TITLE: Accumulation, Story 3 "Sleepwalker"

 Author[s]: Riva and Alien Girl

 E-mail: for Riva: danatroi@yahoo.com
 for Alien Girl: comixgirl@juno.com

 Rating: PG

 Category: S, Mythology, MSR, UST, Angst

 See part ONE ("Backfired") for Summary and Author's Notes.

 DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never have. Never will. If you don't already
 know that than we are not going to tell you again. A diclaimer is just
 that. Disclaiming. Duh. :)

 Archive: PLEASE!! Just drop one of us a e-mail first, letting us know
 where you put it so we can send the updates directly to the site.

 FEEDBACK: A must. You must. Now.

 WARNING: Angst, DAL and such ahead. No-Romos bail out now!! [or we will
 throw you out ourselves] Another Tissue Warning.

 AND NOW.......

 RIVA STAR PRODUCTIONS AND ALIEN GIRL ANIMATION PRESENTS............

 -----------------------------------------------------
 ------------- T H E  X - F I L E S ------------------
 ***************** ACCUMULATION **********************
 ..................."Sleepwalker".......................
 -----------------------------------------------------

 INTRO SONG:

 ~Do What You Have To Do~

 What ravages of spirit conjured this tempestuous rage?
 Created you a monster broken by the rules of love.
 And fate had led you through it; you do what you have to do.
 And fate had led you through it; you do what you have to do.
 And I have a sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go...

 Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul.
 I'm ever swiftly moving- trying to escape this desire.
 The yearning to be near you; I do what I have to do.
 The yearning to be near you; I do what I have to do.
 And I have a sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go...
 I don't know how to let you go...

 A glowing ember, burning hot, and burning slow.
 Deep within I'm shaken by the violence of existing for only you.
 I know I can't go with you; I do what I have to do.
 I know I can't be with you; I do what I have to do.
 And I have a sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go...
 I don't know how to let you go...

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------

         Dana Katherine Scully-
         Thursday, April 22, 1999

         22 days.
         22 days and 8 hours.
         22 days since he left my apartment that night.
         3 weeks since I last heard him speak.
         “Trust me.”
         I trusted him. I always trusted him.
         From the beginning, I trusted him with my career. Willingly following
 him into Spooky’s Lair of the Unknown, graveyard for drowning careers.
         Then I trusted him with my life, daring to go where no sane person would
 tread, running breathless to save him from himself, even as I put myself
 in the line of fire.
         And somewhere over the course of 6 years of denying and believing, of
 chasing and pursuing, of lies and truth, I came to trust him with that
 which even I did not know I had given.
         This is the trust he took with him.
         Before, I had been sure that if my trust in him was betrayed, it would
 be my career, or my physical life.
         Not this.
         Never this.
         Never what he took with him into the darkness.

         After so much time together, I am at a loss as to how to extricate
 myself from his memory. I am not even sure I want to. It seems to me that
 if I lost the memories, lost him completely, I would also forget how to
 live, how to draw my next breath.
         And yet, memory exacts its own cruel price.
         He haunts me. I see him in shadows. I see him in light. I see him on the
 street, and the tiny glimmer of hope that still lies in my rebellious
 soul stirs itself, only to be dashed by cold reality a moment later.
         I see him in my dreams, suddenly clearer and more poignant than ever, as
 my spirit is torn by needing to flee the memories, but wanting so
 desperately to stay.

         A mind so full...
         A soul so empty...

         Even now, I feel the emptiness pound in my head. The stark knowledge
 that no phoenix will rise from this fire, and only ashes and desolation
 are left in the place I once had a heart.

         Motel 6
         Green Valley, Virginia
         Thursday, April 22, 1999

         Scully woke early, the pale, filtered light of the motel room meeting
 her eyes. She looked around, observing the room for the first time. When
 she had arrived in the wee hours of the night before, she had been so
 exhausted she had not even bothered to turn on the lights before falling
 into bed, still clad in the blue jeans and white tee-shirt from the night
 before.
         Slowly, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling
 heavy and awkward. She sat there on the edge of the bed, wiping sleep
 from her eyes, until she felt she had the strength to stand.
         For a moment, she forgot where she was. (Motel.) Her mind was fuzzy.
 (Well, that’s no surprise. I wonder what case Mulder-)
         Thinking his name suddenly brought reality back to her in a rush,
 knocking the wind out of her with its swift emotional impact.
         She remember why she was here.
         What had happened.
         And why.
         He was gone.
         Suddenly anger rose in Scully, fierce and furious. Without thinking, she
 lashed out, striking the lamp that stood on the bed stand. It crashed
 against the wall with a thud, shattering into pieces on impact.
         How could she have forgotten? Even for a moment, in the haze of sleep,
 how could she have possibly forgotten the events that tore her life
 apart? The events that had separated her from everyone she loved, sending
 her running across the state, alone and in fear? The EVENT that had
 ripped her heart from her chest and left her broken, living in delusions,
 messing with her sense of reality until she no longer knew who she was
 anymore?
         Anger still burned, without a real direction of focus. Anger, with waves
 of unbearable sadness and grief the threatened to drown her as they grew
 deeper...deeper with each passing moment.
         Scully gasped as though coming up for air. (no) She couldn’t do this.
 She couldn’t let a drowning memory pull her under with it.
         She had to fight.
         She had to forget.
         She had to....She had to....
         ...let go.
         Let go. (oh, God I can’t.) she said silently. (I can’t)
         But she had to.
         Climbing to her feet, Scully suddenly felt as though she were being torn
 in two. Anger rushed through her again. (Mulder!) she silently screamed
 to the unforgiving silence. (How could you leave me with this choice? How
 could you leave me with this quest?)
         (How could you leave me?)
         As the pain ripped through her, almost physical in its intensity, she
 felt herself going down, and reached out blindly to catch her fall.
 Scully’s unsteady hands gripped the back of the motel chair, holding her
 upright. She looked down.
         There, hanging on the back of the chair, was his jacket.
         She had been carrying it with her since she found it, she realized. It
 had become her constant companion since that night of tears and choking
 grief that had nearly swallowed her in its dark grasp.
         She had pulled away from the all-consuming darkness, steadying herself
 in the quest, the crusade for justice.
         But the jacket was kept.
         She had pulled away from the darkness, and yet....here she was again.
 Closer to the edge than ever, and still holding on to the heartache that
 was pulling her over.
         With a sudden fire in her eyes, Scully grasped the jacket, pulling it
 from the chair and catching up her keys from the table where she had
 dropped them the night before, and quickly walked out the door.

         Outside, the morning was cool and hazy, low clouds billowed and heavy,
 just obscuring early morning light from burning its purity on the earth.
 Cold dew had slicked the handle of the car where Scully grasped it, but
 she did not notice. Nor did she notice the sunrise, as she started the
 car, and pealed out of the parking lot. The car zipped down the deserted
 roads in the silence only early morning can produce.
         Her mind was blank, her moves automatic as she piloted the car to the
 edge of the sleepy little town, eerily serene in the pale pink light of
 dawn. It was only a few minutes until the car slowed, her destination
 coming in sight.
         It was an old bridge, one of the first constructions built in the town,
 and it had become something of a icon to the town of Green Valley. It had
 been the sight of weddings, of first kisses, of last rites.
         Today, it was a place of desperate release.
         Scully stopped the car on the bridge, getting out of the car quickly,
 grabbing the jacket in her clenched white hand, slamming the door shut
 with ferocity. She let her anger fuel her steps, as she strode toward the
 edge of the bridge, the concrete and gravel crunching under her feet.
         She reached the rail, and she felt the arm holding the jacket shake
 violently for a moment.
         (Have to...let go...have to...let go) The mantra persisted inside her,
 growing with intensity. She raised her shaking arm above the rail, and
 defiantly thrust the hand carying the black leather over the cold, icy
 waters of the Green Valley river.
         And she froze.
         (Let him go Dana,) the voice in her head told her. (You have to.)
         Tears coursed down her face.
         (no.no.no.no.no.)
         (Do it. You’ll never have peace if you don’t.)
         (How can I!?!) she silently wailed, as she fought a soundless battle
 with herself. (He controls me.) She thought. (He consumes me. Oh God! How
 did I become so needy?)
         She could see him. Hovering there, before her closed eyes. Just as he
 was the day they met. Tall, lanky figure. Short dark hair. Eccentric lips
 that curved in a mysterious half-grin, that dared you to discover that
 private joke that he always held to himself. Pensive eyes, that were at
 once as old as the stars and as young as a child. Eyes that seemed to
 hold the secrets of the universe if you could only look deep enough into
 them. Eyes that held that special light, a light that was saved only for
 her.
         She couldn’t do it.
         She couldn’t let go.
         The hand that held the jacket shook violently, and she yanked it back to
 her chest, grasping it tightly and wrapping her arms around herself,
 backing away from the rail and letting loose a scream so primal it seemed
 to shake her tiny form. The scream came again. And again.
         And then all was silent.

         The hotel.
         45 minutes later...

         All was still silent.
         Dana Scully sat in the shadowed dark of her hotel room on the tattered
 couch that sat in one corner. Pale light wafting through the blind was
 the only illumination allowed in the room, as she sat, silent, eyes dry
 and focused on the object that lay in front of her on the low-slung
 coffee table.
         Her gun.
         It sat there, cold and dark against the cherry wood of the table.
         Her eyes stared back at it, cold and dark behind hooded lids.
         Mulder’s leather jacket was now wrapped around her shoulders, and her
 face was hard and set, a war wrestling visibly within her.
         She was so tired. So angry. So betrayed.
         A life in shambles, a soul unwilling to carry on.
         (All the vengeance in the world won’t bring him back, Dana.)
         (Nothing will.)
         (Mulder! How could you leave me!)
         Her hand stretched toward the gun, grasping it’s hilt, and lifting it
 from the table slowly, as though it weighed a hundred pounds. It made a
 heavy, scraping noise as it dragged its way across the old coffee table.
         Images floated around in her head and collided into one another, beliefs
 and morals and common sense raging against what her body was preparing to
 do.
         (Mulder wouldn’t want you to do this.) The thought came from somewhere
 deep inside her.
         (He left me. I have a right to get even) She thought back, her thoughts
 slashing at one another with the ferocity of a cornered wildcat. The
 thought shocked her.
         (He betrayed me. It’s my turn to betray him.)
         The room was as silent as a starless sky, stretching out into the bleak
 eternity. The only sound was the harsh echo of her own breathing.
         How ironic....that it should all end like this.
         The gun raised, seemingly of its own volition, to press against her
 temple, the cold solidness of it sending a shockwave through her, and her
 blank mind began racing.
         Her finger twitched against the trigger.
         But then Scully had a revelation.
         Even as her eyes fell shut, steeling herself for the trigger pull, a
 brilliant light burst across her eyes. A man stood before her, clothed in
 white, a brilliant sword blazing in his hands. He spoke one word, and
 Scully *felt* it rather than heard it, echoing across her brain.
         [Dana!]
         The angel faded, and Scully saw in her mind’s eye the faces of a
 thousand children. They were of all ages, all nationalities, each face
 unique and filled with a sadness and longing that was
 indescribable....And then she suddenly *knew* with utter certainty that
 the trigger she had her finger on would not only kill a desperate, lonely
 woman, but would kill these children as well. Some of the children she
 could see closely, the ones that stood at the front. A little brown
 haired girl that looked like the old pictures of
 Samantha. A curly-haired boy. A radiant blonde girl with pure blue eyes.
 A tiny girl with freckles.
         As she watched, a taller figure walked outward from the sea of children,
 coming closer to her until she could see it’s face clearly.
         It was Troi.
         [Dana. Save us.] Troi said.

         Scully’s eyes snapped open. She stared blankly at the shadowed ceiling,
 her senses crashing into one another with a brief confusion. Then the
 realization came to her, and she let her head drop, slowly, until she
 faced the floor. The gun fell from her bloodless fingertips and landed on
 the carpeted floor. She stared at it for a minute, then closed her eyes,
 this time seeing nothing. She opened them again, and then realized that
 she had been holding her breath, and let it out. She sat there for a few
 minutes, concentrating on nothing but inhaling and exhaling, inhale,
 exhale. And then she stood up, her decision finally formed.
         Her hands curled into solid fists, as her empty heart focused on it’s
 ultimate resolve.
         (I promise to go on. I promise to live, Mulder. I promise not to give
 up.)
         (For you, and for the children.)

         9:13 A.M.
         Sunday, April 25th, 1999
         FBI Headquarters, Washington D.C.

         Early morning sunlight shafted through the blinds of the window on top
 of the phone. And the phone began to ring.
         Assistant Director Walter Skinner jolted out of his momentary daydream
 and picked up the phone, feeling tired. He hoped desperately that it was
 Scully. For the past week, ever since their conversation on her home
 phone had been cut off abruptly, he had worried himself day and night
 about her.
         There was no news from her, none from Alyssa or Grant, nothing. He had
 tried to find out where she was by means of credit card usage or phone
 bills, anything, but he had discovered that Scully’s accounts and phone
 information had been erased. According to the records, Dana Scully had
 never been involved with anything that he knew was part of her daily life
 routine. He had checked up on a few things, just out of curiosity, and
 discovered that there was absolutely *nothing* left on her...everyone he
 talked to said that there was no mention of a Dana Scully in their
 records. It was as if she had disappeared without a
 trace.
         And that put him in a state of deep anxiety.
         “Mr. Skinner,” The voice came from the other end.
         Skinner halted. It was not Scully’s voice, and was in fact not a woman’s
 voice at all. But it was a familiar one...male, low, and a tone like that
 of oozing oil.
         Skinner bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowed.
         “It’s been a while, Mr. Skinner,” The Cigarette-Smoking Man said
 pleasantly.
         Skinner didn’t bother to be polite in any way. “What do you want?” He
 growled between his teeth.
         “There’s no need to be so touchy,” He answered quietly. “I just need you
 to give me some assistance on a matter that has come to my attention.”
         “I’ll tell you a matter that’s come to my attention,” Skinner replied,
 his voice dripping with animosity. “Where is she?!”
         “I was hoping that you could tell me, Mr. Skinner.”
         Skinner almost collapsed with relief. (He doesn’t know where she
 is...she’s probably safe right now...) He stopped. (Unless that’s just
 what he wants me to think...)
         He snapped back to the phone. “I don’t know where she is. And I’m
 certainly not the person to be asking right now.”
         “On the contrary. I believe you are just the sort of person who can help
 me right now.”
         “What makes you think I’m going to help you anymore?” He snarled back.
 “I already told you that I’m through with you.”
         “There’s always a second chance,” Cancer Man said. “And for you, Walter
 Skinner, it seems to be slipping from you rapidly.”
         “Take it, and bury it. Just like you do everything else. Just like you
 do the truth.”
         “I am surprised by your lack of cooperation, Skinner.”
         “Why should that surprise you? I said I was through with you.”
         A brief silence.
         “You realize, Mr. Skinner, that you have your career at stake by
 refusing to work with me. You’ve been doing so for quite some time now. I
 would consider it unwise to quit now.”
         “You think I’m going to work with *you* after what you *did* to her?!!”
 Skinner yelled back, almost shouting into the phone. “I said I’m through
 with it!! And you know d**n well what I am capable of doing. Don’t
 underestimate what I am capable of. Don’t underestimate what *she’s*
 capable of.”
         “She is the least of your concerns right now.”
         “We’ll see about that. You know that all it takes is a few phone calls,
 a space on the 6:00 news...and in less than six hours, all the world will
 know exactly what you’ve done to them...what you’ve done to her.”
         “We’ll see just how capable you are, Mr. Skinner.”
         Before Skinner could reply, the phone went dead with a dull click. He
 slammed it back down on the desk with a furious grimace. He held his head
 in his hands, knowing it was over for him. He was going to be thrown out.

         (They think it’s the end....it’s just the beginning.)

         4:45 P.M.
         Monday, April 26th, 1999
         Washington D.C.

         Scully paced back and forth within the hotel bathroom nervously, her
 familiar cell phone pressed against her cheek, the burring coming from
 the other end continuing on seemingly without end. She stared at the
 door, feeling just as unsafe as ever. The bathroom was cold, and she felt
 a shiver pass down her back.
         (Come on, come on....pick up....)
         “Hello?”
         “Sir, it’s me,” Scully replied breathlessly. “Where have yo--”
         “God, Scully!!” Skinner’s voice cried from the other end. “Scully...it’s
 you! I was so...so worried, you have no idea....”
         “I’m alright,” Scully sighed, closing her eyes briefly. “I’m alright,”
 She repeated, as if to reassure herself.
         “Where on earth have you been?!” Skinner asked desperately. “My call was
 cut off somehow, and you didn’t call for *three weeks*. What happened to
 you? Are you alright?...”
         “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner,” She said, “but I’ve been...I don’t
 know. I’ve been traveling, that’s all.”
         “What happened to you?”
         “A team of men raided my house just as you were calling me. Troi and I
 just barely got away safely. Those men were sent there to kill us, and
 that’s all I know. I only got away with my wallet and gun, my phone and
 my car. I haven’t gone back home, and I’m not going to now.”
         “Where are you?”
         “I’m...I’m in the bathroom of a hotel in Green Valley. I’ve been staying
 in hotels and such for the past three weeks. I haven’t been doing much
 else.”
         “Where’s Troi?”
         “I took her to my mom’s. She’s still there as far as I know.”
         “Scully...I’ve been trying to reach you forever. I couldn’t dig up any
 records on you, no phone bills, nothing. I didn’t know what on earth had
 happened...”
         “I erased all my records,” She replied tonelessly, as if all of this was
 routine for her. “I cashed everything in my accounts, I got rid of
 everything. I can’t leave *anything* for them to trace me by. That’s why
 I left, so they couldn’t get me. Even now, I don’t feel safe at all. I
 can’t go anywhere without knowing that they’re somehow after me....”
 Scully halted, as if catching her breath. “I would’ve called you sooner,
 but I just...I needed some time alone,” She swallowed. “I needed some
 time alone. To get over things. To...get adjusted.”
         Skinner didn’t answer immediately. He could detect the weariness, the
 dullness in her voice. He suddenly felt so sorry for her, after all that
 had happened....
         And then he remembered.
         “Do you have the list?”
         “I.....no. I was looking for it when I was attacked, but I didn’t find
 it in time. I think they have it.”
         A brief silence.
         “That’s why I called you, sir. So we can figure out what to do next.
 I’ve decided that I can’t just keep running away, hoping that everything
 will work out. I’m just really tired of all this. I need to end this, I
 need to expose them now, I need to get them caught. But without the list,
 I don’t know where to go. So I was hoping, sir, that you could tell me
 what has been developing in the FBI, tell me maybe something we can do
 that will help us...”
         “Scully...I’m afraid I can’t help in that area anymore.”
         A cold silence.
         “What do you mean?”
         “Scully....I was dismissed from my position as Assistant Director
 yesterday afternoon. It came all of a sudden, they--”
         “You’ve been *what*?!”
         “Scully...I’m sorry. But I guess I had it coming to me sooner or later.
 I can no longer operate within the FBI. I can’t...”
         “Sir! How on earth...why did you get fired?!” Scully blurted with
 disbelief.
         “I don’t know.”
         Scully stopped, her eyebrows furrowed. “Sir...”
         “He called me yesterday...the smoking man. He wanted to know where you
 were.”
         Scully held her breath. “He doesn’t know?”
         “I don’t think so,” He stopped. “But I’m sure he’s well aware of what
 you’re trying to do.”
         “I don’t care,” Scully growled angrily. “I don’t care what it takes. I
 just need to figure out what to do. What else do we have left?”
         “I just found out that Holly was also removed from her position. I’ll
 talk to her later. But Alyssa and Gerret are still working at the bureau,
 and Grant is still with the CIA. We still have an inside source, so we
 still have a chance. But it’s very dangerous for them, and I’m not sure
 how much longer they can hold onto their jobs.”
         Scully squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed her temple wearily. She
 couldn’t believe this was happening. She thought that quitting the bureau
 would be enough, would be enough for her to survive. But now she realized
 that she was pulling so many people down with her. All those whom she
 trusted were being thrown out, eliminated, one by one, until they
 eventually got back down to her.
         Like a countdown.
         (I can’t let them keep doing this to me...)
         “What can we do?”
         She opened her eyes. “I’m going to set up a time where we can all get
 together. You, and Alyssa, Gerret, and Grant, and possibly Holly. I’ll
 try and reach the Lone Gunmen.”
         “Anyone else?”
         “Um...I’ll try and contact my mom. I don’t think she can do
 anything...but she will want to know I’m alright. I’ll arrange a time and
 place, it won’t be too close in the DC area. I’ll call you later when I
 figure everything out.”
         “Alright....” A brief pause. “Will you do alright by yourself, Dana?”
         “I’ll be fine.”
         She clicked off the cell phone and pocketed it, gazing about at the
 empty bathroom, trying to clear her thoughts, trying to get a sense of
 what to do next.
         What *was* there to do next?
         [“I’ll be fine.”]
         She couldn’t have told a bigger lie.

         2:40 P.M.
         Tuesday, April 27th, 1999
         Washington D.C.

         The warehouse that Scully had picked was old, rusty, not unlike the one
 that Mulder had last visited. She didn’t feel safe for them to meet in a
 hotel or even a parking garage, and she had picked out this place
 randomly from driving around.
         She sat in the old, unused conference room alone, waiting very
 impatiently. The room had once been the meeting place of old and graying
 officials, discussing the company’s next strategies with marketing and
 manufacturing and other things. Now it was a place for a council of war.
         The first car that arrived was the silver-gray Passat belonging to
 Alyssa Caitren. Gerret Corban, her stanch partner, was with her. The
 vehicle pulled up to the entrance of the warehouse, and the car’s
 occupants got out. Pulling up next to them was Jacob Grant’s little
 Mitsubishi.
         Scully opened the door for the trio and attempted a weary smile. “Hey.
 I’m glad you could make it.”
         “We got here alright,” Alyssa assured her. “And Skinner and your Gunmen
 friends are right behind us.”
         Scully watched with raised eyebrows as a van pulled up behind Alyssa’s,
 a yellow VW hippie Volkswagen. Langley was rocking out to his one CD that
 had survived their office attack, and Skinner sat in the back, looking
 like the most miserable person on the earth. They too got out of the van.
         Skinner nearly jumped out of the car as they stopped, and he gasped
 breathlessly at Scully, “I thought I was going to go deaf in there! I had
 to listen to the same eight Savage Garden songs and Langley’s lengthy
 explanations of their various haircuts the entire four hours it took to
 get here!”
         Scully rolled her eyes. “Come on, it’s not safe out here.”
         She led them into the dim conference room, and they each sought out a
 chair that was somewhat suitable from amongst the scattered office
 furniture.
         Scully chose to stand and lean against the wall. “Is anyone else
 coming?”
         “Holly said she would be here somewhat late. And your mom called and
 told me that she and Troi and Tina couldn’t make it out there at the
 time. So it’s just us.”
         Scully nodded. She sighed deeply, and looked around at the small group
 of rebels that had joined her on her crusade.
         “I’m not sure where to begin,” She admitted. “I have nothing at this
 point. We have nothing. I don’t have my job, I don’t have my
 resources...all I have are you guys.”
         There was an eerie, empty silence.
         “But I still think we can somehow work this out. We just need a contact,
 some form of proof. Skinner, I think it would be best if you talked to
 the congressman who knew Mulder. If you explain to him what happened,
 about myself...and about Mulder...I think he’ll be willing to get you a
 chance for a public statement.”
         “But that won’t do any good unless we have some form of proof to back it
 up. We can’t prove there’s any Syndicate if we can’t give any information
 on them.” Byers protested.
         “I know, I know...” Scully groaned, rubbing the back of her neck,
 unconsciously touching the small scar that broke her skin. “I
 just...don’t know what to do.”
         She looked up to see Alyssa grinning mysteriously. Scully stared at the
 young FBI agent, and Alyssa continued to grin, almost breaking into
 laughter.
         “What on earth is the matter with you, Alyssa?”
         Alyssa’s grin grew even wider as she reached inside her coat pocket. She
 withdrew a few sheets of paper stapled together, and unfolded them. She
 held up the papers for all her friends to see.
         Written on the paper were all the names and addresses of the Syndicate.
         Scully was spellbound. She stared with wide eyes at the paper that
 Alyssa held in her hand, and her jaw opened and shut a few times before
 she could finally speak.
         “Alyssa!...Where...where on earth did you *get* that?!!”
         “They were supposed to have stolen it from Scully when they raided her
 house!!” Frohike exclaimed.
         Alyssa tossed the folded papers on to the table with a victorious
 flourish. “I made a copy of it before I gave the original to Mulder. I
 didn’t think I really needed it, but I made one anyway. I kept it on me
 the entire time, and the hit squad didn’t bother to search any of our
 houses.”
         Hope sprung into Scully as if she were being possessed by it. She
 reached out and grabbed at the paper, eagerly scanning its contents. All
 37 names and addresses were there, neatly typed, beginning with Carl S.
 Haley. Scully nearly jumped up with excitement.
         “This is it!” She cried. “Oh, Alyssa...” She suddenly swooped the
 younger woman up into a excited hug. She waved the paper at the rest of
 the stupefied people. “This is what we can use for our proof!! This is
 what they feared so badly in the first place! This is what we can use to
 expose them!”
         Skinner became equally animated. “I can get in touch with Mulder’s
 congressman contact and get him to see the list.”
         “Wait a minute,” Gerret warned. “We have to think of other things first.
 I think we’re all assuming that the Syndicate does not know that this
 copy of the list exists. We’ll have to be extra-careful so that they
 don’t find out about it. That means making no extra copies, no passing
 that thing back and forth. We find one person that can take care of it
 and stay with it.
         “I’m keeping it,” Scully demanded. “I’m the most qualified for it, I
 need it the most.”
         “No, Scully, I’m going to keep it,” Skinner responded.
         Her expression steeled. “No.”
         “Scully, I’m not going to let you have it,” Skinner argued back.        “It’s
 just too dangerous for you to have it. They’re after you the most, and if
 they find you and you have it, we’re all dead. They’re keeping a watch on
 us, but it’s not very extensive. I’m sorry, but you have more of a chance
 of getting caught. Besides, I’m going to need it if I’m ever going to
 talk to Mulder’s friend in congress. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
         Scully glared suspiciously at Skinner, then reluctantly handed him the
 stapled folds of precious paper. Skinner pocketed the list inside his
 coat, away from view, away from Scully’s thinning trust.
         Just then, there was a knock at the door.
         Grant jumped, and slowly walked to the outside window to see who was
 there. The rest of the group sat in cold silence, the obvious fear
 seeping up through the musty floor tiles and thickening the air.
         The entire room seemed to relax with relief as Grant reentered the room,
 showing them that it was only Holly who was at the door. ...Along with a
 short, slightly-bald and slightly familiar eight-year-old behind her. It
 took Scully a moment to realize that it was Gibson Praise.
         “Sorry I’m late,” She said quietly. She stared around at the confused
 faces, and then glanced back at her little companion.
         “Gibson called me yesterday through the FBI line. He said his foster
 parents had been arrested for something and he left home before they got
 sentenced. He went through the phone book and called Skinner’s office,
 and he was asking for Scully. I answered and I asked him what he wanted
 and he said that he wanted to stay with Scully until sometime later. I
 didn’t know at first what he was talking about, but he just explained how
 he had met you and Agent Mulder somewhere once and was asking about
 staying with you and asking you some things.”
         Scully swallowed, a bit overwhelmed by the request. Before she could
 answer, Gibson spoke.
         “It’s alright, Ms. Scully. I can understand that it’s too dangerous for
 me to go with you. I can just stay with Ms. Holly for now. I was just
 wondering, but I kind of figured you wouldn’t be able to.”
         Scully stood confused for a moment, then nodded in agreement and backed
 away. Holly looked a bit puzzled as well, then also nodded.     “Yeah, you
 can stay with me, Gibson. It’s probably safer for you, anyway.”
         Gibson shrugged in reciprocal agreement and sat down in one of the old
 office chairs, apparently finished with his short introduction.
         Holly stared around at all the blank faces. “So...do we have anything
 worked out?”
         “We do,” Byers explained. “Alyssa made a copy of Mulder’s list, and
 Skinner is going to get in contact with someone in congress to see what
 we can do about it,” He glanced back at Scully. “But what are you going
 to do, Dana?”
         “Just what I’ve been doing for the past three weeks,” She sighed. “I’m
 going to steer clear of DC, at least for a little while. There’s not much
 else I can do, unless I can talk to the man in congress. I just need you
 to tell me everything that’s happening, and when it’s happening, so I
 know where I stand. I will not by any means be left in the dark on
 anything that is happening relating to all this. All information comes
 straight to me,” She stopped. “I think that’s it for now. Just keep me
 posted. Sometime later we’ll meet again. If we can do this more often, if
 we can stick together, we can pull through with it.”
         “Thank you all for coming, I really appreciate it. I need all the help I
 can get. I’ll call you all later, when I want us to meet again.”
         The nine people that surrounded her all gave indications of their
 acknowledgement, and got up to get ready to leave once again.
         (Ironic....three rogue FBI agents and an assistant director, a
 secretary, a CIA agent, three crazy computer hackers, an eight-year-old
 chess player, an orphaned teenager and two older women against the most
 powerful forces in the world...maybe *worlds*) She thought.
         But taking one last look at her friends’ determined faces, an almost
 now-foreign smile took to her lips.
         (I hope the Syndicate said it’s prayers...)

         2:39 P.M.
         Thursday, April 29th, 1999
         FBI Headquarters, Violent Crimes Division
         Office of Alyssa Caitren and Garret Corban

         Alyssa Caitren sighed and dropped her head onto the pile of folders that
 rested on her desk, exhausted. She groaned in frustration, and rocked her
 chair slightly back and forth, the harsh, grating squeak causing her
 partner to look up.
         “Alyssa.” Corban growled sharply.
         The squeaking ceased suddenly. Caitren tilted her head up, looking
 across the desks at Corban, her hair in disarray. “Gerret...” she said in
 a disgusted voice. “What are we doing here?”
         “What?”
         “What are we doing here? *Why* are we sitting here when... I...” she
 trailed off, unable to go on, knowing they were most possibly being
 bugged. She looked straight at him, willing him to know what she meant.
 (Scully.) she mouthed.
         Gerret’s lips twitched, and he ran his hands through his short, spiky,
 dusty blonde hair. “Ahh...” A sigh escaped his lips. “I don’t know.” He
 looked back at her, and Alyssa saw her own frustration reflected in his
 eyes.
         Just then, a loud knock sounded at the door.
         “Come in,” Gerret called, balancing a pencil against his fingers as
 though he were going to snap it in two.
         The door opened and a tall, middle aged, distinguished looking man
 entered.
         “Assistant Director Collam!” Gerret said, surprised.
         The AD nodded at Gerret, acknowledging him. Alyssa noted the grim look
 on the AD’s face.
         “Sir? Is their something wrong?”
         Collam nodded. “Yes, agents. There is.” He produced a few documents from
 the notebook he held. “You are both being dismissed.”
         Silence held the room in a tense grip.
         “Son of a.....” Gerret whispered.
         Alyssa blinked a few times.
         “My condolences, Agents.” Collam said coldly. He motioned to the door,
 and an assistant secretary entered with two packing boxes. “You are to
 leave immediately.” Collam turned, leaving the damning papers on the
 desk, exited the room.
         “Son of a b***h.” Gerret repeated incredulously.
         “We should have seen this coming.” Alyssa said tiredly. She stood up
 from the desk and calmly began packing the pictures away on her desk.
         Gerret moved out of the chair and grabbed up his own box.
         After several minutes of intense silence and furious packing, Alyssa
 broke the quiet with an unusually loud voice. “Well. Good riddance
 anyway.”
         Gerrett caught her gaze. Alyssa’s face pinched, and she choked back a
 sob. Gerret moved toward her and gathered her into his arms, biting his
 lip, as he held his own tears at bay.
         “You know.” Alyssa pulled back, wiping the glistening tears off her
 face. She motioned around with a free hand. “I’m going to miss it.” She
 gave a watery smile. “Almost four years.”
         “Yeah.” Gerret said. “But as good as it’s been, I wouldn’t want to stay,
 Sprite.” He sighed. “Big things are happening. It’s not safe here
 anymore. I don’t really think it’s safe *anywhere*. Things are going to
 start happening.”
         “Yes. I know.” Alyssa said solemnly. She brushed back her honey colored
 hair and put her small lamp in the cardboard box. She picked up the box.
 “Things ARE going to start happening, and I want to be there when they
 do. Besides, being her I can’t help but feel like I’m behind enemy
 lines.”
         Gerret smiled.
         She reaffirmed his smile. “Let’s go, partner.”

         Alyssa and Gerret pulled away from the Headquarters in Alyssa’s little
 silver Passat, with the boxes of their personal items from work in the
 trunk.
         Because Alyssa and Gerret lived in the same apartment complex, they
 always carpooled to work together.
                 (And now were carpooling AWAY from work..) Alyssa thought. (Forever.)
         Alyssa sighed slightly and tapped her thumbs impatiently as they stopped
 at a light. She glanced over at Gerret who absently fiddled with his
 empty holster. Both Agents had been forced to hand over their weapons
 before they left the Bureau. She knew not having them would bother
 Gerret.
         “I wonder why Agent Scully got to keep her weapon.” Gerret said
 suddenly.
         “It was probably a concession from AD Skinner.” Alyssa replied with a
 sigh as they peeled away for the stop as the light went green. “He was
 still her superior officer when she quit.” Alyssa laughed suddenly.
 “Besides, with the way she left, *I* sure wouldn’t have wanted to be the
 agent stopping her on the way out.”
         Gerret looked at Alyssa and smiled slightly.
         “Don’t worry about it Gerret.” Alyssa said. “My father was aficionado of
 service-issue pistols. I can get something from his old place.” She
 turned to him, her eyes serious this time. “We won’t be left without
 protection.”
         Gerret nodded, turning to look out the window. Alyssa turned her
 attention back to the road. Unspoken thoughts swirled between the two,
 smothering in their heaviness. (....it’s coming. Something big is coming.
 Nothing will ever be the same again, and we can’t stop it....)
         Beside her, Alyssa’s cell phone burred abruptly.
         “Alyssa Caitren.” Alyssa answered it.
         “Alyssa.” A breathless voice responded.
         “Jacob!” Alyssa suddenly came alert at the worried sound in her
 boyfriend’s voice.
         “I’ve been fired, Alyssa.” Jacob said, the hurt and betrayal leaking
 through the phone. “Just like that. Dismissed. Told to pack up, and
 relieved of everything. They came to my *house* this morning Alyssa.
 Wiped the hard-drive of my lap-top clean. Told me to hand over all my
 fake ID, my gun, my badge, my foreign account numbers, *everything*.”
         Alyssa let out a bitter, world-weary sigh. “Yeah. We’re out too.”
         “Oh, no. Alyssa!” Jacob said. “Corban?”
         “Yes.”
         “6 down, none to go.” Jacob said scornfully.
         “I’m so sorry Jacob.” Alyssa said in a sorrowful tone.
         “Why?”
         “For dragging you into this. This never would have happened to you if I
 hadn’t gotten you involved.”
         “Hey. Don’t apologize.” Jacob told her in a reassuring tone. “You got
 Gerret into this too,” He said in a weak, joking tone. “Can’t let him be
 the only one.”
         Alyssa swallowed, saying nothing.
         “Look, Sprite. Don’t worry about it. Something is happening, and I don’t
 want to be left in the dark, going about my comfortable little life while
 it’s happening. And if you’re involved, I want to be there too.”
         Alyssa smiled sadly. “Thanks, Jake. I love you.”
         “Ditto.” He said with warmth. “Is Gerret with you?”
         “Yes.”
         “How about I meet you two out at your dad’s old place? We’ll see what we
 can do from there.”
         “Sounds good. See you there.”
         “Bye.”
         Alyssa removed the phone from her ear and pressed down on the “end”
 button.
         “So.” Gerret said, looking at her.
         “So,” Alyssa looked back at him. “Here we go.”

         11:15 P.M.
         Thursday, April 29th, 1999
         South Pacific Ocean, near Easter Island

         The waves crashed over it’s hull, far above, too high to be felt. There
 were sea creatures on top of it, too...strange creatures with bodies that
 glowed with an unnatural essence, creatures that never slept, and
 creatures that did nothing but sleep.
         But the strangest creatures were within.
         This one was number 11. And it was counting down just like the others.
 Inside it was completely dark, and cold, like a deserted hospital. A
 hospital with it’s patients still recovering.
         There were fifty in each hall...ice-covered casings; within lay one of
 each. Unidentifiable liquid filled each, no air bubbles, and no leaks.
 The liquid glowed on its own accord, keeping a heartbeat of heat in a
 world of sheer coldness.
         A body was suspended in the liquid...or what was left of it. It had once
 been a living, breathing, healthy individual. But now it was nothing more
 than a slowly decaying shell, a food source, an incubator. The person’s
 identity long since forgotten, nothing more than an insignificant,
 disposable tool. And that was just one of many.
         And yet, life was finding its way through death. A new being was
 developing from the old. The new creature continued to drain the energy
 from it’s long-dead host, growing, expanding in size. The thing blinked
 through the liquid at the dark, disoriented scenery before it. Three
 black claws tapped impatiently at the thick glass. It’s maturing brain
 knew little of the outside world except to grow and conquer, grow and
 conquer, grow and conquer.
         But even the instinctual, incipient creature was well aware of the
 dangerously apparent fact.....
         There were only 30 more days.

         2:01 A.M.
         Friday, April 30th, 1999
         The Jameston Ramada Inn
         Jameston, Virginia

         Scully walked through the mist sluggishly, the fog curling around her
 legs as though dragging her down with the intent to smother her.
         Everything around her drifted by in a haze, as she moved through the
 dreamscape without really even being aware of moving. She had a sick,
 exhausted feeling in her stomach, and she wanted to stop, she just wanted
 to stop, but she couldn’t, she couldn’t....an unseen power pushing her
 foreword, ever foreword, always foreword.....searching, searching.....
         Suddenly, she stopped, her head snapping up with the suddenness of it.
 There, walking out of the mist and clear as day against the vertiginous
 background, stood Mulder. He looked at her, his hazel gaze piercing her
 to the core as she choked back a strangled sob.
         “I have to go.”
         His voice echoed around her.
         “Trust me.”
         “No,” Scully choked, desperately trying to move her body foreword. But
 as constantly as it had driven her onward before, it now held her, rooted
 where she stood.
         “Trust me.” His voice took on a soft quality, fading, as he began to
 turn away.
         To go.
         To leave.
         “Mulder, no,” She whimpered, falling to her knees. “Don’t leave,
 don’t...”
         His image faded, swirling into the nothingness of the background.
         “Don’t....leave...don’t leave me.”
         “Come back...”

         “Come back...come back...” Dana Scully lay against the pressed white of
 the motel pillow, silent sobbing saturating the cushion, and running
 tear-tracks down her pale cheeks. A chilled wind blew across the bed,
 causing her to shiver in her sleep, rolling over to seek warmth, eyes
 blinking open as she came to wakefulness. Her breath exhaled in a low
 shudder as she remembered where she was. She lay there for a moment,
 concentrating solely on her ownbreathing, staring blankly up into the
 dark.
         (only a dream.....only a dream....only-)
         “Scully...”
         Her body went tense. A small hand curled around the mattress, clutching
 reflexively.
         “Scully...”
         Softer this time, but there, a whisper...a resonance....the wind?
         “Scully...”
         Her eyes flicked wildly about the room as she slowly turned onto her
 back. Her heart stopped dead in her chest.
         There, at the foot of the bed, sat Mulder.
         He was turned from her, his back hunched over, his dark, tousled head in
 his hands. Suddenly, he turned to her.
         “Scully!” His soft voice was infused with joy, that beautiful smile
 spreading all over his face. “Hey! I’ve been waiting for you.” He was
 looking at her, but he wasn’t.
         She watched as the apparition stood, and walked over to the empty space
 next to her bed, stopping as though something was there. “Didn’t think
 you were going to wake up so soon.” He said to the empty space.
         Scully watched in harrowing fascination as he raised a shadow-like hand,
 moving in the air above the empty space, as though grasping another hand,
 caressing it. Scully gulped down air in a strangled gasp as she saw
 another shadow hand appear against it, small, feminine, clasping his in
 return.
         She looked down at her own trembling hand against the mattress.         Perfect
 match.
         The dream Mulder smiled at the clasped hands tenderly. His image started
 to grow hazy, Scully’s eyes itching terribly. She blinked.
         All at once, he was gone.
         Her eyes opened to a dark, empty room. Soundless but for the cricket
 outside, as the wind blew a cold breeze through the open window.
         And she was alone.

 

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SLEEPWALKER peice 2 PLEASE TACK ON TO OTHER PART OF "SLEEPWALKER" WHEN
ARCHIVING. THANK YOU.
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        10:55 A.M.
        Saturday, May 1st, 1999
        Jamestown, Virginia

        The sudden sound of her cell phone ringing caused her to jump somewhat.
Scully shook her head to clear her thoughts and picked it up. "Yes?"
        "Scully, it's Skinner. I have some new information that I think I need
to share with everyone. I've already called them...the Lone Gunmen, and
Alyssa, Gerret and Grant. And everyone else can make it out here too. We
just need a meeting place."
        Scully swallowed once before answering. "Sir, this is very sudden...are
you sure your line is secure?"
        "I'm sure. I'm using my cell phone."
        "What did you find out?"
        "I'll tell you in a minute. Just tell me where you are and where you
want us to meet."
        "I'm in Jamestown, Virginia. As for a place to meet? I....guess it's
safe to meet in my hotel room. It's pretty small, somewhat out of town. I
don't think They know that I'm here. It's the Ramada Inn. My room number
is 103. What did you find out?"
        "I'm not sure if it's safe to tell you over the phone..."
        "I thought you said this was a secure line!"
        "It is. I mean...alright. I talked to Mulder's contact in congress."
        "Why didn't you tell me so I could talk to him myself?"
        "It wasn't safe. I'm not able to make too many phone calls now and I
don't think it would've been safe for you to come all the way down to
Washington D.C., and there was no way he could have come up wherever you
are. I talked to him myself, and he's agreed. It's all worked out now."
        "What is worked out?"
        "The list...how we can use it. How we're *going* to use it. We're going
to go public."
        Scully was speechless for a minute as the reality of Skinner's words
sank in. After all this time, after all this running...and after 50 years
of secrets...they were going to let the truth out. They were going to
expose Them.
        She felt both satisfaction and disquietude.
        "Sir...It's not safe at all for me to go public. I have to stay as
anonymous as possible. I don't think-"
        "Oh, no, Scully. I wasn't saying that *you* were going to go public. I'm
going to be doing all the talking. I'll mention you, you're a major
concern in all of it, but I'll be sure not to mention your name or
anything."
        "Oh." Scully thought for a moment, trying to put so much new information
into a sensible understanding. "Well...what are you going to say?"
        "What they've done. Their involvement in the Project. I'll have some
evidence...the congressman's testimony, the list, and my own experience.
All that should be enough to do it."
        (But to do *what*?) Scully thought to herself. (Expose the Project...and
then set off a chain reaction that may get out of hand?)
        "But then what do we do after that?"
        "What do you mean?"
        "We can expose them...but then where do we go from there?"
        A silence answered from the other end. Scully's eyes narrowed.
"Sir?..."
        "I'll explain everything in detail tonight when we meet you. I'll have
to call them all again to say where you want to meet. Your hotel room,
right?"
        "Yeah. That's right."
        "Alright. We'll see you then."


        That night...
        7:20 P.M.
        Saturday, May 1st, 1999
        Jamestown, Virginia
        The Jamestown Ramada Inn

        The little hotel room was crowded with the small rebel group that had
started arriving for the last 20 minutes. Troi sat on the bed next to
Scully, her head resting on her shoulder. Scully felt comfort as she held
the teenager to her...it seemed like forever since she had last said
goodbye to Troi and left her, watching her thin figure grow smaller and
smaller in the review mirror as she drove away.
        Scully had missed Troi the entire time she was away, had wished
desperately for her company. It made her angry...angry that this had been
forced upon her. Angry that she could only see Troi and her mother only
when they could arrange a meeting together, which wasn't often. This was
only the second time they had met together, and the first time in a long
time that Scully had seen Troi.
        Troi's feelings were almost identical to Scully's...she had missed Dana
so much the past few weeks that it hurt her inside. She almost couldn't
believe that she was here, having Dana next to her, still alive and
pushing onward after all that had happened to her. Every day she woke up
with the same painful feeling...the anxiety that Scully may not be alive
that day. And then going to bed with the same feeling, and sleeping on it
all night. She needed reassurance, she needed the comfort that Dana's
presence seemed to provide.
        She wanted Dana to come back.
        But there was something else she noticed.....
        Dana didn't seem to be the same anymore. Dana had not bothered to be
very emotional about greeting her when they met again...she hadn't even
hugged her. She had just addressed her as she had the others. She was
like a statue, a cold, unfeeling person, who very carefully shut herself
off from the others when they tried to comfort her, drawing back into her
small, hard shell of solitude. It frightened Troi.
        ...But what frightened Troi even more was what was underneath Scully's
protective shell. Inside Scully was tired, alone...and frightened.
Frightened of her cell phone's ring, frightened of the shadows on the
wall. Frightened to let her feelings of anxiety and sorrow show through,
leaving her vulnerable, helpless.
        Fear behind a mask of insensitivy.
        Skinner was eager to get the meeting underway. He cleared his throat
loudly so that everyone would turn to him, even though no one was really
talking. All of the outcast members turned to him expectantly.
        He cleared his throat once more for effect. "I've been able to get in
touch with Senator Matheson, who knew Mulder. I talked to him over the
phone, gave him a short explanation of what had happened...about Mulder."
        Scully sucked in her breath apprehensively.
        "I also told him about what happened to Scully, and us. And I told him
about the list. I told him that we were looking for a way to expose the
men who are responsible for all this."
        "And...?" Frohike queried.
        "He arranged a space for me on the 6:00 news on the 3rd. All programs
will be interrupted for our bulletin. I'm going to give a pre-recorded
half-hour talk on what has happened...about the Project, and the
Syndicate. Then someone else involved in the military will explain what's
going to be done about it."
        A brief muttering circulated around the room, some in support and some
against. Maggie Scully called out, "Someone in the *military*? It's my
opinion that we shouldn't have anything to do with them. They're working
with Them, they can't be trusted."
        "That's what I think, too," Scully added. "I said I only wanted
*reliable* allies."
        "I think this branch of the military is safe to work with," Skinner
argued. "I know...the military is not involved in the Project directly.
They simply take orders that are given to them. I think that once they
are aware of what it is they are carrying out, a good percent of them
will turn on Them."
        "We can't just expose Them and then leave it at that. We need to *do*
something about it. If we can get Them captured in some way, then perhaps
we can stop the Project."
        Scully frowned, expressing her obvious doubt. "I think it's going to
take more that just locking Them up to stop the Project, sir. It may stop
*Their* part in it...but it won't have any effect on the Project as a
whole."
        "We're not sure of that, Scully," Skinner countered. "For now, this is
all that we can do in the way of stopping them...exposion. It's what they
fear most, and it's what we can nail them with."
        There was a brief silence.
        "Is that all we can do?"
        "The President will talk a little bit, too. Mulder's congressman contact
is going to inform him of what is happening beforehand, and then he'll
make a speech on what he plans to do. The more people we can pit against
the Syndicate, the better."
        "...Great, we can throw a party..." Gerret sighed.
        "...Fugitives only!" Alyssa added.
        Scully sighed and shrugged tiredly. "Alright...alright. This sounds
good. This is what I wanted from the beginning...I wanted them exposed.
If we can do it...."
        "Let's do it."


        Later that night...
        12:31 P.M.
        The Jamestown Ramada Inn

        Troi Anne Carter shivered as she woke, pulling at the motel blanket that
had fallen off her shoulder. Maggie and Troi had elected to stay at the
motel with Dana until morning, instead of trying to drive from Jamestown
back to DC that night.
        Troi lay there, listening to the soothing silence that permeated the
room. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the pounding of the
fierce headache that had awakened her. Her sleepy eyes looked over at the
form of Maggie Scully who lay curled on the bed next to her. Troi watched
the older woman's chest move up and down with rhythmic breathing that
signaled that she was still in deep sleep.
        Troi turned over to try and fall back asleep herself, but the movement
only caused the headache to intensify.
        Carefully, Troi rose from the bed, swinging her legs over the side as
she rubbed her temples in a vain attempt to soothe the excruciating
pressure in her skull. She suppressed a little whimper of pain, sliding
off the bed and making her way to the tiny motel bathroom.
        She didn't bother to turn on the bathroom light as she felt around for
the dark blue overnight bag she had brought with her. Grasping it, she
pulled the zipper open with shaky hands, reaching in for the small bottle
of Advil she now carried with her everywhere.
        Tipping the bottle, her trembling hands shook, and caused the little
pills to spill out of the bottle and scatter across the floor with tiny
pinging noises. Troi winced, and scrambled to pick up them up.
        Abruptly, the headache disappeared without warning, and Troi let out a
deep sigh and leaned against the cold floor of the bathroom for a moment,
breathing heavily with the sudden relief. She raised herself off the
floor, and finished scooping up rest of the Advil.
        Throwing the bottle back into her bag, she sat there on the floor for a
moment, head in hands, as she tried to calm herself. It was cold, she
realized for the first time, very cold. Troi stood up, leaving the
bathroom and softly padding her way back into the main room. She was
suddenly struck by how cold it was, shivering as a cold wind
blew around her. Her quick eyes cast over the room, searching for the
source of the draft. She looked toward the small window.
        Shut tight.
        Looking back, her eyes came to rest on Dana's sleeping form, lying on
the couch near the window. The soft light floating through the window
illuminated her face, which was soft, almost peaceful in sleep, nothing
like the hardened Dana Scully Troi had seen lately. Suddenly, Troi's
attention was caught by a movement.
        (What....) Troi's breath grew short and tense, and then stopped
altogether.
        There, standing over Dana like a sentinel, was a pale figure, almost
indistinguishable from the light shadows the moon made casting through
the window. Troi watched, frozen, as the figure moved, a ghostly hand
running against Dana's cheek as it crouched next to her. Dana sighed in
her sleep, twitching a little. Troi blinked, and suddenly the figure was
gone.
        She let out a shuddering breath, as she remembered how to move,
scurrying back to the small motel bed.
        She lay down quickly, pulling the covers around her, and trying to
ignore the prickly feeling she felt in the back of her neck. She bit her
lip, telling herself in had only been a trick of the light, that she
hadn't really seen anything.
        (There's no such thing as ghosts, Troi. Grow up) she scolded herself.
        Finally, her wide eyes closed, and she allowed herself to drift into
oblivion.
        And again, the cold wind blew.



        5:58 P.M.
        Monday, May 3rd, 1999
        E-Z Rest Motel
        Norfolk, Virginia

        Dana Scully locked the door to the new hotel room behind her, throwing
her small duffel bag on the floor as she stripped out of her coat and
flipped her switch on the small television the room was equipped with.
        Two days ago, back in Jamestown, Scully had said good-bye to her mother
and Troi again, with a silent heart. She hadn't felt much when they had
separated this time, saying goodbye was getting frighteningly easy. She
almost hadn't cared when they had left this time....she was finding that
she was beginning to almost crave loneliness now, and avoiding people,
and no longer bothering to tell anyone when she left for a new town.
        Norfolk was a good sized town, and Scully felt a little uneasy about
staying there, but she *had* to stop tonight, there was no way around it.
        Because tonight, Skinner was going public.
        Scully held her breath as the old television sputtered to life. Her
hands ran over the controls quickly, adjusting the picture until it was
clear.
        5:59.
        Any minute now.
        Scully could feel the apprehension growing in her body as she sat on the
floor, her arms pressed around her body as she stared up at the screen,
waiting.....

        It was in the middle of a laundry detergent commercial when the
Television suddenly flickered, and the emergency broadcast system began
emitting it's high-pitched beeping.
        Scully straightened a little, the tension in her neck spiking and
pinching her muscles tightly.
        "This is the Emergency Broadcasting System." A computerized voice said.
        "This is not a test."
        (How ironic,) Scully thought. (No. This is not a test. This is not a
dress rehearsal. Listen up people. Before it's too late for you too. This
is the real thing.)
        The TV flickered again, and Skinner's image came on screen. He was
standing at a podium, with the seal of the United States hanging in the
background. (A symbol,) Scully thought (A symbol to the people. A symbol
to tell them this is reality.) A symbol she didn't believe in anymore.
        (I don't need it to tell me this is real anyway)


At a Television Station in Washington.....

        Skinner cleared his throat, then looked up at the camera.
        "People of the United States of America. I have a very important message
that will effect the lives of every man, woman and child in the very near
future. My name is Walter Skinner, and I am a former Assistant Director
at the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I have been sanctioned by the
President to deliver this address. However, I need you to all realize one
very important fact first. This is not a doomsday message. You must not
panic. That is the worst thing that can happen right now. This is not a
message stating your country's insecurity. The United States Government
is still very secure, and
life as you live it *will* continue on as normal."
        "What this message *is* about, however, is this; justice. It is about
betrayal. It is about uniting the people of this great nation under a
cause to expose and bring to justice individuals who have put this
nation, and the nations and people of the world at grave risk."
        Skinner paused and cleared his throat.
        "My message is this;"
        "Nearly 50 years ago, our planet was visited. Humans had contact with a
extraterrestrial race, though it was kept a secret. The men involved
swore themselves to secrecy, never to reveal what transpired in that
first contact. Never to reveal that they had made the ultimate deal with
the devil."
        Skinner eyes hardened, and his voice grew stronger.
        "For 50 years these men have infiltrated our government, and concealed
the existence of extra-terrestrial life on our planet, of
experimentations, of a global conspiracy of cooperation with the alien
race....with the ultimate goal of colonizing this planet."
        "I know that some of you, especially those well educated in the
scientific world, would doubt my word on this matter as truth. But let me
assure you that this treachery I speak of is a reality. There is physical
proof to support my statement, although I cannot present it at the time.
There are also many witnesses to this claim, including myself."
        Skinner stopped, then plunged on in a rush, his voice betraying his
faltering confidence.
        "I wish to strongly emphasize that this IS NOT A DOOMSDAY PROCLAMATION.
I am not here to tell you that the world is going to end. Because it is
not. We do not yet know when the alien race intends on starting
colonization, and until such a fact is known, THIS COUNTRY WILL CONTINUE
TO OPERATE NORMALLY. The purpose of this message is to bring the men
responsible for this treason of their race to justice, and to finally let
the truth BE KNOWN."
        Skinner took a deep breath, then looked straight into the camera.
        "Which brings me to my next point."
        "I am not going to go into the full details of how this conspiracy was
uncovered, but suffice to say many have suffered, many have....died, in
order that this truth be brought to light. In particular, one Special
Agent Fox Mulder, a federal employee under my jurisdiction until his
death one month ago today. It is believed that he died for this cause,
and as the direct result of the discovery of a piece of evidence that has
made this declaration possible today."
        "There is more to this...his partner, whom is going to remain anonymous,
is also suffering because of this tragedy. She has been forced from her
home and her city by our own department of defense; those in the military
that are working under the men responsible for this. There are military
personnel responsible for the covering up and destroying of evidence
supporting my statement, and they at this time will be prosecuted along
with the men responsible for this. One of the reasons that I have been
able to make this statement is her will and determination to expose those
responsible for her retreat and her partner's demise."
        There was a noise of paper rustling, and Skinner upheld a sheet.
        "This is a list that contains the names and addresses of the men
involved in the conspiracy. With this, we intend to hunt them down, and
make them pay the price they so richly deserve."
        "I have nothing more to say at this time, except to reiterate my earlier
warnings. The President now has a few words to say, as does the secretary
of war. I thank you. Goodnight."

*********

        Scully reached out and turned off the television, sliding her back to
lean against the motel bed. Her hands slowly came up to cradle her head,
elbows resting on her knees. She was so tired. She couldn't listen
anymore.
        From the hallway, Scully heard loud, excited voices talking, shocked
swearing, and the clatter of feet.
        The sound of a coming chaos.
        (So this is it.) she thought.
        The beginning of the end.



        7:55 P.M.
        Monday, May 3rd, 1999
        Topeka, Kansas

        "I WAS RIGHT!!"
        Barry Sendock nearly fell off his bar stool with utter excitement. "I
was right all along!! I TOLD you all...but you just didn't listen to me!"
        The rest of the bar members just sat in shocked silence, watching the
small TV in the corner of the bar, completely spellbound. Even George,
the bartender, was watching with horrified fascination. The recording was
on again, one of the stations had agreed to run it for a complete 48
hours. Barry was busy congratulating himself, taking big swigs of his
beer and bellowing on and on about how he was right all along.
        "Gawd almighty!!" Greg stuttered as the President came on the screen to
say his piece.
        "This cain't be fer real!!" Schroeder answered him with wide eyes.
        "I TOLD y'all there were UFO's," Barry persisted at the eight men at the
bar, even though none of them were listening. "And now y'all see the
government's behind it all, too! You heard that Skinner guy, they've been
workin' with them for 50 d**m years! Talk about yer government
conspiracies...and I knew it all along!"
        "Gawd almighty!!!" Greg repeated. "The world's comin' to an end!!"
Barry stopped his antics, the realization finally setting in.
        "There's aliens gonna invade this planet!!" Marcas shouted, standing up
out of his seat. "Like in that movie, what's-it-called, `Memorial Day'!!"
        Shouts began to emit from the eight people who were at the bar, until
they reached above the volume of the TV.
        "Good lord, there's aliens comin'!!"
        "I gotta get home and get Mary an' the kids outta here!"
        "Did you hear what he said?! He said they're colonizing the planet!!
They're gonna take our homes and our kids..."
        "They're gonna KILL us, d***it!!"
        "THE WORLD'S COMING TO AN END!!!"
        "Hey, people, people, settle down!!" George tried to calm his customers
as sheer panic began to set into the bar. "The world's not gonna end--"
        "YES IT IS!!!"
        "No, it ain't! Now listen, people! Didn't you hear what the President
said? He said they've got military people goin' to track down this
Syndicate gang or whatever--"
        "The military's the one's WORKIN' with them aliens! They're gonna kill
us too!!"
        "I TOLD y'all there was aliens..."
        Greg and Herman didn't waste any time. They ran out of the bar as fast
as their legs could carry them, yelling about the aliens and the world's
end.
        "Now SHUT UP, people!!" George shouted at the top of his lungs. "Nothin'
ain't gonna happen!!"
        "I'm tellin' ya, they're gonna take over the planet!"
        "No, they AIN'T!!!"
        "Well, I ain't stickin' around ter find out!" Schroeder exclaimed, and
he also exited the bar, not even bothering to pay for his four beers.
George would have started pulling out his hair if he had any.
Panic and fear took control of the room completely.
        "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!"
        "WE GOTTA GET UNDER GROUND! WE GOTTA EVACUATE OUR HOMES!!!"
        "HE SAID THE MILITARY'S GONNA GET US FIRST!!!"
        There was a desperate scrambling, a knocking over of beers and stools
and a rush for the two doors. Shouts and screams and yells accompanied
the crazed mob as Rodger, Vern, Jordan, Marcas and Barry all ran out of
the bar, leaving George behind in his messy, empty bar.
        The bartender stood there in shocked silence for a minute.
        Then he decided to run home and get his shotgun.




        10:51 P.M.
        Monday, May 3rd, 1999
        A Conference Room
        Somewhere in New York

        "Gentlemen. I'm glad you could make it."
        Smoke curled upward from the lips that spoke, the haggard face showing a
calm they shouldn't have under the circumstances.
        "You bastard." The angry voice of Alex Krycek shot back at him. "How
could you let this happen."
        "You tell me, Alex." The Cigarette-Smoking Man said mildly. "I wasn't
aware I had any choice in the matter."
        "My parents have been put under house arrest until they'll spill on
where I am!!"
        "And do they know where you are?"
        "Of course not." Krycek spat.
        "Well, that's fortunate for you, isn't it?"
        "Why, I oughta..."
        "Mr. Krycek." The First Elder's voice rumbled dangerously. "Have a seat
please."
        The Cigarette-Smoking Man smiled.
        The First Elder sighed heavily. "You all know why we are here today. The
worst has happened. The thing we feared. Exposure."
        Silence pervaded the room. Suddenly, the Syndicate felt very old.
        "Action must be taken."
        The words fell from the Cigarette-Smoking Man's lips as easily as rain,
as if they were a perfectly natural thing to say.
        First Elder turned on him. "And how do you propose we take action?" He
asked derisively. "Many of our resources have been exposed as well."
        "Any just as many have not." Cancer Man shot back.
        "We have been forced into hiding," The First Elder continued, ignoring
his comment. "We no longer wield the power we once did."
        "We are not helpless."
        "Then was action do you suggest we take?" Krycek sneered.
        "All that is possible to eliminate our problems." The Cancer Man said
simply. "It does not matter that the world now knows what we know.
Colonization cannot be stopped. It is too close to the Date. Our plans
are still in place. We must take steps to ensure they stay that way."
        First Elder shifted in his seat. "And you propose?"
        "First, we must bury all evidence we have....anywhere. Destroy it, or
hide it past all recognition. Secondly, we must gather our military
resources, and set up a base of operations, preferably away from
civilization."
        "There has also been disturbing reports..." Cancer Man trailed off for a
moment.
        "No *really*," Krycek snorted mockingly.
        The Cigarette Man shot him a evil look. "...of action with the hybrid
clones. The small insurrection of those who turned against us is growing
larger. Also, many *abductees* are beginning to regain their memories.
The hybrid clones are seeking them out by unknown means, and are
recruiting them to their crusade. This must be stopped."
        The Cigarette Man paused as he allowed this last information to sink in.
        "Lastly," He said, clearing his throat. "I purpose we send someone
*compitent* to eliminate our most persistent difficulty."
        "Alex Krycek?"
        "Yes?" Krycek looked at the Cigarette Man coldly.
        "You are assigned to track down and eliminate Dana Scully."
        Krycek smiled. "I am surprised you would put such faith in me."
        "Just do it."
        "With pleasure."



        10:13 A.M.
        Tuesday, May 4th, 1999
        Washington D.C.

        The small concrete lecture hall fell into complete silence as the
general walked in, completely dressed in his distinguished-looking
uniform, stars and stripes bordering his shoulders. The men in the
lecture room were also in uniform, although they had no proud displays of
medals or honors to identify them as higher rank. They sat up straight,
with no talking and lots of respect, just as they had been taught over
and over for eight years in military school.
        The general, a graying, tall man, studied the 50 officials
awaiting his orders for a minute, then lowered his head and cleared his
throat.
        "At ease."
        The officers relaxed somewhat in their seats.
        A brief pause.
        "I am assuming that all of you have viewed the recording that aired on
all stations yesterday at approximately 1800 hours. And since you have,
I'm sure you are aware of our contribution to the prevention of this said
disaster."
        A few of the officers nodded their heads in acknowledgment.
        "The council of war has been assigned to go to whatever steps necessary
to put a stop to this Project. It is our duty as soldiers for the United
States of America to apprehend the culprits behind this treason.
Therefore I     am expecting only the best from you all. You will all be on
assignment until we detain these men and until they are brought before
the supreme justice."
        "However, as you all know from the program, there are those within this
military that are partially responsible for this crisis. Namely, the
department of defense."
        A shocked muttering traveled between the officers. The general cleared
his throat loudly for silence. He motioned with his hand towards the
door. Two other officers walked into the room, both with large guns...and
a blue-uniformed commander between them. The snake commander snarled with
resentment at the full classroom.
        "This man is just one of many that have taken part in this colonization
Project. Such men are at this moment being prosecuted and stripped of
their rank for high treason...not only of their country, but of their
planet."
        His voice rose dangerously. "Therefore, I say to you all now, if any or
all of you are also somehow involved with these men, you must reveal
yourselves now. If you are found to be a traitor, you will not only be
stripped of your rank, but you are subject to imprisonment and possible
execution. If you turn yourself in now, you will still be punished, but
it will not be as severe."
        He let that hang in the air for a while. None of the officers dared to
move a muscle. A tense, agonizing silence gripped the room for what
seemed like an eternity.
        "I am glad to see that no one here has such error apparent on their
mind," He said slowly. "Therefore, I trust you all to carry out your
assignments to the letter.
        "And your assignment will be this: three fourth's of you all will join
others who are receiving the same talk in tracking down and bringing in
this group of men. Copies of the list have been made and are being handed
out. Some other groups will be assigned to locate and destroy any places
where this colonization is already in the process of being carried out."
        "And as for the rest of you...you have a special assignment...
....You all must track down and bring back Special Agent Dana Scully."



        9:49 P.M.
        Tuesday, May 4th, 1999
        E-Z Rest Motel
        Norfolk, Virginia

        Scully walked into the hotel room sluggishly, the tiredness and
exhaustion built up from the day all crashing down on her at once. She
closed and locked the door behind her, and let her small travel bag drop
from her fingers onto the floor.
        She really needed some sleep...
        ...But at the same time she dreaded it.
        She didn't *want* to sleep. She knew what was going to happen when she
did...she knew she would dream. And she didn't want to wake up from any
dreams anymore. It was scaring her, scaring her to the point where she
was beginning to wonder what was wrong with her.
        (I should be over this,) She thought angrily. (I should be sleeping just
fine...but I'm not.)
        (But *why*??)
        It had gotten to the point where she had a dream almost every night, or
at least every other night. And things weren't getting better...they just
got worse and worse as each night dragged by.
        She shook it off her mind. No use worrying about it, she just needed to
get over it. Scully was just about to head for the shower when she
noticed a small scrap of paper on her bed.
        Curious, she tread over to the piece of paper laying innocently on her
pillow. She picked up the paper and carefully unfolded it. There was
writing inside.
        Scully's eyes widened as she read the hand-written note.

DANA,

MEET ME AT THE PLASTECH PLASTICS WAREHOUSE IN UPTOWN RICHMOND ON THE 6TH
AT AROUND 6:00 P.M. I'VE GOT EVIDENCE THAT YOU CAN'T PASS UP. YOU CAN
COME ARMED IF YOU WANT, BUT YOU CAN TRUST ME. I'LL BE THERE.

        Scully stood, spellbound, and read the note over again just to make sure
she was reading this right. She turned the paper over to see if there was
a name. The note was completely anonymous. Her eyes flicked around the
room, searching for some sort of explanation to this awkward request.
        (Who on Earth is this?)
        A contact of Mulder's? No, whoever this was, they knew her first name.
This fact added another drop of fear to the rapidly rising overflow of
all-out terror of being discovered.
        (Can it be a trap?) It most likely was. She knew that now, especially
since the Syndicate had been exposed, they would be in a desperate frenzy
to get her...
        (But if this is a trap, why does it feel so safe?)
        ["...You can trust me."]
        (I trust no one.)
        ["Trust me."]
        Scully became angry at the reminder. She clenched the note tightly in
her white fist.
        (What is trust? I trusted Mulder for six years...and he still betrayed
me. Why should I trust a complete stranger now? Why should I trust anyone
anymore?)
        (Why should I trust myself?)
        Trust, trust, trust...the word was starting to make her skull throb. It
was a meaningless word now, nothing but a few letters put together that
didn't make any sense, like a word in a different language. She couldn't
trust anyone...trust led to betrayal, to hurt, to heartbreak...
        ...and to death.
        (But *why* does this feel so trustworthy?!)
        She closed her eyes for a minute, trying, trying to think, trying to
concentrate. To decide what to do.
        (I don't trust anyone.)
        (I can do this. I've got to get a grip on myself, to think of what good
this can do me.)
        (*Nothing* is worth your trust anymore.)
        (...or is it that *I'm* not worth anyone's trust?)
        Scully dropped backward onto the bed as though losing her balance. But
she felt like she was losing more than her balance. She was losing her
mind, her senses didn't obey her, she didn't know who she was anymore.
        (Trust no one. Trust anyone. Trust the world, but not myself.)
        She felt angry. She felt broken.
        She felt alone.
        ...But then again...she didn't.
        Scully shivered as she felt a coldness touch her suddenly, clutching her
hands against her chest. She *didn't* feel alone...she felt the sensation
of another person in the room, right next to her. Just like the other
time at the first hotel.....
        Scully sat up quickly, her breath quick and nervous, searching for the
source of the presence. She saw nothing, she heard nothing. She was
alone...but she wasn't. She shuddered at the feeling, suddenly wanting
warmth from this foreign intangibility.
        (What's *wrong* with me?)
        The cold lessened, and Scully realized that she had been holding her
breath, and she relaxed. She sat up on the bed, hoping that whatever the
feeling had been, it was gone.
        Gone...but not forgotten.
        Scully looked back at the note, she read it again. It still didn't make
any sense.
        (I've got to make a decision on this.)
        She didn't have the strength to wrestle with herself anymore. The
coldness breathed on her once again.
        Scully threw the paper down, her resolution finally made.
        She was going to go.
        (Why am I doing this?) She thought again. (I have no idea what I'm
getting myself into. There's no reason for me to trust this person. I'm
going off blind faith...and I said I wasn't going to do that anymore.)
        (Mulder would have gone,) the voice in the back of her mind said.
        (Mulder *did* go!) She silently yelled back in anguish. She had almost
become used to this arguing with herself, these voices in her head that
wouldn't quiet themselves, these feelings that hounded her day and night
with no rest. She had tried, tried to get rid of it...but with no
success. She had given up on it forever.
        (I'm going to go. I'm beyond caring anymore. Friend or foe, I'm going to
meet this person. I need to stop destroying myself.)
        (...But what if it's someone else destroying me?)



        6:15 P.M.
        Thursday, May 6th, 1999
        Plastech Plastics Warehouse
        Richmond, Virginia

        She was armed.
        Dana Scully's eyes scanned the hallways around her attentively as she
walked slowly, searching for her supposed contact. She had been anxious
the entire way here, and she was just as anxious now.
        She had not told anyone that she was going here, just because she knew
just as much about this person as her friends did. The warehouse was
still used, but it was shut down for a few weeks for repairs. Some of the
construction still bordered the walls, which were half-stripped of their
sterile white paint.
        Each minute crawled by with agonizing slowness as she continued to wait,
wait on blind faith. Something she did not like doing. Something she had
promised not to do again. And yet, here she was, trusting no one and
everyone at once.
        She tried to get her mind off of the subject. She tried to concentrate
on other things.
        (I wonder who this person is...how they know my first name. And what
they mean by more evidence.)
        She needed some evidence, she realized. In the course of her exhausting
crusade, she had passed over a few unnecessary details. But she
remembered that if...(*when*...) they caught the Syndicate, they would
need some solid, physical proof to present to the court when the trial
came around. She was well aware that there was plenty of evidence to
support it, as much as she had denied it, she also believed it. She just
didn't know where any of that evidence was.
        Somehow, Scully also thought that the reason she was being so trusting
was because she felt a desperate need of allies. She had allies, but she
knew that the more she could have, the better. Not friends, not
companions...just allies. Someone who understood her position, who was
willing to help, just so long as they left her with her solitude.
        She was jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of movement.
        The cocking of a gun.
        Instincts kicked in faster than light, and she jumped, drew her gun from
her holster, loaded and ready. Prepared to defend herself, or prepared to
run, fight or flight.
        A shadow appeared on the wall.
        BRAM!!!!
        Scully was off faster than the bullet. Despite her unsuitable shoes, she
ran like a track runner, around the two tables, and out into the hall,
her legs pumping, her breath churning in her lungs.
        RUN! RUN!
        She glanced behind with a quick snap of her neck to see if she could
catch a glimpse of her pursuer. It was only a quick glance, but the
figure was perfectly recognizable.
        (HIM!!!)
        Alex Krycek ran after her, recocking his gun, his boots pounding against
the cold steel floor.
        (I'm such an idiot!!) Scully screamed at herself as she ran. (I
should've known that note was from him! I should've known it was a trap!
Why wasn't I thinking?!?!)
        BRAM!!!!
        Another gunshot, the bullet just inches from her head. Krycek increased
his speed, recocking the gun, catching up to her. She was running like a
lunatic, her gun still in her hand, but not daring to turn around and
return fire. Krycek gritted his teeth as he prepared for another shot. He
had been assigned to assassinate this woman before. The first time he had
missed, it had been the wrong woman, he had made a mistake. It had gotten
him in big trouble.
        But this time, he wasn't going to miss.
        Scully skidded around a corner, glancing back quickly, bringing up her
gun in an attempt to return fire.
        BRAM!!!!!
        The gunshot echoed harshly throught the stale air. Scully felt a
white-hot pain sear through her abdomen as the bullet ripped into her,
sending shock waves of pain throughout her small body. She stumbled and
fell foreward onto the hard metal floor, her face twisted into an
expression of pain.
        Scully tried to get up, but her entire body was paralyzed with
inconceivable pain and terror. Her strength vanished from her, she was
unable to pick herself back up and run. She groaned loudly and struggled
again to move her arms.
        She winced as she felt the warm, wet feel of her own blood spilling out
onto the ground beneath her. Krycek had shot
her.
        She tried again to move. No success.
        Scully, unable to pick herself up, lowered her head to the floor in
defeat. There was no way she could escape now. She could hear Krycek
moving behind her, and now she wished for all the world that she had let
Mulder shoot that son-of-a-b*tch while he had the chance.
        It was no use now, she was going to die.
        The pain in her back from the bullet was like fire consuming her body.
Her blood was pouring out of her seemingly without end, pooling out
around her on the floor, her every heartbeat pumping out more and more of
her life, weakening her body and spirit. She hoped that Krycek would end
it quickly, a short, simple bullet to the head, and get it over with. But
Krycek stood there, waiting, letting her suffer through the pain until he
decided it was time to end her life for good.
        Scully closed her tear-filled eyes and felt her entire body go limp. It
was over, she was giving herself up.
        (Please, let it be over with soon...)
        Suddenly, she remembered all of the people that she was leaving.
Skinner and the Lone Gunmen. They had been good friends, not always
trustworthy, not always correct, but more reliable than she had ever
imagined.
        She would miss them.
        She would be leaving everything...the crusade, the plan to expose the
conspiracy, it would all be destroyed when she was dead. She was letting
countless people down...the truth dying with her...
        (The truth died a long time ago.)
        (...There's nothing I can do.)
        Her mother, Margaret. Scully winced from sadness and bid her mother a
silent good-bye. She knew her mother would be hurt to the point of
heartbreak...losing both her daughters. Losing Fox. Losing everyone she
loved except Troi-
        Troi. Scully felt the blood flow increase as her heart contracted. No,
she couldn't do this to Troi...after all that had happened, she couldn't
leave her alone forever...she couldn't...
        (Can't get up...)
        Her rapidly dilapidating mind suddenly flitted from the people she was
leaving behind to the people she would be seeing. Her father...Melissa...
she so desperately wanted Melissa again.
        Mulder.
        She would see Mulder.
        A million thoughts and emotions flooded her mind as the pain increased.
Would he be glad to see her? Would he be angry? Sad?
        (...I don't care...)
        (...I just want him again. He'll understand...)
        (Won't he?)
        The blood pool was growing. The pain increased. Why hadn't Krycek fired
yet? She was ready to die, she was ready to give her life up.....
        "Scully..."
        She stopped at the sound of a familiar voice.
        "Scully..."
        With her remaining strength she lifted her head from the floor...and
found herself gazing into the face of Fox Mulder.
        He was standing over her, crouching, staring down at her intently with
those piercing hazel eyes. Eyes filled with fear, longing, sadness,
anguish, torment, eyes that hid a thousand secrets.
        He was wearing what he had worn that fateful day when he had gone to
meet the Syndicate...
        ...even his leather jacket that she herself was wearing.
        His hair was tussled and messy, his clothes faded and worn. His entire
body was... faded, very pale, almost...almost transparent, giving him a
ghostly appearance.
        Scully stared up at him in complete shock, unable to respond.
        "Scully," His voice seemed to come from a thousand miles away, seemed to
echo over and over. "Get up."
        She tried to respond, but she couldn't find her voice; she was too
shocked, dazed and weak.
        "Get up and fight, Scully," Mulder repeated earnestly. "You have to
fight. You can't die."
        "I can't..." Scully whispered desperately.
        "No, don't give me that. You cannot die. You have to get up and fight
back."
        "No...I...can't....Mul-"
        The tromp of Krycek's boots started towards her. He didn't say anything.
        (Doesn't he see Mulder too?...)
        "Scully, listen to me," His voice was firm and echoing. "You are not
going to die here. You have to go on. No matter what happens, you *are*
going to live. For everyone...for me...."
        He reached down and touched her cheek with his hand. Scully shivered.
        His hand felt cold against her skin, so cold....
        "Mulder..."
        "Get up and fight back. You are not going to die, not now, not here. I
won't let you. You must go on..."
        "Mulder, please..."
        She lifted her hand, trying to reach him, but she felt as if she were
only touching air, intangible. Why...
        Krycek was behind her.
        Blood on the floor around her.
        "Scully..."
        "Mulder..."
        Scully moved her hand. She felt it close over her gun. Mulder beside
her....
        Krycek raised his gun to her head.
        With all of her remaining strength, Scully spun around onto her back,
pointed her gun and fired.
        The rest happened in slow motion...Scully's gun hitting the floor...the
sound of the shot echoing in her ears...Krycek's body hitting the
floor...a gasp, a shot...Mulder calling to her...echo...echo...
        Scully's head collapsed onto the metal floor and she slipped into the
first dreamless sleep she had had in weeks.



        9:30 A.M.
        Saturday, May 7th, 1999
        A Safehouse
        Richmond, Virginia


        "Ms. Scully? ....Ms. Scully?"
        Dana Scully swum to consciousness, hearing her name echo around her as
she felt the darkness push away from her, blinking her eyes slowly and
tried to focus them.
        Remembering, she suddenly tensed, and jolted forward on reflex.
        "Careful- shhh.....Dana, rest, it's okay...you're....among friends."
        Strong, long-fingered hands pushed her back down on the bed she was
lying on.
        (Bed? Wait...)
        Scully attempted to open her eyes and focus them again. The world seemed
to spin for a moment, and the long-fingered hands gripped her shoulders
reassuringly. She looked up at the pale, non-descript wallpapered ceiling
above her, and realized she was indeed lying on a bed.....not only that,
but her stomach....she....
        ......she no longer hurt.
        The world spun again.
        "Ms. Scully.....Dana....relax, close your eyes for a moment. It's okay,
believe me." Then the voice directed itself at someone else in the room.
"Go get Ms. Scully a glass of water, Crawford."
        It was a woman's voice, low and a bit rough, yet at the same time smooth
and confident, like sandpaper and honey. Scully thought fuzzily that the
voice felt vaguely familiar..... Where? Where had she-
        What had happened? She should be dead by now. Maybe she was dead. Her
wound no longer throbbed with pain. And yet her clothes were still
bloodied and sweat-stained. If this was heaven, it had not lived up to
her expectations.
        And this dizziness.......
        Scully groaned.
        "It's alright, Dana, just let it pass." The voice soothed. "It's a
normal reaction. Just don't try to open your eyes yet. Just ride the
dizziness. Let it flow past you like a wave."
        Scully shut her eyes and tried to follow directions, but her mind was
spinning. Where was she? How did she get there? How had she been healed?
Who *was* this person?
        Finally, Scully felt well enough to speak.
        "Where- am I?"
        A pause from the woman behind her. Then, "In a safe place. Don't worry."
        "How did I-"
        "We found you. We brought you here."
        "Who is we?" Scully tried to open her eyes again. She succeeded, even
though the world was still slightly blurred. She blinked twice, and that
improved matters significantly.
        The woman behind her sighed, and carefully re-placed the pillow Scully
had knocked away in her first waking panic. She moved to face Scully.
        "Don't you mean who am I?"
        Scully studied the woman. Scully would have guessed her to be in her
30's though she looked younger. Her face had a perpetual youth in it, her
dark hair was cropped short, so that the curls lay short and full against
her head. Small ears boasted 3 stub earrings each. Her lips were dark,
and full, the upper one just slightly thinner than the lower. Her eyes
were...
        ....her eyes were a deep, intense, beautiful hazel-green.
        Scully smothered a gasp.
        "What?" The woman asked.
        Scully shook her head quickly. "You look....like someone I knew."
        The woman looked down, as though she possessed a dark secret.   "Dana,
I-"
        "How do you know my name?" Scully said suddenly.
        "I know a lot about you Ms. Scully." The woman pinned her with her hazel
eyes.
        Scully paled a little. "Who are you?" She asked in a hushed voice.      The
air in the room seemed to thicken, as if in anticipation.
        The woman looked away again. Then she looked back at Scully, face open,
honest.
        "My name is Samantha Mulder."
        Scully felt as though someone had kicked her in the gut. Though deep in
her heart, she knew she had known, before the woman had said anything.
How, she didn't know. She only knew, *knew*, with utter certainty, that
this WAS Samantha, the *real* Samantha. That this was no clone, this was
the real thing.
        The one who started it all.
        Scully stared at Samantha's open face in wonderment.
        Scully's hand came up, hovering near Samantha's shoulder, as if to touch
her, to see if she was real. Samantha reached out and took Scully's hand,
squeezing it hard.
        "How..." Scully could not form words.
        "We found you." Samantha said, her voice growing thick. "You were dying.
One of.....the people I am with have.....special healing powers. He Cured
you. Then we brought you here."
        "You were my contact."
        "Yes. I'm sorry.  I had no idea that man was there."
        "No..." Scully said, her voice still soft with awe.
        Samantha grabbed both of her hands tightly, a eager light coming to her
eyes. "Ms. Scully.....Dana...Can I call you Dana?"
        Scully nodded dumbly.
        "Dana..." Samantha took in a shaky breath, as if to try to contain her
excitement. "Where's Fox?"
        Scully felt herself shatter inside.
        "...I've been looking for him..."
        "....Knew he was there, just couldn't locate him..."
        Only part of the words were going into Scully's head, as her mouth
filled with the bile of bitter irony.
        (We found her, Mulder...)
        (except you aren't here.)
        "Ms. Scully?" Samantha sounded concerned. "Are you alright? Is something
wrong? I know....I know this is sudden, but please...take me to Fox, I
need to see him."
        Scully looked at Samantha, gazing into those clear hazel eyes, the pain
of defeat in her own.



        4:00 P.M.
        Saturday, May 7th, 1999
        Martha's Vineyard


        Two women stood in the graveyard.
        It was raining.
        Two women stood by two tombstones.
        One was crying, bitter tears for a father, a brother, who had once been.
        The other stood tall, eyes dry, face calm, staring at the gravestones
and tasting cruel irony for a partner, a friend, a lover who had never
been.
        The mist of the rain poured down on them, not pelting, just hanging, as
if to smother them with it's drizzling heaviness, or cleanse them with
it's moist purity.
        Two women. Each with a heart as heavy as the fog.
        And the weight of the world on their shoulders.


----------------------------------------------------------------------
END PEICE 2 OF SLEEPWALKER. PLEASE TACK ON 3 TO THE REST OF THIS WHEN
ARCHIVING. THANK YOU.
----------------------------------------------------------------------


-----------------------------------------------------------------------
SLEEPWALKER peice *THREE* PLEASE TACK ON TO OTHER PART OF "SLEEPWALKER"
WHEN ARCHIVING. THANK YOU.
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        7:15 P.M.
        Friday, May 8th, 1999
        Richmond, Virginia

        There was a long silence as Scully and Samantha tread slowly into the
small hotel room.
        The other rebels were already there, completely unaware of what Scully
had called the meeting about. It had been very sudden, and there had been
many questions asked, but Scully had told them just to all come out there
as soon as they could, and they had accepted it. But when she came, with
Samantha, they were at a loss for words.
        Troi especially found herself somewhat in a state of shock. She had
heard both Fox and Dana refer to this mysterious sister of
Mulder's...this phantom that always haunted Mulder, that was his driving
force into the X-Files, that was his lifelong quest. And now, she was
here...after so many years, so much lost time, she had come back...now
that he was gone.
        The bitter irony of it made Troi shudder.
        Tina Mulder stood slowly, staring at Samantha with wide, unbelieving
eyes. Samantha looked back at her, expressionless. Then, Tina walked up
to Samantha, as if needing to observe her from closer. Then she put her
arms around Samantha, shuddering, and then sobbing.
        "Mom......" Samantha whispered quietly.
        A tense silence.
        "Mom, please...I'm not ready right now..."
        Tina backed away slowly, then sat back down, nodding, still in shock.
        Scully paused and looked at the surprised faces of her friends.
Sheswallowed before speaking.
        "Everyone...I'd like you to meet Samantha Mulder."
        Samantha tried to force a smile, but she failed. No one spoke.
        Scully motioned half-heartedly to one of the beds. "Sit down, Samantha.
We can explain to them."
        Samantha obeyed. Scully sat down next to her slowly. All of the people
looked to her for an explanation.
        She cleared her throat before daring to talk. "A few days ago I received
a note in my hotel room from an anonymous subject who told me to meet
them at the plastics warehouse for vital evidence. That person was
Samantha. Only when I got there, I was chased down by Alex Krycek, and I
thought that he had sent me the note. I got wounded..."
        "Dana!" Troi blurted with fear.
        "I'm fine, Troi. But I would be dead right now if.....Samantha hadn't
come with a friend of hers, a Mr. Crawford."
        Skinner raised his eyebrows in question.
        "Not the real Crawford...a clone," Samantha picked up where Scully had
left off. "He was traveling with me for other reasons. But he was able to
heal Scully's wound before she died." Samantha looked at the surprised
and somewhat confused faces of the people around her. "It's somewhat
complicated...so we won't get into all of those details now."
        Samantha stopped, and swallowed nervously. "I guess I should be kind of
blunt about all this, considering you all know... I was returned, I
think, three months after I was taken." She shuddered inwardly. "I didn't
remember anything. I didn't even know who I was or who my family was or
where I lived. I was found on the street and got put under the care of
the state."
        Troi sighed with sympathy at Sam's statement, remembering how hard it
had been for her in the Home...
        "A family from Oregon adopted me, and I lived with them I think up
through high school. They named me Kristina. They were a wonderful
family, only I never really felt at home there, for some reason..."
        "I never went to college, I just got a job as a bartender locally in
Eugene. But by that time, I started having dreams, just short
flashbacks..."
        Samantha stopped, choking slightly on her words. "I'd remember Fox, and
just pieces of time when I was little, and then, when they took me.....I
just didn't know what was wrong with me. No one would listen to what I
said, and I didn't tell that many people what was happening to me. I
guess I was...afraid. I was afraid to find out who I really was. I was
*happy* the way I was...I didn't want to find out that I had a whole
other life and a whole other existence. I just didn't want that..."
        "And then things just kept getting worse. I couldn't go for a day
without having a flashback or anything...I talked to a friend about it,
and they recommended me to a hypnosis specialist. I didn't go for half a
year...I didn't believe in that sort of regression hypnosis thing. And I
was still afraid to try anything...but eventually I did go see a
hypnotist."
        "And that's when I remembered...I remembered mom, and dad, and Fox. I
remembered that night, I remember Fox..." Samantha stopped, choking,
sniffling. No one spoke a word.
        Tina was crying.
        "...And what happened...while I was gone...what they did to me..... I
remembered it all. I guess that's when I finally believed. I remembered
who I was, what had happened, and why...it was a very difficult thing."
She shuddered a little, running long-fingered hands through her short,
curly hair.
        "I spent a long time just... being depressed, wondering why all this
happened to me. I didn't understand... I was very angry, very hurt. I
just wanted to forget everything again, go back to the life I was content
with."
        "It took me a while to get out of my depression...and I realized that I
had to do something about it. I had to get things back together again. I
started doing some heavy research...working on my own, trying to piece
together what had happened and why everything happened. I tried to find
mom..." She stopped, looking sorrowfully at Tina, who was still sobbing.
        "...And Fox...but I couldn't get ahold of anyone. I had a few friends
who were willing to help me...and one of them was Mr. Crawford."
        "Eventually,  he told me about himself...the clones...the Project... and
dad...just about everything. Everything...what happened to me. He told me
that he had talked to my brother Fox once, and that he was working at the
FBI. But I just never got a chance to get connected to him...I don't know
what was wrong."
        "But then after a while I noticed that I was always being followed.
There were people who would sit in cars outside my house for hours. I
started to get very frightened...and angry....about why all this was
happening to me. So I decided that I was going to start working against
the Syndicate...against the men dad had been working with. That was about
5 years ago. Mr. Crawford was able to connect me with the right
people...the clones, the people who were working against the Syndicate."
        "I've....learned a lot of things this past year. I learned there were
clones of me...I learned about the aliens, and their plans for
colonization, and the countdown...I learned everything. There's a lot
more things, but I won't go into details, at least not now. After I
joined the Resistance, I couldn't keep a public profile. Being...one of
the ones that have been taken...." She swallowed. "I was -am- at extreme
risk. That's why afterwards I couldn't get in touch with Fox, although I
managed to dig up a few things on him...that's where I found out about
you, Dana," Samantha nodded to Scully.
        "And how he'd been working on the X-Files. Only this past 6 months or
two I've been laying so low I almost never got any outside
communication...so I didn't know much about what was going on."
        "But then we heard about Mr. Skinner's broadcast, and what he was
talking about....I heard about how Fox's partner was in hiding, and I
remembered you, Dana...and that's when I decided I had to find you. So I
sent you the note, knowing that you'd probably shoot anyone who knocked
on your door...and that's when I found you and Krycek."
        Skinner raised his eyebrows. "Krycek?"
        "He's dead," Samantha shook her head. "Dana shot him after he shot her."
        The entire room suddenly became deathly still.
        Samantha shrugged. "I....could go in to more detail...but it's not the
time."
        "Samantha will stay with us now," Scully sighed. "She's on our
side...and she's got invaluable information that can help us
tremendously.
        We'll get into all that later, like she said before, Samantha can
explain everything."
        There was another tense silence. Then Alyssa finally spoke.
        "We're glad that you're here, Samantha."
        It seemed a banal comment after all that had just been said...yet at the
same time it seemed to make the most sense in the world.
        Samantha sighed deeply. "Dana's told me a bit......about Fox."
        At this, Tina got up, still teary-eyed, and motioned for her to go into
the adjoining room next to the bedroom. Samantha nodded in tired
agreement and got up to follow her, leaving the rest of them in the room
of silence.
        Byers watched Samantha leave the room carefully, and Frohike caught his
gaze. "You okay?" He asked suspiciously.
        "Yeah...'m fine," Byers mumbled quickly. "Just...watching her go."
        Frohike shrugged his shoulders with incognizance and turned back to the
main group.
        "So she's finally here..." Skinner said remorsefully to the group. "At
least we have one more person we can count on...someone else we can
trust."
        Scully nodded, and slouched on the bed tiredly, draining herself of all
emotions. Everything had seemed to happen so fast...she never sat down to
think about it.
        (What's to think about? She's back...and she can help us. I've found my
other ally.)
        (You found Mulder's sister. The thing he's been searching for ever since
he was 12. His lifelong quest, his driving force, his passion, his
desire.
        You're the one to find her...after he's gone.)
        (Now he'll never know...)
        (...Or will he?)
        Scully remembered, very vaguely, what had happened before she had
awakened to Samantha's voice. Slowly dying on the ground, giving up...and
then seeing him, hearing him tell her to fight, to go on.
        (It was just a vision...like a near death experience. I was going
unconscious, I can't trust my eyes on that. It was nothing but my
imagination...)
        (...Telling me to go on.) More irony...he was gone, but he left *her* to
carry on...to find his sister, finish his quest, save the world.
        (He couldn't do it by himself...)
        (...And neither can I.)
        (But I *have* to...even if I die trying.)
        She realized that she was going to have to make some changes...now that
Samantha was back. Even after they had exposed the Syndicate, they were
still a long way from stopping the Project. They had to find out about
what the alien colonists were planning to do, when they were planning to
carry out colonization, and what they could do in the way of preventing
it. And Samantha would know more than anyone how to do that.
        And *then* she realized what else she was doing...she had thought of
alien colonists. (I thought you didn't believe in aliens,) She thought to
herself. (You're the skeptic...you look to science.)
        But science didn't work anymore. Science couldn't get her out of this
unavoidable crusade. Science couldn't explain why the world was in chaos,
why she couldn't trust anyone except a few people she knew, why she was
running and hiding and fighting.
        Science couldn't explain why Mulder was gone...
        ...couldn't explain why her soul had been ripped in two.
        She realized that she had probably accepted these views of Mulder's a
while ago, somewhat subconsciously, without her knowledge of the painful
conversion. She was the believer now...the paranoiac, the rebel, the
outcast.
        A role she never thought she would take on...and yet now she had slipped
into so easily.
        (If science can't explain things anymore, then I look to who I trust.)
        (But I trust no one.)


        The meeting had become disorganized, simply with people talking to each
other or themselves. Samantha and Tina were still in the other room...no
one wanted to go and disturb them. There were things to be figured
out...where to go from here. What to do now that Samantha was back. How
to relocate their drastically changed position. Fight or flight, attack
or go back, strike or hike.
        Either way, they were closer to the truth than ever.
        Staring it straight in the face.
        Troi sat on one end of the other bed, studying Dana closely. She noticed
Dana's blank expression, the indication that she was struggling with
herself, the now-common dullness. She was so worried...what had happened
to her? Had she been wounded, dying? ...And if so, how was she healed,
what had happened that kept her going?
        What had been happening to her for a long time now?
        Although Dana had tried to hide it, Troi could see it in her...the fear,
apprehensiveness, pure exhaustion. She wondered what she was thinking...
        Troi glanced over at Gibson Praise, sitting quietly by himself next to
Holly, gazing around the room as if trying to figure out the answer to
some invisible puzzle. Troi remembered Dana talking about their various
case files before they had adopted her...and she remembered what she had
said about their meeting with Gibson Praise. An idea formed slowly in the
back of her mind.
        She walked over to the bald nine-year-old and sat down next to him. "Hey
Gibson," She said in as convincing a voice as she could muster.
        He looked back at her with raised eyebrows. "You're Troi, right?"
        "Yeah. Dana's told me a bit about you. I wanted to ask you something..."
        "What, you think I have special powers or something?" Gibson scoffed.
"Get real."
        Troi stopped for a moment, searching for an answer, then came up with
one. "How could you have *known* I was going to ask about you having
powers if you didn't have them?"
        "I don't think you need to call it `powers'," Gibson replied coldly.
"It's just happens, that's all. No big deal."
        "But I wanted to ask you something about Dana."
        He sighed. "What?"
        "I've been...worried about her. She's so cold and scared and
secretive...I think something's been bothering her for a long time. But I
can't figure out what it is. I was hoping you could..."
        "...tell you?" He stopped, and stared at Scully alone on the bed for the
longest time. "No."
        "What do you mean, `no'?"
        "I mean I'm not going to tell you what she's thinking. She's entitled to
her own thoughts."
        "But..." Troi stuttered, starting to get frustrated with this kid.
"Gibson...I *really* need to know. I can't sleep at night without
worrying about her."
        He paused, and shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me, anyway..."
        Now Troi was starting to get worried. "What do you *mean*, I wouldn't
believe you?! What's happening to her?"
        "Nothing's happening to her. She's fine."
        "No, she's not!"
        "You can keep arguing with me as long as you like, but I'm still not
going to tell what she's worried about-- So just forget it."
        Troi stood up and walked away, giving up talking to this kid. If
something was wrong with Dana, she would have to find that out
later...maybe if Gibson was more willing to comply. Until then, she was
left to worry.
        Samantha came back in from the other room, her face pale and her eyes
slightly glassy. She stared around at all the expectant faces. She had a
choked expression, yet also a firm, steadfast one. The determined
expression of one who was ready to fight for what she had lost...and what
she had found.
        Sam took a deep breath. "We've come this far, and we are going to finish
this." She looked at Dana briefly. "We're never going to give up. Ever.
Because Fox didn't give up. And he wouldn't have given up now." She
looked at her mom for a moment. "So we are going to do this. Together.
For Fox."



        11:30
        Friday, May 8th, 1999
        Highway One, Outside Richmond

        Maggie Scully pulled the blue Taurus onto the highway smoothly, speeding
the car up a little as they coasted down the freeway. She looked over at
the passenger side seat where Mrs. Mulder sat fidgeting with her purse
nervously.
        Maggie had agreed to give Tina a ride back to DC after her car batteries
had broken down.
        Maggie found it kind of funny that the prim New England woman still
carried her purse with her, and dressed in her expensive tailored
dresses. As for Maggie herself, she had long since given up the propriety
and elegance of carrying a purse in opting for the more practical
fanny-pac with a simple wallet inside, and jeans and a sweatshirt. After
the scare at her home with the renegade military men, Maggie had learned
that you never knew when you had to run, and one couldn't afford even the
smallest concessions to vanity in times like these.
        But Maggie supposed she could forgive this woman her eccentricies.. This
woman had been through so much, especially tonight. Her daughter had
returned....
        ....Yes. *Her* daughter had returned.
        Not like mine.
        Maggie quickly bit back a bitter wave of jealousy toward the woman.
        (you can't let Melissa dictate the way you look at this woman) Maggie
scolded herself. (it's not her fault you lost Missy. You know that. She
lost a son too you know.)
        Maggie felt a pang in her chest at the thought. (and I feel as though
I've lost one too,) She had thought of Fox as a surrogate son. She had
helped him, she had witnessed his pain when Dana disappeared.
        (Where were you then?) She silently inquired of Tina Mulder. (Where were
you when your son was in pain? You were pining away for your daughter,
that's where. You let your boy suffer because you were blind to all but
her. The lost one.)
        Maggie looked out the windshield, letting the momentary anger wash over
her. (I don't hate you though. You were foolish. I understand that. You
are sorry for it. I understand that. You lost your daughter...)
        (I understand that *very* well)
        (And now she's back Mrs. Mulder. Samantha has come home. And Fox is
gone. Was it a fair trade? Are you happy? I'm not. Because now, not only
do I feel I've lost a son, but now I am losing my only daughter. Right
before my eyes, and I can't help her)
        (Is this what you felt like when Samantha was taken?)
        Maggie looked over at the woman again. (Maybe we aren't as different as
I thought.)
        Maggie cleared her throat. "Tina,"
        Mrs. Mulder looked at her, a bit surprised she had spoken.
        "You're more than welcome to stay at my house when we arrive in DC."
        "Th- Thank you." Tina halted. "I....." She paused. "I really didn't want
to go home. Not without Samantha." She sighed sorrowfully.
        "Is something wrong?" Maggie asked carefully.
        "I-" Mrs. Mulder stopped. "I'm sorry. This must sound terribly selfish
to you...but I just don't know why Samantha decided to go with your
daughter. Nothing against Dana of course," She added hurriedly, "But
I'm...a little hurt." She hesitated again for a moment. "And yet
strangely relived."
        "That's perfectly understandable. You want to be with your daughter.
Good God. You haven't seen her in....most of her life. You want her near.
And yet, she's nearly a stranger to you. You remember a little girl, and
she comes back a grown woman."
        Mrs. Mulder let out a little sob.
        "Oh, I'm sorry," Maggie said quickly. "Here," she said, reaching down
between the seats. "Have a kleenex."
        "Thank you."
        Maggie spared a quick glance to the backseat before turning back to the
road. Troi lay on the seat in the back, propped up against the duffel
bags they carried with them in the car at all times now. Her breath moved
evenly as she slept.
        "She's a beautiful child," Tina said unexpectedly.
        "Yes." Maggie responded. "And a very brave one. I am constantly amazed
by Troi."
        "I'm sorry about Dana."
        Maggie looked at Tina, startled. "What.."
        "About her...drawing away from everyone. I know it must be hard for
you."
        Maggie nodded solemnly. "Yes. Yes it is hard."
        "Fox did the same thing to me....before. For years after Samantha was
taken, I ignored him, grieving and caring only for what I had lost." She
looked down at her hands. "Then, awhile after he joined the FBI, I
realized a little of what I had done. I made a attempt to reconcile with
him. But by that time it was too late. He had already retreated so far
into his darkness that he was untouched by my rather half-hearted
attempt." She paused again. "I was still very much in my own darkness
still, in any event."
        "He was like that for a long time, until I stopped caring. But then Dana
came."
        Maggie felt her eyes fill up with uninvited tears.
        "And he began to change. We began to speak to each other again.
Hesitantly, as if we were really strangers...which I guess we were, in a
way."
        She let another small sob escape her as she wiped at her nose. "I
never....never really got to know him again. Not really. We were
beginning to improve, but because of my reluctance and cowardice, he
still died a stranger to me." She looked at Maggie. "Dana knew him better
than anyone." Tina's tone was sad, and earnest. "Thank you for her. Thank
you for raising your children better than I ever did. Thank you for
teaching her to be the person she is. She saved him, I think."
        "Fox did much for Dana too," Maggie said in a thick voice. "Your son was
a remarkable man, Tina. You did a better job than you think. She loved
him you know."
        "Yes. I know."
        The car was silent for a moment, but for the constant hiss of the road
passing beneath the tires.
        "I...I hope...she can heal." Tina said haltingly.
        Maggie nodded. "Yes. Dana...is strong. She is a survivor. But...she
carries things with her, silently, for a long time. Her feelings have
always run very deep, and none so deep as the ones she has for Fox."
        "He loved her too you know."
        "I know." Maggie gave a bittersweet smile. "Yes, I know. I wonder if
they ever told each other."
        "Perhaps."
        A longer pause followed this time.
        "I'm getting to old for this," Tina said tiredly. "I don't want Samantha
to do this. I'm afraid of losing her again."
        Maggie said nothing.
        (Dana.....my sweet, strong Dana.)
        (You don't deserve this. You deserve to be happy)
        "She doesn't deserve this," Tina continued. "She deserves to be happy."
        Maggie looked at the other woman for a moment, then turned her face back
to the road, sending up the silent prayer for the both daughters, as the
car continued down the road, and into the night.



        7:33 A.M.
        Monday, May 10th, 1999
        Washington D.C.

        The sunlight hurt.
        It throbbed, like a drum...thump...thump...thump. Troi put her hands to
her head as the drum pounded out it's steady rhythm in the back of her
skull, each beat sending a wave of pain throughout her entire body. She
squeezed her eyes shut to the sunlight streaming through the bedroom
window, her face tightened in an expression of pain.
        Thump...thump...thump.
        Another headache. It was the only explanation she could think of, the
only word that came to her mind. She clenched her fingers against her
forehead, digging trenches into her skin.
        This was much worse than her other headaches...it was like a siren now,
screaming pain, pain, pain, into her ears. She tried to open her eyes,
and for a moment, she saw her bedroom, sunlit, recognizable.
But then the world got fuzzy, and spun around her in a blur. She shut
her eyes, trying to block out the fuzziness.
        But even with her eyes closed she could see things...confusing,
senseless.......

        She saw Scully stretching slowly as she got up from her hotel bed.
Herself climbing out of the tree, the tree next to the Home.
        Dana and Mulder, dressed in their old trenchcoats, talking to a man
dressed in police uniform, in the morgue.
        Samantha shooting a videotape of a small, dark-haired toddler and Dana,
smiling.
        Mulder sitting on the edge of Dana's bed, watching her wake up. A large
ship, resembling a huge, black UFO, exploding into a ball of fire and
metal.
        A younger Mrs. Mulder, shouting at a man she didn't recognize, with a
small boy resembling Fox listening from the top of the stairs.
        Dana and Mulder sitting at an outdoor table, drinking wine, laughing.
        Mulder throwing the Cigarette-Smoking Man up against the wall, shouting,
drawing his gun...

        She opened her eyes and yelled "Stop it!"
        And to her great surprise, the headache vanished.
        The back of her skull was void of any pain, the siren was silent, the
drum was gone. Troi rubbed her temples to make sure the headache was gone
completely. The rubbing of her fingertips on skin did nothing but massage
her forehead.
        (What *was* that?)
        Another headache, obviously...but a bad one. She had been going through
a period of time where the headaches she experienced were frequent,
happening almost every other night. Then she would go through a period
where she had practically no headaches at all. They always happened at
night, especially in the morning when she woke up.
        But the visions...
        (*That's* never happened before.)
        Such a variety of scenes happening within the span of a few seconds
still seemed to make her head spin. A few of the memories she could
recognize, she knew they were real. But others she had never heard of,
they were like fantasy, unreal. As if the headache had caused her mind to
go into some kind of overdrive, flashing memories both real and false.
        (What's happening to me?...)
        At that moment, Maggie Scully walked into the room, and saw Troi's dazed
expression. "Troi!...are you alright?"
        "I'm fine..." She stuttered. "I woke up with a headache, and it just
*hurt* so bad and I felt sick for a minute, I think..."
        Maggie's face wrinkled up with concern. "Are you okay, honey? Do you
need some aspirin? Do you need..."
        "I'm fine, it's gone now, it doesn't hurt anymore. I've been having
headaches for a while now, it's nothing new."
        "Troi, maybe you should go see a doctor."
        "I don't need a doctor, I'm perfectly alright."
        "Are you sure?..."
        "Yes, I'm sure. I'm hungry...what's for breakfast?"



        3:45 P.M.
        Monday, May 10th, 1999
        A Highway in Virginia

        "Dana?"
        "Yes?" Scully turned to glance at Samantha who sat in the passenger side
seat of the car.
        "Nothing."
        Scully laughed softly, a sadness echoing in the sound. "Mulder used to
do that all the time." she said absently.
        "What?" Samantha turned in her seat to face Scully, propping a elbow on
her chin.
        "Start to say something." Scully responded. "And then never finish." She
gave Samantha a small smile. "It's amazing how much you're....like him."
        "Dana...if you don't mind my asking..." Samantha said hesitantly. "Why
do you call him Mulder and not Fox?"
        Scully sighed a little. "Oh, goodness. Well, it's....I don't know.
Something we just started doing I guess, a long time ago. Such a long
time ago."
        Samantha visibly hesitated again, then plunged on in a rush. "I...I'd
like to hear it if you would tell me." She ran her fingers through her
close cropped, curly hair and looked out the window. "I want to know my
brother."
        Scully blinked back sudden, uninvited moisture that sprang to her eyes.
        "You seem to be the one that knew him best." Samantha continued. "Tell
me about my brother, Dana. Please. Tell me about his search for me."
        "...."
        Scully said nothing for a moment. "Okay." She said slowly. Then
paused. "I don't know where to start."
        "Start with when you met him."
        Scully was quiet for a long moment, letting memories swell and rise in
her mind.
        //Do you believe in the existence of extra-terrestrials?//
        //It's just a mosquito bite...//
        //So, *Scully*..."//
        "I met your brother almost 6 years ago. I was twenty-nine." Scully
shook her head. "...That seems like a lifetime ago."
        "I was fresh out of the Academy. Ambitious. Idealistic. So.... young. I
was actually assigned to be Mulder's partner to debunk his work on the
X-Files. And for a long time I tried my hardest. Not because I was a part
of anyone's agenda, but because I was anxious to prove the science I so
strongly believe in, to this man who dismissed it so...infuriatingly
easily."
        "What did you think of him? When you first met?" Samantha asked.
        "He.....intrigued me." Scully said thoughtfully. "I'd never met anyone
like him, that's for sure. I don't know what I expected...but it wasn't
Fox Mulder. Oh, sure, *some* of the Bureau's rumors about him were true.
He *was* obsessive, paranoid,...*spooky* even, at times. But they forgot
to mention he was brilliant, charismatic, and.....totally entangling. He
believed so passionately in what he was doing, that I couldn't help but
get pulled in as well."
        "In many ways, we were very alike. Neither of us were what you could
call "social butterflies", we were both very driven so it was very easy
for us to get completely involved in our work, our partnership. The first
time....." Scully sighed. "..they shut down the X-Files, we still met, he
still searched, and I still helped him. I couldn't help it. I felt a
incredible sense of loyalty to him. Even after so little time....we
already owed each other our lives. You wouldn't believe me if I told you
some of the stories about our cases."
        Samantha smiled. "You might be surprised what I'll believe."
        Scully smiled back. "Well. Let's just say I was never bored."
        "So why did they re-open the X-Files?" Samantha asked.
        Scully stopped. Even after such a short time, she felt very close to
Samantha, but this still was not a subject she was sure she wanted to
discuss with her.
        "Dana?"
        Scully squeezed her eyes shut briefly. "I was taken."
        Samantha gasped suddenly. "So *that's* why.....I wonder why they
wouldn't tell me,"
        "Who?" Scully looked at her sharply.
        "The Crawfords. And the Smiths. The clones I work with in the
Resistance. I knew they were keeping something about you from me."
        Scully said nothing.
        "Dana. Do you know....?"
        "About the chip? And the cancer? Yes." Scully said, her tone a little
bitter.
        "How...?"
        "I found the chip about my third year on the X-Files. I had it removed."
        "Oh, Dana..."
        "About a year later, I found out I had cancer."
        "How did you recover?"
        "Mulder discovered the chip's use. I still have it. Here, in my neck."
Scully reached a hand up to clasp the back of her neck.
        "It's safe to remove you know." Samantha told her anxiously. "It just
has to be neutralized properly." She twisted in her seat so Scully could
see the tiny scar still evident on her neck.
        Scully swallowed, and then turned her attention back to the road.
        "Why did they take you?" Samantha asked quietly. "Do you know? Was it
just tests, or were they..."
        "Harvesting ova?" Scully interjected roughly.
        Samantha fell into a somber silence.
        Scully sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't....I mean, it's not your fault. I
just...It's been...difficult."
        "No, I understand. I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me about it unless
you want to." Samantha offered.
        Scully gave a small sigh. "When I found out, it...depressed me more than
I thought it would. My cancer had just gone into remission, and I felt
so...alive. I felt like I could take on the world. And then I found out.
I had never really seriously considered children, and I certainly wasn't
in a position to have one at the time....but it still....hurt. A lot.
Troi did a lot to heal that wound, but it's still very much there."
        "I'm sorry."
        "It's alright." Scully said. "I was okay. I still had Mulder." A wiry
smile took on her face. "He's all the child I ever needed."
        "You two were very close?"
        Scully's throat suddenly constricted. "He was my best friend." She shook
her head. "No. Not just my friend. He was my partner, in many ways...my
*only* partner. My other half. I...." She bit her lip.
        "You loved him." Sam said softly.
        Scully swallowed, and said nothing.
        "I already knew." Samantha said quietly. "It's obvious by the way you
say his name."
        "I never told him." Scully choked out.
        "I don't think you needed to."



        5:30 P.M.
        Monday, May 10th, 1999
        New York City, New York

        "Am I on, Phil?..."

        "Rolling cameras in four...three...two...go."

        "Hello, this is Casey Sherman from NBC news tonight, with a new update
on The Invasion Crisis. I'm coming to you live from New York, NY, where
all of the Big Apple is well aware that the crisis is in full swing."
        "Police reports state that calls for UFO sightings have nearly
quadrupled in size since the emergency broadcast aired on all stations
exactly a week ago. UFO support groups such as MUFON and NICAP have
nearly doubled in size in this city alone. New websites, both in support
and against the alien invasion, have sprang up in the thousands
overnight. Polls also indicate that now 45% of the city's population is
confident that the aliens will invade within the next one or two weeks,
about 30% believe it will be within the next year, 20% believe it will
not be within this lifetime, and the remaining percent do not believe
that aliens will invade at all--"
        "Hey...would you get out of my face?! I don't *want* to join the Alien
Brothers Convention club, get lost!!..."
        "...Where was I? Oh, yes. Excuse the interruption, folks. Not only has
the residential world been in an uproar over the invasion, but the
commercial world has escalated in extra-terrestrial merchandise. Profits
on alien clothes, accessories, appliances and even toiletries have risen
40% within the last seven days. Some stores are even starting to sell
green-colored milk to raise profits for an agency that will try to
*negotiate* with the alien race into stopping the invasion."
        "There have been anything from marches to parades to barbecues to
shootouts over this world crisis. Some have been in support of welcoming
this new alien race, some have been to drive them away or to surrender,
some have been in support for the government, although a good percent has
been in protest of the government--"
        "Look, I said get lost! I don't want your pamphlets, I'm shooting a news
story!! Look, will someone get this loser off the camera?!..."
        "...Sorry again. As you can probably guess, Hollywood has also been in a
feeding frenzy over this turning point in humanity's existence. Reports
say that at least *13* different movies are in the process of being
written, planned out, and one is already being filmed. The earliest for
the movie's releases are supposedly by this Thanksgiving Day...that is,
if this planet is still around by Thanksgiving Day..."
        "...Is that a gunshot? Is someone shooting something? Can someone get a
camera over there for backup later?...Yeah, thanks."
        "..These supposed films include a sequel to "Independence Day", a "Men
in Black" sequel, an "ET" sequel, a "The Faculty" sequel, and yes..."My
Favorite Martian" and "Mars Attacks" sequels. So even if you're not
interested in negotiating with aliens or holding banners outside the
White House, you can always spend your time at the movies to experience
the world's end--"
        "Look, I'm not going to say this again...GO PISS SOMEONE ELSE OFF!!!
Yeah, same to you, you punk!!"
        "Sorry about all these interruptions...some of you are probably
wondering what to do in the midst of this invasion crisis. Well, it
depends...you have three choices. Most people are evacuating all the
major cities, such as this one, and moving to rural country places or
Alaska or Australia in thinking that the aliens are most likely to attack
the most densely populated cities first. Others are proposing the digging
of tunnels about two miles under ground and living in underground suburbs
for about 30 years or until the invasion has been over with. Or you could
just sit at home complaining about how everyone has been making too big a
deal of it..."

        "Hey, Casey, they just set that building on fire over there. I think
we'd better get moving, you know, find a new location..."

        "In a minute, Phil. This brings out another point...crime rates in all
areas around the globe has nearly tripled in the past week. Riots, mobs,
and just general all-out panic have been evident everywhere you look. As
you can see, I think that Alien Brothers Convention jerk-off gang have
just set flames to that government building over there..."
        "Wait- Can I say "jerk-off" on television?"

        "Casey...they've got machine guns. I think we should come back later--"

        "Just a few more minutes...is my hair alright? So whether you live in
the Big Apple or in downtown LA, be sure and board up your doors to keep
out either the aliens or the military or even the gangbangers with those
pamphlets--"

        "Casey, they just hijacked our news van."

        "My good shoes are in there!! Hey!...."
        "This is Casey Sherman signing off for tonight...be sure to tune in to
NBC news for more updates on The Invasion Crisis..."

        "Do you still want me to get a shot of that fire?"

        "HEY, COME BACK WITH OUR VAN!!!...YOU'RE GONNA DENT IT, YOU
MORONS!!!!....."



        9:57 P.M.
        Tuesday, May 11th, 1999
        Flint Hill, Virginia
        Stargazers Hotel

        "Pretty nice hotel considering it's so small."
        Samantha's comment seemed small and blunt as the two women walked into
Scully's hotel room. Although they were sleeping in separate rooms,
Samantha had accompanied Scully to her room before deciding to retire to
her own room for the night.
        "Yeah...interesting how this used to be an old observatory or
something," Scully said in blank response.
        Samantha ran her fingers through her short, dark hair and sighed loudly.
"Think you'll be alright by yourself tonight, Dana? You seemed pretty
exhausted today."
        "I'm fine. I just need to get a few hours sleep."
        Samantha paused. "Just wanted to know how you were feeling. I'll be
right in the next room if you need me for anything..."
        "I'm fine. Really." Scully lay down tiredly on the bed.
        Samantha rubbed the back of her neck in slight doubt, but decided not to
push it any further. She shouldered her small travel bag under one arm.
"Well...like I said, I'll be in the next room. I'll see you in the
morning,`k?"
        "See you in the morning," Scully slurred.
        Samantha nodded and left, leaving Scully alone in her small hotel room.
        Even after just two days of traveling with Samantha, it had become
almost routine. She had been so used to going from one hotel to the next,
night after night without rest, that adding one more person to her trip
didn't seem to change anything. She had almost forgotten what her own
house looked like. Every hotel looked the same, smelled the same...and
brought back the same memories.
        She frowned with anger. It was also routine for her to remember *him*,
every little detail brought him to the front of her mind, until she was
almost used to his constant reminder, had come to accept it.
        But still not get over it.
        She had hoped that having Samantha stay with her would help her through
the long nights...would help her with her loneliness. She hoped that
having company would help her forget her pain and longing, give her
something else to focus on...maybe stop her from dreaming anymore. But it
wasn't so. If anything, it had made it worse. The dreams were stronger
and more frequent, more frightening.
        ...And it also seemed to make her loneliness even more intense. Having
Samantha there, so similar to her brother...brought back painful memories
of him and herself in a hotel together, discussing, arguing sometimes,
but at least they were always talking. Now Samantha was like a cheap
replacement for Mulder....appreciated, and yet unacceptable. As if Scully
was trying to cover up her still-obvious pain.
        She sat down on the bed as memories and pain built up on her again as
they always did at this time of the day, right before she went to sleep,
she felt it as an aching pain inside her chest. She held herself, feeling
herself shake inside, and began to weep.
        She just sobbed simple, unaffected tears. Tears of weariness, of agony
for herself and for Samantha, for hopelessness and loneliness. Samantha
was there for her, and yet she was alone, so alone. The irony and pain
and grief of Samantha's return and Mulder's departing all suddenly hit
her at once, crashing down on top of her out of nowhere, prompting her
tears onward without stopping.
        When suddenly a cold wind touched her.
        Scully ignored it. Ever since Samantha had come back she had been
feeling that inexplicable breeze almost every moment her mind wandered,
it had happened so much she was almost used to it, had come to accept it
as something she couldn't get away from. She didn't know what it was, she
didn't understand it, but she had never pondered over it.
        But now it didn't just touch her. Now it pressed against her, became
stronger, enveloped her waist and chest and shoulders, until it almost
covered her. Scully stopped, frozen, and closed her tear-filled eyes as
she felt it squeeze her tightly, almost...almost like a person hugging
her.
        Scully's arms, which were wrapped around herself, fell limp against her
sides from the cold's embrace. She let it slip her into an indescribable
feeling. She let her mind drift, let herself pretend, just for a moment,
that it was Mulder here holding her. She could imagine it so perfectly,
it almost felt real...she could almost feel his arms around her waist,
his breath beating down on her shoulder, his hair brushing against her
cheek.....
        For a short ten seconds, a small sliver in time, Scully forgot the
outside world. All her painful feelings of anger and torment and grief
were replaced by content and relief. The cold embrace slowed her pounding
heart, stopped the flow of tears and soothed her aching soul. She wanted
to remain motionless and painless within these arms forever, wanted to
awaken from this nightmare she was existing in and live again....
        /Scully...../
        She suddenly jerked back into wakefulness and stood up, throwing her
arms up as if pushing away whoever was holding her, the realization of
what was happening hitting her like a thunderstorm. Mulder's voice was
still echoing through her brain like a distant bell. The cold wind
disappeared into nothing, air into air. She gasped surprisedly and wiped
the tears from her eyes. She backed away from the bed and looked around
anxiously as fear replaced her sense of comfort.
        (Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why can't I go one night without
something scaring myself to death?)
        It *did* scare her, in fact, it terrified her. The constant cold wind on
her back, Mulder's voice calling to her inside her own mind, seeing him
in her dreams...it all terrified Scully. The nonsensical idea that she
was being watched...followed...*haunted*...by a presence, a presence that
reminded her of Mulder, made her hands tremble and sent shivers down her
spine.
        (It's impossible, completely ridiculous. Nothing but my imagination.
Nothing but my own hope, just wanting him back. I'm fooling myself. I
need to stop it. I need to get a hold on myself.)
        She brushed some loose locks of hair out of her face and bit her lip
decisively, her tears now gone. She hoped that Samantha hadn't sensed
anything from the other room...she didn't want her to think there was
anything wrong with her, didn't want to shake her strong reputation that
she needed to uphold.
        (There's nothing wrong with me...)
        She got ready for bed quickly, nervously. She turned off all the lights
and crawled into her solitary bed quickly, just wanted to get to sleep,
wanted to forget everything. No cold wind followed her or brushed against
her back.
        After what seemed like eternity, she slipped into a deep sleep.
        And dreamed once again.



        3:27 A.M.
        Wednesday, May 12th, 1999
        Flint Hill, Virginia
        Stargazers Hotel, Room 806

        "Dana..."
        /Mulder!/
        /NO!!/
        "Dana?"
        Mulder's image was gone as she snapped her eyes open. But she still
heard his voice, calling to her from within her mind, inside her
thoughts. At first she saw nothing but darkness.
        "Dana? Dana, wake up!"
        Mulder's voice melted and mellowed, then changed into another voice, but
still a familiar one...
        "Dana?"
        Scully squinted into the darkness, shivering, as she felt someone
shaking her shoulder gently. Her eyes finally focused...
        "Troi?"
        "Dana," Troi sighed, relieved. "You're awake. I thought you'd never..."
        "Troi!" Scully, although still within the haze of sleep, became
awakened, and propped herself up on one shoulder. "What the...what on
*earth* are you doing here?"
        "Dana...are you okay?"
        "What do you mean?"
        "You were....never mind."
        Scully groaned with weariness, realizing once again that she had woken
up from a dream. This was the second time just this night it had
happened. her heart pounded with the aftereffects of the dream, the
dizziness as she tried to adjust to consciousness, and the constant,
vibrating fear inside. She felt for that strange coldness she had felt
the first time...but it wasn't there now. Maybe because Troi was here...
        (What am I thinking?! I have to get back to reality...)
        "It's nothing, Troi," Scully answered. "I was just having a bad dream.
It's nothing..."
        Troi frowned. She recognized Scully's mood and her tone of voice...it
was the kind of tone Troi used when trying to conceal the fact that she
had had another clairvoyant dream. "Dana...are you *sure* you're okay?
You were...I mean, you were talking to...It sounded like..."
        "I'm fine," She repeated, almost growled it with resentment. "Besides,
don't talk to me about if I'm okay." She grabbed up her travel alarm
clock and stared at it's display. "For goodness sakes Troi, it's 3:30 in
the morning!! You're supposed to me at my mother's house back in D.C.!
What are you doing here!?!"
        Troi looked at the floor. "Well...I couldn't sleep."
        "How the heck did you get here? We're many miles from my mom's house..."
        "I drove."
        "Troi!! You don't even have your license yet!"
        "Well, I'm old enough. Besides, I was careful. It just took 2 hours to
get here, and that was the only thing."
        "How do you manage to get yourself and the car out of the house without
waking up mom?"
        "I was really quiet."
        "And *how* did you get in the hotelroom? I'm the only one with the key
to this room, and Samantha's room is locked, too..."
        "I didn't go to Samantha's room. I came in through the balcony. You left
the patio door unlocked. It wasn't a hard climb, there was a tree, and
it's only the second floor."
        Scully sighed. She rubbed her forehead wearily and closed her eyes. The
visions flashed in her head again...Mulder.....
        Troi stared at her. "I tried to wake you up right away but you..." She
stopped. "Why were you dreaming about Mulder?"
        "I don't know, Troi..."
        "Have you been having lots of dreams lately? About Mulder, I mean?"
        "Troi....."
        Troi became anxious. She noticed that every time she said Mulder's name,
Scully's eyes would dart about suddenly, as if expecting him to appear
out of nowhere. The anxiety for her that had been building up for a long
time now escalated, implanting bizarre and random ideas in her head. She
remembered seeing that figure standing over Dana the one time in the
other hotel, seeing how Dana behaved and reacted, suspicions, fears
swarming together. She shook them all off, dismissing them as ridiculous
and childish. She knew better than to believe in things like vows and
ghosts and living shadows.
        "Troi, tell me again...why did you come here?"
        "I couldn't sleep."
        "That's ridiculous. Why on earth would you make a dangerous journey like
that in the middle of the night..." She halted. "Did you have another
dream?" Scully asked worriedly.
        "No. I haven't had any dreams for a long time. It was...a headache. I
woke up with another headache. I've been having a lot lately...I don't
know why. It hurts so much..."
        This time it was Scully's turn to become worried. This thing with Troi
and her constant headaches was starting to make her wonder...
        "I've just been thinking."
        "About...?"
        "Things. Just everything that's been happening. And something that's
been bothering me..."
        "What?"
        "Come with me. I'll show you."
        Confused, Scully followed Troi out onto the balcony of her hotel room.
They were far away from the city's smoke and lights, so the stars were
all shining brightly, twinkling like gems on black velvet. Scully
breathed in the night air slowly, clutching her robe closer as a cold
wind blew past.
        "I noticed it tonight," Troi said into the stillness. "While I was on my
way here."
        "What?"
        "Look," Troi lifted a finger to the night sky. "Right up there. See
those eight things there? They look like stars, only a lot bigger.
They're kinda greenish."
        Scully followed Troi's motion with her eyes to the Western part of the
night sky, her neck craning. She saw eight, green-colored lights amidst
the stars...not twinkling like all the other stars, but glowing brightly.
They gave off an eerie, unworldly glow. There was something about those
lights...
        "There's more," Troi added. She turned to her right. "Four sets in all.
Eight lights in the west, eight in the east, eight in the north and eight
in the south."
        "I don't see any to the north."
        "I know." Troi responded. "That's what tipped me off. I saw the four in
the north first. They were there for about 20 minutes, and then
disappeared. Now there's only lights to the east, west, and..." As Troi
spoke, the lights in the south winked out.
        There were two sets left visible now, never blinking, only glowing...
        "Troi," Scully grabbed the teen's hand. "Come with me."
        They walked back into the hotel room. "Where are we going?" Troi asked
as Scully tore off her robe and quickly put on a shirt and pair of pants.

        "To the observatory room."
        "To the *what*?"
        "In case you didn't notice, this hotel is called the Stargazers Hotel.
The desk clerk told me that this place used to be an old observatory, and
then they made it into a hotel. But they left one of the big telescopes
in the observatory room for visitors to come and look through for free."
        "That's unusual."
        "I know. But that's where were going."
        Troi became excited. "Do you want me to go and wake up Samantha?"
        "No...not right now. I'll explain everything to her when we get back."
        "What are we going down to the observatory room for?"
        "I want to take a closer look at those lights."
        "Well...aren't you glad I decided to come all the way out here? If I
didn't you would have never found out about them..."
        "Don't think you can get away with that trick in the future, young
lady."

        About 15 minutes later, Troi and Scully walked into the old observatory
room, clicking the door shut behind them. It was perfectly silent,
everyone was in bed at this hour. A large telescope took up most of the
room, it's lens poking through the specially-designed ceiling observing
window. Books, papers and a computer occupied the desk space on the desk
next to the telescope.
        Scully wasted no time. Troi watched her as she climbed up and seated
herself in front of the telescope. She then began to adjust the knobs on
the outside, focusing, angling the lens in the direction of the eight
green lights. Troi began to search through the papers on the desk and
fool with the computer, filled only with curiosity.
        "Troi, you're such a little ferret! Stop poking around down there!"
        Troi sighed and backed away. "What are you doing?"
        "I'm looking at those things you showed me."
        "Well?"
        Scully didn't answer. She was staring through the eyepiece of the
telescope in complete silence. her lower jaw dropped, her eyes widened.
She adjusted a knob once more, then looked again. She stared some more,
unable to speak for a long time.
        "Dana?...."
        Scully rushed down from the telescope in a hurry, her eyes wide with
surprise. She grabbed Troi's hand as she headed for the door."
        "Come with me, Troi. You go get Samantha up and dressed while I go use
the phone."
        "Dana?..."
        "I'll explain later. I'm calling everyone out for an emergency meeting
for as soon as they can get here. This can't wait."



TO BE CONTINUED............................

......EXIT SONG......

 ~ YOU'RE NOT ALONE ~

I saw you walking by yourself
Your eyes were crying out for help
I know you feel your pain is more
Than anyone's been hurt before
I know love hurts when it's over
If you wanna cry it's alright
You're like a fallen soldier
But you just can't lay down and die

You're got to remember
You're not alone in this world
Always remember
You're not alone in this world

The moment that I looked at you
I recognize the killing truth
You really think there's no way out
But if you let me, I can help you now
Through all these shattered emotions
There's a lesson to learn
So come on let me hold you closer
Love can soothe what love has burned

You're got to remember
You're not alone in this world
Always remember
You're not alone in this world
Never alone, never alone, never, never alone

I got to tell you baby
Through all these shattered emotions
There's a lesson to learn
So come on let me hold you close because
Love can soothe what love has burned

You're got to remember
You're not alone in this world
Always remember
You're not alone in this world

----------------------------------------------------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTES AND ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER:

**Oops!! We forgot to discliam the songs!!! Okay, we don't own these
songs, we are just borrowing them with the utmost respect. "Do What You
Have To Do" is by the *mah-voulous* Sarah McLachlan, and "You're Not
Alone" is by Amy Grant. No infiringing intended!!
**HAHAHAHAH!!!!!!!!! We leave you hanging once again. But don't worry, we
are getting VERY close to our deadline, so we have no excuse for
procrastination AGAIN.
"Nearer to Nowhere" and THE GRAND FINALIE, "The Awakening" will be SOON
forthcoming. Like in about 4 days. EEK!! Wish us luck, we're going to
need it. :)

AGAIN, to reenforce.....PLEASE SEND US FEEDBACK!!!!! WE DESPERATLY NEED
IT!!! If you are a wonderful person who has actually taken the time to
READ all of this, surely you can send us a little morsel of appeciation
or citisim or SOMETHING!! (begging here...)

    Source: geocities.com/area51/zone/2095

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