew that if she could not see anyone, they could also not see her. Not that there was anyone out there to see.
Monica kept turning over Gibson's monologue in her mind. Something about it was unsettling and made her shiver with déjà vu. Gibson had recounted something about sleeping in a room with a picture of two people who were together, and Monica could not help thinking about the picture Mulder had taken of himself and Samantha, and how uncomfortable she had felt sleeping in that room knowing what a sanctuary it had once been for them. The shock in Gibson's voice, the way he had cursed, it had confused her. Gibson Praise was never shocked and he never cursed. The whole scenario confused her.
She sighed, leaning back on one arm while the other wrapped around her baby. She stroked her stretched skin gently as she felt a firm kick and she allowed herself to put her worries to one side and smile. He was going to be a strong little boy, she knew. She could not wait to meet him. She also could not wait to watch the three men she lived with attempt to cope as she gave birth, and she knew she would really miss the ability to capture every amusing moment on film. It would have been a real keeper of a DVD.
Monica flinched as the beam of a torch caught her attention. It was around the far corner of the street but approaching, and she sat up more defensively, waiting for Gibson to allay her fears.
"Just me!" he shouted finally. Monica heaved a huge sigh of relief and pocketed the chocolate wrapper, suddenly aware her hands were shaking. Had she really been that afraid, she wondered? Yes, she realised. She really had.
Monica stood in anticipation of Gibson's return. She tucked her hands into the back pockets of the larger jeans she had found three days previously in somebody else's bedroom cupboard. They fit her around her wider hips and she used her string of material as a belt to hold them up. It was not very comfortable, but then again wherever they were, the small town was not exactly crawling with maternity shops, and she was not yet at the stage of needing to use the fat pants or the extraordinarily obese dress Gibson had thrown in her direction with a loud laugh.
Not even close.
xxx
"Who are we meeting?" Scully asked, still gripping Gibson's hand as they walked, her backpack once again weighing her down. "How do you know where you're going?"
"Been here about two weeks now," he answered. "We've gone exploring every day. There's lots of good stuff to steal." Scully raised an eyebrow and smirked but did not look at him. "You can talk," he taunted. "We're not the ones walking around with a box big enough to fit a giant dinghy in it. It's like Santa's sled on steroids."
"Gibson, who is 'we'?" Skinner pressed.
"You'll see," he chuckled. "She's really nice. I promise. You guys will get along great."
"Is he always like this?" Sarah asked.
"I've never seen him this happy," Skinner replied seriously. "He's enjoying our curiosity. I don't think I ever heard him laugh before."
"Why, are you surprised I can?" Gibson retorted even though he was strides ahead of them. "This way," he ordered, pressing on, tugging a frightened Scully along with him.
xxx
Monica frowned when she heard voices, and as the torch rounded the corner she realised Gibson had not been talking to himself, but to other people. On the other side of the light, his shadow was short, but he was accompanied by more shadows. Monica tried to quickly count the taller shadows but they were moving towards her way too fast. She knew Gibson was there but she felt vulnerable and she was unarmed. He had the torch. She had nothing.
"Stop," Gibson urged suddenly. Monica heard him. They were only thirty or so metres from each other. "It's okay," he called, reassuring her across the distance that separated them. "I found the woman I heard. I had to catch up and convince her to stay before they went away. They're going to stay with us, is that okay?"
"Sure," Monica replied, taking a small step forward in the sand and resting her hands warily on her hips. She was still bathed in darkness, as were they. The torch ended somewhere between them, and Monica was not sure if she wanted to step forward now that Gibson was giving her the opportunity.
"You know what else?" he asked suddenly, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"What?" she called.
"I don't think we have to worry anymore about our inexperience over certain 'events', because I just found this hospital's best, most beautiful doctor wandering in the desert!"
Monica's breath left her as she took three quick steps forward upon hearing Gibson's words. Above all else, she trusted him. She had taken her time exploring the hospital in his absence. She had picked up files and read the names of the attending doctors until she found the one she wanted to see. She had walked past offices with names on the doors but had not gone into the one she had most wanted to. Another time, she had told herself.
A beautiful person had been the occupant of that office and the person who had signed those charts. The hospital's best doctor, one of only a couple senior physicians on staff...had not wanted to come back and sleep in a bed which faced the photo of her lover and his little sister, who were both dead to her. But she had come back, Monica realised, her stomach churning. She should not have had that chocolate, she realised dryly amidst all her surprise. Don't throw up, she urged herself. Don't throw up.
Dana Scully had come back.
xxx
Scully could see a woman outlined in the darkness. Gibson purposefully kept the torch low. The woman had only spoken two words and Scully did not know who it was. The woman had long hair and it was out, and she was tall, but that was all. She had a somewhat Southern accent actually, Scully realised upon reflection, but 'sure' and 'what' were not enough syllables to give away her heritage of her prior state of residency.
Gibson seemed to be enjoying himself though, which meant he was at ease with the situation and it gave Scully confidence and allowed her to relax. She thought she knew him well enough to know when he was baiting.
There was something about the way he had said she was the best doctor on staff that made her think that she was known to the woman in front of her. And after a long and trying career in the FBI and then a career in near seclusion as a medical doctor, there were not many women left on her list of considered friends or even acquaintances. Up until Skinner had found her in her mother's home, she'd had no friends. Only Mulder.
"That's not true," Gibson whispered beside her. "She has always been your friend."
xxx
Monica took another step forward as she heard Gibson mumble something she couldn't understand. She thought she knew what was going on and the anticipation was seriously making her feel sick. If he did not get his act together fast she WAS going to throw up. She needed to make that very clear to him. She heard him laugh, and suddenly she felt hurt by his amusement. Didn't he know how badly she wanted that woman beside him to be Dana Scully? Didn't he realise what an impossible dream that was?
Maybe that's why he's happy Mon, she told herself, taking a deep breath and taking another step forward.
"Show yourselves," she ordered, her voice firm and authoritative. "I want to see you."
xxx
Instantly Scully realised the quasi-Southern voice, the intonation, tone and accent had not changed. She could close her eyes and remember because she had done so, many times.
Agent Scully. Dana do you know what you're saying? Text from the Bible. The Qur'an. The very word of God on the surface of an alien spacecraft.
You say it as if you have a choice.
Nine is completion. You've evolved through the experiences of all the other numbers to a spiritual realization that this life is only part of a larger whole.
Gibson was right. Scully knew it suddenly and without question. This was her friend. It had been a comparatively brief but integral friendship in her life during a harrowing, painful time. Scully did not know how to explain it, but Monica Reyes was standing not a few metres from her and she was still moving forward. One cautious step at a time.
Two could play at that game, Scully countered, breaking into an excited smile.
xxx
"You came back," Monica announced as soon as Scully dropped her bag and closed the distance between them in the dark. Gibson raised his torch to waist-height and Scully gasped when she stopped a metre from Monica and took in her figure.
"You're pregnant," she gasped. Monica grinned and nodded. Scully went to return the smile but paused, her eyes filling with tears. "You would have been-"
"Three months when all this happened," she finished, easily predicting the observation and gesturing to the sand around them. "Nice timing, huh."
"Oh it's okay," Scully promised, nearly running the final distance and pulling Monica to her. "It's okay," she repeated in an intimate whisper as her hands tangled in her friend's loose, dark hair and she felt the strength of Monica's arms around her. Scully remembered the last time they had hugged this way; William had been gone.
"I can't believe you're here," Monica whispered against her. "We never thought we'd see you again. We thought we were too late. It's so good to see you."
"I'm here," Scully whispered, to assure herself as much as Monica. They pulled away finally and stared at each other, until Scully's attention was diverted to the very obvious baby bump between them. "Can I?" Scully asked. Monica nodded casually, and she watched as Scully rested her hands on her. Monica bit her lower lip when she saw the expression on Scully's face; she remembered it well. Doctor Scully had taken over from Dana for a few minutes. Monica did not mind, but it did make her nervous.
"I think I'm nearing seven months now," she mumbled. "Thereabouts."
"Great," Scully assured her with a smile, releasing her and nodding. "I can't wait to get a look at you in the light. Where have you been? How did you get here? Are you squatting in my house? Since when? How did you know? What are you doing with Gibson?"
"Well-"
"AHEM!" Gibson exclaimed loudly from behind them. They turned to face him and he raised the torch higher so their faces were illuminated. "Ladies, if I don't stop you now you won't be able to stop yourselves. Monica, you need to meet the others here and then we're going HOME and having dinner and THEN you can both chatter the night away. I would join you if I hadn't just busted my ass trying to get these guys' attention."
"But-"
"Monica!" he insisted. "I know you have spent the last three months without any contact with another woman, but please, if I don't break you up Skinner is going to, because he's right behind me and I really fear for my safety if he doesn't get to see you for himself."
Monica laughed and gestured for whoever was behind Gibson to come forward into the narrow beam of light Gibson was still happy to provide them. She stared with wide, dewy eyes as Skinner stalked around Gibson. He was grinning. He was still bald and broad, and his glasses had survived his journey, whatever that may have been. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and he looked exactly how she remembered, if not a little tanned.
"I never expected this," Monica assured him as he pulled her silently into a gentle hug. "Gibson never told me who he had heard. He just said...I never expected." Monica started crying when she felt Scully's hand rest against her upper arm. Skinner held her more tightly as she cried, and aware she was in good hands Scully returned to Gibson and the two women still behind him.
She approached Sarah and took her arm gently.
"It's just me," she promised. "This woman is an old friend of ours from the FBI. We worked together. She's a few years younger than me, tall, thin, brunette, brown eyes. She also appears to be pregnant. She's very kind. Her name is Monica Reyes."
"No it's not," Gibson interrupted smugly. "Guess again."
"What?" Scully asked.
"She's married," he told her.
"Oh," Scully sighed, shaking her head. "That's not important now." Gibson rolled his eyes. Sometimes Scully really had no idea.
"So she's your friend?" Sarah asked.
"Yes," Scully promised. She turned to Shannon. "It doesn't look like I'll be making it south with you," she stated. "Monica can't travel long distances anymore. The rest of you can do what you want, but I'll be staying here with them a few more months at least."
Then again, Gibson corrected as he listened to her decisive words and watched Shannon simply nod, maybe Scully had more of an idea than he gave her credit for.
xxx
Scully and Monica grinned at each other as they walked side by side half an hour later. Scully was leading them all back to her home in the dark, a heavy-duty torch illuminating the way across the sand.
"So," she repeated. "You're squatting in my house."
"We appear to be, yes," Monica confirmed with a laugh. By the excited, happy look in Scully's sparkling blue eyes, Monica knew Gibson had not said anything about John or Mulder. As far as Scully was concerned she had stumbled across just two of her friends. "Thank you for leaving so much food, by the way," she added, trying to test Scully's assumptions of just how thoroughly her house may have been explored by its visitors.
"I had provisions," Scully answered. Ah, Monica realised. She was not the only one playing it safe. She knew instantly that Scully would not voluntarily mention the bunker. Perhaps she was trying hard not to, Monica realised, considering what she had left behind there. "Have either of you been sick?" Scully asked after a minute's thoughtful silence.
"That's an understatement," Monica teased. "But not for a while. Just every now and then. I feel really good. I know Gibson knows that but he still doesn't believe me."
"Do you think I'm completely deaf or something?" Gibson asked from behind them. He was carrying the plastic crib awkwardly in front of him. "Jeez. Like I said before, I don't know what I'm doing with all this baby stuff!"
"Well I do," Scully promised, squeezing Monica's hand briefly. "I don't want either of you to worry about that. So what are you doing out here? I don't exactly live in the city."
"It's private, secluded," Monica explained. "Pretty comfortable despite that shocking bed in your spare room." Scully smirked, nodding in agreement.
"It's not exactly easy to find though Monica," she pointed out with smug curiosity as she spoke a very obvious truth. "Did you just 'stumble' across it?"
"Pretty much," she answered. "We'll explain inside when we can get some proper light and sit down. While we walk, why don't you tell me what on earth you're doing with Shannon McMahon and Walter Skinner?"
"Oh," Scully chuckled, blushing in the dark. She momentarily cast the torch at a higher level, picking out her house in the distance. They were not far. "They found me in DC," she explained. "I was in a bad sort of way, at my mother's. They were looting the houses for food and water to put in the raft, and Skinner recognised the block as mom's and came looking out of curiosity, and that's where I was."
"Wow," Monica commented. "That's coincidence for you."
"I wasn't exactly jumping for joy," Scully replied, stretching out her left arm and moving the torch to it to get Monica's attention. "I didn't have any real feelings about being rescued at the time, but in hindsight I'm glad coincidence took a turn in my favour."
"Oh," Monica whispered, her eyes widening at the sight of the long, jagged scar on the far left of Scully's wrist and the implications it held. It was not a scar Monica ever could have imagined seeing on somebody normally so self-confident, but there it was. Scully had not even tried to hide it.
"I don't think I was ever capable of taking it further," Scully admitted as she returned the light to their path and walked on, her chin held stubbornly high. "But it was nice to see familiar faces when I came to."
"Bet you thought you were dreaming," Monica teased gently. Scully scoffed.
"I did, and dreams like that were better and more welcome than anything I had been dreaming up until then. Trust me Monica, there are things-"
"Don't explain yet," Monica urged, interrupting. She had a feeling Scully had been about to say something about Mulder, and Monica did not want to hear it yet. "Wait until we're inside and sitting down and facing each other properly."
"Okay," Scully whispered, confused by the way Monica kept brushing off parts of the story that needed to be told for completion. She and Gibson had been living in Scully's house, after all. Hadn't they noticed Mulder's photo of Samantha on the shelf, or his clothes in the bedroom, or the inside of his cluttered, wannabe X-Files office? Didn't they think it was odd she was not with him? And how on earth had they found her house? She had a silent number, the letterbox was not marked. Could it really have just been coincidence, the same way she had been found by Skinner?
Had they really all only survived by coincidence? By fate? Was that the only reason they had all found each other? Somehow it did not seem enough.
"How long have you lived here?" Monica asked, making conversation as they neared the house, a large, dark rectangle of blackness amidst a sky lit only by a handful of stars.
"Before all this, a bit over three years," Scully answered. "I worked at the hospital as a medical doctor, but I'm sure you knew that since Gibson mentioned it."
"I did. We found your name on a bunch of records. I was looking for signs of you there."
"Well you wouldn't have been disappointed," Scully sighed. "I was everywhere in that hospital. That's what started this whole mess."
Monica frowned. It was hard not to say something to reassure her that Mulder regretted what he had said. She did not want to spoil the surprise, and she wanted to make sure Scully was sitting down when Monica told her. If Scully passed out, Monica would not be able to catch her. Monica had never actually seen Scully faint, but after seeing the scar on her wrist she did not want to play around with her friend's particularly delicate emotions. She would be upfront and honest but they would be calm and sitting and looking one another in the eye. That was just good manners.
"Where did you live before this?" Scully asked, her voice vague as she stopped at the front door to the house and shone the torch light behind her, making sure the others were still following and that they knew they had arrived.
"Texas," Monica answered simply, ignoring the look of surprise that flitted only briefly across Scully's face. She knew Scully and the others had been journeying south, and she knew Scully assumed Gibson would have known to do the same. Monica knew that in Scully's mind it could only mean one thing; they had gone in the wrong direction on purpose, and Monica knew Scully was wondering whether she and Mulder were the reason. Scully was spot-on, as usual, but she would still be surprised when Monica told her the whole story. Gibson was right; they would be up all night talking.
Monica caught his eyes as he stopped beside her and he smirked smugly. 'I told you so', his expression said. She only grinned at him. Staying up all night talking was fine by her. Men were only good for so much conversation. Monica had not used her daily quota of words for many months and she had stored them all up for just this occasion, even though up until that afternoon she had merely been storing them up. She could not wait.
"Do we have something nice in the house?" she asked Gibson softly as Scully moved forward to consult with Skinner, Shannon and Skinner's blind niece, Sarah.
"Uh, I'm pretty sure there's some champagne but you can't have any. I got a bag of marshmallows. Are you suggesting I share them?"
"Maybe just with me," Monica laughed. "But I do think a toast is order. Don't you?"
"Oh yeah," he whispered, shaking his head. "In all my life Monica, I don't think I've ever, EVER been actually, truly 'surprised'. Not until today."