Blinded by White Light (6/6)
FANDOM: X-Files
SUMMARY: What are we, but the sum of our memories?
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Mulder/Scully, Mulder/other, Scully/other
DISCLAIMER: These characters are the creation of CC and company. I have borrowed a few elements of the setting from Marge Piercy's novel He, She and It. She freely admits that she borrowed from William Gibson, so I figure it's all up for grabs.
WORD COUNT: 49,000
DATE POSTED: November 1999
She paced the small room, clenching and unclenching her fists. Evan watched her from his computer chair with a concerned expression on his face.
Her mind was racing too quickly for her to keep up with her thoughts. They were coming at her in bursts that weren't quite coherent.
Before.
Mulder.
I knew him.
I loved him.
Oh, God.
He was right.
My dreams were right.
We knew each other.
What the fuck.
We found each other again.
Mulder.
It was you.
It was you it was you it was you all along it was you.
Suddenly, she stopped and whirled around to face Evan.
"Can I use your phone?"
He nodded, getting up to hand her the remote from its niche on the coffee table between a bowl of soba noodles and a coil of computer cord.
Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly punch in Mulder's number. Oh please be home, she thought.
She let out her breath in exasperation and panic as Sarah's face filled the screen. It was their Messenger program. Sarah smiled for the camera and said, "You've reached Sarah Morelli and Fox Mulder. We can't take your call right now, so please leave us a message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible."
"No," Dana muttered under her breath. "Pick up, Mulder."
She cut the connection before the message beep and buried her face in her hands.
She needed to talk to Mulder. Now.
And then an idea struck her. She looked up at Evan. "Can you bring up your Net Tracker and see if Mulder's online?"
Evan looked almost relieved to have something to do to help her. His fingers flew across his black keyboard. He turned back around and grinned. "He's online and immersed. Do you know where he might be?"
Dana stood on shaking legs and walked over to Evan and his computer. "I know exactly where he is," she said breathlessly. "Do you mind if I go into immersion with your computer? He's got a Netspace."
She felt the warmth of Evan's hand on hers. "I know it's none of my business, Dana, but who is this guy to you?"
Such a simple question, such a complicated answer.
"He's everything," she said in a quavering voice. She cringed a little, waiting for Evan's words of recrimination. After all, Evan had known John as long as he'd known her. Sometimes they played a little basketball in the park.
Evan merely nodded judiciously. "So, you knew him Before."
She tapped the photo of the two of them with her index finger. "Apparently so."
I knew you and loved you and when I finally saw you again after five years, I couldn't remember you.
Dana couldn't begin to wrap her mind around the concept.
His eyebrows rose. "Wow, that is just wild..." He handed her his connect cable. "Go for it."
She smiled. "Thanks, Evan."
After some fumbling with the connect cord, she got it hooked and logged into her Centralnetsystem account. Dana shut her eyes and tried to clear her head with a deep breath, but it didn't work. She was wired.
With a few quick commands tapped into Evan's computer, she found herself in the virtual hallway, outside Mulder's door.
You can do it, she told herself. Be brave.
The Netspace was set for a sunny day, the air warm and the waves gently lapping at the sand. Mulder had his back to her, sitting on the sand. She crept up behind him and touched his shoulder.
The look he gave her when he turned his head was one she'd never truly seen from him before. It was...penetrating.
She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
Oh God, I think he somehow knows, too, she thought.
He got to his feet and brushed the virtual sand off his jeans. "I was just going to call you," he said in a husky voice.
Dana took his hand and squeezed it. "We need to talk."
Mulder nodded.
"Not here," she said. "In person." She gestured toward the shimmering ocean. "This isn't real enough."
"We need to talk," he repeated in a stunned voice.
The temptation to stay and blurt out what she now knew was the truth was too tempting. No, she thought, this isn't the place. "The park, the one where we first met. Can you be there in ten minutes?"
"I'll be there."
I knew you and loved you and forgot you.
She turned around and actually ran to the Netspace's door.
When she disconnected from the computer, she opened her eyes to see Evan sitting on his kitchen table, swigging from a bottle of water and staring at her. She rose from the chair. "Thanks, Evan," she said, already heading for his door. "I've got to run."
He jumped down from the table with a thud. "Where are you going?"
Dana stopped. "I'm going to find out the truth. I'm meeting him."
Evan grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the computer chair. "Let me take you there."
"I'm just going down the block to that little park. Don't worry about it." She smiled at his chivalrous but
unnecessary gesture. The streets were safe; she'd be just fine.
"Bullshit," Evan said with a crooked smile. "I'm coming with you."
The street was nearly empty. It was early evening and all the respectable little families were inside their apartments, eating their dinners and sharing the news of their days. She was headed to the park to meet the man who had been her lover Before, with a leather-clad hacker in tow. Her life had gotten awfully bizarre in the last few weeks.
"You're really brave," Evan said. Even though he was taller than she, and had longer legs, he was struggling to keep up with her rapid strides.
"I just need to know," she said.
"I know, and I admire that. No one seems to want to know. But I'll let you in on a little secret. I've been looking for my past, too. It's been tough. I was born in Chicago and the birth records there are completely screwed up. But I'm still looking..."
Dana stopped and touched his arm. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
He smiled in embarrassment. "I do, too."
They began walking again. Almost there, she told herself, still feeling frantic.
"What does this mean for you and John?" Evan asked.
She shook her head. "I don't know."
"Well, whatever happens, you're my friend, Dana. You've been so good to me. I feel so alone, you know? I don't have a family and you're probably the closest thing to a sister I have in this world."
They had reached the little park. She wrapped her arms around Evan and hugged him close. "Family doesn't have to mean blood," she said.
Together, they walked into the park. The playground was empty, as were the benches surrounding it. Just past the swing sets was the glow of a bonfire. There was a small fire pit and sometimes community groups held gatherings there. Dana could hear singing.
Feeling as if she were in a trance, she walked toward the fire, Evan discreetly trailing her like a private
detective.
As she got closer, she could make out the words of the song.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me...
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
She stopped and stared at the flickering lights of the fire, not seeing the faces of the people that surrounded it.
Fire.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
She saw everything.
When she wakes, she's coughing.
She slips her shoes on and stumbles out of the tent to head into the woods to pee. As she crouches on trembling and weak legs, she fondly thinks of her bathroom back in Washington with its large bathtub, endless supply of hot water and triple-ply quilted toilet paper. No, she tells herself, don't even think about it because you can never have it again.
With wood gathered earlier in the day she lights a fire to boil water for tea. The coughs are coming more and more frequently now, with a deep, rattling sound and a force that makes her fear breaking a rib. In one of the packs she finds a bottle off 44-D and takes a swig.
After her tea is made, she grabs her day pack and makes her way down the trail to the cliff edge overlooking the valley. Not so very long ago this was a park popular with bikers and backpackers. It would be easy to pretend that they're up here in the mountains for an impromptu camping weekend. It's a beautiful summer late afternoon, the sky cloudless and radiant blue. The humidity is low and it's just warm enough to wear only a t-shirt and shorts.
She's wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, though. Her low fever has given her chills.
The view is spectacular from the cliff. She can see for miles. That is, it would be spectacular if she didn't look down at the town in ruins in the valley below.
She doesn't look down, only straight across at more mountains and hills stretching across the horizon.
A mosquito bites the back of her neck and she swats it away, annoyed that she missed that spot with the repellant. She touches the place where she knows the chip lies just under the skin and smiles at the irony of it all. That tiny piece of metal had been both a curse and a blessing to her. It may or may not have sent her cancer into remission, but it also called her to the bridge and the burning on that terrifying night. But in the end, it saved them five days ago when she woke in the middle of the night in the motel room, screaming that They were coming.
No, scratch that-- the chip didn't save them. It merely postponed the inevitable.
She coughs again and looks down at the ruins of Abbotsville, population 2,475.
There's a rustle in the brush behind her and she grabs for her ever-present gun, turning to point it at the source of the sound. There's no telling what's out there.
It's only Mulder, though, and she breathes a small sigh of relief, setting the gun back down on top of her pack. He looks haggard and exhausted, just as she must look, and his face is bristly with the patchy beginnings of a beard.
He greets her with a hacking cough and sits beside her.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Just looking and thinking."
He strokes her cheek with his fingers. "Oh yeah? What about?"
She gestures down at the town below. "All of this. It's been more than three days, Mulder. Why haven't they come back to finish the job?"
Mulder shakes his head. This time he doesn't have any more answers than she does.
"What if this wasn't a concerted effort towards colonization, but just the alien version of vandalism?
Like, hey, let's go destroy mankind today."
"Either way, the result is the same," Mulder says, staring off into the distance.
They're so cut off from everything, there's no way to tell what has happened to the rest of the world. There had been just enough time to gather together supplies and warn their mothers, the Gunmen and Skinner with hasty phone calls, but their fates are unknown. It's this sensation of not knowing which is driving her crazy.
Both of them begin to cough and she passes him the bottle of red syrup. He takes a small slug and winces at the taste.
There's no time like the present for brutal honesty, she thinks. She used to live cocooned in the warm comfort of denial, but now she can't.
"We're dying, Mulder," she says.
"No." He fiercely shakes his head. "We've been outdoors, slept two nights in a cave, three in a tent. We've got colds, that's all."
Her voice comes out more exasperated than she truly wants it to sound. "No, Mulder. We saw those people die down the mountain. We've got what they had."
She lifts her hands so he can see the dark swelling beginning on the palms.
"Whatever this is, it's fatal and they brought it with them."
"No," he says, still shaking his head. "This can't be the end."
I want to die with dignity, she thinks, remembering the secret cache of painkillers she'd carried in her bag when she was so sick with cancer.
She picks up her gun and strokes it almost lovingly. "They died horrible deaths," she says in a flat voice. "You saw their convulsions, heard them scream."
When she closes her eyes at night, she can still hear the agonizing sounds of pain.
"It doesn't have to be like that," she says.
"What are you talking about, Scully?"
She offers the gun to him as if it's a precious gift. "We can end it here. Die with dignity."
His hand reaches out and gently wraps around her wrist. "No," he rasps, and coughs.
Tears begin to burn her exhausted eyes.
"I...I can't stand to watch you die like that," she whispers, her lips trembling. "And I can't stand to have you watch me die in such agony."
Mulder's voice is low and pleading as he wraps his arm around her. "Not tonight, Scully. It's not time. Let's just keep each other warm. Please, for me, one more night..."
Slowly, she puts the gun down and she hears him let out his breath in relief.
He pulls her closer to him and his breath ruffles her hair. "I just want to see one more morning with you."
She thinks about all the mornings in the last year. Some were hurried, the two of them bustling around trying to get ready for work. There were a number of mornings they woke in a motel room on a case, flaunting Bureau regulations about agent fraternization on duty. And then there were the sadly rare weekend mornings when they had time to read the paper in bed, drink coffee and litter the sheets with pastry crumbs, make love as the sunshine streamed through the windows.
Never did she think this day would come.
She never believed in it, just as she didn't believe in vampires, goat-suckers or extraterrestrial life.
How wrong she was.
"Come on, let's go back," Mulder says, standing and tugging her up, coughing at the effort.
They walk back up the trail to the campsite.
Inside the tent they slowly undress each other. They haven't made love since their world ended. Fear and the stench of death don't do much for the libido, but now she needs to connect.
Don't think about how this may be the last time, she tells herself.
Actually, their lives were so dangerous, every time they were together she was all too aware of how it could be their last.
It's slow, achingly slow, with several pauses to cough. Side-by-side they move together, kissing each other everywhere their mouths can reach. "I love you," Mulder says and it turns into a chant. "Iloveloveloveyou."
They end by shuddering at once with pleasure and lie wrapped together on top of their sleeping bags.
She takes a deep breath and is pleased not to cough. The syrup has temporarily taken effect.
He lazily strokes her hair. "I have so many regrets," he says with a sigh.
"No, Mulder," she whispers. "We can't have any regrets. We did the best we could."
How could two people possibly save the world?
"No, not that. About you and me. I always dreamed that someday we'd find our answers and everything would turn out for the best. And then we could live that normal life, just you and me. We could learn to love each other like regular people."
She rolls over and presses her cheek to his feverish chest. "What we had was enough for me."
God, they're already speaking in the past tense.
He continues, "I wanted to marry you, Scully." Mulder's heavy arm wraps tighter around her back.
"I know, Mulder." She tries to smile. "But if you think about it, we've always been married. It was an arranged marriage at first, but we grew to love each other."
"Arranged by Chief Blevins and the Smoking Man," he says with a sharp laugh.
"Either way, after a while, I couldn't see myself spending my life with anyone but you," she says.
Even though their love has been very real and evident, they haven't done a lot of talking about feelings. It's just not their way. But she sadly realizes that if they don't say it now, they never will.
He pulls her up a bit so she's looking directly into his eyes. Mulder's lips part in a small smile. "Scully, will you marry me?" he says.
She should laugh at the absurdity of a marriage proposal in the aftermath of the apocalypse, with the both of them dying of some alien plague, but she understands the intent of his words.
Her forehead touches his. "Yes, Mulder," she whispers.
They lie together as night falls on the woods, simply touching each other, kissing and sharing small memories.
Finally, Mulder's voice slows and she knows he's growing sleepy. She ruffles his dark hair. "Go to sleep," she says. "I love you."
His eyes snap open. "I'm scared, Scully. I don't want to die."
"Neither do I."
The sleeping bag rustles as he rises on an elbow. "I wish I believed like you. I wish I believed in an afterlife."
She grasps his hand in hers. "I'll believe for the both of us."
"It would be so comforting to know that there was a place in the afterlife where we'd eternally be together."
Around her neck is still hanging her cross necklace. It has been around her neck since she was fifteen as a testament to her faith. If there is ever a time to believe, this is it.
"Mulder," she whispers, pausing to kiss his lips. "We will be together in the next life, I promise."
His voice becomes slurred with sleep again. "I want to believe..."
"You don't have to. I do."
And she does, that's the miracle.
"Scully, will you sing to me?"
She smiles, remembering a simpler but frightening night when they were lost in the Florida woods and she sat vigil over an injured Mulder. He'd asked her to sing to him then and she'd complied, with a great deal of embarrassment. That night she'd sang "Joy to the World." She won't sing that one again-it doesn't seem appropriate.
Holding him in her arms, she sings, in a soft and tuneless voice, a song which has always brought her a great deal of comfort.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me...
I once was lost but now am found,
was blind, but now, I see.
'Twas Grace that taught
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear...
the hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares...
we have already come.
`Twas Grace that brought us safe thus far...
and Grace will lead us home.
By the time she finishes the third verse, Mulder is asleep.
Soon after that, she falls asleep, too, thinking, I'll believe enough for the both of us.
The sound of supersonic screaming wakes them and she and Mulder sit bolt upright. "What the fuck?" she shouts.
"They're back!"
Her first instinct is to run and hide, run up the trails to the cave where they sat out the first invasion. But she and Mulder look at each other and the unspoken thought they telegraph to each other is 'what's the point?'
Instead, they climb out of the tent and look up at the night sky, lit by a full, luminous moon.
Several black, triangular ships streak by in the sky. They've seen those ships before.
They're back and this time it's truly over. This is it.
Mulder takes her hand in his.
Somehow, I always knew we'd die together, she thinks, her breathing quickening. As strong as we are, there's no way one could survive without the other. Can you even imagine such an existence?
The earth begins to shake under their feet. She looks at Mulder in panic. This didn't happen the first time.
"Can you feel it coming?" she shouts.
"What?"
"I don't know, but it's coming..."
We will be together in the next life, Mulder.
I believe.
Something huge moves across the sky, so large it seems to stretch endlessly. It appears to be made of multicolored crystals that twinkle in the moonlight.
"Look, the sky, how beautiful," says Mulder, pointing at the gargantuan craft. Despite his fear, he can't keep his innate curiosity from coming to the fore.
"It's just...lovely..." she gasps.
Keep holding my hand, Mulder.
This is it. We end right here.
Three of the black triangles come screaming up to the giant crystal ship and start firing. It's like something out of Star Wars, only this is real life. She can't believe that what she's watching is actually happening.
The larger ship begins to spin and give off a low hum and they watch in astonishment as the black triangle ships simply disintegrate, little pieces raining down from the sky.
What the fuck?
The humming from the ship grows louder and she holds her breath.
She and Mulder turn to each other. They say goodbye with their eyes.
But it isn't goodbye, Mulder. We will be together in the next life.
It feels so intimate to die together.
With a flash of white light from the ship, she is blinded and everything just stops.
Dana opened her eyes and found herself sitting on a park bench, wrapped in Evan's leather-clad arms. She had no memory of walking to the bench.
"Dana, you still with me?" he said. "You were kind of out of it for a minute."
She could still hear the people around the bonfire singing.
So that was how they'd ended.
Mulder, how could I have forgotten that?
Evan touched her shoulder. "Dana?" he asked, his voice sounding more alarmed now.
"I'm okay," she said. "I just had a flashback or something."
And then she looked up and saw Mulder, walking across the park to her in long strides.
Oh, I remember you. I remember.
Evan stood. "I guess this is where I take my leave."
"Thank you," she said.
He bent to kiss the top of her head. "Any time," he said and walked past Mulder to the street.
Dana stared at Mulder with the new understanding her memory had brought her.
He stopped just before her, his face serious.
"I know you," she whispered.
You were my partner, my best friend, the love of my life.
"I know," he said.
You are still all of those things, Mulder.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I knew you, Before."
Mulder sank to his knees and buried his head in her lap. Instinctively, her hands moved to stroke his hair.
Nothing has changed. I still love you. I never stopped.
He raised his head and blinked at her through tear-filled eyes. "I know, Scully."
She froze. He did remember her after all. It was true.
He rose to sit by her and they stared at each other in wonder.
"I know they weren't daydreams, Scully," he said, clasping her hands in his.
We will be together in the next life.
Such a miracle cannot be squandered, she thought.
"I made a promise to you five years ago," she said, not sure if the urge she was feeling was to laugh or cry.
His kiss on her lips was gentle and full of promise.
"Tell me about it, Scully," he said.
And for a long time they sat on the park bench, remembering together.
It seemed to them that fate had intended them for one another, and they could not understand why she should have a husband, and he a wife. They were like two migrating birds, the male and the female, who had been caught and put into separate cages...
And it seemed to them that they were within an inch of arriving at a decision, and that then a new, beautiful life would begin. And they both realized that the end was still far, far away, and that the hardest, the most complicated part was only just beginning.
Anton Chekhov
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
One night, she can't sleep.
In the dark she hears her husband roll over and she knows he's still awake, too.
This is her favorite time, when the day's work is over, the dishes washed and the kids tucked in bed and soundly sleeping. Sometimes at night she can hear the faint sound of the upstairs neighbor practicing her flute, but just as often all she can hear is his even breathing and it's comforting.
At night she allows her stress, her guilt and fear to bleed away and she simply floats between the covers, feeling her husband's body heat radiating toward her.
At night there are no doubts that she made the right decision that night in the park when she finally remembered how Mulder and she had ended their first life.
Sleep will come, she tells herself, and turns toward him to move against his warm, bare back. While she's often cold at night, he is constantly warm, his skin as hot as a sunburn.
He makes a low sound in his throat at her touch and she smiles against the muscles of his shoulder. Tonight he smells like baby bubble bath and the lemons he cut up for the roasted chicken.
So this is domestic bliss, she dreamily thinks, as she applies measured kisses along the expanse of his back.
"Oh, that's nice," he sighs.
While she rubs up against him like an affectionate cat, she thinks of their wedding day and the vows they made to each other. Never had she believed in anything so firmly. She'd clutched her small bouquet of spring lilacs and said the words in a quiet, but steady voice. But underneath her outward serenity, she'd wanted to break down and cry with the overwhelming sensation of the moment. Later, she did, when they were alone at home, their hands joined, fingers wearing matching white gold bands fiercely gripped together.
In the faint light from the open blinds, she watches her hand move across his back and the way the ring appears to almost glow in the dark, reminding her that they're bound together for eternity.
Finally, he rolls over to face her. "Can't sleep?"
She shakes her head. "I'm not in the mood."
A grin spreads across his face. "Neither am I."
On a night like tonight, she needs to be reminded that he's real, that this isn't just another dream from which she'll soon wake. She has to drown herself in his physicality to reassure herself.
She takes her time kissing him, touching his body everywhere, to feel the way the texture of his skin varies in spots. She tries to memorize his form with her fingers.
She never wants to forget again.
He moans a little as she slides her wet lips down his belly and takes him in her mouth. This is real, she tells herself, as he begins to lift his body off the bed with his growing pleasure.
You are mine and I am yours. Flesh of my flesh.
When he can stand it no longer, she moves back up the bed to him. He sits up and props his back against the headboard with a pillow. With a smile on his face he holds out his arms to her, silently asking her to come to him.
This is her favorite way to make love with him. She can control the pace-make it wild and fierce or languid and sleepy. Their height difference doesn't matter as much when he's sitting and she straddles him and he's close enough for her to kiss him and look into his remarkable eyes.
When she looks into his eyes, she can see everything-their shared history and the future to come.
"Scully," he gasps as she slides down onto his cock.
She smiles at that. In the everyday world, he still tends to call her Dana, as in "Dana, how much milk do we need from the store?" or "I have to go pick up Adam from Sarah's now, Dana."
Scully is his private name for her, the one he calls her in bed. It's their secret touchstone to the life they once lived, the life they're still struggling to piece together.
Slowly, she moves with him, crooning low in her throat at the bliss of being joined with Mulder. One of his strong hands cups her bottom and the other strokes her breasts, making them full and heavy.
She leans closer to watch his eyes again. How she would love to see a child of theirs with those beautiful gray-green eyes and dark lashes. They're just beginning to discuss the idea, to decide whether they want to risk the possibility of failure.
Then again, they've always been risk-takers, haven't they?
A sharp cry leaves her mouth as his fingers find her clitoris and begin their magic. He laughs. "You're going to wake the kids."
She's learning to control herself on the nights when one or both of their children is with them.
"I'm so...glad," she gasps, moving harder up and down his length.
He knows what she means. "I am too, Scully."
Her kiss is just another extension of the promise she made to him on the night they died together.
We will be together in the next life, Mulder.
We are, she thinks, as pleasure blooms warm and sweet in her body. Oh God, we are.
She knows all too well that they did a terrible thing, leaving John and Sarah. John's eyes still silently reproach her every time she sees him. And Sarah flat-out refuses to speak to her unless it's utterly necessary. They destroyed the secure family units of their children, who will probably grow up unable to remember when their own parents were still married.
Yes, she knows this. It haunts her in daylight sometimes.
But she also knows what a miracle it was to find Mulder again. She doesn't tend to believe in destiny and fate, but it can't be an accident that they somehow managed to make their way back to each other again.
The night she remembered Mulder was the night she began to believe again. It's the night she started to pray once more.
As she wraps her arms around Mulder's neck, her gold cross necklace dangles in his face. It was his wedding gift to her, serving to remind her of her faith, her mother and father, sister and brothers, lost but no longer forgotten.
She wishes she had something of equal value to give Mulder to remind him of Samantha, but she knows he has not forgotten her. He still wants to learn his sister's fate.
When she comes, trembling in his arms, it's more than the hot, forbidden sensation she'd felt with him in the hotel room more than a year ago. It's pleasure and safety, the past, present and future all rolled into one overwhelming surge. It's everything.
When Mulder comes, he manages to somehow laugh at the same time, gushing into her with joyful release.
It's the next life and we're together, Mulder.
They roll onto their sides, replete at last, her body curled into his.
"I love you," he whispers. Those words still have the power to give her chills.
"And I love you," she says, reaching back to touch his lips with her fingers.
She's no longer afraid of night or her dreams. But there's one more thing they need to do before they sleep.
Closing her eyes, she says, "Tell me a story, Mulder."
This is what they do at night, share what they've remembered. The next day, she always writes it down in one of her journals. The red-bound book has memories for Julia and Adam, so that when they're old enough to ask questions, they might learn and understand. The black one that Mulder gave her for her birthday is just for the two of them, their most private stories.
He thinks for a moment and then says, "I have a nice one, Scully."
She smiles. "Tell it to me."
"It was Thanksgiving at your mother's house and I felt uncomfortable, surrounded by your whole family. I knew you'd told your mom about us before I'd come. They were nice to me, of course, even Bill, but I still felt out of place and on the spot. Your mother kept sneaking these looks at me and I imagined her thinking, so you're the one who's defiled my youngest daughter."
She laughs into the pillow.
"After dinner, you and your mom started in on the Bailey's and I was forced into watching the game with Charlie and Bill. When it was over, you and your mom were still talking so I wandered down into the basement for a nap. There were so many people staying at the house that I'd been assigned the hide-a-bed in the rec room.
"I had just about fallen asleep when I heard the basement stairs creaking. Looking up, I saw you, wearing an entirely mischievous look on your face. You were already unbuttoning your blouse. You flung it on the floor and climbed into bed with me. I could smell the coffee and liqueur on your breath as you started kissing my ear and neck. Scully, I wanted you so much, but I was scared Bill would come down and beat the crap out of me. 'Everybody is upstairs,' I said but you kept kissing me and you wouldn't stop and I didn't want you to. 'It's okay,' you whispered, 'We can be quiet. Mulder, I know we can be quiet...'"
END
My usual much too long post-story notes:
For WFD, for the alternate reality theory and life lessons without which this story could not have been written.
This is a story that was both difficult and easy to write. It was one of the first ideas that came to me after I discovered that wonderful thing called fan fiction. It haunted me for almost eighteen months, but I didn't feel ready to tell this story until now.
I have to give credit where it is due. Some elements of the setting, such as the cities under domes, were inspired by Marge Piercy's incredible novel, He, She and It. I suggest you give it a read. And she and I also took some science fiction elements from the inimitable William Gibson, the one who wrote the X-Files episode "Kill Switch." If you can, read his thrilling Neuromancer and Pattern Recognition. The plot, though, is my own, even if the characters are Chris Carter's.
Never have I written a story so quickly and I think it's largely due to the fact that the story had been worked over in my mind so many times over the months. When I finally was ready to write it, it just spilled out into my legal pad. Or maybe it was the caffeine. I estimate that I spent hundreds of dollars on iced lattes from Caribou Coffee.
But this was also very difficult to write. It's never easy to write about infidelity. It's something that I'm, on principle, not in favor of. However, sometimes infidelity is not a simple black and white matter. There are gray areas to consider. I'm not going to try to justify what Mulder and Scully did in this story. Hopefully, the story does that for me. I'll just quickly say that it's good to remember that they did not choose to be separated or to forget each other. And yes, I feel for John, Sarah and the kids.
Several people wrote me, wondering if there would be a big surprise Matrix-style twist at the end of the story, like having them really be in a Consortium-run virtual reality. That would have been a neat way to end, but I never considered it. I wanted the story to be one about relationships and, in the end, to honor what the characters went through in the course of the story. And some of you might wonder if the Others really are what they seem. It would take another 50,000 words of story to go into that. I'd like to think that their motives are honorable. The scene with Mulder and Scully ending their first lives in the mountains would seem to bear that out.
I just have to say that this story was a ball to write. I loved writing about domes, talking cabs and virtual reality.
There are a whole lot of wonderful people I must thank:
First, there is nothing in the world I can say to properly thank the magnificent Gwen and Plausible Deniability, who were my partners in this story. Their editing saved me from bad spelling, dangling participles and incredible sappiness. They are my dear friends and their generosity with time, ideas, inspiration and honesty is deeply appreciated.
Shari was my ever-present cheerleader and reassured me more times than I can count. Also, Lisa, Kim, Meredith, MD1016, Marasmus, and Amy all read early versions of various parts and helped me remain sane with their comments. Big cookies to all of you!
Many thanks to Bets, Kim, Meg, jordan, Cat and Bryan for so much fun I'm still getting over it. And much appreciation to the root veggies, for the love and laughs.
To all of the readers who sent me such inspirational and heartening feedback, I cannot thank you enough. There's brownies in the oven for all of you.
And special thanks to Meredith. Her stunning A Show of Strength was the first post-colonization story I ever read and still shines as the finest example of the genre in my mind.
I also must thank my family and friends, who are so patient when I'm madly writing and don't answer my phone.
Okay, I'll shut up now. I do tend to ramble.
Thanks for joining me on this wild ride.
Dasha
November 29, 1999
SUMMARY: What are we, but the sum of our memories?
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Mulder/Scully, Mulder/other, Scully/other
DISCLAIMER: These characters are the creation of CC and company. I have borrowed a few elements of the setting from Marge Piercy's novel He, She and It. She freely admits that she borrowed from William Gibson, so I figure it's all up for grabs.
WORD COUNT: 49,000
DATE POSTED: November 1999
She paced the small room, clenching and unclenching her fists. Evan watched her from his computer chair with a concerned expression on his face.
Her mind was racing too quickly for her to keep up with her thoughts. They were coming at her in bursts that weren't quite coherent.
Before.
Mulder.
I knew him.
I loved him.
Oh, God.
He was right.
My dreams were right.
We knew each other.
What the fuck.
We found each other again.
Mulder.
It was you.
It was you it was you it was you all along it was you.
Suddenly, she stopped and whirled around to face Evan.
"Can I use your phone?"
He nodded, getting up to hand her the remote from its niche on the coffee table between a bowl of soba noodles and a coil of computer cord.
Her hands were shaking so badly she could hardly punch in Mulder's number. Oh please be home, she thought.
She let out her breath in exasperation and panic as Sarah's face filled the screen. It was their Messenger program. Sarah smiled for the camera and said, "You've reached Sarah Morelli and Fox Mulder. We can't take your call right now, so please leave us a message and we'll get back to you as soon as possible."
"No," Dana muttered under her breath. "Pick up, Mulder."
She cut the connection before the message beep and buried her face in her hands.
She needed to talk to Mulder. Now.
And then an idea struck her. She looked up at Evan. "Can you bring up your Net Tracker and see if Mulder's online?"
Evan looked almost relieved to have something to do to help her. His fingers flew across his black keyboard. He turned back around and grinned. "He's online and immersed. Do you know where he might be?"
Dana stood on shaking legs and walked over to Evan and his computer. "I know exactly where he is," she said breathlessly. "Do you mind if I go into immersion with your computer? He's got a Netspace."
She felt the warmth of Evan's hand on hers. "I know it's none of my business, Dana, but who is this guy to you?"
Such a simple question, such a complicated answer.
"He's everything," she said in a quavering voice. She cringed a little, waiting for Evan's words of recrimination. After all, Evan had known John as long as he'd known her. Sometimes they played a little basketball in the park.
Evan merely nodded judiciously. "So, you knew him Before."
She tapped the photo of the two of them with her index finger. "Apparently so."
I knew you and loved you and when I finally saw you again after five years, I couldn't remember you.
Dana couldn't begin to wrap her mind around the concept.
His eyebrows rose. "Wow, that is just wild..." He handed her his connect cable. "Go for it."
She smiled. "Thanks, Evan."
After some fumbling with the connect cord, she got it hooked and logged into her Centralnetsystem account. Dana shut her eyes and tried to clear her head with a deep breath, but it didn't work. She was wired.
With a few quick commands tapped into Evan's computer, she found herself in the virtual hallway, outside Mulder's door.
You can do it, she told herself. Be brave.
The Netspace was set for a sunny day, the air warm and the waves gently lapping at the sand. Mulder had his back to her, sitting on the sand. She crept up behind him and touched his shoulder.
The look he gave her when he turned his head was one she'd never truly seen from him before. It was...penetrating.
She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
Oh God, I think he somehow knows, too, she thought.
He got to his feet and brushed the virtual sand off his jeans. "I was just going to call you," he said in a husky voice.
Dana took his hand and squeezed it. "We need to talk."
Mulder nodded.
"Not here," she said. "In person." She gestured toward the shimmering ocean. "This isn't real enough."
"We need to talk," he repeated in a stunned voice.
The temptation to stay and blurt out what she now knew was the truth was too tempting. No, she thought, this isn't the place. "The park, the one where we first met. Can you be there in ten minutes?"
"I'll be there."
I knew you and loved you and forgot you.
She turned around and actually ran to the Netspace's door.
When she disconnected from the computer, she opened her eyes to see Evan sitting on his kitchen table, swigging from a bottle of water and staring at her. She rose from the chair. "Thanks, Evan," she said, already heading for his door. "I've got to run."
He jumped down from the table with a thud. "Where are you going?"
Dana stopped. "I'm going to find out the truth. I'm meeting him."
Evan grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the computer chair. "Let me take you there."
"I'm just going down the block to that little park. Don't worry about it." She smiled at his chivalrous but
unnecessary gesture. The streets were safe; she'd be just fine.
"Bullshit," Evan said with a crooked smile. "I'm coming with you."
The street was nearly empty. It was early evening and all the respectable little families were inside their apartments, eating their dinners and sharing the news of their days. She was headed to the park to meet the man who had been her lover Before, with a leather-clad hacker in tow. Her life had gotten awfully bizarre in the last few weeks.
"You're really brave," Evan said. Even though he was taller than she, and had longer legs, he was struggling to keep up with her rapid strides.
"I just need to know," she said.
"I know, and I admire that. No one seems to want to know. But I'll let you in on a little secret. I've been looking for my past, too. It's been tough. I was born in Chicago and the birth records there are completely screwed up. But I'm still looking..."
Dana stopped and touched his arm. "I hope you find what you're looking for."
He smiled in embarrassment. "I do, too."
They began walking again. Almost there, she told herself, still feeling frantic.
"What does this mean for you and John?" Evan asked.
She shook her head. "I don't know."
"Well, whatever happens, you're my friend, Dana. You've been so good to me. I feel so alone, you know? I don't have a family and you're probably the closest thing to a sister I have in this world."
They had reached the little park. She wrapped her arms around Evan and hugged him close. "Family doesn't have to mean blood," she said.
Together, they walked into the park. The playground was empty, as were the benches surrounding it. Just past the swing sets was the glow of a bonfire. There was a small fire pit and sometimes community groups held gatherings there. Dana could hear singing.
Feeling as if she were in a trance, she walked toward the fire, Evan discreetly trailing her like a private
detective.
As she got closer, she could make out the words of the song.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me...
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
She stopped and stared at the flickering lights of the fire, not seeing the faces of the people that surrounded it.
Fire.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.
She saw everything.
When she wakes, she's coughing.
She slips her shoes on and stumbles out of the tent to head into the woods to pee. As she crouches on trembling and weak legs, she fondly thinks of her bathroom back in Washington with its large bathtub, endless supply of hot water and triple-ply quilted toilet paper. No, she tells herself, don't even think about it because you can never have it again.
With wood gathered earlier in the day she lights a fire to boil water for tea. The coughs are coming more and more frequently now, with a deep, rattling sound and a force that makes her fear breaking a rib. In one of the packs she finds a bottle off 44-D and takes a swig.
After her tea is made, she grabs her day pack and makes her way down the trail to the cliff edge overlooking the valley. Not so very long ago this was a park popular with bikers and backpackers. It would be easy to pretend that they're up here in the mountains for an impromptu camping weekend. It's a beautiful summer late afternoon, the sky cloudless and radiant blue. The humidity is low and it's just warm enough to wear only a t-shirt and shorts.
She's wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, though. Her low fever has given her chills.
The view is spectacular from the cliff. She can see for miles. That is, it would be spectacular if she didn't look down at the town in ruins in the valley below.
She doesn't look down, only straight across at more mountains and hills stretching across the horizon.
A mosquito bites the back of her neck and she swats it away, annoyed that she missed that spot with the repellant. She touches the place where she knows the chip lies just under the skin and smiles at the irony of it all. That tiny piece of metal had been both a curse and a blessing to her. It may or may not have sent her cancer into remission, but it also called her to the bridge and the burning on that terrifying night. But in the end, it saved them five days ago when she woke in the middle of the night in the motel room, screaming that They were coming.
No, scratch that-- the chip didn't save them. It merely postponed the inevitable.
She coughs again and looks down at the ruins of Abbotsville, population 2,475.
There's a rustle in the brush behind her and she grabs for her ever-present gun, turning to point it at the source of the sound. There's no telling what's out there.
It's only Mulder, though, and she breathes a small sigh of relief, setting the gun back down on top of her pack. He looks haggard and exhausted, just as she must look, and his face is bristly with the patchy beginnings of a beard.
He greets her with a hacking cough and sits beside her.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Just looking and thinking."
He strokes her cheek with his fingers. "Oh yeah? What about?"
She gestures down at the town below. "All of this. It's been more than three days, Mulder. Why haven't they come back to finish the job?"
Mulder shakes his head. This time he doesn't have any more answers than she does.
"What if this wasn't a concerted effort towards colonization, but just the alien version of vandalism?
Like, hey, let's go destroy mankind today."
"Either way, the result is the same," Mulder says, staring off into the distance.
They're so cut off from everything, there's no way to tell what has happened to the rest of the world. There had been just enough time to gather together supplies and warn their mothers, the Gunmen and Skinner with hasty phone calls, but their fates are unknown. It's this sensation of not knowing which is driving her crazy.
Both of them begin to cough and she passes him the bottle of red syrup. He takes a small slug and winces at the taste.
There's no time like the present for brutal honesty, she thinks. She used to live cocooned in the warm comfort of denial, but now she can't.
"We're dying, Mulder," she says.
"No." He fiercely shakes his head. "We've been outdoors, slept two nights in a cave, three in a tent. We've got colds, that's all."
Her voice comes out more exasperated than she truly wants it to sound. "No, Mulder. We saw those people die down the mountain. We've got what they had."
She lifts her hands so he can see the dark swelling beginning on the palms.
"Whatever this is, it's fatal and they brought it with them."
"No," he says, still shaking his head. "This can't be the end."
I want to die with dignity, she thinks, remembering the secret cache of painkillers she'd carried in her bag when she was so sick with cancer.
She picks up her gun and strokes it almost lovingly. "They died horrible deaths," she says in a flat voice. "You saw their convulsions, heard them scream."
When she closes her eyes at night, she can still hear the agonizing sounds of pain.
"It doesn't have to be like that," she says.
"What are you talking about, Scully?"
She offers the gun to him as if it's a precious gift. "We can end it here. Die with dignity."
His hand reaches out and gently wraps around her wrist. "No," he rasps, and coughs.
Tears begin to burn her exhausted eyes.
"I...I can't stand to watch you die like that," she whispers, her lips trembling. "And I can't stand to have you watch me die in such agony."
Mulder's voice is low and pleading as he wraps his arm around her. "Not tonight, Scully. It's not time. Let's just keep each other warm. Please, for me, one more night..."
Slowly, she puts the gun down and she hears him let out his breath in relief.
He pulls her closer to him and his breath ruffles her hair. "I just want to see one more morning with you."
She thinks about all the mornings in the last year. Some were hurried, the two of them bustling around trying to get ready for work. There were a number of mornings they woke in a motel room on a case, flaunting Bureau regulations about agent fraternization on duty. And then there were the sadly rare weekend mornings when they had time to read the paper in bed, drink coffee and litter the sheets with pastry crumbs, make love as the sunshine streamed through the windows.
Never did she think this day would come.
She never believed in it, just as she didn't believe in vampires, goat-suckers or extraterrestrial life.
How wrong she was.
"Come on, let's go back," Mulder says, standing and tugging her up, coughing at the effort.
They walk back up the trail to the campsite.
Inside the tent they slowly undress each other. They haven't made love since their world ended. Fear and the stench of death don't do much for the libido, but now she needs to connect.
Don't think about how this may be the last time, she tells herself.
Actually, their lives were so dangerous, every time they were together she was all too aware of how it could be their last.
It's slow, achingly slow, with several pauses to cough. Side-by-side they move together, kissing each other everywhere their mouths can reach. "I love you," Mulder says and it turns into a chant. "Iloveloveloveyou."
They end by shuddering at once with pleasure and lie wrapped together on top of their sleeping bags.
She takes a deep breath and is pleased not to cough. The syrup has temporarily taken effect.
He lazily strokes her hair. "I have so many regrets," he says with a sigh.
"No, Mulder," she whispers. "We can't have any regrets. We did the best we could."
How could two people possibly save the world?
"No, not that. About you and me. I always dreamed that someday we'd find our answers and everything would turn out for the best. And then we could live that normal life, just you and me. We could learn to love each other like regular people."
She rolls over and presses her cheek to his feverish chest. "What we had was enough for me."
God, they're already speaking in the past tense.
He continues, "I wanted to marry you, Scully." Mulder's heavy arm wraps tighter around her back.
"I know, Mulder." She tries to smile. "But if you think about it, we've always been married. It was an arranged marriage at first, but we grew to love each other."
"Arranged by Chief Blevins and the Smoking Man," he says with a sharp laugh.
"Either way, after a while, I couldn't see myself spending my life with anyone but you," she says.
Even though their love has been very real and evident, they haven't done a lot of talking about feelings. It's just not their way. But she sadly realizes that if they don't say it now, they never will.
He pulls her up a bit so she's looking directly into his eyes. Mulder's lips part in a small smile. "Scully, will you marry me?" he says.
She should laugh at the absurdity of a marriage proposal in the aftermath of the apocalypse, with the both of them dying of some alien plague, but she understands the intent of his words.
Her forehead touches his. "Yes, Mulder," she whispers.
They lie together as night falls on the woods, simply touching each other, kissing and sharing small memories.
Finally, Mulder's voice slows and she knows he's growing sleepy. She ruffles his dark hair. "Go to sleep," she says. "I love you."
His eyes snap open. "I'm scared, Scully. I don't want to die."
"Neither do I."
The sleeping bag rustles as he rises on an elbow. "I wish I believed like you. I wish I believed in an afterlife."
She grasps his hand in hers. "I'll believe for the both of us."
"It would be so comforting to know that there was a place in the afterlife where we'd eternally be together."
Around her neck is still hanging her cross necklace. It has been around her neck since she was fifteen as a testament to her faith. If there is ever a time to believe, this is it.
"Mulder," she whispers, pausing to kiss his lips. "We will be together in the next life, I promise."
His voice becomes slurred with sleep again. "I want to believe..."
"You don't have to. I do."
And she does, that's the miracle.
"Scully, will you sing to me?"
She smiles, remembering a simpler but frightening night when they were lost in the Florida woods and she sat vigil over an injured Mulder. He'd asked her to sing to him then and she'd complied, with a great deal of embarrassment. That night she'd sang "Joy to the World." She won't sing that one again-it doesn't seem appropriate.
Holding him in her arms, she sings, in a soft and tuneless voice, a song which has always brought her a great deal of comfort.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me...
I once was lost but now am found,
was blind, but now, I see.
'Twas Grace that taught
my heart to fear.
And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear...
the hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares...
we have already come.
`Twas Grace that brought us safe thus far...
and Grace will lead us home.
By the time she finishes the third verse, Mulder is asleep.
Soon after that, she falls asleep, too, thinking, I'll believe enough for the both of us.
The sound of supersonic screaming wakes them and she and Mulder sit bolt upright. "What the fuck?" she shouts.
"They're back!"
Her first instinct is to run and hide, run up the trails to the cave where they sat out the first invasion. But she and Mulder look at each other and the unspoken thought they telegraph to each other is 'what's the point?'
Instead, they climb out of the tent and look up at the night sky, lit by a full, luminous moon.
Several black, triangular ships streak by in the sky. They've seen those ships before.
They're back and this time it's truly over. This is it.
Mulder takes her hand in his.
Somehow, I always knew we'd die together, she thinks, her breathing quickening. As strong as we are, there's no way one could survive without the other. Can you even imagine such an existence?
The earth begins to shake under their feet. She looks at Mulder in panic. This didn't happen the first time.
"Can you feel it coming?" she shouts.
"What?"
"I don't know, but it's coming..."
We will be together in the next life, Mulder.
I believe.
Something huge moves across the sky, so large it seems to stretch endlessly. It appears to be made of multicolored crystals that twinkle in the moonlight.
"Look, the sky, how beautiful," says Mulder, pointing at the gargantuan craft. Despite his fear, he can't keep his innate curiosity from coming to the fore.
"It's just...lovely..." she gasps.
Keep holding my hand, Mulder.
This is it. We end right here.
Three of the black triangles come screaming up to the giant crystal ship and start firing. It's like something out of Star Wars, only this is real life. She can't believe that what she's watching is actually happening.
The larger ship begins to spin and give off a low hum and they watch in astonishment as the black triangle ships simply disintegrate, little pieces raining down from the sky.
What the fuck?
The humming from the ship grows louder and she holds her breath.
She and Mulder turn to each other. They say goodbye with their eyes.
But it isn't goodbye, Mulder. We will be together in the next life.
It feels so intimate to die together.
With a flash of white light from the ship, she is blinded and everything just stops.
Dana opened her eyes and found herself sitting on a park bench, wrapped in Evan's leather-clad arms. She had no memory of walking to the bench.
"Dana, you still with me?" he said. "You were kind of out of it for a minute."
She could still hear the people around the bonfire singing.
So that was how they'd ended.
Mulder, how could I have forgotten that?
Evan touched her shoulder. "Dana?" he asked, his voice sounding more alarmed now.
"I'm okay," she said. "I just had a flashback or something."
And then she looked up and saw Mulder, walking across the park to her in long strides.
Oh, I remember you. I remember.
Evan stood. "I guess this is where I take my leave."
"Thank you," she said.
He bent to kiss the top of her head. "Any time," he said and walked past Mulder to the street.
Dana stared at Mulder with the new understanding her memory had brought her.
He stopped just before her, his face serious.
"I know you," she whispered.
You were my partner, my best friend, the love of my life.
"I know," he said.
You are still all of those things, Mulder.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I knew you, Before."
Mulder sank to his knees and buried his head in her lap. Instinctively, her hands moved to stroke his hair.
Nothing has changed. I still love you. I never stopped.
He raised his head and blinked at her through tear-filled eyes. "I know, Scully."
She froze. He did remember her after all. It was true.
He rose to sit by her and they stared at each other in wonder.
"I know they weren't daydreams, Scully," he said, clasping her hands in his.
We will be together in the next life.
Such a miracle cannot be squandered, she thought.
"I made a promise to you five years ago," she said, not sure if the urge she was feeling was to laugh or cry.
His kiss on her lips was gentle and full of promise.
"Tell me about it, Scully," he said.
And for a long time they sat on the park bench, remembering together.
It seemed to them that fate had intended them for one another, and they could not understand why she should have a husband, and he a wife. They were like two migrating birds, the male and the female, who had been caught and put into separate cages...
And it seemed to them that they were within an inch of arriving at a decision, and that then a new, beautiful life would begin. And they both realized that the end was still far, far away, and that the hardest, the most complicated part was only just beginning.
Anton Chekhov
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
One night, she can't sleep.
In the dark she hears her husband roll over and she knows he's still awake, too.
This is her favorite time, when the day's work is over, the dishes washed and the kids tucked in bed and soundly sleeping. Sometimes at night she can hear the faint sound of the upstairs neighbor practicing her flute, but just as often all she can hear is his even breathing and it's comforting.
At night she allows her stress, her guilt and fear to bleed away and she simply floats between the covers, feeling her husband's body heat radiating toward her.
At night there are no doubts that she made the right decision that night in the park when she finally remembered how Mulder and she had ended their first life.
Sleep will come, she tells herself, and turns toward him to move against his warm, bare back. While she's often cold at night, he is constantly warm, his skin as hot as a sunburn.
He makes a low sound in his throat at her touch and she smiles against the muscles of his shoulder. Tonight he smells like baby bubble bath and the lemons he cut up for the roasted chicken.
So this is domestic bliss, she dreamily thinks, as she applies measured kisses along the expanse of his back.
"Oh, that's nice," he sighs.
While she rubs up against him like an affectionate cat, she thinks of their wedding day and the vows they made to each other. Never had she believed in anything so firmly. She'd clutched her small bouquet of spring lilacs and said the words in a quiet, but steady voice. But underneath her outward serenity, she'd wanted to break down and cry with the overwhelming sensation of the moment. Later, she did, when they were alone at home, their hands joined, fingers wearing matching white gold bands fiercely gripped together.
In the faint light from the open blinds, she watches her hand move across his back and the way the ring appears to almost glow in the dark, reminding her that they're bound together for eternity.
Finally, he rolls over to face her. "Can't sleep?"
She shakes her head. "I'm not in the mood."
A grin spreads across his face. "Neither am I."
On a night like tonight, she needs to be reminded that he's real, that this isn't just another dream from which she'll soon wake. She has to drown herself in his physicality to reassure herself.
She takes her time kissing him, touching his body everywhere, to feel the way the texture of his skin varies in spots. She tries to memorize his form with her fingers.
She never wants to forget again.
He moans a little as she slides her wet lips down his belly and takes him in her mouth. This is real, she tells herself, as he begins to lift his body off the bed with his growing pleasure.
You are mine and I am yours. Flesh of my flesh.
When he can stand it no longer, she moves back up the bed to him. He sits up and props his back against the headboard with a pillow. With a smile on his face he holds out his arms to her, silently asking her to come to him.
This is her favorite way to make love with him. She can control the pace-make it wild and fierce or languid and sleepy. Their height difference doesn't matter as much when he's sitting and she straddles him and he's close enough for her to kiss him and look into his remarkable eyes.
When she looks into his eyes, she can see everything-their shared history and the future to come.
"Scully," he gasps as she slides down onto his cock.
She smiles at that. In the everyday world, he still tends to call her Dana, as in "Dana, how much milk do we need from the store?" or "I have to go pick up Adam from Sarah's now, Dana."
Scully is his private name for her, the one he calls her in bed. It's their secret touchstone to the life they once lived, the life they're still struggling to piece together.
Slowly, she moves with him, crooning low in her throat at the bliss of being joined with Mulder. One of his strong hands cups her bottom and the other strokes her breasts, making them full and heavy.
She leans closer to watch his eyes again. How she would love to see a child of theirs with those beautiful gray-green eyes and dark lashes. They're just beginning to discuss the idea, to decide whether they want to risk the possibility of failure.
Then again, they've always been risk-takers, haven't they?
A sharp cry leaves her mouth as his fingers find her clitoris and begin their magic. He laughs. "You're going to wake the kids."
She's learning to control herself on the nights when one or both of their children is with them.
"I'm so...glad," she gasps, moving harder up and down his length.
He knows what she means. "I am too, Scully."
Her kiss is just another extension of the promise she made to him on the night they died together.
We will be together in the next life, Mulder.
We are, she thinks, as pleasure blooms warm and sweet in her body. Oh God, we are.
She knows all too well that they did a terrible thing, leaving John and Sarah. John's eyes still silently reproach her every time she sees him. And Sarah flat-out refuses to speak to her unless it's utterly necessary. They destroyed the secure family units of their children, who will probably grow up unable to remember when their own parents were still married.
Yes, she knows this. It haunts her in daylight sometimes.
But she also knows what a miracle it was to find Mulder again. She doesn't tend to believe in destiny and fate, but it can't be an accident that they somehow managed to make their way back to each other again.
The night she remembered Mulder was the night she began to believe again. It's the night she started to pray once more.
As she wraps her arms around Mulder's neck, her gold cross necklace dangles in his face. It was his wedding gift to her, serving to remind her of her faith, her mother and father, sister and brothers, lost but no longer forgotten.
She wishes she had something of equal value to give Mulder to remind him of Samantha, but she knows he has not forgotten her. He still wants to learn his sister's fate.
When she comes, trembling in his arms, it's more than the hot, forbidden sensation she'd felt with him in the hotel room more than a year ago. It's pleasure and safety, the past, present and future all rolled into one overwhelming surge. It's everything.
When Mulder comes, he manages to somehow laugh at the same time, gushing into her with joyful release.
It's the next life and we're together, Mulder.
They roll onto their sides, replete at last, her body curled into his.
"I love you," he whispers. Those words still have the power to give her chills.
"And I love you," she says, reaching back to touch his lips with her fingers.
She's no longer afraid of night or her dreams. But there's one more thing they need to do before they sleep.
Closing her eyes, she says, "Tell me a story, Mulder."
This is what they do at night, share what they've remembered. The next day, she always writes it down in one of her journals. The red-bound book has memories for Julia and Adam, so that when they're old enough to ask questions, they might learn and understand. The black one that Mulder gave her for her birthday is just for the two of them, their most private stories.
He thinks for a moment and then says, "I have a nice one, Scully."
She smiles. "Tell it to me."
"It was Thanksgiving at your mother's house and I felt uncomfortable, surrounded by your whole family. I knew you'd told your mom about us before I'd come. They were nice to me, of course, even Bill, but I still felt out of place and on the spot. Your mother kept sneaking these looks at me and I imagined her thinking, so you're the one who's defiled my youngest daughter."
She laughs into the pillow.
"After dinner, you and your mom started in on the Bailey's and I was forced into watching the game with Charlie and Bill. When it was over, you and your mom were still talking so I wandered down into the basement for a nap. There were so many people staying at the house that I'd been assigned the hide-a-bed in the rec room.
"I had just about fallen asleep when I heard the basement stairs creaking. Looking up, I saw you, wearing an entirely mischievous look on your face. You were already unbuttoning your blouse. You flung it on the floor and climbed into bed with me. I could smell the coffee and liqueur on your breath as you started kissing my ear and neck. Scully, I wanted you so much, but I was scared Bill would come down and beat the crap out of me. 'Everybody is upstairs,' I said but you kept kissing me and you wouldn't stop and I didn't want you to. 'It's okay,' you whispered, 'We can be quiet. Mulder, I know we can be quiet...'"
END
My usual much too long post-story notes:
For WFD, for the alternate reality theory and life lessons without which this story could not have been written.
This is a story that was both difficult and easy to write. It was one of the first ideas that came to me after I discovered that wonderful thing called fan fiction. It haunted me for almost eighteen months, but I didn't feel ready to tell this story until now.
I have to give credit where it is due. Some elements of the setting, such as the cities under domes, were inspired by Marge Piercy's incredible novel, He, She and It. I suggest you give it a read. And she and I also took some science fiction elements from the inimitable William Gibson, the one who wrote the X-Files episode "Kill Switch." If you can, read his thrilling Neuromancer and Pattern Recognition. The plot, though, is my own, even if the characters are Chris Carter's.
Never have I written a story so quickly and I think it's largely due to the fact that the story had been worked over in my mind so many times over the months. When I finally was ready to write it, it just spilled out into my legal pad. Or maybe it was the caffeine. I estimate that I spent hundreds of dollars on iced lattes from Caribou Coffee.
But this was also very difficult to write. It's never easy to write about infidelity. It's something that I'm, on principle, not in favor of. However, sometimes infidelity is not a simple black and white matter. There are gray areas to consider. I'm not going to try to justify what Mulder and Scully did in this story. Hopefully, the story does that for me. I'll just quickly say that it's good to remember that they did not choose to be separated or to forget each other. And yes, I feel for John, Sarah and the kids.
Several people wrote me, wondering if there would be a big surprise Matrix-style twist at the end of the story, like having them really be in a Consortium-run virtual reality. That would have been a neat way to end, but I never considered it. I wanted the story to be one about relationships and, in the end, to honor what the characters went through in the course of the story. And some of you might wonder if the Others really are what they seem. It would take another 50,000 words of story to go into that. I'd like to think that their motives are honorable. The scene with Mulder and Scully ending their first lives in the mountains would seem to bear that out.
I just have to say that this story was a ball to write. I loved writing about domes, talking cabs and virtual reality.
There are a whole lot of wonderful people I must thank:
First, there is nothing in the world I can say to properly thank the magnificent Gwen and Plausible Deniability, who were my partners in this story. Their editing saved me from bad spelling, dangling participles and incredible sappiness. They are my dear friends and their generosity with time, ideas, inspiration and honesty is deeply appreciated.
Shari was my ever-present cheerleader and reassured me more times than I can count. Also, Lisa, Kim, Meredith, MD1016, Marasmus, and Amy all read early versions of various parts and helped me remain sane with their comments. Big cookies to all of you!
Many thanks to Bets, Kim, Meg, jordan, Cat and Bryan for so much fun I'm still getting over it. And much appreciation to the root veggies, for the love and laughs.
To all of the readers who sent me such inspirational and heartening feedback, I cannot thank you enough. There's brownies in the oven for all of you.
And special thanks to Meredith. Her stunning A Show of Strength was the first post-colonization story I ever read and still shines as the finest example of the genre in my mind.
I also must thank my family and friends, who are so patient when I'm madly writing and don't answer my phone.
Okay, I'll shut up now. I do tend to ramble.
Thanks for joining me on this wild ride.
Dasha
November 29, 1999