"Dreaming in Colour" by Art of Noise, from The Seduction of Claude Debussy

Scully accepts the manila folder from Skinner and skims quickly over the facts of the new case, then passes it to Mulder. There is a comfort in this ritual, in its ageless familiarity. The storm swept through their lives, but the X-Files department is still open, they still work together, and their old boss still lectures them on proper conduct in the same fifth-floor office. The only reminders of recent upheaval are in their memories, in the occasional phone call tinged in unfounded anxiety.

She watches Skinner stand up and walk a few feet toward a wall cabinet. Opening it abruptly, he plucks the miniature digital camera out of its bowels, like a weed from a well-tended greenhouse, drops it on the floor and smashes it with a shoe for good measure. Satisfied, he listens to the glass and metal moan in mortal agony. And then, as if it's a most normal occurrence, he returns to the table and postulates, "That will be all, Agents."

The customary surly frown on his face is replaced by a faint smile, and Scully returns it involuntarily, the old trust reaffirmed.

Perhaps, some things do change.

Back in the basement, Mulder opens up the blinds on the high-placed windows and lets in a bit of sunlight. Its rays explore the small room tentatively, and Scully closes her eyes in remembrance of another place, another time, that seems so close and yet can only be reached in her dreams. The garden, once destroyed, is now blossoming anew under the nurturing rays of sun and the occasional dash of rain. The woman, once dead, is alive and well in this sanctuary.

"I dreamed of Samantha again."

Scully starts at Mulder's words. "What did you see?"

"A beautiful place," he answers. "A garden full of colors, alight under the warm sun. She waited for me at the shore of the creek..." he smiles wistfully at the recollection. "Human imagination is boundless, Scully."

She listens transfixed, previously forgotten details suddenly alive in her mind. "Maybe it's not your imagination."

Mulder turns around, curious. "What do you mean?"

"The water in the creek was crystal clear," Scully recounts, "and there was a crooked pine tree right next to its origin. It was burnt by fire, but it survived somehow. Survived to blossom again."

"It's a nice dream," Mulder answers after a pause, and his voice cracks.

"Yes," she agrees softly. "I wish I had had more time to get to know your sister."

Her partner turns back to the sun, his features composed in calm acceptance. For the first time, he feels no guilt when he recalls Samantha. "It seems like a good ending to the story," he whispers.

"Mulder," Scully asks tentatively, unwilling to bring up any unpleasantness, "do you really believe that the Consortium is no longer a threat? Are you certain of your safety?"

"After all I've seen? As certain as I can be," he replies assuredly. "Most of them are dead, the rest know that colonization will not happen. There are no causes for concern."

"I met Dr. Phillips the other day."

"And?" Mulder prods her.

"I went up to him, to ask how he was doing in the wake of his new life," she says emotionlessly. "And he didn't recognize me."

They exchange an unsettled glance and fall silent, each unwilling to articulate the only explanation to this occurrence.

"It will end one day," Mulder vows. "We will put a stop to them one way or another."

Despite Skinner's bravado, despite any recent victories, despite the smoker's complacency, Scully knows that they still face the old enemies, that the battle will be repeated again and again, until one side finally gives. And she is aware that with her answer, she promises nothing less than her very life. "We will."

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