This Text file is old! In a 🏛️Museum, an unsorted archive of (user-)pages. (Saved from Geocities in Oct-2009. The archival story: oocities.org)
--------------------------------------- (To đźš«report any bad content: archivehelp @ gmail.com)

 TITLE: Accumulation, Story 4 "Nearer to Nowhere"

 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: This is the 4th disclaimer we’ve done this series and frankly, my
 dear, we are getting tired of it. We don’t own the characters!!!! Don’t sue!!!
 That is, of course, except for the following; Troi Anne Carter, Alyssa Caitren,
 Jacob Grant, Gerrett Corban, Obsidian, and other various minor characters. :)
 This is all we have to say.
 Oh, that is except for the ever-necessary song disclaimer. “Possession” belongs
 to the marvolous Sarah McLachlan, and “Dreams” belongs to the slightly less
 marvelous Fleetwood Mac. (no offense!!! Love the lyrics!!)

 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 slightly lessened Tissue Warning. Maybe not a tissue
 warning at all. You tell us!! :):) We *LOOOOOVE* feedback!!

 AND NOW.......

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

 --------------------------------------------------------
 ------------- T H E  X - F I L E S ---------------------
 ***************** ACCUMULATION *************************
 .........."N E A R E R   T O   N O W H E R E "..........
 --------------------------------------------------------

 INTRO SONG:

 Possession

 Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide.
 Voices trapped in yearning; memories trapped in time.
 The night is my companion and solitude my guide.
 Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?
 And I would be the one to hold you down- kiss you so hard...
 I'll take your breath away, and after I'd wipe away the tears.
 Just close your eyes, dear.

 Through this world I've stumbled; so many times betrayed.
 Trying to find an honest word, to find - the truth enslaved.
 Oh- you speak to me in riddles, and you speak to me in rhyme.
 My body aches to breathe your breath.
 Your words keep me alive.
 And I would be the one to hold you down- kiss you so hard...
 I'll take your breath away, and after I'd wipe away the tears.
 Just close your eyes, dear.

 And through this night I wander; it's morning that I dread.
 Another day of knowing of the path I fear to tread.
 Oh- into the sea of waking dreams I follow without pride.
 Cause nothing stands between us here, and I won't be denied.
 And I would be the one to hold you down- kiss you so hard...
 I'll take your breath away, and after I'd wipe away the tears.
 Just close your eyes...

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

         4:31 A.M.
         Wednesday, May 12th, 1999
         Outside Washington D.C.

         The only ones remaining were the ones in the west.
         Against the darkened sky the penetrating extension of a telescope silhouette
 moved. The lonely little dome-like building sitting on the hill outside of the
 busy streets and skyscrapers of Washington D.C. watched the lights in the sky
 with intense curiosity, as well as tension.
         The head astronomer, who was sitting at the large, powerful telescope began
 shouting again. “I want those pictures! Are you getting those pictures?”
         His two young assistants were scrambling about the rest of the observatory,
 tapping information into the supercomputers that ran the massive telescope. One
 of them slapped on a large printer, and the printer began to grumble as it spit
 ink on paper into recognizable images.
         “Good lord, there’s only two left!! Are you still snapping pictures, Lorenzo?”
         “Yes, I’m doing two frames per second, that’s as fast as we can go.”
         “Here’s the first image!” Julia exclaimed as the computer finished it’s first
 ink splatter, then started on the second like clockwork. She held the paper in
 her hands for a minute and then ran doggedly up the stairs to where the head
 astronomer was still at the telescope.
         He backed away from the telescope’s eyepiece in slight awe. “They’re gone.
 There’s not a single one left.”
         It fell silent. He shook his head with disbelief.
         “Do you think they left? Do you think they’re gone?”
         “I hope to God they’re gone.”
         There was a nervous cough from behind the telescope. “Sir...do you want me to
 keep snapping pictures?”
         “No...not right now. I don’t think we can get any more.”
         Julia anxiously held out the image the computer had captured of the brief
 moment in space.        The head astronomer held it carefully, observing the printed
 image. Black against black, but shiny and metallic, and an absurd yet orderly
 arrangement of machinery. The blurry and disoriented shot revealed a perfectly
 clear and present truth...
         “I’m going to call the White House,” The head astronomer said decisively.
 “Lorenzo, get back up there at the seat, and keep a watch. They may come back.
 If they do, I want full scale zoom-in, I want pictures as fast as you can shoot
 ‘em, I want detection satellite links, I want the works.” He prepared to leave,
 and stopped. “I know you’re both still students, but if they come back and you
 don’t do exactly as I’ve told you, you’re both have to find your tutoring
 elsewhere.” The two younger astronomers both shook their heads solemnly. He
 nodded and marched out the door.
         Lorenzo immediately climbed up the metal staircase to the large telescope and
 seated himself to begin looking again, adjusting computer-oriented controls.
 However, Julia walked quickly behind the large desk and grabbed up another
 telephone for herself.
         She sat down to make sure Lorenzo wasn’t watching or listening and quickly
 dialed a number, taking a good look at the telescope image as she listened to
 the ring.
         “Yes.”
         “Sir. We just picked up some telescope images of them. Only now they’re gone.”
         “Gone as in disappeared?”
         “Yes, sir.”
         There was a brief silence.
         “We’re at the 20-day mark then.”
         “Do you need anything else?”
         “No, that’s fine. Thank you for telling me this, it’s very helpful. Call me if
 there are any further developments.”
         “Alright.” And she hung up.

         Obsidian hung his phone with nervous slowness, frowning out the window at the
 smog-blocked night sky.
         The 20-day mark. They were moving into position. Getting ready for total
 unleashment. He put his head in his hands. He knew that at this point, there
 would be no stopping them.
         20 days.
         He decided that he’d been waiting long enough for her group to figure out what
 was happening. Somehow he’d have to render assistance to them. Or even to the
 clones.
         (Why am I doing this? If they’re at this point, there’s no stopping them.)
         He was doing it because he didn’t want others to die. Because he himself didn’t
 want to die. It wasn’t about simple negotiations or slavery or compromises
 anymore...now it was about survival, simple and instinctual survival.
         Everyone wanted to survive somehow.

         12:13 P.M.
         Thursday, May 13th, 1999
         Charleston, Maryland

         The Lone Gunmen were the last to arrive. Scully ushered them in hurriedly and
 shut the door behind them tightly, cautiously. They took three seats next to the
 others, facing the stage. Scully had planned their meeting in an old, abandoned
 theater that was set for demolition a few weeks from then. The theater still
 seemed to smell of popcorn and set paint. But there was no trace of the actor’s
 lines or the crowd’s clapping, there was silence except for the various noises
 made by the rebels.
         “Alright,” Scully announced in as commanding a tone as she could muster. She
 got up and sat on the edge of the stage, still clad in the shabby outfit that
 she had worn going to sleep two days ago. She faced the rebels. “Is everyone
 here?”
         “Skinner’s not here,” Garrett observed.
         Scully frowned. “Why not?”
         “We don’t know. We haven’t seen him for a while. Did you call him?”
         “He was the first one I called.”
         “Maybe he’s just late.”
         Scully nodded in mutual agreement. “Keep an eye out for him. It’s important
 that all of us hear this.”
         The statement made the entire theater fall into complete silence. Scully
 cleared her throat and began.
         “Two nights ago Troi came to my hotel room with news of something she had
 seen,” She said, “something she saw in the night sky.”
         “What was it?” Asked Frohike.
         “Lights in the sky. Troi said that there were ten lights, like stars only a bit
 brighter. They were at the four directions, north and south and east and west,
 so there were 40 lights in all. There was a visitor’s observatory at the hotel
 we were staying at. Troi and I went down to have a closer look at the lights she
 showed me.”
         She stopped. “I looked at them. And I have to tell you all now... I’ve never
 seen anything like it before.”
         “What did you see?”
         “I wish I had pictures, but I don’t. But what I saw will definitely have a big
 impact on what we’re doing.”
         “I saw...Them. The spaceships, the UFOs, whatever you want to call them. But
 I’m positive of what I saw...spacecraft, black in color, and definitely not of
 this planet’s origin. They were huge. I’d have to say at least several miles
 across. Maybe larger.”
         “They were moving. Somewhat slowly from my viewpoint, although it was probably
 much faster in space. I kept looking, and then they disappeared. Vanished. So I
 know I saw them, I just don’t know what happened to them.”
         “A cloaking device,” Samantha said slowly. The group turned to her, and she
 swallowed.      “They must have used a cloaking device to cover themselves from
 view.”
         “That can’t be right,” Grant argued. “You can’t make something that huge
 disappear from view completely. They must have taken off again or something...”
         “No, cloaking devices are very likely,” Byers said back. “Our own government
 has been developing cloaking devices for stealth craft for years, it’s nothing
 new. And it would make sense for such large spacecraft to have such cloaking
 device.”
         “What do you mean?” Troi said curiously. Ever since two nights ago she had been
 unable to sleep with what she and Dana had discovered.
         “Those ships...have probably been here for a long time,” Byers explained. “Such
 a large number of craft traveling thousands, maybe millions of light years from
 here would not be getting here at the exact time and place the Date is supposed
 to take place. They would get there weeks, months, maybe years early to prepare
 for what they were doing. They probably came to Earth a while ago, and only just
 now moved into position for an attack.”
         “But if they came here months ago, why hadn’t anyone spotted them? So many
 large and distinct spacecraft would definitely grab the attention of any
 astronomer who happened to be watching the skies that night. There’s always
 scientific centers doing 24-hour watches on space.”
         “The ships probably cloaked themselves the moment they came to Earth, and
 they’ve remained cloaked since this time. The ships must presumably not be able
 to cloak if they are in motion. So during this shifting of position, they would
 have to uncloak and then recloak. And during that short window when they were
 visible is when Scully must have spotted them.”
         Scully nodded in agreement. “This seems likely to me.”
         The realization of the situation suddenly hit them, and they sat there for a
 moment, completely spellbound.
         Alien ships. Colonization. The Date.
         “This could mean something big,” Scully continued slowly. “If these ships are
 shifting into position, it means they could be getting ready to....attack. I
 know that none of us were ever sure of when exactly the Date would be. I myself
 thought it would be at least a year from now. But if this is happening...it
 could mean that it is happening much sooner than we anticipated.”
         “How much sooner?” Alyssa asked, unsure.
         “I don’t know. It could be within the next few weeks. It could be within the
 next few hours.”
         This seemed to have the biggest impact on the group. A frightened muttering
 circulated between the theater seats. Scully quieted them with a wave of her
 hand.
         “I think we need to figure out when exactly the Date will be so we know exactly
 how much time we have...to stop them.”
         “But you said so yourself...you don’t know when it will be. Our guess is as
 good as yours.”
         Scully closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Out of nowhere, a memory
 surfaced, something Mulder had told her once, after Antarctica... “It’ll happen
 on a holiday,” She said suddenly. “It’ll be a holiday, when everyone suspects it
 the least.”
         “I think everyone is pretty much well into suspecting an alien invasion at any
 time, Dana.”
         “I mean if they didn’t know, if we hadn’t revealed the Syndicate. When is the
 nearest holiday?”
         Troi thought for a moment, then spoke. “Dana...it’s Memorial Day.”
         Scully did some quick calculating in her head. “That’s 20 days away.”
         There was a deadly silence. The shock of the thought dominated and thickened
 the near-empty theater with it’s terrifying presence....the thought that there
 was less than three weeks before the world came to a sudden and horrific end.
         “I think something is very clear here,” Scully finally stated into the silence.
 “That exposing the Syndicate has not been enough...it’s not been enough to stop
 the Project. The aliens are going through with it even without contact from the
 Syndicate. It’s a set Date, and there’s no delaying it. So what we have to do is
 to stop It.”
         The silence that permeated this time lasted almost twice as long as the first.
 The voice that broke the silence was that of Troi’s, honest and sincere.
         “How *do* we stop It, Dana?”
         Scully stood silent for a moment. She put her head in her hands. “I don’t know,
 Troi...I don’t know.”
         “Whatever it is,” Samantha said, “We’re the only ones who know it. No one else
 but the Syndicate, and they might not even know. So it’s all up to us now.”
         “Right.” Scully looked down. “It *is* up to us. I don’t want to go to the
 military with this. Discretion on what we are doing is our *only* advantage, and
 I still don’t completely trust the government.”
         Scully lifted her head, her face pale with worry. “We’ll think of something.
 We’ll think of something we can do to stop Them.” She glanced around the room at
 the faces of her friends, when suddenly another point came back to the front of
 her mind. “Is Skinner still not here?”
         Alyssa glanced towards the entrance of the theater. “I guess he’s not back
 yet.”
         Scully’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you *mean*, he’s not back yet? Where did
 he go? I told him he had to meet us here because it was so important.”
         Alyssa shrugged. “I don’t know. But right after I got your call for us to meet
 I got a call from him. He said he had heard about your meeting but that he
 needed to make a certain appointment with someone. He didn’t say anything about
 being late or not.”
         Suspicion rose in Scully like a flame that had been fanned. She stood up on the
 stage.  “Who did he say his appointment was with?”
         “He didn’t say.”
         Memories surfaced in Scully, out of nowhere. There had been times when Skinner
 had helped them yes...but it wasn’t those times that came to mind. She
 remembered handing him reports and stealing glances at Cancer Man standing in
 the corner, smoking his cigarette as always. She remembered standing in Mulder’s
 apartment, pointing her gun at him as he pointed his gun at her, her shouting at
 him to put it down. She remembered the time right after he had recovered from
 that strange disease, and refusing to tell them anything on what had happened to
 him. She remembered fighting her cancer, and Mulder standing over her bed in the
 hospital, her insistence to him and gut instinct that Skinner couldn’t be
 trusted.
         (What if he’s been working with *Them* all along?)
         They never had figured out if Skinner had been on their side of Cancer Man’s
 side. Since Skinner had been so supportive of her crusade and had even given the
 speech that exposed the Syndicate, she hadn’t given her trust in him a second
 thought.
         But now.....she wasn’t so sure.
         She glanced around at the faces sitting in the seats in the theater. Troi was
 talking with Gibson, they were apparently arguing about something. Byers was
 looking at Samantha, who was trying to give some explanations to Alyssa, Grant
 and Garrett. But Skinner was nowhere to be seen.
         (Why wouldn’t he be here if I told him it was so important to come?)

         12:31 P.M.
         May, 13, 1999
         The Pentagon
         Washington, DC.

         Peter Mohann whistled softly to himself as he walked through the halls of the
 ground level at the Pentagon, his janitor’s mop and bucket trailing behind him.
 “When Irish eyes are smilin’...” He sang softly with his lilting accent as he
 reached into his pocket and fumbled around for the keys that he needed to lock
 up.
         Peter was the late janitor at the Pentagon, and he was proud of his job. He had
 just recently immigrated from North Ireland, at the request of his mother, who
 was afraid of the violence caused by the IRA. Peter found it ironic that his
 mother had been so afraid of the IRA, and now the world had much bigger
 problems.
         As for himself, Peter didn’t worry too much about the threat of alien invasion.
 He had fierce pride in his native people, and his adopted country, and believed
 firmly that either could handle any threat the heavens threw at them.
         Still whistling, Peter shifted through the keys, looking for the one he needed
 to lock the janitors access door out into the Pentagon garage. He was just
 passing a stairway to the bottom level when suddenly he cheerful whistle died
 away.
         Smoke.
         He smelled smoke.
         Peter stopped dead in his tracks, inhaling deeply, trying to uncover the source
 of the deadly smell. His search led him closer to the stairwell that plunged
 down to the lower levels.
 Peter hesitated at the entrance to the stairs. He had heard stories about the
 lower levels. How a young Hispanic janitor had disappeared down there a few
 years ago. They were restricted levels, and the janitors were not required to
 clean down there.
         Peter stood at the top of the stairs and squinted down into the darkness below
 him. The smell of smoke returned, stronger this time. Peter took a few steps
 down the stairs, still peering down in the shadows. He blinked as the smoke
 stung his eyes. He coughed, and reached up to flick on the stairs lights.
         Nothing happened.
         Just then a flash of light caught his eye from below. His apprehension was
 overcome by his sense of duty as he clattered farther down the stairs, eyes
 searching through the dark.
 And then he saw it.
         Fire!
         The fire was speeding up the stairs with a unnatural swiftness, consuming
 everything in sight with an intense heat.
         Peter turned as quickly as he could, bounding up the stairs and back into the
 safety of the hallway hastily. He slammed the door shut behind him, and lept
 across the hall to grasp the fire alarm and slam it upwards.
         Silence greeted his anticipating ears.
         Peter threw the fire alarm again. Nothing. Again, he pumped it, desperately.
         Nothing happened.
         Behind him, the door to the stairwell suddenly blew out, crashing with the
 scream of shredded metal, ripped off it’s hinges by the constrained chemicals
 from the raging fire behind it.
         Peter took one glance back towards the fire, fear raging along with the
 reflection of the inferno in his eyes.
         And then he ran.

         4:10 P.M.
         Thursday, May 13th, 1999
         Salem, Virginia
         Salem County Motel

         Scully was tired after her long day of driving across the state. She ran some
 fingers through her hair as she waited for their keys at the checkout counter at
 the latest hotel. Samantha had gone across the street to get some dinner for the
 twosome. Scully had decided she wasn’t going to worry herself to death over the
 facts that had been discussed at their last meeting...there was no way to stop
 what was coming. And until they figured out *how* to stop Them, there was no
 sense in worrying over the Date.
         The desk clerk finished signing the rental papers and handed Scully the two
 keys. Scully nodded and turned to leave.
         She ran right into Skinner.
         Scully jumped backwards with shock, and stared at Skinner in disbelief.
         “Skinner! You startled me...what on earth are you doing here?!”
         “I was looking for you Scully,” He replied slowly.
         “Where were you this morning? You were the first one I called for the
 meeting...and you didn’t even show up. It was very important.”
         “I know, I’m sorry...I got caught up in other things. I was hoping to make it
 on time, but...”
         “Never mind,” Scully interrupted, her anger starting to show through. “I’ll
 explain everything we talked about later. I’m just wondering where you were that
 could have kept you when I said I wanted you there.”
         Skinner swallowed, somewhat nervous. “I was talking with some people in the
 government. Someone from the military got in touch with me, they said they had
 been trying to find you for some time...”
         “Why do you think I’ve been running and hiding for so long?” Scully shot back
 in a bitter tone. “I thought we agreed on having nothing to do with the
 military.”
         “This is different, Scully. These people are willing to give us
 protection...protection from the people who are really after you.” He came
 closer, his tall frame standing defiantly over Scully. “You need more protection
 than you realize, Scully. Just being with yourself and Samantha isn’t enough.
 Don’t think that by being all strong and self-dependent you’ll be able to save
 your life...or stop Them.”
         “Look, Skinner,” Scully growled, “I don’t *need* protection. I don’t want a
 whole gang of soldiers running around cleaning up after me. Especially after
 what I’ve found out...”
         “What did you find out?”
         Scully was about to speak, then clapped her mouth shut. Instincts and memories
 inside her suddenly pelted her, telling her not to tell him. (He can’t be
 trusted...he’s betrayed you before, and he can do it again...can’t be
 trusted...)
         “Well?”
         “Sir...no. I can’t tell you anything right now.”
         “Why not?”
         (Betrayal...betrayal...betrayal...betrayal...) It was something Scully was all
 too familiar with. And right now, Scully was fed up with it. She wouldn’t have
 any more of it.
         “I don’t know if you’ll keep it within the group,” She finally responded.
         Skinner backed away, clearly surprised. “Scully...don’t you trust me?”
         Scully didn’t know. But she wasn’t going to push her luck.
         “Scully...please. Don’t do this to yourself. You’ve got to trust someone. Come
 back with me to D.C.....you don’t have to keep running around like this anymore.
 I have protection for you now, you don’t have to be so anxious,” Skinner
 pleaded.
         This only heightened Scully’s anxiety. Her patience snapped in two.
         “No...I’m not going. You weren’t there for the meeting, and I’m not going to
 put up with it. I don’t need ‘protection’, and I don’t need anyone breaking up
 our plans when we’re so close!” Scully yelled back.
         “Scully, enough with this!”
         “I’m not going to go through it anymore!” Scully shouted in response, her face
 tightening, her fists curling as if in defense. “I’ve had enough of you...and
 whatever agenda you’re a part of, I can assure you I’ll make sure you stay out
 of ours!!”
         With that, Scully turned and marched out the door of the hotel, almost running
 in fear, and disappeared into the crowds of the street.
         “Scully!!...”
         Skinner called after her, and started out the door, but she was nowhere in
 sight. The man’s shoulders dropped with disbelief as he stared about the
 unrecognizable crowds, completely at a loss of what to do.
         Scully was already around the corner, still running, running to nowhere. The
 siren persisted in her head over and over...
         (Betrayal...betrayal...betrayal...betrayal...)
         As far as she was concerned, Skinner was a traitor. Her trust in him had
 thinned to the point of breaking, plunging her into the abyss of fear and
 isolation.
         She felt bad about leaving Samantha to figure out where she had went. But even
 Scully wasn’t sure where she was going.
         (Someplace safe. Someplace out of here. Someplace where I can think.)
         But nowhere was safe.

         6:05
         Friday, May 14th, 1999
         Protective Witness Unit Section
         Fort Atlantic, US Army Base
         Georgia

         Alyssa Caitren sighed wearily as she sat down at the bare military mess table,
 her tray clanking against it as she sat it down. Picking up the cup of juice
 that she held, she eyed it dubiously, wishing with all her heart for a nice can
 of Sprite.
         Skinner had reached them by phone and arranged a meeting, then convincing the
 group of fugitives to return with him to Fort Atlantic, where they would be
 guarded from Syndicate assassins, and could share their knowledge with the army,
 so that, Skinner had insisted, they would be more effective.
         Alyssa had been one of the most reluctant to accept Skinner’s offer, second
 only to Samantha, and The Lone Gunmen, who had loudly protested at first, but
 were soon won over by Skinner’s hard logic. The Gunmen were still extremely
 suspicious of anything to do with the government, and Samantha had wanted to go
 back and search for Scully, who seemed to have disappeared again, but eventually
 they were all brought to Fort Atlantic where they had been given a warm, if
 still sterilized and military, welcome.
         “Mind if we sit here?” A voice called from behind her.
         The young ex-agent turned to look into the face of Mulder’s sister Samantha,
 who held her own tray of military issue grub, and Troi, who stood behind her.
 “Sure,” She gave her a smile. “Have a seat.”
         Samantha sat down across from her, while Troi took a seat to her right. Troi
 looked at her own plate of unrecognizable casserole and cornbread in disgust.
         “Now I know why they call it a mess.” Troi said, wrinkling her nose in
 repugnance.
         Alyssa and Samantha smiled at each other, chuckling at the girl’s declaration.
         Samantha stuck out a hand. “You’re Alyssa, right? I’m sorry we didn’t really
 get a chance to be introduced before.”
         “Yes,” Alyssa said warmly reaching out to shake the proffered hand. “Alyssa
 Caitren. Also known a Sprite.”
         “Sprite?” Samantha queried.
         “Yes, after the most wonderful soft drink known to man,” Alyssa chuckled. “I’ve
 been addicted to the stuff since I was a kid.”
         Samantha’s lips curved into a half-smile, eyebrows raising.
         Alyssa chuckled again. “You look a lot like your brother when you do that.”
 Then she frowned, eyes pricking suddenly. The mood in the room suddenly turned
 somber. Troi sniffed suddenly. “I’m sorry.” Alyssa offered weakly.
         “No, no it’s okay.” Samantha assured her. “I don’t mind. I like to hear it in
 fact. There’s...so little I remember about him.” She paused for a moment. “And
 yet, at times he seems so close.”
         “It was such a shock,” Alyssa nodded.
         “How close were you to him?” Samantha asked her, sticking a fork into the
 casserole.
         “Not very. I admired him. Something like hero worship.” Alyssa told him. “Ever
 since I had a close encounter with a UFO as a pilot in the Air Force, I’d been
 curious in the paranormal. When I got into the Bureau and started hearing the
 rumors about “Spooky” Mulder and the X-Files, I was intrigued. But I didn’t meet
 him until a, ah, *mishap* with my brother and I in the Bermuda Triangle. We were
 kidnapped by a organization that was involved in a human cloning project. Mulder
 and Scully came after us.”
         Alyssa paused for a moment. “After I met him, I was a little in awe of him,
 honestly. Like I said, hero-worship. He knew things I had only ever dreamed of
 knowing, and he was so like me. He wanted to believe.” Alyssa chuckled. “Not
 like my staunchly by-the-book partner over there.” Alyssa jerked a thumb toward
 Garrett who sat at the table across from them, warmth and affection in her
 voice.
         “To tell you the truth,” Alyssa continued, “If I hadn’t had Jacob,” She pointed
 him out over by the cafeteria line. Her voice lowered conspiratorially. “-That’s
 my boyfriend/fiancee’ who I haven’t quite gotten to pop the question to yet-
 Anyway, if I hadn’t already had him, I probably would’ve tried to go after
 Mulder.” Alyssa sat back with a sigh. “But even then I knew it was a lost cause.
 Agent *Scully* was simply too all-consuming for him.” Alyssa gave another little
 sigh, this one sad, grieving for the two partners separated by death. “Even
 then, she had him...hook, line, and sinker. They just didn’t know it.”
         Troi suddenly cleared her throat. “Ms. Caitren. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer
 you not talk about Dana and Mulder’s relationship. Especially now.”
         “I’m sorry, kid.” Alyssa turned to Troi apologetically. “I didn’t mean it with
 anything but the highest respect. Those two really had something special. I know
 that.”
         Samantha broke the awkward silence. “Speaking of Dana...has anyone been able to
 get ahold of her yet?”
         Alyssa sighed heavily and turned back to Sam. “No. Skinner, as well as the
 Gunmen have been trying to reach her by phone nearly constantly, but she seems
 to have turned her cell off.”
         “Or gotten rid of it.” Troi said gloomily.
         The thought sobered the whole group. “Samantha,” Alyssa asked. “Do you have any
 idea why she left?”
         Sam nodded, running her hands through her short, dark curls to smooth them.
 “Skinner said that he ran into her at the hotel. She accused him of working with
 the other side. He said she was very scared, very panicky. She must have
 just....” Samantha trailed off.
         “I’m worried about her.” Troi said in a small voice.
         Alyssa looked at the teen sympathetically, reaching over to put a comforting
 arm around her shoulders. “We all are, kid. We all are.”
         Samantha looked down at her plate, and then raised her eyes to look up at the
 high window off the enormous mess hall. “Take care of her,” she whispered,
 “Wherever you are.”
         Suddenly, all conversation seemed to halt. Troi lifted her head slowly from the
 table, glancing around the mess hall, where the rest of the group was, and where
 two guards stood in front of each door.
         Samantha noticed. “Troi?....”
         “Something’s wrong...”
         Skinner was looking out one of the open doorways, past the guards, who were
 looking in his direction. His cry echoed throughout the mess hall in a sudden
 burst of energy:
         “EVERYONE GET DOWN!!!!!!”
         The guards came alive as the sounds of bullets ripped through the open door,
 splattering holes into the wall on the other side of the room. Alyssa choked
 back down a scream. All of the people in the hall dropped to the floor in a
 unanimous crash.
         The guards at the door began to shouting to each other and brought out their
 guns, returning fire at whoever was shooting outside. The rebel group was caught
 in the crossfire.
         “MOVE!! GET OUT OF HERE!!!” Skinner’s commanding voice sounded somewhere above
 the clamor.     “SOMEONE’S INFILTRATED THE BUILDING!! WE NEED TO EVACUATE!!!”
         One of the guards at the door dropped to the ground, his face disfigured with
 blood and open flesh. Troi released a cry of panic.
         The traitor military men burst into the mess hall on two sides, machine guns
 ready, their uniforms blue instead of green. The guards met them in a battle of
 bullets, firing from behind tables, giving commands into their walkie-talkies
 for backup. Bullets sped across the room like red-hot flies, biting and killing
 anyone who got in their way. The Lone Gunmen, had been sitting at one of the
 tables across from Alyssa’s, Samantha’s and Troi’s, crawled across the floor on
 their stomachs until they reached the other three. Garrett, Grant, and Skinner,
 who was shielding Holly and Gibson, came in close behind.
         Frohike snarled at Skinner as the shouts and shots echoed around them. “You
 traitor, you set us up!”
         “No, you’re wrong!” Skinner shouted. “Someone else in the military betrayed our
 position! We don’t have time to argue! Now unless you all want your heads on
 platters for the Cancer Man, I suggest we get out of here!!”
         Instant backup for the green-clothed military came in through the back door,
 guns ready. In just a few shots they took down some of the enemy soldiers, but
 quickly ducked behind some more tables as the enemy returned fire. There was
 something like an explosion as one of the bullets hit the window, shattering it
 all over the building like a deadly glass shower.
         “THIS WAY!!!” Skinner yelled again, pointing to one large air grating in the
 wall aways from them, sunlight shafts apparent through the slits.
         The rebel group broke cover from the tables as the crossfire continued, more
 soldiers on both sides were falling like flies. Byers forced himself through the
 crowds until he was almost to Samantha.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
 one of the soldiers in blue take aim...
         “GET DOWN!!” Byers cried, and grabbed Samantha, pressing her flat to the
 ground. The bullet screamed over her and hit a chair instead. Samantha looked up
 back at Byers with a look of gratitude in her eyes, and for a moment, their eyes
 locked.
         “GET MOVING!!” Langley’s anxious voice sounded behind them, prompting them
 onward.
         Skinner was the first to reach the grating. But it was Garrett who brought out
 his gun and shot off one of the screws, making the grating easy to pry open.
 Skinner pulled himself through the narrow tunnel and ushered the rest of the
 people through the opening in the wall, one by one, until everyone was out.
         They were outside, in the parking lot. The sounds of the crossfire still echoed
 inside, but were now muted by the thick walls. There were still a few soldiers
 in green running inside through the other entrances to join the skirmish.
         “I can’t believe it...” Grant replied breathlessly, still keeping his gun
 present. “They found us...they were desperate...”
         “There must have been a traitor in the military group assigned to protect us,”
 Skinner wheezed. “We need to get out of here.”
         “We can’t stay together,” Alyssa announced decisively. “It’s too dangerous. We
 need to split up, like we were before.”
         Skinner bowed his head, nodding in agreement, apparently just as much in shock
 as the rest of the group.
         “We need to get moving,” Frohike warned. “They’ll find us if we don’t. We’ll
 meet again...”
         “...But only after we find Dana,” Samantha concluded.
         Another explosion from inside.
         “Let’s go,” Alyssa finished. The group split quickly, a few words to determine
 the different groups that would go together, which groups would keep each
 safest. In the end, it was decided that Lone Gunmen would go together, Alyssa,
 Garrett and Grant together, Troi, Tina and Maggie together, Holly and Gibson
 together, and Skinner and Samantha by themselves.
         Each smaller group headed for a different vehicle, and jumped in. The
 different vehicles sped away: the Passat, the Mitsubishi, the old Taurus, the VW
 Volkswagon, Skinner’s Accord, and covered military jeep in the parking lot
 Samantha suddenly decided to steal. The cars all raced through the entrance to
 Fort Atlantic, then divided and separated, scattering the group throughout the
 endless traffic next to the fort.
         And they were gone.

         7:25 P.M.
         May, 15th, 1999
         Ramada Inn
         James Creek, Maryland

         The young woman stood at the top of the hill, rain soaking her 17th century
 gown, as she looked out on the sweeping valley, and the foreboding manor house
 that held the object of her longing. “Love is not love, if it alters when it
 alterations find, or bend with the remover to remove,” the young woman quoted,
 her English accent and whispered husky tone giving credibility to her
 Shakespeare, “Oh no, it is a ever fixed mark...that looks on tempests and is
 never shake-”
         “We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a update on the worldwide Invasion
 Crisis......”
         Scully picked up the remote and turned the television off with a loud click.
 She stared at the blank screen for a moment. Nothing, it seemed, would give her
 peace.
         Slowly, she turned on the bed, tangling her self in the sheets some more,
 pressing her face against the pillow, praying for sleep to take her, and at the
 same time dreading it. Even though it was still very early in the evening,
 Scully felt lethargic. She had felt that way all day, ever since she had checked
 into the hotel over 4 hours ago.
         Another motel.
         Another night.
         The monotony was wearing at her, but instead of doing something to change it,
 it simply made her care less.
         She flipped over onto her back again, her hand coming down to rest on her
 shrunken stomach. She slipped a hand underneath her blouse, fingering the scar
 that Krycek’s bullet had made. She still didn’t understand why she was still
 alive.
         But then, there was a lot she didn’t understand these days.
         At this point, she had stopped *trying* to understand them.
         Scully’s hand moved over the closed scar, and moved to feel her ribcage. She
 was getting thin. Dangerously thin. As a doctor, Scully automatically catalogued
 the beginning signs of anorexia. But as a person, Scully again could not make
 herself care.
         (I wonder how long I would have to lie her before I starved to death?)
         She quickly pushed the ugly thought away, jerking her hand away from her
 stomach and replacing it along with the other one under the pillow her head
 rested against.
         For a long time, she simply stared at the ceiling, her thoughts wandering, as
 tangled in themselves as her body was in the white hotel sheets.
         And, as always, her thoughts eventually turned to Mulder.
         But this time Scully did not shrink from his memory. She *willed* her mind to
 call up images of him, savoring the familiar, metallic taste of grief that rose
 in her throat.
         (how many times,) Scully thought to herself, (have I laid in a hotel bed and
 thought of him?)
         Before, of course, she would have denied it, even to herself. But now it was
 pointless. Yes, she, Special Agent Dana K. Scully MD, thought about her partner
 on her off-time.
         Thought about him *a lot*.
         Thought about him in her off-time, her on-time, and most of the times in
 between. Well, maybe that was stretching it a *bit*.
         But she certainly *had* lain in many a hotel bed in the middle of
 God-Knows-Where, Texas and thought about him. And her. Them.
         Them. Now there was a word that would have a one time sent chills down the back
 of a much younger and inexperienced Dana Scully. A Dana Scully before cancer,
 before betrayal, before abduction.
         A very young, very scientific, very naieve Scully who had been very frustrated
 with her very school-girl crush on her very attractive partner.
         And now the word again sent chills down her back. But they were a very
 different sort of chill. And for a very different reason.
         It was the chill of regret. Of knowing that something that *should* have been,
 would now never be.
         All because of a twist of fate.
         A slip of chance.
         A mistake made when destiny wasn’t looking.
         Scully turned over on her stomach again, shutting her eyes as she contemplated
 this thought. The more she thought about it, the more a half-formed idea began
 to take place in her mind.
         (Mulder wasn’t supposed to die)
         But she knew that. Had known that since the day in had happened. If anything
 had struck her about his death, it had been the extreme *wrongness* of it.
         (Mulder wasn’t supposed to die.)
         (something here doesn’t fit.)
         Scully felt a prickle at the back of her neck that she hadn’t felt for a long
 time. Her older sister, Melissa, had always told her that she had very strong
 “sense” or psychic abilities. Of course, young Scully had dismissed that notion
 with a laugh, but older Scully had noticed things with a more learned eyes, and
 remembered times that she “sensed” things, picking up on things her concrete
 senses couldn’t have.
         (Mulder would have laughed at me.)
         (Mulder...)
         (something doesn’t fit.)
         And slowly, the seeds of doubt were planted.

         9:37 P.M.
         Friday, May 14th, 1999
         FBI Headquarters
         Washington D.C.

         In a lonely, cold basement office at the bottom of the FBI Headquarters, two
 partners sat, facing each other, thinking.
         “I don’t like this,” Special Agent Diana Fowley muttered bitterly. “I think
 he’s forgotten about us. When’s the last time he contacted you?”
         “A while ago,” Spender answered, leaning back in what had once been Mulder’s
 personal chair. “But all he told me was that Alex Krycek was dead.”
         Diana rolled her eyes. “Serves the little rat right,” She groaned. “I knew he
 wouldn’t be much good to them, anyway.” She gazed around the office. All of
 Mulder and Scully’s things were still there, the posters, the clippings, the
 supplies, even the plaques. “Wonder why no one’s bothered to cart away their
 things yet. It’s like they just forgot about them.”
         Spender got a chill as he stared about at the untouched articles still in the
 office. He felt like he was sitting in a crypt, a memorial for the Agents who
 had once existed here. He decided to get off the subject.
         “What do you propose? You said they forgot about us. We need to think of
 something that’ll bring their attention back to us. If they forget, or think we
 have forgotten...we may not be Saved after all.”
         Diana shuddered at the thought. “That’s why I talked to Kersh,” She said, and
 then smiled. “It seems they’re having trouble locating her. She’s missing. She’s
 not with the main group. Kersh gave me something that I think may save our
 necks.”
         Spender’s eyebrows raised as Diana Fowley lifted a thin sheet of paper between
 two fingers, and waved it in front of him teasingly. Spender took it from her
 and opened it. Inside it read in typed letters:

         MAXTON HOTEL: EAST RAINSFORD, MARYLAND.

         “That’s where *she’s* staying next,” Diana grinned wickedly. “We give away
 where she is staying. They send in their men to capture her. We get the credit,
 we get Saved.”
         Spender glanced down at the note again. “Where did Kersh get this?”
         “Someone in the FBI was able to get the information on her, and they gave it to
 Kersh. So we have what we need.”
         Ever since the last time Diana had seen Scully at the hearing, had listened in
 shock as Scully screamed out all her hatred towards her and then walked out of
 her job, she had wanted to get back at her. Get back at her embarrassing her in
 front of the whole committee, for barging in on her own agenda...for taking
 Mulder away from her.
         And this was her chance.
         Spender still seemed unsure. “Are you sure this is the correct address? What if
 the person in the FBI is double-crossing us, too?”
         “Kersh is confident that he’s reliable.”
         WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP! WHOOP!
         The two agent’s heads snapped up at the sound of the fire alarm bell, screaming
 out it’s warning from a few levels above. There was a momentary pause, then they
 both sprinted for the door, scrambling against each other to escape the office.
         Then the office was completely empty, and silent except for the continuous
 screaming of the fire siren.
         Out of the shadows, behind a large pile of boxes, a man stepped forward.
 Dressed in a dark suit and black goatee, he walked forward cautiously, checking
 to make sure the office was completely empty.
         Obsidian smiled inwardly at his clever prank, the sound of the fire siren
 ringing in his ears. He saw the scrap of information that had been abandoned,
 and the inward smile broadened. He produced an identical scrap of paper from his
 coat pocket... Identical except for the address written on it:

         SAXON HOTEL: EAST STORMTON, MARYLAND.

         Obsidian switched the addresses with ease, placing the real one inside his coat
 pocket. Then he exited the little basement office. He took a different route,
 knowing that Diana and Spender would soon be back for their vital information,
 once they found out the siren was only a false alarm.
         (Have fun trying to find a town and hotel that both don’t exist.) He thought.
         Even at this point, he wasn’t about to let anything or anyone stand in Scully’s
 way.

         10:23 P.M.
         May, 15th, 1999
         Ramada Inn
         James Creek, Maryland

         Scully walked through the dreamscape nervously. It was black here, cold and
 dry. She looked down to find herself dressed in white, a long flowing garment
 that clung to her as a wind blew through the dreamscape, carrying with it
 whispers Scully could barely hear.

         A laugh.
         A childish shriek.
         “Charlie! Charlie, stop! You’re tickling me!”
         The voices echoed around her like ghosts from her past, each one carrying a
 memory.
         “Mo-om...Billy won’t give me back my reading glasses...”
         “Mom! I was accepted! They want me to come to Princeton!”
         “But Melissa, I *want* to be a doctor. I don’t mind the work.”
         Scully stood, silent in the darkness, letting the words surround her, immerse
 her in their memories.
         “Daddy...I’m going to join the FBI.”
         “Jack invited me up to his parents cabin....No, mom. We’re not involved.”
         “I’m being assigned a new partner next week, Julia. You’ll never guess who....”
         “What *I* find incredible, is any notion that the answers cannot be found
 within the realm of science.....the answers are there. You just have to know
 where to look.”
         “Mulder....did you see their eyes? If I were that stoned...”
         “I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you.”
         “I trust him as much as anyone.....I trust him with my life.”
         “I’m going to be out of town a few weeks....No, it’s okay Mom, Mulder will take
 care of it.”
         “Mulder. Whatever you may believe....this time they might have won.”
         “He’s gone mom!...He’s gone...and I never...”
         Scully’s head bowed, recognizing her voices now speaking of recent events,
 one’s closest to her now.
         “YOU DON’T DESERVE THEM!! JUST LIKE YOU NEVER DESERVED HIM! NONE OF YOU DID!!
 THE WHOLE FBI DIDN’T DESERVE HIM!!”
         “I just don’t know what to do now...”
         “I love you...”
         Scully’s head snapped up, the wind of the voices blowing her hair back. She
 hadn’t said that to anyone but her mother in a long....
         A laugh echoed through the air. *Her* laugh, Scully realized. The laugh was
 followed by a small sigh, hovering on the wind like a zephyr.
         “Mulder...”
         Scully froze. What were these voices she heard now? They weren’t memories....
 Because she was sure, pretty *darn* sure she’d never said Mulder’s name like
 that before....it almost sounded like...
         “*Why* do you always have to be so stubborn?!”
         “What do you think, Sam? Too much?”
         More laughter....except this time there was more than one voice. Children’s
 laughter. The laughter blew by swiftly, barely catching in her ears as it
 passed, turning her to follow it’s sound.
         And the darkness shattered.

         “Dana?”
         “Dana! Wake up! It’s Samantha.”

         6:58 A.M.
         Saturday, May 15th, 1999
         Sullivan City, Ohio

         He sat on his doorstep, shotgun in his lap, a week’s beard growth evident on
 his face. The hazy sunlight peering through the blanket of clouds did nothing
 more than hurt his eyes, and he wished desperately for a pair of sunglasses.
         Sullivan City was a military town...or had been. It had been a town for retired
 officers and pilots, a place where soldiers off-duty could stay with their
 families, could rest from the constant pressures of serving in the military.
         Only now the little town was deserted, eerily silent, a few half-hearted
 columns of smoke rising into the overcast sky like lonely beacons. The smell of
 ashes reached his nostrils, and he snuffed it out with contempt.
         Red and blue sparks flashed on the horizon, and he squinted in the light’s
 glare. A single police car drove up slowly over the street, bumping over
 articles that had been left in the road. The police car stopped next to the
 house, right by the man with the shotgun on his doorstep.
         The officer driving his vehicle lowered the window and leaned out, staring at
 the man. “Need a lift? I can take you to the station.”
         He shrugged. “Don’t care.”
         The police officer squinted at him. “What’s your name?”
         “Lieutenant Drake Depp.”
         There was a long pause.
         “What happened?” He said in a low, awed voice.
         “It’s going to h**l.”
         Another silence.
         “What do you mean?”
         “Gang of guys came through the town. Started a fight. There was a fire, got
 outta control. Some buildings burned down, I think. Everyone evacuated, left.”
         “Why are you still here?”
         Lieutenant Depp looked at him with regret in his eyes. “My kids are missing.
 I’m waiting for them to come home.”
         The police officer sighed and rubbed his chin. “Why’d that gang come here?”
         Depp snarled. “Haven’t you been watching the news? It’s because of *Them*,” he
 reached a finger to the smoke-filled heavens. “The world’s in one big mess. That
 broadcast tipped it off. Then they said they saw a bunch of UFOs surrounding the
 planet. NASA just laid off all it’s workers. All our satellites have gone
 off-line. Everyone’s afraid. Everyone’s angry. Everyone’s guilty.”
         “They burned your town down because you were military?”
         He nodded dully. “*I* didn’t even know those aliens and deals existed until I
 heard about it on the news. Those traitors led the whole world astray, and now
 we’re paying for them.”
 “What are you going to do?”
         “Stay here. Wait. Maybe if we’re lucky, those aliens’ll come down early and put
 this planet out of it’s misery.”
         The police officer stared one last time at the deserted road. “You sure you
 don’t want me to take you down to the station?”
         He nodded.
         “So long, soldier,” The officer said, and saluted him. Then he started the car
 back up and drove down the trash-filled street, out of the town.
         Depp responded with his own salute...then flipped him off. He watched the red
 and blue sparks disappear, then turned his attention back to the sky.
         Waiting.

         4:21 P.M.
         Saturday, May 15th, 1999
         Charleston, West Virginia

         “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Dana Scully sighed in anguish. “I don’t think
 I’m ready to go back right now...”
         Samantha Mulder gave her an uneasy glance from the driver’s seat of the
 military jeep that she had kept after their big escape from Atlantic Base,
 except now it was sans-license plates, and had a cheep black paint job.
         Scully stared out the window for a moment, then looked back at Samantha. “How
 did you find me?”
         “I was the only one that you ever told your alibi name to, remember?” Samantha
 replied. “I just asked around hotels and restaurants and such. I found out where
 you were staying from there.”
         “Samantha...” Scully halted. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for running out on you like
 that. I know you must have been pretty upset with me, but... I don’t know. I was
 really scared. I didn’t know what to do with myself.” She struggled to keep her
 voice strong. “I probably shouldn’t have run out by myself.”
         “It’s alright,” Samantha replied. “We’re all pretty scared right now. Where
 were you for the past two days? We were so worried...”
         Scully cringed with regret. “Just traveling. Trying to figure out what to do
 with myself. I was miserable, though. I remember that I slept for a long time. I
 just needed a break, I guess. Some time alone. But now I’m glad that you found
 me. I just needed to get away from everyone...”
         “A lot’s happened with us, too.” Samantha said.
         “Where are we going, anyway?”
         “Skinner’s called a meeting for all of us. Alyssa, Troi, the Lone Gunmen and I
 refused to go unless you were there. That’s why I came and found you.”
         “Skinner?” Scully’s tone lowered.
         “Dana...we’ll explain everything when we’re all together. It’s pretty
 complicated.”
         Just as Samantha finished her sentence, they reached their destination.
 Samantha drove the military jeep behind an old car garage, and parked it out of
 view. Then she led Scully into the car garage, and they went through a door that
 led to the basement. They descended down a small flight of metal stairs, the
 basement smelling of musk and oil. The basement was completely dark except for
 two lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling and a glowing heater in one corner of
 the room.
         Scully stared at all of her friends: the Lone Gunmen, her mother, Mrs. Mulder,
 Troi, Alyssa, Garrett, Grant, Gibson, Holly and Skinner, and smiled with slight
 content at seeing familiar, friendly faces. Troi rushed up from Maggie’s side
 and embraced her. Scully hugged her back.
         “Dana...I was so worried you were...I...”
         “It’s alright, Troi,” Scully said breathlessly. “I’m fine. I’m alright.”
         Scully looked up, and saw Skinner sitting on one of the boxes. Her face
 hardened. “Skinner.” The acknowledgment came out as a growl.
         Skinner shook his head with regret. “Dana...I’m sorry. Sit down. We need to
 talk. That’s why I’ve called us all together.”
         Scully obeyed, and she sat down on the stairs below Samantha.
         Skinner cleared his throat loudly for silence, then coughed nervously. “I...I
 know a lot of you are against us being together after what happened yesterday.
 Let me assure you that I myself am still in shock with the experience...”
         “Wait,” Scully interrupted suddenly. “What happened yesterday?”
         Grant answered her. “*Skinner* insisted that we should all come with him back
 to D.C. to stay in protective custody with the military. He said they would
 protect us from the Syndicate’s men...and *instead* we were all attacked by a
 gang of military guys while we were eating dinner. We barely got out of there
 alive.”
         “We got caught in the crossfire,” Samantha continued. She stole a glance at
 Byers. “I myself would’ve been killed...but Byers saved my life.”
         Even in the bad light, Scully could swear she saw Byers blush as he smiled. She
 cocked an interested eyebrow at him and Samantha. “But why were you guys
 attacked? How did they find out where you were?”
         “*He* set us up!!” Langley exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Skinner.
 “You were right all along, Scully...he *is* a traitor!”
         Skinner held up his hands. “Stop!! I’m going to explain all this to you
 know...I’m going to show you that I’m not a traitor! We need to end this once
 and for all so there’s no more talk of betrayal or distrust...that is the worst
 thing that can happen to us at this point. We’ve got to trust each other!”
         “What I’m about to tell you may surprise you...and you may interpret as further
 cause for distrust. But I can assure you that it is only to gain your trust. If
 I can’t get you guys to have some faith in me, I have absolutely nowhere to go.”
         “Let’s hear it,” Frohike growled, leaning back in his chair.
         “I...I used to be a part of the Smoking Man’s agenda. When Scully was first
 assigned with Mulder to the X-Files. To tell you the truth, I had no idea really
 what they wanted with me...I just went along with it. I took my orders like a
 good soldier. But I began to notice what was happening...and I didn’t like it. I
 really didn’t like it. Believe me, I was never a part of the Syndicate, and I’m
 not right now, and I never will be in the future. But whenever I refused to do
 exactly as they told me, they threatened me...threatened my career, threatened
 my life sometimes. Once, they even threatened Shannon.” Skinner’s voice took on
 a dark shadow at the name of his estranged wife. “There were times I was able to
 stand up to them...and there were times I felt I had no choice but to give in.
 If I hadn’t obeyed them at some points, I wouldn’t be alive today right now.”
         He paused, hoping for some sort of response. The room was silent.
         “It was...Mulder’s death that got me to the breaking point. I’d long since
 banned the Smoking Man from talking with me, I was so furious with him, but I
 think he still thought I could be loyal to him. I had decided a long time ago
 that I wasn’t going to cooperate with him.”
         He turned to Scully. “Please understand that I could have saved my self just by
 leaving the bureau after I was fired. But instead I joined up with you, I went
 on the air to expose them, I’m just as much in trouble as the rest of you. I’m
 on your side, and I’m not a part of any agenda except yours.”
         “What about your idea with the military ‘protecting’ us? That didn’t turn out
 that well...we almost got killed!”
         “That was *not* my fault. Someone in the government called me and said that
 they could keep us in protective custody, could make sure the Syndicate wouldn’t
 get us. I was certain they were right. But I think that someone in our own
 military betrayed our position to the other side...they were going to capture us
 if we hadn’t gotten out. I had no idea there was a traitor in the military...it
 could’ve been anyone.”
         “But I do know now...I know that it’s not safe for us to all be together like
 that anymore. We can only be together at these meetings. It’s too dangerous for
 us to travel together. And we can’t go along with any military services
 either...we stick to ourselves.”
         “That’s what I’ve been saying all along,” Scully replied bitterly. “Why didn’t
 you listen to me?”
         “Look...I already said I was sorry,” Skinner shot back. “We can’t keep holding
 grudges against each other, or distrusting each other. If we’re ever going to
 stop Them, if we’re ever going to somehow get through this and survive, we have
 to do it *together*.”
         There was a long, musky silence.
         “How many days are there left?”
         “Thirteen.”
         Another silence.
         “Thirteen days to stop those aliens from taking over,” Scully said.
 “I....Skinner’s right. We can’t do it alone. And we can’t do it if we don’t
 trust each other. So...everyone who’s ready to go off of what we have, all
 together, raise their hand.”
         At first, no one moved. Then Skinner, Holly, Grant and Garrett raised their
 hands. Alyssa followed Grant and Garret’s example, then Gibson Praise raised his
 hand. This prompted Troi to do the same. Slowly, one by one, the Lone Gunmen
 followed. Then Tina and Maggie raised theirs at the same time. Scully glanced
 behind her, and saw Samantha raise her hand. And finally, Scully raised her own.
         “It’s settled then,” Scully announced, her voice somewhat thick. “We all trust
 each other. No keeping secrets. No going against the group. We all work
 together, because together, because no matter what happens,” Scully voice began
 to falter, cracking slightly over her words. “No one can do it alone.”
         Everyone nodded unanimously.
         “If anyone wants to ask any questions,” Skinner picked up, “or has any ideas or
 plans, you are free to ask them or present them. Otherwise, you may go, and the
 next time we all get together is when we have another meeting.” Skinner looked
 at Scully. “And Scully, from now on...you stay in charge of the meetings.”
         Scully nodded in agreement.
         As the meeting broke up, some staying and some leaving, Scully released a long
 sigh. She, for one, was glad that this was all cleared up. She wasn’t exactly
 sure why she had finally decided to trust Skinner...but her gut instinct told
 her to. And she decided to listen to it. They did need more trust...so she was
 glad to have it.
         But even though they now trusted each other...they were still left with the
 ever-present question on how to stop the Invasion, if it was even possible. She
 was still at a loss of what to do...still right back where they had started.
         As her mind began to wander, she thought she felt something...a presence. She
 shook her head with frustration and tried to push it off...but it wouldn’t go
 away. The coldness that she had learned to ignore had become more of a presence
 than an uneasy feeling...it felt like someone, someone very close. Scully felt
 uninvited apprehension and fear build up from somewhere inside her as she felt
 the presence closer to her...
         “Something wrong, Dana?” Samantha’s voice came from behind her, tapping her on
 the shoulder. “You were looking very frightened for a moment there or
 something.”
         “I’m fine,” Scully countered. “I’m just a little tired...I’m fine.”
         In reality, ‘fine’ was the last thing Scully felt then.
         (An issue of trusting my only friends just resolved...)
         (...a problem before us that could mean the end of the world if we don’t think
 of a solution...)
         (...and all I can think about is this thing that won’t leave me alone.)

         1:45 A.M.
         Monday, May, 17th, 1999
         Somewhere in South Dakota

         The tall stalks of corn blew restlessly in the wind as the man crept toward the
 tall circular buildings that lay in the middle of the enormous field of corn. He
 pulled his bag of explosives closer to him as he advanced on his target.
         He reached the open space and quickly crossed it, eyes alert for possible
 guards. The Syndicate had become much more careful about protecting their
 installations lately.
         Which was a shame, because now was when the Rebels had to destroy them.
 The man looked over at his companion, who looked back at him with a face
 identical to his own. His clone brother nodded.
         The Crawford turned back to the building. Taking out an explosive from his bag,
 he stuck in to the building, carefully setting the timer.
         There would be just five minutes for him and his brothers to cross the field
 and get out of the blast radius.
         His hands trembled. He had never sabotaged anything before. And now he had been
 given the task of leading a demolitions team to every trans-pollination outpost
 the Syndicate had, in order to destroy them.
         But he quickly steeled his nerves. He must not make a mistake. He must think of
 the Mothers. He must think of the world.
         He had known that this was the sort of thing that must be done when he joined
 the resistance. It gave him a kind of excuse for existing. Created by a horrific
 Project, sheltered from the world, he and many other clones had always felt that
 they were Frankenstien’s monsters, beings never meant to walk the earth. Joining
 the resistance gave them a purpose for living.
 His finger hovered over the release button for the countdown.
         “Number 50Alpha is at go.” He spoke calmly into his small communication radio.
         Slowly, he depressed the button.

         3:20 P.M.
         Monday, May 17th, 1999
         Charleston, West Virginia

         Scully stuffed another bite of chow mien noodles in to her mouth and chewed
 vigorously, straightening the letter she was reading with her other hand. The
 letter was from her mother; Maggie had given it to her at their last meeting. It
 was a long letter that Maggie had been writing to her daughter for the past few
 weeks. It was mostly a daily chronicle of how she and Troi were doing, but it
 was infused with warmth and caring and love, and Dana felt that it was her
 mother’s way of wrapping her up in her arms and soothing her, even when they
 were miles away from each other.
         She read the lines of the letter slowly as she ate, letting all the words sink
 it, calming her heart and mind.
         Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a excited pounding on the door.
 Scully jolted out of her seat, knocking over her chow mien as she scrambled for
 her gun.
         “It’s me!!” A voice hissed from the other side. “Dana! Let me in!!”
         Scully lowered her gun and went quickly to the door, opening it as a very eager
 Samantha bounded in. Samantha was grinning from ear to ear, bouncing on her
 heels as she pulled the brown jacket she held closer to her chest.
         Scully shut the door slowly, looking at Samantha quizzically. “Sam?” she asked,
 tentative.
         “I’ve got it Dana!” Samantha’s eyes were shining as she whispered excitedly. “I
 found the loophole in their plans!!”
         Scully simply looked at her in silence.
         A laugh gurgled out of Samantha’s smiling face. “Can you believe it! I found a
 way to save the world!!”
         Scully’s jaw dropped. “You’re serious.”
         Samantha nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
         “Look.” Samantha grabbed Scully’s arm and lead her over to the bed as she
 unwrapped a sheath of papers she had concealed in the brown jacket. “You know
 when Troi saw the ships come out of cloak to group on the horizons?? Well, I
 talked to her about it, and she described their movements to me in detail. Ever
 since then, something has been bothering me. It had to do with something I heard
 once, when I was with the Crawfords and the Smiths. Anyway, to get to the point,
 all of the ships move with exact precision at all times, especially in relation
 to one another. The Crawfords have thought for a long time that the gray’s ships
 might be slave-circuited to each other....that’s the only thing that could
 explain such accuracy. Well,”   Samantha paused breathlessly. “*This* was given
 to me by one of my colleagues in the resistance the other day.” Samantha
 unfolded the sheath of paper triumphantly.
         Scully looked down at the papers, recognizing them to be a transcript of a US
 Army Interrogation Session. She skimmed over the words, finding the sparse
 confession of the prisoner to be cryptic at best.
         “Samantha. What *is* this?” Scully demanded, staring at Samantha’s near giddy
 features.
         “It’s the interrogation session of one of the Syndicate members that was
 captured. Most of it is just junk, except for the part when he confesses that
 there are UFO’s buried on the earth, at various places around the world. But he
 didn’t give any of the locations. But then here.” Samantha pointed. “Here, near
 the end, he’s delirious, and he keeps mumbling about a “Base 3”, and that inside
 the base is the “Killswitch”. That’s all he said. The military didn’t think
 anything of it. They figured it was just the ravings of a man in pain. But if
 you combine that information with the Crawford’s theory of the Alien ship’s
 being slave-circuited.....” Samantha trailed off, grinning at Scully.
         Scully slowly sank to the bed in shock. She looked up at Samantha, awestruck.
 “Killswitch.”
         Samantha nodded at her, breathless.
         Scully looked back at the piece of paper she held in her now trembling hands. A
 incredulous laugh bubbled up from her throat. “This can’t be real! It’s just
 like Independence Day!!”
         Samantha giggled. “I guess the aliens didn’t learn from the movie.”
         Scully looked up at Samantha, a smile cracking across her face for the first
 time it what seemed like years. She stood up, and the two women embraced, shaky
 laughter and tears mingling as they found the hope that had been so elusive
 suddenly bursting across the horizon.
         Scully hugged Samantha as she suddenly felt her heart give a wrenching lurch,
 reminding her, as though even a moment of happiness was forbidden. (If only
 Mulder were here...)
         “Quick,” Samantha said, releasing Scully. “I’ve already contacted the others.
 They’ll be waiting for us. We’re going to one of the Resistance Bases. They have
 quite a computer station. If we’re going to prove that this “Base 3” and
 “killswitch” actually exist, we need to find some proof. We can turn your Gunman
 friends loose on the hacking facilities that the Crawfords have there.”
         Samantha smiled again. “Even if my theory is right- I doubt that we’ll actually
 find the location right away...but I say this is a darn good start!!”

         10:39 A.M.
         Tuesday, May 18th, 1999
         Resistance Base 79.
         Somewhere in Tennessee

         Langley sat down at the computer with a look of regained joy in his face. He
 had not been able to sit down at a computer for many long weeks, and the
 anticipation of his return to ecstasy thrilled him. Frohike and Byers sat on
 either side of him at identical computers, equally eager to put their hacking
 skills to the test.
         Scully sat in the back of the computer lab with the rest of the rebel group,
 explaining to them what Samantha had explained to her earlier. At first there
 had been some doubt in the group if Samantha’s testimony was true...but in
 reality, it was because the possibility was too good to be true.
         Eliminate the colonist aliens...with the flick of a switch.
         “We’re ready,” Frohike called from the computers they were stationed at.
 Samantha and one of the Crawfords walked over.
         “Yeah...let’s get crackin’ and hackin’!” Langley exclaimed with excitement.
         “Alright...what we’re looking for basically is documents, memos, blueprints,
 anything you can find on the Bases on the ground and the Killswitch. Once we
 have absolute proof that this Killswitch exists, we go to the next step. And
 that’s making sure that by flipping that one switch, you destroy all the alien
 ships. The fact that they’re slave-circuited should be enough, but we have to
 make absolutely sure. And lastly we need to find out where exactly that
 Killswitch is...it should be in one of the Bases on the planet. Once we figure
 out where it is...we can go to that Base, break in, and activate it.”
         “Sounds like a plan to me!” Troi replied from behind, clearly excited about the
 entire operation.
         “Starting network infiltration...now,” Byers commanded.
         The three infamous computer hackers began their marvelous work. They typed away
 at the computers as various screens came up. At first there wasn’t much except
 network log-ins and password requirements, which the Gunmen were able to pass
 through with ease.
         “Gosh...this Syndicate has got one big computer system. Wonder why no one’s
 hacked into this thing before,” Langley commented as he continued onward.
         Scully watched with slight amazement from the back of the computer room as the
 Gunmen worked. She remembered how so long ago she had considered them to be
 crazy, absurd people who spent their time poking their noses in places they
 didn’t belong...but now she was glad for these three men and their unusual
 talents. She wondered if that was why Mulder had become such good friends with
 them.
         (No. I’m not going to get myself into this rut again.)
         “There’s info here,” Frohike broke in. “On what Sam already said. There’s 20
 UFO Bases here on Earth...scattered at different places around the globe. It
 doesn’t say where any of them are, except that Base 1 was in Antarctica until
 recently when it left...”
         Scully felt her heart contract. Antarctica.
         (So *that’s* one of the bases...)
         Her memories of Antarctica were blurry, dark. She remembered being very, very
 cold. Lots of smoke, and hard, black metal. She remembered Mulder wrapping her
 up in his extra clothes, carrying her out of one of the pipes, of strange, black
 creatures in pods trying to break out and get them. She remembered a large,
 black object rising out of the snow and ice as she and Mulder lay there on the
 ground.
         (Is this where we may have to go to stop the colonists?)
         Scully wasn’t sure she could handle going back to a place like that.
         Especially if it brought back memories of Mulder.
         “Oh, rats!” Langley’s cry suddenly awakened Scully from her daydreaming.
         “What is it?” Skinner asked from behind Byers.
         “They’ve got really tight security on some of these files. I think they may be
 tracing our line of breakage. Which means that they may find out that we hacked
 into their system.”
         “That doesn’t matter, as long as we can get the information we need,” Samantha
 urged. “Keep trying, keep going...”
         They kept trying. Fingers flew on the keyboards as the hackers typed, sending
 in well-earned commands to override the security systems, poking around through
 old files and blueprints. The computers constantly beeped with warning boxes,
 but the Gunmen ignored them and continued on.
         It became a battle of man versus computer, and all the rest of the group stood
 around and watched as they continued to fight. Scully watched, tight with
 apprehension, knowing that if they found what they were looking for, they could
 find a way to stop Them, to save the world...to complete Mulder’s quest...
         “I got it!!” Frohike suddenly cried, breaking the deadly silence that had grown
 over the room. “Files listing certain facilities in each of the bases...one of
 those is a Killswitch connection unit - a self-destruct switch! The Killswitch
 does exist!”
         “Alright!” Samantha exclaimed, giving a little whoop of excitement. “Good job,
 you guys! There is a chance that we can stop them!”
         “But are all the Bases on the ground connected?” Grant queried.
         “I’m checking that out right now,” Byers replied. There was another long pause
 as he tapped away at the keys, occasionally stopping to rub his beard for
 hopeful inspiration. The rest of the group waited in anticipation as he
 continued to work, not sure of what they would find...
         “This is great!” Byers exclaimed. “This article contains a bit on the Bases
 themselves...it’s true, they are all wired together. The best part is that they
 are also wired to the UFOs that are in the sky...the lights that Dana and Troi
 saw. So if you flip the switch in one of the UFOs, then all of them will react
 to it in the same manner...they’ll be destroyed. But only one of the Bases on
 the ground has the actual Killswitch.”
         “Which one??” Came an almost-unanimous cry from most of the group.
         “There’s something here I’m trying to decode that’ll probably tell us where it
 is exactly...” Byers said, gritting his teeth together as his eyes bored into
 the screen.
         “Uh oh, guys, we got trouble,” Langley sounded worriedly from his computer.
         “What?”
         “Someone’s tracking us. If we don’t log off fast, they’ll find our exact
 position and then we’re dead.”
         Tension began to build in the room as the Gunmen fought their battle against
 the computer security. “I just need a few more minutes to decode this...” Byers
 strained.
         “We don’t *have* a few more minutes...if we’re on-line any longer they’ll find
 us!!” Langley cried.
         “Byers! Print out the code now!!” Frohike commanded.
         “No, I can...”
         “Do it *now*, Byers!” Frohike almost shouted. “Otherwise we’re caught!!”
         Byers halted for a moment, bit his lip, and then pressed ‘print’ on the window
 screen. The old printer next to the computer buzzed as it began spraying ink on
 paper, the computer showing how long the print was
 taking...22%...25%...56%...70%...
         “We gotta shut it off *now*!!”
         89%...99%...100%.
         The print finished, Byers grabbed up the paper, and logged off immediately,
 bringing the screen back to it’s original standpoint. The other two Gunmen were
 already off.
         “What happened?” Asked Troi.
         Langley let out a long, low sigh. “We weren’t able to get through the security
 systems fast enough. They had a tracking system on their security system, which
 means they can find and trace any hacker from any point on the planet if they
 stay on-line long enough. We barely got off in time.”
         “Did we get what we needed? Do we know where to go to find the Killswitch?”
 Scully questioned eagerly.
         “We didn’t,” Scully could detect regret and frustration in Byers’s voice. “This
 page of code I just printed out should be able to give us the location of the
 Base where the Killswitch is...we just need to decode it first.”
         Scully’s shoulders dropped. “How long will that take.”
         “We don’t know.”
         She pressed her lips together. “Well, you better find out. We only have a few
 days left before the Date. And if we don’t find that Killswitch in time,
 then...”
         “...Goodbye, cruel world,” Alyssa said bitterly.
         “Well then...we’ll decode it. We’ll find out where that Killswitch is,” Langley
 said slowly, staring at his blank computer screen with remorse.
         “Sure was fun while it lasted,” Frohike sighed, waving a tired hand at the
 computer.
         Samantha stopped for a moment, then nodded her head. “You guys were a big help.
 Now we all know that there is a Killswitch...a unit in some of the underground
 UFO bases here on Earth that can be used to destroy both the UFOs on the ground
 and the ones in space. All we need to know now is exactly what Base it is
 at...so we can go there and shut it off, and destroy the alien ships.”
         “I still can’t believe it...” Skinner said in awe. “That we can pull this off.
 That it’s actually possible.”
         “Apparently, it is,” Scully answered. “And the best thing we can do right now
 is to take advantage of this opportunity...because it’s the only one we’ve got.”
         The Lone Gunmen will arrange the next meeting, once they find out where exactly
 the Killswitch is. Then we set a plan in motion to go to that place, find the
 Killswitch, and use it to it’s fullest. Are you guys ready to do this?”
         Samantha spoke for the group when she answered. “We’re ready.”

         3:30 P.M.
         Tuesday, May, 18, 1999
         Somewhere near Area 51

         “WE’VE BEEN HACKED!!”
         First Elder was absolutely *livid*. He paced up and down the conference hall of
 the Syndicate’s hidden base of operations, his face flushed and his eyes
 bulging. “Candon must have spilled something!! This can’t be happening!! This
 can’t be happening!!” He turned to some men in blue suits standing at the door,
 bellowing at them as he waved a fist in the air. “Send out more assassins!! I
 want the them dead!! Now, if not sooner!!”
         The Cigarette Smoking Man and the rest of the Syndicate stared at First Elder
 in awe and shock. None of them had ever seen him like this before.
         First Elder seemed to suddenly realize that he had a audience on his little
 tirade, and quickly recovered himself, sitting down in a leather chair and
 suddenly became very silent. He looked over at Cancer Man, his expression
 instantly deadpan.
         “They know too much.”

         11:21 P.M.
         Tuesday, May 18th, 1999
         Rent-a-Rest Motel, Room 854
         Imation, Kentucky

         Scully lay in the small single bed, the musky heat of the Kentucky night
 prompting her to kick off the sheet that was draped over her as she slept.
         In her mind though, she was miles away.....in a place and time that held
 comfort, familiarity, and so many memories.......

         ///She sat on his couch, slipping her shoes on, knowing that he would probably
 already be down there to stop Padgett. As for herself, she was in no hurry. She
 walked to the apartment door, when suddenly it opened before her.
         Standing in the doorway was a large man, a bearded man, his head covered with a
 black hood and his face set in a grim, familiar expression...the killer. She
 gasped as a hand shot out and closed over her neck, driving her back with
 unbelievable force.
         He forced her backwards, his grip causing her to choke. She fell onto the floor
 on her back and he held her down with both hands, his hood covering his snarl.
 She struggled, strained against his weight, where was her gun?! She cried out as
 he reached a hand beneath her shirt.    She suddenly knew what was going to
 happen, she remembered; it had happened before.
         She needed help...she needed to escape!
         He was going to kill her!
         “Mulder!”
         She squeezed her eyes shut in pain, she screamed again. She wanted Mulder, she
 needed him, where was he? She cried out again...
         “Mulder!!”
         But when she looked up again, he was there.
         The murderer was gone. But in his place was Mulder. He held her down, his
 strong hands pinning her arms to the floor. He stared at her, twin pools of
 hazel matching those of blue.
         “Mulder, please...”
         Still holding her down, he stretched his hand out to her, slowly, hesitant. She
 watched in horror as he reached his hand beneath her shirt, and her flesh opened
 at his fingertips.
         She screamed in pain as warm, thick redness spilled out of her chest and
 stained her white shirt.
         “Mulder, stop!”
         He didn’t stop. His hand buried into her chest, her blood pouring out like an
 overflowing bucket. His fingers passed through her rib cage without difficulty.
 Tears streamed down her face as pain shot through her whole body, paralyzing
 her, leaving her helpless on the ground as he snatched her life out of her.
         “Mulder, what are you doing?!”
         Her back arched, her vocal cords released another scream as he buried his hand
 deep, deep inside her. Pushing aside inner tissue and membrane until his fingers
 closed over a small, thumping mass of flesh and muscle.
         He closed his fist around her heart, increasing the pain, she screamed for
 mercy. Slowly, slowly, he withdrew his hand from her chest, the bone and tissue
 moving back after him until it covered up her wound, leaving no mark. She
 sobbed, choked out his name as he drew away from her...
         “Mulder....no....”
         In his hand he held her warm, beating heart, blood covering his hands, tears
 coursing down his cheeks. She reached out a shaking hand to him, sobbing,
 begging him to return what he had stolen. Mulder stood, still holding her heart.
 She couldn’t get up, she had no strength, no will to stand.
         She watched through tear-filled eyes as he stood over her, her own pain
 reflecting hers. He put her still-beating heart to his chest, which opened at
 his own touch. He placed her heart inside his chest, closing it and sealing the
 wound, locking her heart inside himself, never to be returned...
         Leaving her without a heart, blood-covered and broken on the apartment floor,
 no strength, nothing left. Nothing but terrible and loss, emptiness, grief.
         “Mulder...come back...”
         Mulder stood over her, his eyes filled with tears. He held out his hands to
 her, hands stained with her blood. His image began to fade from view.
         “No....no.....”
         Still holding out his hands, he disappeared forever, taking her heart with him.
 She was left on the floor, covered in her own blood. She reached forward into
 the emptiness, but touched nothing but pain. She was dying very, very slowly,
 dying of pain, dying of heartbreak, dying of hopelessness.
         “Come back...don’t leave me....”
         The world began to fade, her vision growing cloudy and dark. She lowered her
 hand to the floor, weak and helpless, her chest no longer rising and falling
 with her heartbeat.
         “Please...don’t leave...Mulder, come back.....”///

         Dana Scully opened her eyes as the world went black. The darkness remained, but
 it was the darkness of night, of an empty hotel room. She sat up, releasing
 something like a cry of terror, confused for a minute, feeling her face damp
 with tears. She shivered subconsciously as she gazed about the empty room.
         She closed her eyes, her breath coming in terrified gasps for life, the fear
 clouding her vision. Her heart, still inside her chest, beat away furiously, as
 if to remind her that it was still there. She shuddered with cold and relief,
 repeating to herself over and over and over again... (Just a dream...just a
 dream...just a dream...just a dream...)
         ....And then she realized just how much her chest throbbed with pain.
         Scully shivered again, and rubbed some fingers against her forehead, putting
 one hand to her chest in hope of stopping the ache. But it wouldn’t go away.
         (Just a dream...just a dream...)
         She rubbed her eyes to rid them of her tears, shuddering in one breath at a
 time. She felt the cold presence again.
         (Why can’t I just go for a night without something like this happening? Why
 won’t he leave me alone?)
         She didn’t want to even try and go back to sleep. The fear and delusion still
 existed in her mind, pounding out the scenes that had just been played in her
 head.
         She had to get out of here. She had to go somewhere for the rest of the night,
 somewhere where she could forget all this, try and escape from the cold
 presence. Just anywhere...she didn’t want to stay in this hotel anymore.
         Scully got up out of the bed and went to the closet, putting back on the
 clothes that she had worn the day before. They were wrinkled, but she didn’t
 care.
         (Get out of here. Go someplace for the night. Get away from these dreams. Get
 away from that cold feeling.) She thought to herself, as if trying to reassure
 herself. She put on her belt as well, and fit her gun into her holster. Just for
 protection.
         Scully’s head snapped up at a sound.
         The cold touched her as she heard it again...it was coming from outside her
 hotel room. The sound of footsteps...they were soft, and slow, as if trying to
 be as secretive as possible. She could barely hear them, but they frightened her
 even more than the dream or the cold behind her. The footsteps were getting
 closer.
         And closer.
         (Run...run...run...run...run...)
         Closer.
         Scully ran.
         She turned on her heel and sprinted to the window of her hotel room, throwing
 it open with a bang. She climbed out the window as she felt the footsteps behind
 her suddenly speed up, indicating that they heard her, and were starting to run
 as well.
         Scully’s heart rate doubled as she reached the hotel balcony, and suddenly
 remembered that she was on the fourth floor. She didn’t care. She hoisted
 herself over the railing, and lowered herself until she felt the railing of the
 balcony a floor below. She landed on that, smacking her chin on pavement,
 causing a long gash to spill blood. She ignored the injury and continued down to
 the second floor, then jumped all the way down to the bottom floor, feeling pain
 jolt up her back from her feet as they absorbed the shock of hitting the ground.
         (RUN...RUN...RUN...RUN...RUN...)
         Scully chanced a quick glance back up at the fourth floor balcony, where two
 faces returned her stare. Faces covered by black hoods and scarves, two machine
 guns poking out over the rail.
         Just as she feared. Assassins.
         She took off running down the street, going as fast as her weak legs could
 carry her, hair whipping in her face and calves pumping. Her one thought was to
 escape the assassins, to somehow get away, get someplace safe.
         The assassins followed. They climbed down the balcony railings the same way she
 had done, only faster, and they ran after her the moment they landed on the
 ground. They nodded to each other, their target spotted, and cocked their
 machine guns.
         BRAM! BRAM!
         Scully heard the gunshots and increased her pace, the absolute terror pounding
 out a steady rhythm in her head, causing her to run on nothing but pure
 adrenaline. She wiped blood from her chin as she felt her lungs come close to
 exploding. She ran down the street until she saw a gap in-between two of the
 close-knit buildings, and turned suddenly, heading into the system of alleys
 behind the buildings. The assassins followed.
         Scully’s breath came in ragged, desperate gasps. She ran down the alley in a
 daze, tripping over fallen trash cans and dodging drainpipes that seemed to
 appear out of nowhere in her path. The sound of footsteps echoing behind her
 urged her to run faster, faster.
         The dark alley smelled of rotting garbage and rust-filled mud puddles. Scully
 could barely see her way through the blanket of fog that swirled around her. She
 ran doggedly, not knowing or caring where she was running. Somehow she had to
 get away, she had to escape...
         BRAM! BRAM!
         Scully instinctively ducked as the sound of hot bullets ripped past her ears.
 She heard one of the men shout, having spotted her again, and the footsteps
 quicken their pace. They were closing in.
         She feel over an old cardboard box with a cry and struggled to pick herself up,
 mud and dirt clinging to her coat and legs. She panted in quick puffs of steam
 as she rounded the second corner. (How long do these alley passages go on?!)
         She sprinted forward - and stopped as a solid brick wall loomed before her
 menacingly. She let out a strangled cry as she ran up to the wall in front of
 her, only to realize that this was no mind’s image, that the solid, immovable
 wall that blocked her exit was real.
 She had reached a dead end.
         Scully’s eyes darted about desperately, helplessly, searching for any means of
 escape, an opening, a door, a ladder, anything. There was nothing. She was
 trapped.
         Scully pounded desperately on the dirty brick wall before her as if to somehow
 find a secret passage that would let her get away. Hot sweat poured down her
 forehead and neck. She had to swallow to keep tears of panic from spilling over.
 She had her gun...but what good would it do? There were two of them, there was
 no way she could get out of this one, no matter how hard she fought. She heard a
 sound behind her and spun around fast, expecting to see the two assassins.
         Instead she saw Fox Mulder.
         He looked just like the other time she had seen him, when she was shot by
 Krycek and dying in that old warehouse. Clothes worn and dirty, the leather
 jacket hung on his shoulders. Hair uncombed, messy, and what looked like frozen
 tears on his cheeks. Skin pale, unhealthy, cold...and his appearance...faded,
 transparent, like he wasn’t really there...like an afterimage, like a ghost.
         He was just standing there, expectantly, as if he had appeared out of
 nowhere...or as if he had always been there.
         Scully couldn’t speak, couldn’t react, her shock at his sudden appearance was
 so great. She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes, unable to believe what
 she was seeing. Somehow, this was impossible, and yet...it was all too
 familiar...
         Mulder said nothing. He started to walk towards her slowly, looking at her
 purposefully with those sparkling hazel eyes, eyes that locked with her blue
 ones.
 Scully struggled for a moment, but found her voice at last.
         “M-Mulder!...”
         He didn’t answer. He just kept walking forward. And this time, she didn’t have
 anywhere to run.
         She began to back away as he approached, the tension and fear building up
 inside her, fear at his appearance, at his silence, at the fact that he was dead
 and yet he was standing before her...
         “Mulder...wa-what are you...”
         Mulder kept silent. Scully backed up until she felt herself hit the wall behind
 her. She was trapped, there was no way out. Mulder was so close that she could
 feel him breathing on her, his breath as cold as ice, his chest heaving in and
 out as if it were a chore to breathe.
         “Mulder!...”
         Scully cowered against the wall like a small kitten with fright as he came up
 to her, his large frame blocking any chance of her escaping. For a moment, they
 stopped and stared at each other, Scully’s face full of fear and panic and
 shock, and Mulder with a face that seemed to say...’I’m sorry....’
         Scully gasped as he reached out a shadow-like hand to her and grasped her from
 the inside, the grip sending shivers all over her body, and pull himself in
 close to her, very close, so close that he seemed to melt inside her.....
         Scully was thrown backwards against the wall as what felt like an electric
 shock coursed through her every vein, causing her body to snap convulsively. He
 heart suddenly stopped, she couldn’t breathe, she felt a coldness consuming her
 from the inside out. Her entire body was suddenly paralyzed, she convulsed
 again, unable to move or feel or breathe...she felt--

         The assassins came around the corner, bringing their guns to bear. The last
 thing they ever saw were hard hazel eyes glaring at them from within Dana
 Scully.

         --Scully gasped and staggered backwards two steps dizzily, blinking her blue
 eyes with confusion, suddenly having no idea on where she was or when she was or
 even *who* she was. She struggled to regain her senses.
         The alley was completely silent. The fog and mud and smells of garbage were
 still present, but it was as if all sound ceased to exist. She shook the
 dizziness out of her head, and looked all around her.
         Mulder was nowhere in sight.
         She took a few steps forward, then stopped in shocked surprise. The two
 assassins who had been chasing her were laying dead at her feet, both with
 point-blank gunshots between the eyes. They still clutched their guns in their
 lifeless fingers. One cartridge had been fired from each gun. Suicide? No, it
 wouldn’t be possible from that angle.
         Scully backed away from the dead bodies in a daze, watching their blood mix
 with the sewer mud. Surprised, she looked down, and realized that she was
 holding her gun.
 But she hadn’t touched her gun.
         She checked it. Two cartridges had been fired...but she hadn’t even *touched*
 her gun. The fog swirled.
         Looking down, she noticed something else. There was something in her shirt....
         She held it out for examination. There were two holes in her shirt, the holes
 the size of bullets, right about where her heart should be. Bullet holes the
 same size as the bullets the assassins had.
         Scully stood there for a moment, frightened and puzzled, then nearly shouted
 aloud at the shock of her sudden realization.
         Two bullets in her shirt.
         But no bullets in herself.

         11:07
         Friday, May 21, 1999
         Navel Base Santa Marina
         San Diego, California

         Lieutenant James Carrier sat sprawled across his bunk in the Santa Marina’s
 officer’s quarters, eyeing the centerfold of a magazine. He yawned, and then
 looked up suddenly as he heard a knock on the door.
         “Come in.”
         The door opened, and a officer with reddish hair and navy lieutenant’s
 pinstripes entered the room.
         Carrier lifted himself off his bunk and walked over to the man, extending his
 hand. “You must be my new roomie,” He smiled. “Welcome to Santa Marina. I’m
 James Carrier.”
         “Thanks,” The man shook his hand firmly. “Lieutenant Charles Scully, formerly
 of the U.S.S. Patriot.”
         “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant.” James told him, waving him to a chair. “You’re a
 transfer from the ocean front because of The Crisis, ey?”
         “Yes.” Charles sighed heavily, taking the chair he was offered and sitting down
 heavily.
         “Hey...did you say your name was Scully?” James suddenly inquired.
         Charles nodded tiredly.
         “Hey! Like that Scully person who Mr. Skinner was talkin’ about on the
 Broadcast. The one that’s involved with all this alien crap. Man, she must be
 one tough old bird, ‘ey?”
         “Actually, she’s my baby sister.”
         “Oh,” James suddenly looked apologetic. “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean no offense.”
         “No, that’s alright.” Charles looked at him, a slight smile cracking his lips.
 “She’d probably take that as a compliment, actually.” He sighed again. “It’s
 just that I’m so worried about her.”
         “So do you know more about what’s going on?” James asked eagerly in hushed
 tones.
         “No. I probably know less than you.” Charles told him. “One day, Dana is just
 working at the FBI with her partner, and then I receive a call from mom telling
 me that Fox is dead. Of course I feel bad for Dana, and Kelly, -That’s my wife-
 and I were even planning a trip out there...when suddenly I get word that she’s
 disappeared. And then my *mother* disappears too! And then this Skinner guy goes
 on television and...” Charles held up his hands in a expression of helplessness.
         “Wow,” James shook his head. “Rough.”
         “And I haven’t heard from either of them. None of us have. My brother,
 Commander William Scully from the USS Miramar was searching frantically for them
 for awhile, but I think even he’s given up.”
         “So do you think...” James asked in a breathless whisper, enthralled in the
 story.
         “No..” Charles said slowly. “No, I don’t think they’re dead.” He smiled a
 little. “The Scully women are like tigers. No matter what happens, they are
 survivors.”
         “No kiddin’” James said.
         Charles just sat there for a moment, staring off into space. “I just wish I
 knew something, all the same.” He said wistfully.
         “Yeah...” James Carrier suddenly started as though remembering something. “Oh,
 yeah! We’re on special assignment, you know, ‘ey?”
         Charles nodded. “So I was told. But the mission is classified, and no one
 really knows what we are being called out for. Only that we are being called out
 on reserve for a special purpose.”
         “Uh, uh.” James nodded. “Well, there’s one thing that they told me about all
 this early this morning.”
         “What’s that?”
         James moved over to the tiny closet in the bunk room and pulled out two green
 and black combat suits.
         “Wherever or whenever we’re goin’, we’re going in camouflage clothing.”

         9:40 P.M.
         Wednesday, May 26th, 1999
         Somewhere in Washington D.C.

         The city lights of D.C. looked hazy through the dirty windows of Casey’s Bar,
 like fireflies that refused to move.
         Inside the bar it was cold, and felt dirty even though it was somewhat clean.
 The jukebox was playing some forgotten 80’s song. Cigarette smoke clung to the
 ceiling rafters and swirled with the spinning fans. The bar was basically empty
 except for a few regulars talking or reading the paper at the tables or drinking
 their beer at the bar.
         One of the men at the bar was not a regular, and Hallie, the bartender, decided
 to talk to him. She came up to him as the old, very unattractive man sipped at
 his 13th shot of whiskey.
         She leaned over to him on the bar. The old man stared back at her dully, a
 Morley’s cigarette clenched between two of his fingers. “What?” He mumbled in a
 drunken, slurred voice.
         “Feeling lousy today?”
         “Would I be here if I wasn’t?”
         She nodded. She stole a glance at the cigarette in his fingers. “Shouldn’t
 smoke, you know.”
         “You shouldn’t drink, either,” He mumbled back, drowning the rest of his shot
 in one gulp.
         Hallie sighed, and attempted to change the subject. “You here ‘cause of that
 big alien invasion thing or whatever? Depressed about that?”
         “You could say that.”
         “A lot of people are. I remember I had a guy come in here about a year ago, get
 drunk, talked about how they called him Spooky, and there were government
 conspiracies and aliens and how his sister was abducted and all this junk. Huh,
 never thought he’d be right. Kinda ironic, if you ask me.”
         A very drunk Cancer Man looked up from his empty shot. “Him? I killed him.”
         Hallie stopped. She decided to hope that this guy was just saying it from his
 drunkenness. “Oh really.”
         “Yup. He screwed up all my plans so I got some men to capture him and they
 froz...freezed...froze him. Like a popsicle. I got so happy. Like a popsicle...”
         Hallie nervously decided to hide the rest of the whiskey from the man’s reach.
         “And then his partner found out and now she wants to get me and I don’t blame
 her one sh--...I mean bit. She’s exposed all my plans and all my work that I’ve
 been doin’ from the past 50 years and she screwed everything up... Now there’s
 only a few days left ‘till these aliens come down to Earth and colonize the
 planet and while the entire world suffers with aliens incubating in their
 stomachs I’ll be safe and sound ‘cause I made a deal with the aliens to spare my
 life.”
         Hallie nodded slowly, deciding it was time to clean the shot glasses before he
 broke something...
         “...But that darn partner of his and her gang of friends have been finding out
 all my plans and how to stop them and all the assassins I send out to squish her
 outta here always end up with their brains blown out so she’s still alive an’
 kicking and my colleagues hate me and are out to get me and the those aliens
 hate me and are out to get me and the whole screwed-up world hates me and is out
 to get me for having such a screwed-up life...”
         “You’re even weirder than that last guy.”
         “What last guy?”
         “Uhhh...the popsicle.”
         “Darn Fox freakin’ popsicle Mulder. And his darn Dana freakin’ bulletproof
 Scully partner. Screwed up my whole darn government freakin’ ET-sucking
 conspiracy. Screwed up my whole darn screwed-up chain-smoking horse-crap life.”
         Hallie continued to nod slowly, wishing that she had a straight jacket handy
 behind the bar.
         “Can I have another?” Cancer Man motioned at the shot glasses.
         “I think you’ve had enough for a week, mister,” Hallie replied, scooping all
 the shot glasses into a plastic washing bin. Cancer Man frowned with
 disappointment and decided to return to his cigarette.
         “Wishing you had the upper hand, eh?” She said.
         “Don’t see why I just get a gun and go out there and shoot her myself.”
         “Maybe if you controlled your murderous impulses more you wouldn’t be so
 depressed...” Hallie suggested.
         “...Then after I shoot her I shoot myself.”
         “You go and do that,” She said, heading around the back of the bar. “We’re
 closing now.”
         “Watch out for aliens. They don’t like whiskey that much,” Cancer Man grumbled,
 staggering towards the door as he blew on his cigarette.

         11:11 P.M.
         Friday, May 28th, 1999
         Frederickton, West Virginia
         Blue Gecko Inn, Room 342

         Scully sat upwards with a gasp and snatched at her pillow as if to throw it at
 some unseen enemy. She stopped as memories came back to where she was and why
 she was there. She was in her bed at the hotel.
         It was pitch-black. Scully fumbled around on the desk next to her to try and
 locate her travel alarm clock. She found it, and switched it on, the sudden
 glowing light causing her to squint briefly.
         11:11.
         She sighed heavily. Then, for the first time, she realized that she hadn’t
 woken up as the result of a dream. She thought for a moment, staring into the
 dark, and also realized that she hadn’t dreamed at all. Out of curiosity, she
 looked back at the clock.
         11:12.
         She let out a long, low sigh of relief. No dreams.....because it wasn’t 11:21.
 It was very strange...every time she woke from her dreams, it was always 11:21.
 Without fail. Perhaps because she hadn’t woken up at 11:21 was the reason she
 hadn’t had any dreams yet. Perhaps...
         (No, not that,) She dismissed the thought instantly.
         A thought occurred to her. Perhaps...perhaps if she didn’t go to sleep, if she
 stayed awake past 11:21, she wouldn’t dream. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry
 about waking up in a cold sweat, crying out in terror and panic...if she didn’t
 go back to sleep. She could avoid being plagued by her never-ending nightmares
 that night...she could avoid being haunted by Mulder.
         It was decided. She was not going to sleep, no matter how tired and sluggish in
 the morning. She simply wouldn’t do it. She clasped her hands behind her head,
 threw her head back, pushed the comforters around until they were comfortable,
 and gasped up at the ceiling that she couldn’t see.
         It was pitch-black, there was no light anywhere, and there was absolute
 silence. As black as oil...as silent as death...
         She angrily shook the thoughts out of her head. She was *not*, no matter what,
 going to think about Cancer Man or the black oil aliens or the Date...even if it
 was only three days away. The last thing she wanted to think about right now was
 the impending disaster certain to strike...even with their newfound knowledge on
 how to possibly stop it.
         She didn’t want to think about it...but she still needed something that would
 keep her awake. She wished she had a book or magazine or something to read,
 anything. Perhaps something by Michael Chricton. There was this new book of his
 out about genetically mutated dogs or something weird like that. She almost
 thought about turning on the TV. Maybe there was a horror movie on...she
 remembered how awhile ago she and Troi and Mulder had come over to her house to
 watch a movie...what was it? ‘Poltergeist 2’, she thought. And Mulder had.....
         (No,) She thought with effort, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck raise.
 (Not that. I won’t think about that. Not now.)
         She sighed again. It was so quiet...when she moved her leg beneath the covers,
 the rustling seemed to make a deafening noise. Scully was used to silence,
 remembering the many long hours spent in the autopsy bay doing her work. But
 now...the silence seemed a bit *too* silent, a bit too still for comfort.
         The darkness was another thing. She couldn’t even see her own hand in front of
 her face. Scully *definitely* wasn’t afraid of the dark, either. But all the
 same...nothing but blackness surrounded her, and her first instinct was to find
 light, find warmth, something alive.....
         She looked at the clock. 11:15.
         Silence. Darkness.
         Something cold touched her cheek.
         Scully stopped. She felt her heart skip several beats. (Please... not now....)
         She felt it again. A heavy wind against her cheek, as cold as ice. And
 that...*presence*...that feeling that she wasn’t alone returned. She wanted to
 shout, to scream out in surprise and fear, but she forced her voice back down
 her throat and squeezed her lips shut.
         She could hear something...very quiet, barely distinguishable... like a
 pocketwatch ticking within a blanket of cotton. Muted, yet steady...like a soft
 thumping...like a heartbeat.
         Scully’s own heartbeat began to race like a train, frantic, fearful. She stared
 up into the blackness above her, but she could see nothing. But she could *feel*
 it...this invisible specter that hovered over her, she could feel it...
         ...Feel it breathing on her with its heavy, cold breath. Scully felt panic grip
 her at the feel of the darkness and the cold all around her, her heart raced,
 her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her thoughts were all confused and
 senseless...fear, cold, not alone, breathing, cold, presence, cold, cold,
 Mulder, cold....
         In a sudden instinct, Scully ducked down and hid beneath the covers like a
 frightened child. She pressed her face to the sheets as if trying to melt into
 them. She was surrounded by blankets and darkness. maybe if she hid it would go
 away.....
         But the cold wind was there still. She could feel it on her back, breathing
 heavily, searching for her beneath her shield. Every hair stood on end and every
 nerve in her bare, exposed back tingled like tiny ripples in her skin as she
 felt cold fingers feel along down her spine. She held her breath as it felt
 along her back to her shoulders and rustled through her hair. She shivered
 convulsively at the feel of the cold, it seemed to chill her through her bone
 and get inside her head...
         She threw the covers off again as if she were coming up for air. Nothing but
 darkness met her vision. She was shivering horribly, clutching the covers to her
 chest in a vain hope of finding warmth in the coldness that surrounded her. The
 heavy breathing was like a thousand icicles striking her neck. She was too
 frightened to move, to frightened to breathe.
         Scully’s heart rate doubled as she felt the coldness press against her tightly,
 having cornered her at last. It was like a heavy, immovable weight on her chest.
 The darkness and cold swallowed her and wouldn’t let her escape.
         She tried to move her arms...but found that they couldn’t move, as if being
 pinned down by something stronger. Scully let out a strangled gasp of panic and
 tried to struggle free of the cold’s grip--
         /Shhh/ A voice within her head seemed to say softly. /Lie still./
         She attempted to struggle again, her arms feeling like dead weights. Why
 couldn’t she break free, why wouldn’t it let her go....
         The voice inside her head came again. /Lie still. Sleep./
         She stopped struggling. She couldn’t recognize the voice, but for some strange
 reason, it seemed to calm her down. She gasped for breath and her heart still
 pumped like a new car engine, but the utter terror seemed to diminish just a
 little...
         /Go back to sleep./
         Scully found herself unwillingly obeying. The voice was so comforting, so
 soothing, she couldn’t help but feel the tiredness of the late hour....
         The cold surrounded her completely. She felt a wind rush briefly through her
 hair, like someone running their fingers through it. She stopped gasping for
 breath as she felt the reassuring firmness of a hand touching her cheek, breath
 beating down on her neck, arms supporting her weak limbs...
         (I can’t go to sleep...)
         /Sleep...../
         It was intoxicating, overpowering. Her arms and legs went limp and her head
 sank back onto the pillows. The wind rushed through her hair and rubbed against
 her cheek again. The fear and terror melted away into the calm, soothing feeling
 of being able to lay down and not feel anything. Her eyelids felt like lead
 weights, too heavy to keep them up anymore...
         (Have to stay awake...)
         /Go to sleep....../
         11:21.
         Scully tried to fight it, but it was too late. Her eyes were closed, her
 breathing slow, her heart rate normal. She was lost within the vast caverns of a
 deep, inescapable slumber, unable to hear the faint, familiar voice that
 whispered in her ear.....
         “Sweet dreams, Scully.......”

         Fox William Mulder
         11:21 P.M.
         Friday, May 28th, 1999

         //...I stand here silently, watching her sadly like the guardian angel I’ve
 become...caught in a sleep that I enforced on her against her will, a deep sleep
 only I can awaken her from...and I keep telling myself that it is only so I can
 tell her. I have to let this go...//
         //...And yet I ask myself why. Why? Why am I doing this to her? Why do I keep
 trying to make her understand when I know she will only wake up screaming,
 panting, terrified? It does no good, it hurts to see her so fearful...I can
 sense her fear. I don’t want to believe it, but I know it’s true. She is
 afraid.//
         //Whenever I come close, I feel her tense up, become alert, search for the
 cause of this unnatural feeling. Every time I call, she ignores...every time I
 try to come close, she pushes away....//
         //I know that sometimes my pain and longing outweigh my good sense to stay
 away, and for a moment, I embrace her, and whisper her name in her ear, hoping
 she will hear, she will understand...and I try not to notice how much she
 shivers within my grasp...//
         //It hurts so much to know that I can’t provide her with the warm embrace that
 she wants, that she needs...she shivers at my touch, and there is no warmth
 left, they took the warmth from me...//
         //Fear. I never see hope, I never see relief, I only see fear. Why can’t she
 trust her feelings, why can’t she understand what I’ve been doing to her? No, I
 shouldn’t blame her. None of this is her fault, none of it ever was. It was me
 who dragged her through six years of searching, and she was unwilling, and yet I
 didn’t let up, I didn’t give her time to breathe. She has a right to push me
 away, she has a right to shut me out forever.//
         //Why? Why am I doing this?//
         //...And then I think back to a few days ago, when she was trapped, and I took
 her...gained control, just because I didn’t know how else to save her...and I
 remember how it felt, even if she doesn’t.//
         //...I remember struggling, and then...a force, a bond came and I didn’t feel
 like we were two different souls anymore...but *one*. Two halves of a whole put
 together. I felt such strength, strength and ability and passion and perfection
 like I’ve never felt before, becoming her. It took all my will to leave, to
 separate the one into two again... to leave part of me behind.//
         //I think back over it all and I suddenly realize why I am doing this. There is
 a reason why am here, why I am not where I should be laying, cold silent...//
         //I know why. And I have to tell her. This is the only way I know how, and I
 have to make sure she doesn’t wake in the middle...I have to tell her.//
         //Why? I know why....//
         //So I stand here now, her sleeping, oblivious to everything. I stroke her
 hair, and she twitches just a little in her sleep...//
         //I feel reluctant. I don’t want to do this to her anymore. And yet, I do....//
         //I cannot let anything stop me from letting the truth be known to her. Not
 anyone else, not her, not myself...With that knowledge I will myself to begin
 the process of getting inside her head...her thoughts... the only avenue of
 communication now left open to us. If I am here, like this, now, I know that it
 is not only to save her...but to save myself.//
         //And if I am destined to walk this earth as nothing more than a shadow for the
 rest of eternity, then I know I will be her shadow, and no one else’s......//
         “Scully?”

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

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

 EXIT SONG:
 Dreams

 Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom
 Well who am I to keep you down?
 It's only right that you should play the way you feel it
 But listen carefully to the sound, of your loneliness
 Like a heartbeat.. drives you mad
 In the stillness of remembering what you had
 And what you lost, yeah what you had, and what you lost

 Yeah, Thunder only happens when it's raining
 Players only love you when they're playing
 And friends, they will come and they will go
 When the rain washes you clean, you'll know

 Well here I go again, I send the crystal visions
 You keep the visions to yourself, it's only me that wants to wrap around your
 dreams
 and have you any dreams you'd like to tell?
 Dreams of loneliness like a heartbeat.. drives you mad
 In the stillness of remembering what you had
 And what you lost, yeah what you had, yeah, and what you lost

 Yeah, Thunder only happens when it's raining
 Players only love you when they're playing
 Yeah friends, they will come and they will go
 When the rain washes you clean you'll know

 Yeah, Thunder only happens when it's raining
 Players only love you when they're playing
 Women, they will come and they will go
 When the rain washes you clean you'll know
 You will know
 You will know
 (Fade Out)

 AUTHOR’S NOTES!!!!!!!!

 You have completed part 4!!!!! You are almost to the GRAND FINALIE!!!! Okay, I
 am way too excited there for my own good. ;)
 Anyway, “The Awakening” is the final chapter of this series and is the next one
 you have to read. Have Fun, and SEND FEEDBACK!!! :)