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The Four Corners Cycle Feedback- Who wouldn't love some? spookey247@msn.com http://www.oocities.org/spookey_247/ Archive - Gossamer, Ephemeral, ok. If you've archived my other story, go right ahead, anybody else, drop me a line first. Rating - NC-17 Classification - TRA, AU, Post-Colonization with MSR & MM (Mystic Mulder) Disclaimers - These characters are mine, with two notable exceptions, who belong to Chris Carter and the suits at Fox. Spoilers - Maybe some for season 8, but largely spoiler free Keywords - Post-Colonization, Mulder/Scully Romance Summary - Seven sunrises. Dana Scully awakens in a world she doesn't recognize, to the touch of a man that she prays she does. Suggested Listening: The Cure "Faith", Dead Can Dance "Spiritchaser", The Sundays "Static and Silence" Oh, and Neil Young. Lots of Neil Young. Authors notes and Profuse Thanking of Helpful Friends can be found at the beginning of Book One. They're looking for her, far below, deep in the recesses of the hollow earth. Faint moans carom down unseen hallways. Stones clatter under her feet as she gropes for the wall. The darkness is impenetrable and encompassing. Here's a passage. Pause. Forward... or back? Breath comes quick and shallow. Quick and shallow like a dying bird. Dana huddles frozen in the black, black night. ~~~~ She sleeps in the earth, biding her time, listening to her mother singing. Dana is dreaming of rocks and weeds that cut her bare feet as she stumbles, naked, swimming in shadows. The dream is vivid: she can feel blood, hot and sticky, oozing between her toes. The sky is vast. Are those really stars? They're getting good, she thinks, damn good, to make me think I'm seeing a real night sky. Dana is dreaming of a harsh breeze that stiffens her skin and makes her fingers curl like claws. The dream is vivid: she can feel ridges of goose flesh standing out on her arms and legs. The air is so fresh it's shocking. But Dana is one step ahead of them. She smells violation; she knows it's coming. She's ready to fight, as always. ONE Sudden awareness. A swift rush of air into underprivileged lungs. Dana squints in the feeble light. This room is a nice touch, she thinks. Real as anything. They want me to believe it's early morning, she thinks. Eyes narrowed to a slit, she lies very still, casting a secret gaze around the small, cheerless room. If she's lucky, they won't notice she's conscious. Whatever it takes, Dana tells herself. It's not going to happen this time. She spies a male figure, crouching near the bed. You can't hide from me, you little bastard, she thinks. I know you're always the one behind it. One day I'll kill you, she tells him silently. I'll eat your brain for breakfast. Dana lets her head fall to one side and peers through her eyelashes, trying to confirm the man's identity. It's hard to tell how tall he is because of the way he squats near the floor, but his shoulders and chest are broad...it *could* be Him, she tells herself. There's no one else who would sit by me this way. The man shifts his weight and moves toward her, easing himself onto his knees by the bed. She tries to focus on his face. The nose is prominent; the face is lined and deeply tanned. Incredibly familiar. The hair is dark, with streaks of gray, longish and pushed back over the ears. Oh yes, she thinks, it's Him all right. He's come to make another one. Dana can feel her insides shriveling; shrinking away from all that comes next. The man's dark eyes are brooding and intense behind his tarnished wire-rimmed spectacles. Dana knows those eyes. Her breath comes quick and shallow. Quick and shallow like a dying bird. Dana tries to hide her panic, watching in horror as His lips draw together. A gentle, crooked smile lopes across His face. Dana remembers her lips on those lips. Breath flies in, and then out again, quick and shallow, like a dying bird. Suddenly, in the back of Dana's mind, the sun comes over the horizon. Oh my god, she thinks. It's not Him. It's... Blue eyes snap open, clear as glass. ~~~~ "Scully, breathe. Deep. Slow. It's going to be okay." His voice is like bait on a hook from the past. Dana wants to believe, but she knows he's dead. He's been dead for years. She's sure of it. She gazes at him, wide-eyed, overcome. Then a harsh, metallic smell hits her nose: the stench of something burning. They've got me in the lab, she thinks. They're feeding me this. It's a trick; it's not real. Dana is used to their deceit; normally she sees right through it. But this. This is...beyond. It's frightening how cruel they can be. Her turn is coming. It's coming. It's coming. Heart racing, she brushes her hands weakly over her face. Looking for tape. Looking for wires. Where are the goddamned wires, she thinks frantically. How are they doing this without any wires? "No, Scully, Shhh. Try to rest." They're doing this because of last time, she thinks, because I fought them. They want me to open myself, to accept it willingly. Like a lover to my bed. "Scully, try to breathe. Try to breathe slowly." His voice is soft and comforting. Hazy memories: his body hovering over hers, his lips tender and hungry, his tongue rich and wet against her throat. She aches, remembering what it felt like to curl against him; to feel him drive himself inside her. But he's not here now, she thinks. He's dead. This is a lie. Dana wants so badly to believe. He lays his hands on hers. Dana hears the sound of a blood-curdling scream. It's her scream, of course; she knows it well. Now she's found her voice, at last, the one she uses for begging. Dana folds up, turning away from His loathsome fingers. Please go away, go away, she begs, please don't touch me, leave me alone. She starts making promises. She'll be quiet and still, so quiet and still. If only they'll take this delusion away. Breath quick and shallow. Hot tears and heavy sobs. The bed sags slightly behind her back as He sits down near her. Her turn is coming. It's coming. It's coming. She feels his hand on her shoulder. Dana's an animal. Grief makes her powerful. She won't let Him touch her again. Out of control and in perfect control, her movements are focused and fluid. She explodes, shoving him, catching him off-guard and pushing him backwards off the bed. Dana falls with him, on him, rolling off clumsily, smacking her head on the floor and then dragging herself away, cursing her weakness, cursing her captivity. Wishing the lie was true. Dana presses into a corner of the room, wailing her rage, hugging the coarse wall, trying to become one with it. When he, whoever he is, tries to come near her, she kicks violently to fend him off, howling that she, Dana Scully, is done with all this. She begs him to end it quickly. Begs him to kill her right now. Suddenly, it gets very quiet. The man sits down on the floor nearby. Dana hides her face against the wall. She waits for her turn to begin. ~~~~ Time flows: morning to afternoon, afternoon to evening. Now and then Dana hears people come into the room. They speak to the man who sits near her and he answers them in a hush. Then they go away again. He stays by her, very still, very close. His presence surrounds her like fog. Why don't they start, she thinks. Why don't they get it over with? Do they really want my cooperation this badly? They've certainly never required it before. ~~~~ Moonlight spills through a tiny window. Dana rests in the shadows. She's hungry. That's odd. They've always kept her so well-fed. The man moves closer. Dana takes a deep breath; clenches her fingers; stifles a wrenching sigh. But nothing happens. The man moves closer. What does it matter now, she thinks. Still nothing happens. The man moves very near, so near she can feel the energy radiating off his skin. She wants so badly to believe the lie. That's why she lets him touch her. Breath quick and shallow, like a dying bird. So tired. So empty. So ready to be done. He puts his arms around her and she leans against him. Such a warm body, so overpowering. Why don't they start, she thinks. Why don't they get it over with? She lays her head against his chest. His body exudes a rich, familiar aroma. Coarse hairs curling from the top of his shirt tickle her forehead. He seems so...real. Dana feels a low hum in his chest and realizes, even before the sound reaches her ears, that he's singing to her. Singing. ~~~~ Dana finds herself sitting on a bed in a place she remembers from a long time ago. Oh yes, she thinks, this was his home. It's funny how we took comfort so much for granted. "Do you want to stop and get some breakfast on the way in?" Mulder leans in the door of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and wisps of shaving cream showing under his ear. Oh yes, she thinks, this is how it was. Our very first morning together. "Do you think we have time?" she hears herself saying, speaking as if in a dream. It's like no time at all has passed. She's just gotten out of the shower. She's sitting on the bed, wrapped in his robe, drying her hair with a towel. "Who'll know? I won't tell Skinner if you won't." He sits down on the bed next to her, uncertain, shy. What an amazing transformation, she thinks. For once he can't hide his emotions from me. He's...oh my god, he's so happy. She feels like crying. Instead, she wipes the shaving cream off his face and giggles like a teenager. He takes her chin in his hand, lifting her face toward his. "God, you're incredible. I want to watch you dry your hair every morning." We were brand new that day, Dana thinks. ~~~~ Mulder's arms circle Dana's body more tightly. He speaks to her in a quiet, trembling voice. "Scully, I know you remember me and I know you trust me. I don't know where you've been or what's been done to you but I want you to understand something. I'm here now. No one else will hurt you." Dana realizes that he's crying. Oh, she thinks, nice touch...but wait. They'd never think of that. TWO Dana wakes with the first rays of the sun leaking through a dirty window. Someone has dressed her in an oversized t-shirt and a loose pair of shorts. A sheet is wrapped around her body; it smells clean, like fresh air. The cotton is smooth against her bare legs. Her feet protrude from the bottom of the sheet. They have been neatly bandaged. Where is this? Where is he? She tries to push herself up on one elbow, but this motion instantly sets her head spinning. Blackness threatens to swallow her; she lies back on the thin pillow and tries to breathe, deep and slow. The way Mulder told her to breathe last night, when he sat breathing with her. He's missing and Dana feels panicked. She wonders if she dreamed it. Where is this? Where is he? Outside the window she hears the sound of an engine; metal doors closing; a tailgate slamming open. Voices. She strains to hear the sound of *his* voice. She prays this isn't a dream. ~~~~ Weak sunshine. The opaque lavender of early morning. Dana stares up at the sky in wonder. She had forgotten it. Now it's new. There is a jerk. Dana gasps and rolls to one side as the road dips under the wheels of the pick-up truck. "It's okay." His hand on hers. "We're on the West Road. We'll be home soon." Dana stares up at Mulder in wonder. He was lost to her. Now he's new. He hasn't changed much; he is still tall and lean, the picture of health, bewilderingly good-looking. But somehow he's totally different. He's aged a little. The gray in his hair attests to that; his antique specs enhance the effect. Dana knows that she must have aged, too. But it's been forever, she thinks, closing her eyes. Why isn't he an old man by now? Why am I not an old woman? She prays this isn't a dream. The truck hits a pothole as it swings to the right, turning up a gravel road that lost most of its gravel a long time ago. After a few minutes of lurching through ruts the truck makes an ominous thumping noise and grinds to a halt. "Shit, Will. Told ya that front axle was bad," someone calls back from the cab of the truck. Doors open and close. Mulder touches Dana's hair for a moment and then climbs out of the bed of the truck. She hears them conferring near the front bumper: three voices, three men. Dana thinks she remembers the other voices. She remembers being in this truck a few nights ago. Their voices draw closer. "Dru can come down to look at it," Mulder is saying. "Wanna make camp up at the house?" "Are you kidding? Too noisy. We'll make camp down here. Hey, Ben." "Yeah." "Flip ya for who stays with the truck." A pause. "Ha. It's you, man." "I'll be back with Dru." "Yeah, okay." Mulder is beside her again. He lays a tough, callused his hand against her cheek. "Looks like we're gonna have to walk, Scully. I've got you, though. Don't worry." She stares at him in wonder. She prays it's not a dream. ~~~~ Dana's soul is hot and dry like a desert with the sun ascending. Mulder carries her effortlessly; she weighs next to nothing. The man who accompanies them speaks to Mulder occasionally, but Mulder's answers are monosyllabic; he starts working harder as they continue their climb. Dana is aware of the sound of insects chirping in the brush as they walk. Soon she hears a rooster crowing and children shouting for attention. She smells smoke and dust and meat frying. She feels him bury his face in her hair. "We're home, Scully," he whispers. "We're home." THREE "Giver of Life..." He shines bright as morning, body glistening, face and hair soaked in sweat. Moaning, He pins her arms above her head and forces His lips against hers, pushing His tongue deep into her mouth. When He reaches between her legs, the expression on His face is brutal. Dana is secretly glad for this. She needs the Violence, welcomes the pain. It releases her soul from her body, reminding her that she's still alive. "Mother of Humanity..." He grabs her by the wrists and raises her to a kneeling position. Then He falls back, pulling her against His chest and abdomen. It's funny, she thinks, how the most powerful men always want you on top. He looks up at her wildly, crazed with lust. He's ready to make another one. He wants to do it now. Dana cringes, ashamed. Little bastard. This is a lie. Dana plunges her fingers impulsively into His eye- sockets. His face contorts with amazement as she digs down hard, reaching into His brain. She scoops out gray matter and devours it savagely. I did it, she cries. I did it. I'm free. ~~~~ Dana wakes in a cold sweat, sobbing uncontrollably in gray darkness. Outside the window of Mulder's tiny bedroom, dawn is restoring the murky shapes of the night. "Scully. Shhh. I'm here." Dana has been sleeping fitfully, curled into a ball with her head in Mulder's lap. He leans against the wall with his legs hanging off the bed, wide awake, watching over her. She knows they've been in this position all night. Maybe much longer than that. Mulder reminds her not to fight the madness. Let it wash through you, he says, it'll pass. He is Dana's window now, her portal to the future. His hands and his voice are her truth. His index finger dusts each eyebrow, then dips to trace the bridge of her nose. Next, it follows the line of her jaw, lifting to touch her lips, her cheekbones. His palm smoothes her forehead and travels across her hair. "I wish I had known where you were," he tells her simply, making no attempt to hide his sorrow. "Scully, I tried to find you. I tried so goddamn hard." ~~~~ Dana breathes, deep and slow. Mulder is breathing with her. The interior of the room emerges from the darkness. In the yard, a dog barks. "Mulder," she says softly, "When you disappeared, I thought you were dead. I died, too." She feels his smile as the sun begins its slow crawl toward the top of the world. "Good morning," he says. Dana rolls onto her back and looks up at his face. She's been silent for days, paralyzed by despair. He has held her constantly. This room has become their inner sanctum, a place of intense communion. Sometimes she feels him entering her soul comforting her at her wellspring. But she hasn't really looked at him yet. She hasn't been ready to see the man he's become. FOUR Dana has never allowed herself the indulgence of sleep. Before, she viewed excessive sleeping as something counter-productive and wasteful; it didn't fit with her work ethic, it wasn't part of who she was. After the End, sleep was something used against her, another weapon in the ongoing violation of her person. Staying awake became a goal in itself, a battle she fought every time she was allowed a few days of consciousness. Dana is a master at staying awake. But now she sleeps, lavishly. ~~~~ Blue eyes snap open, clear as glass. I missed it, she thinks. Dawn has become Dana's confederate, arriving each day with perfect reliability to rescue her from the night. Her long sleep in the bowels of the earth never came with that kind of guarantee. Today, for the first time, the dawn has come and gone without Dana for an audience. Bright yellow sunlight spills in through the small window. Dana hears voices outside. She sits up and gets out of bed. Her feet are still sore. Her legs are incredibly weak, the muscles slack, nearly atrophied, but she manages to make it to the window. She looks out into the yard behind the trailer. Desert scrub stretches from the edges of the yard and up the sloping hillocks that surround it on all sides. Not far from the trailer a cooking fire is blazing. Nearby there is a lean-to with a weathered picnic table. The lean-to is full of people. Dana has been vaguely aware since coming here that there were other people present. She has assumed that Mulder has brought her to some kind of community; a town perhaps, some kind of village. She scans the scene, looking for him. Without him she's not sure if any of this is real. She's not even sure that she exists. Mulder sits on the far side of the picnic table, straddling a bench with a young boy draped over his back and shoulders. They appear to be wrestling. Another little boy flings himself onto Mulder's back and all three go sideways off the bench with a shout, very nearly upsetting the table and the breakfast that seems to be sitting on it. There are other male figures seated at the table; they laugh uproariously at the near-disaster. There is a light tap at the door. Dana retreats toward the bed. The door opens just a crack and a girl peeks in. "Hi. Are you awake?" she whispers. Dana nods, pulling the sheet over herself. The girl is dark-haired and tall, with a finely drawn face and soft, blue eyes. Her movements are colored by the awkwardness of adolescence, but she radiates intelligence and self-assurance as she pads toward the bed. Dana can't quite put her finger on it, but there is something incredibly familiar about the girl's features: the shape of her cheekbones and the sharp cut of her chin tug at Dana's memory. The girl sits down near the foot of the bed. "I'm Kaya," she tells Dana, looking a little nervous. "Will said I could bring you this." Will. Oh, yes, Dana thinks. They call Mulder that. Kaya is holding a simple dress made out of some kind of gauze material. She offers it to Dana shyly. "I finished it yesterday. It'll help you keep cool." Dana takes the dress and holds it. It's light green and the fabric is soft. She pushes a strand of hair off her forehead. "Thank you," she says quietly. Kaya stands up abruptly. "Um, Will said to tell you he'd be in to see you. But I told him I thought you might like some fresh air. We're eating breakfast. Do you want to come sit with the family?" The family. Those little boys... Dana covers her eyes with her hand. They were wrestling with their father. Dana's womb twists in agony. Quick and shallow, she tries to breathe. Quick and shallow like a dying bird. Somehow, she finds her voice. "Kaya..." "Yes?" "Will's your father, isn't he?" Wide-eyed, the girl nods. "Are you all right?" "I think I just need to lie here for a few minutes." "Okay." Kaya hesitates by the door. Dana wishes she'd leave. There is something in the girl's voice when she speaks again: an edge of hostility. "Our mother's dead, if that's what you're worrying about." ~~~~ Dana removes the t-shirt she's been wearing since her arrival and lets it fall to the floor. She slips out of her shorts and looks into the mirror that hangs on the wall near the foot of the bed. A single tear slides down Dana's cheek as she faces the ghost she has become. Her hair is long and limp, the former vibrant red now faded to a dull brown. Her skin is white and waxy; her body, thin and bony. Countless scars seam her belly. On trembling legs, Dana drifts naked towards the mirror, clutching the green dress to her chest. Leaning close, she studies the violet circles under her eyes and the deep creases in her brow. She drags her finger down the side of her face: a line of small dots starts at her hairline and ends near the base of her ear. Scars, she thinks. They're mine forever. His voice is soft behind her. "Scully?" She turns quickly, hiding her body with the dress as best she can. Breath quick and shallow. Quick and shallow like a dying bird. Green eyes search blue eyes, riveted. "I'll come back." "It's okay." Dana backs toward the bed. "Don't go." He closes the door behind him and then turns his back to her, allowing her some privacy. She pulls the dress on quickly, heart pounding. Poor Mulder, she thinks hollowly. All his women are ghosts now. ~~~~ She leans on him heavily as they walk toward the kitchen door. "Are you sure you want to do this?" A quick nod. "Are you hungry?" Another nod. They reach the door and he throws it open. Dana cringes as the sunlight hits her face. "You okay?" She looks up at him plaintively. "It's all so *big*," she whispers. He takes her in his arms and croons into her ear. "We'll take it a minute at a time, Scully. Let me know when you've had enough." It's a very hot morning. Under the lean-to, Kaya is at the table, picking through a pot of dry beans. A teen-aged boy sits on the table, dangling his legs with a rifle across his lap. They trade a worried look as Mulder carries Dana under the lean-to and settles her into a chair. "It's not fancy, Scully," Mulder says wryly. "But we keep cooler out here at this time of year." Dana manages a weak smile. "You and Kaya met." Dana nods. "The dress is really comfortable, Kaya. Thank you." Kaya ducks her head shyly, acknowledging the compliment. Mulder gestures toward the boy. "Um, this is Sam." Sam stands up briefly. He is tall and handsome. There is no mistaking the fact that he is Mulder's son. "Ma'am." Sam goes to the fire and comes back with a plate. "Would you like something to eat?" So polite, Dana thinks. "Yes," she answers. "I would, thank you." "Will," Kaya says, "Dru took the twins with him to work on Ben's truck. He said they'd be back suppertime. I'm going to go into town, okay?" Mulder sits down near Dana. "Okay." Kaya puts down her pot and wraps her arm around Mulder's neck, pulling him close and putting her mouth to his ear, whispering. He listens in amusement, a vague smile lighting his features. "Okay." He tells her quietly. "That's a good idea." ~~~~ The ladderback chair digs into Dana's legs as she finishes her breakfast of beans and rice. She's starting to feel tired, but she has to admit that Kaya was right. She needed the fresh air. Mulder sits at the table with a tray full of dried seed pods before him. Dana watches as he breaks the pods open and scrapes the seeds loose, depositing them into a jar on the picnic bench between his knees. Dana studies Mulder's hands as he works. They are strong and sure, hardened with work: the hands of a man in his prime. She wonders at the thick scars that circle his wrists. They are faded, but hard to ignore. He pushes a strand of hair off his forehead; the rest is held back by a single, wide band of cloth. There is gray in his hair, but not very much. His spectacles slide down his nose as he bends over the seeds, but he doesn't bother to push them back up to his eyes. The muscles of his chest and shoulders stand out through his thin cotton shirt. There are no signs of advanced age here. If anything, he's in even better shape than when she knew him before. How can Mulder have teenage children, Dana wonders desperately. It doesn't make any sense. Mulder looks up and catches Dana staring at him. He pushes his specs back up on his nose and smiles. "I think you like it in the sun, Scully." "Yes," she tells him, swallowing the lump in her throat, "I do." He puts his work aside and comes to stand behind her chair. Within moments she experiences a familiar warmth as he begins stroking her hair, her shoulders, the back of her neck, the tops of her ears... Dana relaxes, enjoying his simple caresses. It's better than food, this kind of touching. "Scully?" "Yes." "Would you like to take a bath?" ~~~~ Mulder half-carries Dana up to the spring. It's a few hundred feet from the edge of the yard, bubbling up out of the ground in the midst of some vegetation on a gently sloping hill. It spills out into a small pool that has been lined with rocks. He spreads a blanket on the ground and Dana sinks onto it, exhausted. He crouches next to her. "We're overdoing it this morning." She lays her palm against his cheek, smoothing the stubble that adorns it. "I don't care, Mulder. This is nice. I'm tired of hiding inside." The sun soars high. A bird of prey circles overhead, calling out to its mate. A black plastic barrel sits near the spring. Mulder takes a bucket and plunges it inside, drawing water for Dana's bath. "I wish I could offer you a whole tub of water, Scully," he calls back over his shoulder. "But at least this is warm." He brings her the bucket of warm water and a coarse bar of soap. From a canvas bag he takes a faded towel and washcloth, setting them on the blanket within Dana's reach. "That should be everything you need," he murmurs. "Yes, I think so." He shifts nervously from one foot to the other. "I'll come back in a few minutes." "No, stay. Please?" "Okay. Um, I'll just be over here." He goes a few feet away and turns his back again, settling down in the scrub grass and wrapping his arms around his knees. Dana lifts her dress over her head and dips the washcloth into the bucket. She is mesmerized for a long moment by the smell of the soap. How long has it been since I've done this, she thinks. There were so many things I took for granted, before. Using a dipper that she finds in the bucket, Dana slops water over her shoulders and down her back. The soap makes a thin lather as she runs the washcloth over her face and neck. She soaps her arms and torso, swirling the cloth over her belly and breasts and then moving on to wash her legs and other, more vulnerable places... Dana hesitates to touch herself there. She'd like to forget that that part of her body exists. Her womb twists in agony. Mother of Despair. "You okay, Scully?" "I'm fine. I'm almost through." She fills the dipper again and rinses her body: face, shoulders, breasts, belly, legs. Then she towels herself dry and pulls her dress back on. I'm clean, she thinks. Clean. Dana curls into herself, lost. Insects sing in the shrubs around her. She feels his hands on her shoulders. "Let's wash your hair," he says gently, kneeling on the wet blanket beside her. **** Water, warm, in rivulets, racing like storm clouds through her hair. Dana kneels, bending over with the towel spread across her shoulders. Mulder kneels next to her, rubbing soap gently into her hair. He works his way toward her scalp, stroking and kneading, rolling the wet hair between his fingers. Lather slithers behind her ears and across her forehead, slipping like satin onto the blanket. Without speaking, she reaches out and puts her hand on his thigh, relishing damp denim and hard muscle. He hums to her, as always. She feels his spirit enter her. Remembering: A bright afternoon in autumn. Time stolen away when they were supposed to be working. His face shining with reverence as he looked up at her from the edge of the bed, pulling her to him and pressing his face against her belly. Pushing her clothes up and away and trailing his lips over the curve of her navel. Now: fingertips massaging her scalp. Electric tremors all the way to her toes. Lather sliding slowly to the blanket. Grief, like a bubbling spring, slipping away like satin. Water, warm, in rivulets, racing like storm clouds through her hair. ~~~~ The sun perches at the top of the world. Dana lies on her side with her head in Mulder's lap, slowly drifting towards sleep. He squeezes the water from her hair, soaking it up with the towel. "Mulder?" "Yeah, Scully?" "You could have told me about your children." "I would have." "How many do you have?" "Four boys, and Kaya." She pauses, unsure of how to ask her next question. She doesn't want to cause him any pain, but she needs to know. "How did their mother die, Mulder?" There is a long silence. Then his voice, very low. "When you're feeling better I'll tell you about her." Dana's hand flutters toward her belly. There's something she needs to remember. FIVE He stirs in the darkness before dawn: Dana hears a deep inhalation and a heavy sigh. He rises from where he has been asleep on the floor by the bed. She can feel his energy rippling through the room as he stretches his arms above his head. Dana does not speak or stir. She wants to tell him she missed him. Until last night, Mulder's battered single-size bed has been something they have shared. She has eased her terror with his presence, pressing herself shamelessly against his body. After many nights, this sleeping arrangement has become comfortable, habitual. Necessary. Almost as if no time at all has passed. Last night, though, when darkness swept over the desert and voices fell to a hush in the lean-to near the cooking fire, Mulder picked Dana up and carried her to bed like she was a small child. Instead of climbing in with her, he kissed her forehead and whispered a soft good-night. She woke later to find him curled on the floor. Now he stretches again and slips from the room. So careful not to wake her. Dana sees it all too clearly. She bites her lip to keep from crying out in frustration. Yesterday. Her bath by the spring. The raw need that flowed from his fingers. So much time has gone by, she thinks, brushing a hot tear from the corner of her eye. But some things never change. It's a gift, she thinks. The two of us together, here, now. She's not going to let him do this. Dana gets out of bed. She pulls on her dress and moves toward the door with slow, deliberate steps, supporting herself with a frail hand pressed against the wall. The trailer is quiet. Dana trudges down the hall toward the kitchen door, glancing into bedrooms along the way, taking inventory of sleeping bodies as she travels: Sam, Dru, Kaya, twin boys whose names she can't remember... They are lost in the heavy dreams of the very young. She and Mulder are alone, for now. Dana nearly pitches face-forward down the steps as she pushes the kitchen door open. Her legs are tiring quickly, but she presses on. I can do this, she thinks. I have to. The glow of incipient day colors the objects in the yard a hundred different shades of gray. The cooking fire smolders, banked for the night and ready to be revived. Arriving at the lean-to, Dana collapses into a chair. Her legs ache; her head is spinning. No Mulder. Gulping air, she forces herself back to her feet. She knows where to find him. The path to the spring is barely discernible at the edge of the yard. Dana plunges into the brush, pushing forward, ignoring the desperate numbness creeping over her legs, forcing her way through the fog in her head and the nausea that tugs at her guts. Weakness be damned. She wants her life back. Within a few moments, the black water barrel emerges from the shadows in the distance. Dana's heart sinks. She's climbed a long way for nothing. Spent, she drops to her knees by the spring and fills a dipper that sits in a bucket by the pool. She takes a long drink of cold water. It tastes vaguely of minerals but it is very refreshing. Suddenly Dana has never been so thirsty. She fills the dipper over and over, letting the cold water run over her tongue and down her throat, drenching her lips, chin, neck and chest. I can have all I want, she thinks joyfully. I can drink my fill. ~~~~ Dawn is breaking. Tendrils of light drift over the mesas and into the canyons. Dana looks up the hill in awe. Mulder stands facing the sunrise. Dressed only in jeans, he is rooted to the hilltop above the spring. As the sun appears over the horizon, he raises his arms in greeting. His body is bathed by the first rays of morning and he throws his head back passionately, drinking them in. Soaking in the energy of things that are new. Giving thanks for the gift. Dana covers her face with her hands. She prays this isn't a dream. ~~~~ His boots crunch softly on the rocky hillside as he starts back toward the yard. Dana wipes away an errant tear with the back of her hand and looks up at him as he approaches. His eyes widen with concern. "Scully, how did you get all the way up here?" "I followed you." He crouches down next to her, touching the back of her hand lightly. "Are you all right?" "I don't know," she says softly, examining his face, gauging the authenticity of lips and eyes, measuring each contour and weighing her findings against memories formed in the distant past. The love that surrounds her is steady and sustaining. It feels, unmistakably, like the love she knew before. It *is* you, Mulder, she thinks. Isn't it? She prays this isn't a dream. She raises both hands to his face, studying it intently. "There are so many things that I don't understand." He nods, reaching up gently to brush a strand of hair away from her cheek. "Be patient, Scully. It's going to take time." "Yesterday I felt you...your presence...inside my mind." He closes his eyes. "I touch you that way sometimes." "How do you do that?" "I don't know, Scully. I just do it." "Why do you do that to me, Mulder?" His eyes snap open. "Because I want to help you," he says. Dana tries to swallow, but it's like someone is shoving a fist down her throat. "Mulder," she chokes, "What makes you think that helps me?" He is too stunned to answer. "They invaded my mind for years. Feeding me illusions. Making me believe things to make me compliant." He stares at her, anguished. "When you do that to me, I wonder if... god, Mulder. I don't know if I can trust you. I don't know if you're even real. Are you? Are you real, Mulder?" Dana's fingers travel urgently over taut flesh and silky beard; over wire-rimmed glasses and the rough cloth that covers his forehead; through his hair, down the back of his neck and across broad, hard shoulders. Searching for the man behind the illusion. He catches her hands and holds them still. "Scully, don't." Dana breaks free and takes two steps back. She wipes away tears and tries to breathe. "Do you see my point, Mulder? This situation is so...it's unbelievable. And I can't do this, god, I can't stay here with you if you're going to treat me like some kind of..." She presses her palms to her forehead, trying to stay calm. "You think you're comforting me when you show me what we used to have, but Mulder, that's the past. We have to deal with the present. Yesterday, something happened between us. Something real. I felt so close to you. It was all so familiar. Then, last night, you just...ditched me. You pushed me away. When I woke up this morning and you were sleeping on the floor, I felt like we were strangers." Breath quick and shallow. Say it, she tells herself. Say it now. "Mulder, I don't need the past and I don't need dreams. I need you." The moment soars like a hawk on a warm updraft. "I never meant to push you away," Mulder murmurs hoarsely, reaching toward her. "Scully, I am the same man that you knew before. I want...oh, god, it's just..." His arms drop helplessly to his sides. "I can't stand the thought of anything else hurting you, Scully," he whispers. "I can't stand it." She reaches for his hand and twines her fingers with his. "I'm not made of glass, Mulder." He stares at the ground. "I know. You're strong. You're stronger than anyone I've ever known." Dana takes a deep breath. She strokes his forearm, summoning her courage. "Mulder..." "Yeah?" "I think I'm trying to tell you that it's okay to touch me. It's okay to kiss me, if you want to." He lifts his gaze from the dirt, eyes brimming over, devouring her face in wonder. His movements are slow and graceful as he wraps his arms around her. Dana smiles. I can have all I want, she thinks joyfully. I can drink my fill. ~~~~ "Will!" Kaya is calling from the bottom of the hill. She is climbing toward them, waving an arm to get her father's attention. Mulder smiles ruefully, shaking his head. "Sorry," he whispers. He releases Dana reluctantly, wiping stray tears from his face. Kaya arrives, excited and out of breath. "Will, Ben and Matthew brought some people up from Tuba. One of them's hurt." "Okay. We're coming." "What are you two doing out here so early?" Kaya's eyes dart toward Dana, chin lifting provocatively, a challenge in her expression. Mulder stands between the two women, watching them watch each other. "Dana wanted a drink," he says gently. "She climbed up here to get it." ~~~~ Dana walks back from the spring on her own two feet, leaning on Mulder's arm. "...no, see, like I told you, they go down easy, you know, if you catch 'em off guard and get 'em in that one spot." The lean-to is crowded. Sam, Dru, Ben, and Matthew are listening eagerly to a squat little man who stands near the weathered table. "We were counting up the bodies to report in, and Stephen thought he'd take a little trophy with him. You know, counting coup, so to speak. So he went to take the weapon off one of 'em...you know, those little boxes they carry, and the bastard reared up on him. We thought it was dead like the other ones, but, no. We finished it off fast, but the damn thing was bleeding, and you can see the rest." Normally at this time of the morning, Sam and Kaya would be busy putting breakfast on the table, cooking up beans and rice or hominy on the fire, with the twin boys eating tortillas faster than Kaya can cook them, but today the morning meal has been put on hold. The twins stand side by side on a picnic bench, looking down with fascination at the body on the breakfast table. One points, then flings his arm around the other's shoulder and whispers to him. They both giggle. Curled on the table is a young man. He is no more than twenty, very tall and blonde, his clothes and beard ragged and unkempt. His companion is a gargoyle-like man in his fifties. A cigarette dangles from his lip and he has a rifle slung over his shoulder. "Sam." Mulder calls out to his oldest son, and, without further need for explanation, Sam pulls a ladder-back chair away from the crowd at the table, preparing a place for Dana to sit. She is grateful for the chair, however uncomfortable it may be. Mulder greets the older man first, extending a hand. "You must be Will Mulder," the man growls, meeting Mulder's handshake with a pudgy hand covered in a dark blue tattoo. "My name's Gary Birch. We stopped in Tuba City and this boy here..." he jerks his head toward the injured man, "This boy here can't travel anymore 'til he gets some help for that leg. The man in town, at the exchange...he said you were good." Mulder studies the man carefully, still gripping his hand. When the handshake is over, his intense perusal of the man's face does not end. His lips purse. "What's this man's name?" he asks with studied detachment, turning his back on the little man and moving towards the table. "His name's Stephen. Listen, we're just traveling through here. We don't have much time." Mulder approaches the figure on the table. "Hi, Stephen. My name is Will." He lays his hand on the young man's forehead. "Why don't you have much time?" he asks the older man, casually. He slides both hands along the younger man's throat, checking the glands. Stephen flinches at his touch, breathing rapidly and staring up anxiously at Mulder's face. "It's okay." Mulder tells him. "Are you in much pain?" Stephen nods, wincing, his sky-blue eyes as round as saucers. Mulder turns his attention to the wound in Stephen's upper thigh. "What happened to your leg?" Stephen doesn't answer. His eyes dart quickly toward the elfin little man. "It's a long story," Gary says, dark brown face twisting into a strange little grin. "I'll tell it if you want to hear." Mulder motions to Dana. "Scully, come here and take a look at this." Oh yes, she thinks, I was a doctor before. It's like riding a bicycle, right? Dana gets out of her chair and walks to the table. She studies the wound, which appears to be a rather severe chemical burn: the fabric of the clothing around it is corroded and the flesh is raw, blistered, and bloody. There is serious damage to the dermis and evidence of infection. There's something more, too, something peculiar about the pattern of blistering along the edges... "Kaya, get me the scissors," Mulder orders. Kaya disappears into the trailer. Who would have ever imagined, Dana thinks, that Mulder would be the one to end up actually practicing medicine. "Is it bad?" Gary asks. "'Cause we have to get moving. We can't stay in one place too long." Mulder turns toward the little gargoyle-like man with a piercing stare that Dana knows only too well. "Why is that?" he asks, pointedly. "Well, Mister Mulder, I hate to tell you this, but there's Bugs headed this way. They're pretty close on our tail...that's why we have to keep moving." "Why are they following you?" Kaya returns with the scissors. Mulder begins cutting the fabric away from the burn; the young man cries out and tries to pull away. "Hold him," Mulder tells Sam. "Dru. Help your brother." Sam and Dru take hold of Stephen while Mulder finishes the grim work of cleaning corroded fabric out of the burned area. He scrutinizes the burn with a practiced eye. "Normally these kinds of burns just happen on exposed flesh," Mulder says carefully, turning back to the man named Gary. "I've never seen a case where a Bug got close enough to someone to bleed through his clothes. Want to tell me how this happened?" "Well, sure, Mister Mulder, I'll tell you. That's what we're here for, anyway. Have you folks heard what the Bugs are doing down in Flagstaff? There's pockets of People living there, just barely getting by, and the Bugs are clearing them out. It's just murder, flat out. Well, we aren't putting up with that. We're fighting back." "It's the Resistance, Will." Dru says. "It's all true, the things we heard." Dana can tell the boy has already heard this story. He's been well-primed. Gary continues. "Night before last we were in Flagstaff, following this hit squad around, this gang of Bugs that was clearing this one part of town, and we caught them in an alley and shot every one of them. Then, like I was telling your boys, Stephen got a little too close to a Bug that wasn't all the way dead." "How did you kill a whole group of Bugs and not die from the fumes, Gary?" "That's the great thing, Will," Dru says excitedly. "The Resistance down in Flagstaff has a whole stash of old chemical warfare masks. And guns, too. Now we can kill all the Bugs we want." Mulder looks suspicious. "And what brings you up this way?" "We're an advance patrol, Mister Mulder. We're here to recruit some folks and get organized before the Bugs get here. Then we're headed on to Colorado to hook up with some supplies." There is a long silence. Mulder's face is unreadable, totally impassive. "Okay," he says quietly. He turns back to the young man who is lying where breakfast should be. "I'm going to give you something for the pain," he tells him. "Is there something we can take with us?" Gary asks, shifting his rifle from one shoulder to the other. "We can't stay." "He'll heal better if I can keep him a day or so," Mulder says. "No, sorry. That's not possible. We've got one vehicle, and lots of work to be done. I haven't got the time or the resources to come back out here to get him." "Okay, then. It'll take a few minutes." Mulder takes Dana by the arm. "Scully. Want to help me inside for a minute?" Dana nods. Mulder turns to Sam. "Get him off the table, Sam. I'm hungry. Let's make breakfast." ~~~~ "Notice anything suspicious about that burn, Scully?" "Well, it was obviously caused by some kind of corrosive agent...Mulder, what do they mean when they talk about 'bugs'?" "Colonists, Scully. Alien colonists." "Oh. That's what I assumed. Are they really marching around shooting people now? That's very 'War of the Worlds', isn't it? I'm surprised." "The less subtle methods are the only ones they have left anymore, Scully. I don't think the invasion went quite as they planned it. The biological part was over years ago and plenty of People survived it. They were immune to the virus, for whatever reason, and now their children are. I don't think the Colonists will ever be able to take over completely. It's a big planet. I think the best they can hope for is that we'll all find a way to co-exist one day." Dana perches on a worn leather sofa while Mulder works in the kitchenette. He opens a cabinet and begins rummaging through carefully labeled jars, picking and choosing among dozens of different herbs. When he has made his selections he gets out a small bowl and a pestle and begins mixing leaves and seeds with bits of root, pulverizing them and pouring the mixtures into small paper bags. "Did you notice how much deeper the burn was near the center? The way the blisters scattered out at the edges?" "It really wasn't consistent with the story he told." "No, it wasn't. Blood oozing from a body wouldn't have contacted the flesh with sufficient force to cause a burn like that. They're lying, Scully. They're here for some other reason." Dana is gratified to see that Mulder's investigative instincts have not gone dormant, even after all this time. She slips with joy into her familiar role. "We don't really know the circumstances of the accident, though, Mulder. There could have been something strange about the way the two bodies made contact that could account for the shape of the burn." "You're right, Scully." He pauses, staring down at the counter. "But I don't go by 'Mulder'. No one around here has ever known me by that name." Dammit, Dana thinks. Even now, after all that has happened, they won't leave us alone. "Do you have any idea who could have sent them?" she asks, faintly, knowing already what the answer must be. "I'm afraid it may have something to do with you coming back to me, Scully." No, Dana thinks, no. I refuse to believe it. It's a gift, Mulder, you and I being together again. She doesn't want to consider any other possibility. Her hand flutters toward her belly. There's something she needs to remember. As Mulder works at the counter, Dana watches the muscles in his back moving under his dark brown skin. She wishes there was time to set all of this aside. As disturbing as the arrival of the strangers is, she doesn't feel ready to share his attention with suspicious chemical burns, questionable Resistance fighters, or ominous tales of impending doom. She needs him all to herself right now. "Mulder..." "Yeah, Scully?" He turns to her, a jar in one hand and the pestle in the other, looking for all the world like a gourmet chef in the midst of a cooking lesson. "Where did you learn to, um, do what you do?" He smiles. "That's a long story. I'll tell you sometime." "I'd love it if you'd tell me some of it now." Mulder's expression is tender and indulgent. Dana feels like a little girl begging for an extra book at bedtime. He turns back to the counter and continues working. "When I came out of the Labs, a few years after...after everything changed, I was a mess. I couldn't look anyone in the face, couldn't speak...I was totally in shock. " Dana is all too familiar with the situation he's describing. "There was a woman. She was about my age, maybe a little older. She had a teenage daughter. Anyway, she worked with the Resistance in this area and I needed somewhere to hide." "So you were in a lab somewhere and the Resistance helped you get away?" "Essentially." "And those labs...they're run by the Colonists?" "They were. They're not far from here. About two days walk. But they're empty now." "Mulder..." "Yeah?" "I don't think that I was in a place like that." He swallows hard. "No. I don't think so, either." There is a silence while Mulder saws a section off a piece of a root with a kitchen knife. "So...there was a woman, you said." "Yeah. Her name was Verbena. Her mother's people were Hopi, and she knew a lot about taking care of sick people. So I watched her do that while I lived with them, and she would always take me with her in the spring when she went out gathering herbs, so I learned. After I...came back to myself, I just... I don't know, Scully, it's hard to explain." He turns back to her with an odd expression on his face. "I was sick for a long time," he says in the hushed tone of a confession. He touches his forehead. "Here. That did something to me, Scully. I...had visions. I was called." He looks down, smiling shyly, shrugging it off. "So I do this now. I have to. People need help sometimes." Dana looks at him in amazement. She hasn't heard this many words come out of his mouth at one time since their reunion ten days ago. "Mulder, where is she now? Verbena." "She died last year." Mulder takes a pencil out of a drawer and starts scribbling instructions on one of the bags. "She was very old." Dana watches in silence as he finishes writing on the bag and fills it with the contents of the bowl. "But you're not old, Mulder." Mulder puts the lid on a jar and carefully sets it back in the cabinet. His face has become unreadable again. "No," he says, his voice sounding hoarse and strained, "I'm not." "And I'm not old, Mulder." "No." "Why?" He leaves his work and comes to sit beside her. Instead of answering her question, he studies her intensely, trailing his fingers over the scars that run down the right side of her face. He turns his own face to one side, lifting her hand and placing her fingers on an identical line of small dots. "This is why, Scully. It's because of what we have inside us. I don't know when we'll get old, or if we'll get old." ~~~~ Under the lean-to, breakfast is finally underway. Dana stands at the top of the kitchen steps, dreading the short descent and cursing the muscles in her legs, which feel as if they've run two marathons since sunrise. Mulder is already standing in the yard, and now he hops back onto the bottom step and reaches for her. "Come here," he says. "You've done enough walking for one day." He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her against his body. She hangs in his arms, her left arm wound around his neck, her face suspended close to his. She remembers the feel of his body so well. He carries her across the yard with her body pressed against his, faces close, green eyes staring into blue. Only when they've gotten within a few steps of the lean-to does he release her to the ground, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, allowing his lips to linger for a long moment. "Damn, you two," Dru growls, passing by them on his way into the lean-to. "Take that shit back inside." Mulder glares in Dru's direction. "Watch it," he warns his son. Dana breathes deeply, smoothing her hair. Sam, busy with breakfast, seems oblivious to his father's behavior. He hands Dana a plate as she sits at the table. "Sorry it's just leftovers this morning." Nourishment is nourishment. Dana has lost the capacity to be choosy. She smiles her thanks to Sam. "Kill the Bugs! Kill the Bugs!!!" The twins chase each other up the front bumper of Ben's truck and across the hood. Scrambling over the cab, the boys leap into the truck bed, screeching like banshees. Stephen, who is propped against some cardboard boxes there, lifts his head in alarm. "Those are some fine boys you got there, Mister Mulder," Gary calls. "Smart, too." He is standing just outside the lean-to, arms crossed, watching the twins as they play. Mulder grabs a slab of bread and gulps it in three bites. He stares at Gary's back, chewing quickly. "Thanks," he says, finally. "No mistaking whose boys those are, no sir," Gary says brightly, with a rapt expression. "They look like they were spit right out of you." "I suppose they do look like me," Mulder answers. "Come here and I'll show you what to do to help your friend." He draws the pudgy little man over to Ben's truck, handing him bags of herbs one after another and explaining what needs to be done. Dana looks up from her plate to find Kaya staring at her across the table. The girl's eyes are deeply resentful, full of hurt and slightly red with approaching tears. Dana remembers hero-worshipping her own father to an almost painful degree. She wants to tell Kaya that she knows how she's feeling; she remembers how fierce the craving for a father's attention can be, she recalls the sense of inadequacy at an immature body and undeveloped emotions, knows well the fear of being forgotten and left behind. I'm not trying to take him away from you, she tells the girl silently. I will share. But you've had him fifteen years. I need to have him to myself for now. "You ready, man?" Ben asks Matthew, rising from the table. Ben is a slight man with long gray hair and Dana remembers how gentle his hands were, that night in the desert, lifting her into the truck. This is the first time she has seen him since he and his friend found her. She wants to thank them, but is not sure how to begin. Ben glances her way. "Feeling better?" His gaze is penetrating, curious. Dana feels herself shrinking from it. Maybe it would be better to leave that subject alone right now, she thinks. She looks down and nods. She's not ready to face the world just yet. Matthew, a sturdy red-head in his early twenties, gets up from his seat, joining his friend and extending a hand to Sam. "Sam. Thanks for the free eats." "Never a problem," Sam answers, shaking Matthew's hand. Matthew shoots a shy glance in Kaya's direction. "See you in Tuba, K?" Kaya looks down, flushed. She twists the hem of her t-shirt. "You two staying around town?" "For now." "Guess I'll see you, then." Dru sits quietly, elbows propped on the table, his head in his hands. "Dru." Ben pokes the boy in the shoulder. Dru doesn't move. "What." "You coming?" "Tell them I'll see 'em in town." "Yah. Okay." ~~~~ They watch Ben and Matthew depart, the old pickup truck lurching and swaying with the two Resistance fighters struggling to balance in its bed. Mulder crouches down next to Dana's chair. "Tired?" he asks. When she nods, he lifts her out of her chair and carries her toward the trailer. They travel up the steps, through the kitchen, and into his bedroom, where he lays her on the bed and sits next to her. Dana lays her hand on Mulder's knee. He's far away right now, lost in thought, frowning and chewing at his lower lip. "Mulder, are you all right?" "There's something really wrong, Scully." Mulder turns her way. He reaches out and lays his palm on her cheek. Let's forget everything for a little while, Dana thinks. Let it just be the two of us, just for an hour. He leans toward her. One soft kiss, like a sip of wine. "Get some rest," he tells her. "I've got something I need to do." ~~~~ Dana lies still in the heat of the little room, sinking slowly towards sleep. Lately she has found that she sleeps more soundly in the daytime, surrounded by the comforting buzz of human activity. There's safety in daylight. She wakes at sunset. Making her way out to the lean- to, she finds Kaya cooking supper on her own, with the twins playing nearby. "Hi, Dana. How're you feeling?" Kaya's lips turn downward as she speaks; her voice is tight. She stirs the pot on the fire like she's digging a rock out of the earth. Dana sighs. "I'm fine. Where is everybody?" "Quinn!" Kaya grabbed her brother's hand as it snakes its way toward the pot. "Get out of here. We'll eat in a minute." "But I'm hungry now." "Tough. You two go get me a bucket of water." "Why should we?" "'Cause I'm gonna smack you one if you don't. Now go on." Quinn watches his sister for a moment, hiding his hurt with the blank expression characteristic of all the men in the family. Then he turns abruptly and heads in his brother's direction. Within a few minutes the two are on their way to the spring, swinging a bucket between them. Dana watches quietly as Kaya set plates on the table. "Can I help you with anything?" "No. I've got it." Kaya sets four places. "Where is everybody tonight?" Dana asks again. "Um, Will said he needed to find out who those men were that came this morning. He and the boys went to pray about it." Pray? Mulder? It is hard for Dana to imagine any scenario in which Mulder would consider prayer a viable option for gathering information. "Where did they go?" she asks. "To the hill above the spring." Dana remembers Mulder standing on that hillside this morning, lifting his arms to greet the rising sun. He was at church when I saw him, she thinks. SIX Dana wakes up missing the solid feel of Mulder's body against her back again. She rolls over and searches for his form on the floor, but she can already sense that she won't find him there. He hasn't returned. Dana hears Kaya get up and go into the kitchen. She wonders if Kaya slept poorly, too, waiting for her father and brothers to come down from the spring. After a few minutes the kitchen door opens and closes; she hears Sam's voice greeting his sister. She expects to hear Mulder's voice, listens for it eagerly. She waits for the sound of his footsteps coming down the hallway, but all she hears is Sam and Kaya, speaking to each other in low tones. Dana gets up. She edges down the hall. "How much longer do you think it will be?" she hears Kaya ask. "I really can't tell, Kaya. I don't know." "What's going on?" Dana asks, coming into the kitchen. Sam and Kaya both turn towards her, judging her worthiness to be included in their family affairs. Finally, Sam speaks up. "It's nothing. It's just we may not see my father for a day or so." "Why?" "Don't worry. When he's found out what he needs to know, we'll see him again." Dana gets the distinct impression that Sam is not as confident about what he's saying as he would like her to believe. ~~~~ Morning to afternoon. "Are you going back?" "Of course." Sam polishes off his lunch and stands up, still chewing. Dana looks up at him from the table. She can't read his face, but the apprehension in his expression makes her blood run cold. Kaya twists the hem of her shirt, waiting to see if he'll say something more. Resignation pools around her like melted wax. "Is Dru coming down?" "Probably not." "Kill the Bugs! Kill the Bugs!!!!" One of the twins rushes into the lean-to and flings himself onto the picnic table, scattering dishes and upsetting a bowl of cornmeal so that it flies like blowing sand. "Mato...Quinn...whichever goddamn one you are..." Sam makes a move to grab his younger brother but, the boy rolls just out of reach and leaps to his feet in the middle of the table. The look on his face is not the look of a normal seven-year-old. His green eyes blaze with an intensity that Dana has never noticed in her casual observations of the twins at play. It bespeaks adult intelligence. "Will's flying," he proclaims with a grin. "He's flying under the ground and he's never coming back." Sam seizes him by the arm, jerking him off the table and smacking him in the back of the head, hard. The boy fights back, twisting to get free, fists swinging wildly in his brother's direction. In the yard, the other twin howls like a coyote, kicking at the cooking fire. Sparks fly. Kaya moves quickly to break up the fight. "Leave Mato alone, Sam." "Why the hell should I? You always take up for them." "Somebody has to. Dammit, leave him alone." Sam hustles the struggling boy out of the lean-to and flings him to the ground. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you little fuck," he hisses. "You think you own the place, don't you?" Mato glares up at his brother. "Sam can't fly like Will," he taunts softly. "Sam can't fly." Sam's freezes. His upper lip curls into a snarl. Mato rolls over and jumps up. Sam lunges toward the boy with a curse, snagging him around the waist and jerking him off his feet. They spin toward the lean-to. Dana jumps to her feet in alarm. She's never seen this side of Sam. Until now he has seemed like such a gentle person. Mato's shirt rides up as he struggles and Dana stares, aghast, at the boy's navel, huge and red, staring back at her like the proverbial evil-eye. "Stop it, Sam," Kaya yells, running up behind her older brother and grabbing him by the arms. "Sam, for god's sake," Dana calls. "You're going to hurt him, holding him that way." "You don't know what he is, Dana" Sam says viciously, tightening his grip on his brother. "Nobody does." "Let me look at him. There's something wrong with his navel, did you notice? I think he might be sick." The color drains out of Kaya's face. "Sam. Put him down, goddammit." Her voice is terrible, desperate and sad. Sam lowers Mato to the ground. Dana steps toward them. "Kaya, I'm a doctor, if you'll just let me look at him..." "He's fine, Dana. There's nothing wrong with him." Kaya takes hold of the boy protectively and removes him from Sam's grip. Mato slips behind her and peers out at his brother with a mysterious smile. Quinn runs to join them. "You shouldn't talk about the boys that way, Sam," Kaya murmurs. "You know Will doesn't like it." Sam's body seems to lose all its height. He spins on his heel and stalks toward the spring without looking his sister's way again. The two boys watch their sister expectantly. She runs her fingers through Mato's hair and draws a long, quivering breath. "I don't know why you two can't keep out of trouble," she says. "Go on now. Go do your chores." The boys flee. Dana quietly collects the scattered dishes. Looking up, she catches Kaya brushing the corners of her eyes, wiping her hands on her jeans hastily, like her fingers are covered in toxic waste instead of tears. ~~~~ Afternoon to evening. Kaya mends a pair of pants by lantern light. The twins are in bed. "They're so hard on their clothes," she tells Dana softly. "Sometimes I think it'd be better just to let them go naked." There's an invitation in Kaya's words, a door swinging open. "Those two are a real handful," Dana remarks carefully. The shadow of a grin passes across Kaya's face. "They're wild," she says with a hint of pride. "I'm the only one they listen to. I'm like their mama, you know?" "Really." "Mm-hm." Kaya's voice drops; Dana has to lean forward to hear what she's saying. "Sam didn't mean what he said about them today. He just gets mad at them sometimes. It's because of Maia. She died when they were born. He misses her." Maia. Mulder's wife. The mother of his children. Dana's hand flutters toward her belly. There's something she needs to remember. The girl's expression sharpens. She shakes her head imperceptibly at Dana's involuntary gesture. "It happened a long time ago," she says, woodenly. They listen to a couple of coyotes howling on a nearby hilltop. Kaya shifts in her chair. "Hot tonight," she remarks. "Summer coming on." Footsteps. Sam lowers himself onto a bench, looking pale and tired. Dru drags into the lean-to behind his brother, sullen and discouraged. Silence. Kaya goes to the fire and returns with their supper. Dru bends over his food without comment. Sam stares down at his plate as if it held gravel instead of vegetables. Kaya sits down. She picks up her sewing. She sets it back on the table again. "Well?" Sam takes off his hat and sighs. Suddenly Dana can't take it anymore, the secrecy, the cryptic comments, the long silences. "Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Dru looks up from his plate, too shocked to chew. The cooking fire flickers. Coyotes howl. Sam and Kaya exchange a look. "Tell her." Kaya says, suddenly venomous. "She doesn't know anything about anything, Sam. She needs to understand." Sam sits for a few minutes studying a beetle that's crawling across the dirt floor of the lean-to. "Sam," Kaya urges. Finally, Sam clears his throat and speaks. "Dana, you need to know that our father is a very powerful shaman." "A...a shaman?" "Yeah." "I don't understand." "He's guided by spirits. He goes places that most people can't go and sees things that no one else sees. He goes to the place where the dead live and he talks to the spirits there. Those spirits teach him things and help him heal sick people." Dana stares at Sam, open-mouthed. "It's true," Dru says, calmly. "I've even watched him bring a woman back from that place." "I don't understand what you're telling me. You're saying that your father is some sort of, what, medicine man? Sorcerer?" Sam shrugs. "Call him what you want. To the People around here, he's a healer and a prophet. A holy person." Dana sits with this information for a long moment. This is not what she was expecting to hear. Her voice feels small and shaky when she speaks again. "So what is he doing right now?" "Yesterday morning he said he needed to find out about those men that were here. He said he could see they were lying but he needed to know more." "And where is he now, exactly?" "I don't know. He's somewhere else." Sam turns to Kaya, speaking rapidly. "Kaya, I'm sorry about what happened today. I was...it was hard not to tell you what was going on but I didn't want you to worry." Sam gets up from the table and goes to the edge of the lean-to, looking out into the darkness, toward the spring. "We're afraid something's wrong." A soft cry springs from somewhere inside Kaya's body. This is what she's feared all day, Dana thinks. Sam turns back toward his sister, running his hand nervously through his dark hair. "I watched him cook the drink. He did it just like the other times, but then he drank...shit, it was maybe twice as much as I've seen him drink before. I asked him about it at the time but he told me not to worry. Now, he's...I don't know what to do." "Well, what's he *doing*, Sam?" Kaya asks, hushed. Her brother doesn't answer. He stares up the hill. Dru speaks with his mouth full. "He's lying on the ground like he's dead, up there." "Dru." Sam's voice is sharp, a reprimand. Kaya closes her eyes. "Sam?" "He hasn't moved since yesterday afternoon." "Oh." Kaya sits down slowly. "What can we do?" she asks, looking faint. "I say we do nothing," Dru says. "Will said not to worry." Dana stands up. "You're saying that your father has poisoned himself with some sort of hallucinogenic plant, right?" "It's not like that." Dru sets his fork down on his plate and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. "The Datura is my father's ally. He couldn't poison himself with it." "Then why are you all so scared?" "I'm not scared. I trust Will. He knows what he's doing." "What about you, Sam? You said he hadn't moved in over twenty-four hours. Did you check for a pulse? How do you know he's not dead?" "We don't," Dru says, smiling cruelly. "Dru, stop." Kaya cries, her voice rising out of control. "This is bullshit," Dana says. "I'm going up there." Dana moves toward a lantern that Sam left near the fire when he came home. Kaya follows her. "You can't do that. You'll bring dark things if you go up there. You'll put him in danger." "He's already in danger." Sam comes out of the lean-to and blocks Dana's path. "I wouldn't have told you any of this if I thought you would react this way." "Well, who wouldn't react this way? Aren't you afraid for him?" "Of course I'm afraid for him, but I also respect him. I would never fuck around with him when he's outside of his body. That's really disrespectful, Dana, and dangerous." "I don't believe this." Dana takes the lantern and heads for the path that leads to the spring. Sam blocks her way again. "Look," Kaya says, joining her brother, her eyes burning with anger, "I don't know what you were to my father before, and I don't know why you're so important to him now. I don't even want to know, because it's wrong in about ten different ways, your being here with us. If anyone outside our friends knew, there'd be big trouble. You need to leave my father alone. He's not supposed to be with you." "Will doesn't care anymore, Kaya," Dru calls, from his seat in the lean-to. "Will doesn't care who he pisses off, having her here." "Well, I care," Kaya answers. "Well, I think if *he* doesn't care, then *I* don't care, either." Dru rises from his seat abruptly and heads into the trailer. Sam takes Dana by the arms. "Please," he begs softly. "You have to understand. We have to trust him." Dana looks from Sam to Kaya and back to Sam again. She doesn't think she's ever going to understand. Breath quick and shallow. Her head, spinning. "Sam, please. Will you please just go up there and see if his heart is beating? See if he's breathing? If his body is warm?" Sam nods, taking the lantern. "I don't know how much good it will do," he says, "But I'll check on him if it'll make you feel better." ~~~~ Dana sits on the ground near the fire, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Kaya's crazy, she thinks. It's not hot tonight. Sam sits at the table. He has just returned from checking on his father. As far as Sam can tell, Mulder is alive. Dru comes out of the trailer with a backpack, a blanket, and a rifle. Kaya stares at him mournfully, chewing at her lower lip. Dana watches as Sam takes Dru's blanket and carefully makes it into a roll. The two brothers touch hands briefly, their faces impassive. Kaya glares at Dru. "I don't see how you can do this tonight." She cannot hide her desperation. Dru shrugs. "I have to do it now or I lose my chance." "Have you told the twins you're going?" "No. You can tell them in the morning." "They're too young to understand this, Dru." "No shit." There is a long silence. Sam speaks up with quiet authority. "Kaya, you know Dru's doing right. Just wish him well, okay?" Kaya looks up at Dru. The girl's face is forlorn and world-weary; so far beyond fifteen. She puts her arms around her brother briefly, then backs away and walks quickly toward the trailer. SEVEN Dana is wide-awake, leaning against the headboard of Mulder's bed. Her gaze does not stray from the small bedroom window. She is watching purple shadows fade to lavender, watching and waiting for the first rays of comfort from her old friend, the dawn. The sun simmers below the horizon. The earth is cool, damp, and silent. Slow feet scrape the hallway floor. Dana eases herself out of bed. She waits, holding her breath; fingers wrapped like wire around the bedpost. "Mulder?" The bedroom door creaks open. Dana takes a step toward it. Light from a lantern in the kitchen spills around his form and into the bedroom. He is still clothed in the jeans she last saw him wearing. His body and hair are damp, as if he has just been bathing in the spring. He smells strongly of cedar smoke. Mulder sways slightly. He takes one stumbling step into the room, and Dana moves toward him, taking hold of his outstretched hands. They are stone cold. "Mulder, are you all right?" His skin is pale and beads of sweat stand out on his forehead. His eyes are slightly glassy and brimming with tears. He raises both hands wordlessly and smoothes her hair, slowly, like he's molding her from earth. Dana carefully removes his glasses, setting them aside and lifting herself on tiptoe to kiss the wet stubble on his cheeks. He opens as she touches him. Grief swirls around him like a swollen stream. "Scully, I...I saw..." His voice sounds thick, unearthly. It's almost as if he's forgotten how to use it. Fresh tears spill down his face. "Help me, Mulder," Dana whispers. "Help me understand." He takes her face between his fingers. "I...you...oh, god, Scully." He buries his mouth in hers. ~~~~ Dana raises her arms above her head. Mulder slides the green dress slowly up her body, sighing as it passes over her fingertips. He lets the dress slide to the floor. "Yessssss..." He exhales, gazing with open adoration at her unclothed body. He reaches up to caress her fingertips. His hands descend, palms painting her skin: wrists, forearms, shoulders, throat... Breasts. Belly, hips, thighs... "Yesssss..." he whispers, sinking to his knees before her, ravishing her belly with his lips, reaching around with both hands to massage her bottom. Dana is nearly hysterical. Her womb is sobbing. Rivers of tears run from inside her. She blossoms under his fingers like a flower after a storm. ~~~~ Dana's secret places are singing. Mulder is singing, too. A low hum begins in his throat as kiss by kiss, his mouth travels toward the swollen lips of Dana's vulva. He parts them tenderly and tastes what lies within, his tongue roaming over the smooth, moist flesh with unmistakable relish. Dana's legs begin to tremble. She stifles a moan, nearly losing her balance. She feels him entering her soul. Mulder pauses for a moment, looking up at her reverently from his position on the floor. His lips shine with her juices. His eyes are enormous. "Lie down," he tells her softly, taking her by the arms and easing her onto the bed. Dana reclines and Mulder strokes her inner thighs apart, lips brushing breathless over soft red curls. "Belladonna," he murmurs. "Beautiful Lady." His tongue probes gently between the soft folds. "Come see it with me, Scully." His tongue plunges deep inside her. High mountain tops. Wind rushing in her ears. Sky. Stars. He laps at her clitoris slowly. She sees. The Datura flower hangs dripping from a branch in the jungle. It is massive, pink, and sticky with juice. She sighs. The flower opens. Its ripe scent overwhelms her senses. She feels herself drawn into its ripe interior, caressed by satin petals... Waves of pleasure...waves of pleasure... This isn't what she wants. "No," she says suddenly, gasping. "No." Her vision clears and she finds his face hovering above hers, her scent hanging on his lips and tongue, mingling with the aroma of the Datura flower. "No dreams," she whispers, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Just you." Mulder's face is sad. When he speaks his voice is heavy with pain and arousal. "Dreams are easier, Scully," he rasps, "Dreams are easier." ~~~~ Kissing like a dance of serpents. Lips telling stories. Oh how I love you. How I love you. The carnal chamber shines like morning. It's all Magic. ~~~~ The soft, hot rush of his breath in her ear. "Inside you..." "Yes...now." Dipping inside with his fingers. Drawing moisture from the spring. "So wet, Scully," he murmurs. "So ready for you," she breathes. ~~~~ Surge. He fills her. Swell. She pulls him deeper. Surge. He fills her. Swell. She pulls him deeper. Flying inside the sky inside him. Opening, like a flower. ~~~~ "Fast," she whispers, "Oh god, hard." With a strangled cry he wraps his hands around her bottom, lifting her off the bed and giving her what she's begging him for. Fast. Hard. Waves of pleasure... "Yes," she tells him, "Mulder, yes..." Yes, they cry together. Yes, yesssss... Suddenly, oh god, a flying sensation. Suddenly, oh god, oh god, oh god... There's something... she needs to... ... remember. "Mulder, oh god..." Dana's voice sounds far away, high-pitched and frail like newborn baby... Oh god, oh god, like a newborn baby... A newborn baby, oh god, his baby. Suddenly, oh god, his cry of despair. "Scully..." He sees. He knows. How they forced her open and reached inside her... How they ripped his daughter away. Her screams fill the room. They fill the trailer. They fill the whole world. "Scully, oh god, I see it, I see her..." "It's not true, it's not true, oh my god, it's not true..." He is buried deep inside her. One body. One spirit. One lament. End of Book Two |