Manassas-Part 7/7 Summary and disclaimers in Part 1 ***** "Thank God I have lived to see this. It seems to me that I have been dreaming a horrid dream for four years, and now the nightmare is gone." A. Lincoln-April 1865 ***** August 30, 1999 Manassas National Battlefield Park The sun had set, but there was still tremendous activity in the camp. Cookfires and small bonfires burned brightly in the darkness, the men surrounding them laughing, singing, playing cards and telling stories. Their shadows danced on the white canvas sides of their tents. A small group of horses stood nearby, tails moving in a gentle rhythm as they swept away mosquitoes. A few women walked about, their skirts swaying as they moved. They smiled and flirted with the men in gray. And the men in blue. Mulder walked through the camp, fascinated despite himself. He had avoided the Park for the last two days because of the re-enactment's going on. It was the 137th Anniversary of the Second Manassas, and hundreds of people had turned out. Dressed in authentic uniforms and clothing, these men and women lived for the days when they could come and see their fellow Civil War buffs and pretend, for awhile at least, that it was really 1862. He had hoped that, seeing as the battle had officially ended on the 30th, these people would be gone. But they were in no hurry to break camp. The F.B.I. and the local sheriff's department had not given up on Scully, but they had begun to focus on other cases now. Mulder hadn't. He had come here every day, until the re-enactment's started, and searched. He still wasn't too sure if he could believe the old caretaker, but it was better than thinking like everyone else did: That Scully was dead. Her mother, Maggie, had even come out with him once. She, too, wanted to believe the old man. But they had found nothing. He had planned to come out this evening and sit beneath the trees, just because it made him feel closer to her. He hadn't anticipated the people. He walked among them, feeling desperately out of place in his jeans and T-shirt, wondering why these people felt the need to re-enact one of the country's worst moments. Yet, he admired them and their dedication to historical detail. You could do worse things on a weekend, he thought. Like chase aliens. Or search for your missing partner. He had stopped to listen to a group soldiers singing a slow, moving version of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" when he saw her. She was walking slowly down the alley between the tents, watching the men and women around her with a small smile on her face. She was dressed as many of the other women, in a long, full dress, sky blue in color. It looked more worn than those the others were wearing. Her hair was tousled, and she walked with a slow, but steady, step that betrayed her exhaustion. She stopped to watch the same group of men he had, and her smile widened. He looked at them again. Some where in blue, and some where in gray. Though the different sides stayed apart during the actual 'battle', they tended to mingle afterwards. He looked at Scully again. She had spotted him. With what looked to be a huge sigh, she walked up to him, not stopping until her body was only centimeters away from his. She wasn't wearing heels, he thought as she looked up at him. His mind was so numbed he couldn't think much else. She smiled suddenly, her eyes glowing in the firelight. She reached up between them and placed her hand on his cheek, gently tracing his lower lip with her thumb. "Hi," she whispered. Her touch, as it usually did, sent his nerve endings aflame. With a groan, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him. She buried her head in his shoulder and held onto him just as tightly. He felt her body began to shake, and didn't know whether it was from laughter or tears. Probably both. Finally, he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away, just far enough for him to see her face. "Where have you been?!" She was indeed laughing, but there were tears in her eyes. "It's a very long story." "I've got time, believe me." His eyes widened when she giggled at his statement. "That's where you've been, isn't it? Through time?" Her own eyes widened. "I don't know why I'm surprised," she said. "I should have known you would know what happened to me. Even when I'm not sure of it myself." "You've been missing for almost two weeks, Scully. People think your dead." He took a deep breath. "Now, I know what I was told. But I want to hear it from you. Where were you?" "What were you told?" she whispered. "That you had gone back in time." His voice sounded tentative, as if he was afraid she'd laugh at this statement. She didn't laugh. Instead, she simply smiled again. "I suppose we'll have to make up some silly story to tell everyone about where I've been, because you are the only one who'll believe the truth." Mulder stood there, astounded. The he smiled back at her. "Then the old man was right?" Scully shrugged. "I suppose I could say that it was a dream..." "Don't you dare!" Mulder interrupted her. "Mulder." "Yes." "As much as I love standing here watching these men in blue and gray relaxing TOGETHER, I really want to go home." She took his hand and started leading him in the general direction of the parking lot. "I'll call Mom tonight, but we can wait and tell everyone else tomorrow. Tonight, I just want to take a nice, long bath, eat a great big meal and fall asleep in front of the TV." She turned to look at him. "And I'd greatly appreciate it if you joined me." "Even for the bath?" Mulder asked teasingly. Scully let go of his hand and gave him a wicked smile. "Especially for the bath." With that, she turned and headed for home. Mulder wasn't far behind her. ************************************************************ "With an unceasing admiration of your constancy and devotion to your Country, and a grateful remembrance of your kind and generous consideration of myself, I bid you all an affectionate farewell." From Lee's final orders to the Army of Northern Virginia-April 1865 ***** Scully's Apartment Two Weeks Later Scully's disappearance was still causing people to shake their heads. Apparently, the lightning strike had caused her to fall and hit her head, causing temporary amnesia. She had wandered, confused, until some Civil War re-enactors had found her. Feeling the need to keep her real-but-as-of-yet-forgotten ID a secret, she had lied to them and told them she too was in Virginia for the re-enactments. They took her in without question. On the evening of the 30th, her memory had returned and Mulder found her among the other campers. It was a completely unbelievable story, but seeing as it came from Mrs. Spooky, everyone believed it; strange things always seemed to happen to the Spooky family. Only Mulder knew what had really happened. The Bureau had given her a two week leave from her duties, in order to make sure she recovered from her head injury. She had taken the break without complaint. While Mulder continued on in her absence (though he called to check on her more than once every day) she did research. She searched the old libraries and museums scattered throughout Virginia, the National Museum in D.C., and the Internet. She found in these records many of the people she had met in 1862. Neither Stuart nor Jackson would survive the war. Jackson was accidentally shot by his own troops at Chancellorsville in May 1863, and Stuart would be killed a year later at Spotsylvania. After his embarrassing loss at Second Manassas, Pope's command of the Union army was taken away, leaving McClellan in charge once again. She found mention of a General Wade, who was supposedly killed during the battle at Second Manassas, and his son, who had survived the war to become a New York politician. She found nothing on Madeline Anderson, or her family, but that was really no surprise. She did, after a long search, find information on two others she had met. General William Rollins survived. The widower remarried in 1866 and settled down just north of the capital, raising three children. Scully could find no pictures of him before, during or after the war. She wondered if any of his descendants would marry a Skinner. Colonel Jason Stanton did not survive. He was wounded at Gettysburg and taken prisoner. He died two weeks later of infection at Old Capital Prison in D.C. Scully had cried when she read this. She wondered, for a bit, if she could have changed Stanton's fate had she stayed with him. But she knew she most likely wouldn't have changed anything, even if she somehow knew what that fate was to be. Though depressed by this news, Scully was happier now than she had ever been before. After all, her visit to the past had made her present quite wonderful. It had woken her up in a way. It had taught her to open up, at least around the people she cared about. It had made her realize that life was far too precious to wait for what you wanted; you had to go out and get it. Now, here she was, standing in her kitchen making an omelet, wearing nothing but Mulder's shirt. Ah, yes. The past two weeks since her return had definitely been interesting. She heard him come up behind her just as she flipped the omelet on the plate next to the stove. She had already eaten when he had arrived at her apartment, tired and stressed after a day of rushing to complete "paperwork from Hell" before the weekend. She had offered to make him dinner, but before she could even ask what he wanted, he had started to strip. By the time he got his shirt off and started working on his belt buckle, she had forgotten what she was asking. That had been well over an hour ago. Strong, bare arms encircled her from behind and she leaned her head a little to the left, giving him access to her neck. He took the invitation and gave her a wet, open-mouthed kiss where her neck met her shoulder. She shivered and felt a sudden tightening between her legs. How was she going to work with him now? she wondered. Monday was the day she was due back. If she reacted this strongly... 'Oh, who are you fooling, Dana? You've always reacted this strongly to him. You've just managed to keep it under control so he didn't know. You'll just have to keep doing that so no one else knows.' She was not going to risk her partnership with Mulder just because they had become lovers. She was sure he felt the same way. "Hmmm. Smells good," Mulder drawled, his voice reminding her of another one, similar but different. "I figured you'd be hungry. Hope you don't mind an omelet." "Omelet? I was talking about you." He kissed her neck again. She laughed and pulled away from him, turning and handing him the plate. "Eat. You need to keep your strength up. It's going to be a long weekend." "Promise?" She laughed again and moved to sit down at the table. He sat opposite her, wearing nothing but a pair of unbuttoned jeans, and dug into the omelet with enthusiasm. She watched him eat for a while. "You know, of you keep eating my food like that, you're not going to stay thin like you are now." Mulder didn't respond, and she knew it was doubtful that with his metabolism and energy level he would ever have to worry about gaining weight. She, on the other hand, had to work at staying slim. Her visit to the past had helped her loose quite a bit of weight, but she was quickly gaining it back. Thinking of her excursion from two weeks ago, Scully decided to bring up the subject. Mulder hadn't asked her much about the experience, but she sensed that he was anxious to hear about it. She had told him bits and pieces, but nothing too elaborate. Now, she felt she needed to talk to him about it. "I'm thinking it was Wade." Mulder looked up from his meal. "Huh?" "Why I was sent back." Her voice was steady, but soft. "I think it was to help kill Wade. I think that if he had lived, something horrible would have happened." Mulder's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't say a word. He didn't have to. "I mean, something more horrible than the war itself," she explained. Mulder finished cleaning off his plate and sat back in the chair. "Was he really that horrible a man?" She smiled slightly. "I think so, yes. Everyone I met either feared him, hated him, or both." Mulder nodded. "And you said it was after this Stanton brought you back to the camp afterward that you felt a strong desire to go home. Before that, you had been enjoying yourself too much." "Well, I wouldn't say I was enjoying myself," Scully argued, remembering the blood. The screams. "But, yes. I wasn't as anxious to get home while Wade was alive." She looked at Mulder, searching his face. She had finally told him just a couple of days ago that Stanton had looked like him. He had looked worried, then he had demanded if that was why she was sleeping with him now. She had admitted that her attraction to Jason had been a catalyst, but that she had wanted Jason only because he was, in her mind, Mulder. And she had wanted Mulder for years. He had accepted her admission without any surprise, as if he had been convinced it was inevitable they would end up lovers. His confidence had irked her somewhat, but only until he had told her, later that night, about his own experience aboard the 'Queen Anne'. Scully remembered her reaction to his claims after they had fished him out of the sea. She felt slightly ashamed. "He died," she whispered. "Who?" "Stanton." "Well of course, he died, Scully. It was over a hundred years ago that he lived." She shook her head. "No! I mean he died during the war. A little less than a year after I knew him." Mulder looked at her, his eyes challenging. "Do you expect me to mourn him?" "No." She sighed. "I just find it sad. That he died fighting a war I basically told him couldn't be won." "How did you tell him?" "I told him there was still a United States and that Virginia was still a part of it." Mulder took a deep breath. "Maybe, even if he had known for sure, he wouldn't have stopped fighting. After all, he had men depending on him. Hell, the state of Virginia was depending on him. I think Lee knew he'd lost the war early on, too. But he kept fighting. Why?" He shrugged. "Maybe we'll never know." Scully felt her lips twitch. "You've been reading up on the war, haven't you?" He shrugged again. "So? I was curious. The U.S. is what it is because of that war." Scully nodded. "Do you realize how that sounds? The United States IS? Incorrect grammar." Mulder stared at her for a while. "You're going to lecture me on grammar, now?" He sat up in the chair. "That's how everyone says it!" Scully held up a hand in her defense. "I know! I know! Because to us, the United States is one country. But do you realize back before the Civil War, people said, 'The United States ARE'?" She smiled. "I heard some historian say once that that was what the war did. It changed us from an 'are' to an 'is'. It made the collection of states we started as into a real country. So however horrible and violent that war was, it did, like you said, make us who we are today." Mulder sat still for a while, staring at his empty plate. "Do you feel like you want to go back?" he finally asked. He lifted his hazel eyes to hers. They were filled with curiosity, fear and love. Scully felt her heart leap when she recognized the latter. "Not if it means leaving you," she said softly. He smiled, then stood. He held out his hand to her and she took it. Without a word, he lead her to the bedroom. ************************************************************ "Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. "Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. "But in a larger sense, we can not dedicate-we can not consecrate-we can not hallow-this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us-that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion-that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain-that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom-and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from this earth." A. Lincoln-November 19, 1863 THE END