ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES  (1/18)
by Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger@aol.com)

Author's notes: Those of you who have been following AHE, may find
it hard to believe that it was started Halloween 1995. The true
turning point of the story, however, began with part II, Extreme
Unction, which was released around Halloween in 1996. The response
to that story was so overwhelming that I was inspired to write a
'little' Christmas story. Unfortunately, my little Christmas story
(AHE III: All Christmas Eve) didn't get out until Easter 1997.
     I almost didn't write another but then summer ended. I had
written Carnival and was still working on Revelations 1:DawnI when I
started getting requests for the Halloween 1997 version of AHE.
     Didn't make it again, did I? Here it is, February 1998. At
least it's still cold, the only problem is that most of the action
takes place in early spring.
     Sigh... I just can't get my seasons right.
     Since Extreme Unction, in which Mulder nearly died of cancer,
Dana almost did in the series. I had some anxious moments over the
summer wondering if they'd cure Dana the way I cured Mulder in
Extreme Unction, but they didn't and that actually was fine because
CC did a terrific job. It did leave me having to deal with Dana's
cancer here and I do but very briefly. Samantha's appearance in
Redux is harder to explain so I don't even try. Just pretend that
little scene didn't take place in Redux. I know mine is far from
the only fanfic story which was thrown into a tail spin by THAT
little revelation. Ah, the hazards of trying to write in the
present. Also note that the title, Miracles, has nothing to do with
the miracles discussed in Redux/Redux II.

Summary: Tannis, a young witch, is invited to a certain Halloween
party by a certain good-looking FBI agent in hopes that she can
prevent tragedy sweeping up our heros once again. No luck, but you
probably figured that out. This begins in Tannis's voice but soon
moves to Dana's and Mulder's with some surprise guests by the end.
Angst, angst and more angst.

Rating: PG13 the vast majority of the time. A few bad words and
lustful thoughts, a couple of steamy dream sequences, but nothing
truly graphic. Our friends are a little too busy to be thinking
much about sex.

For new readers of the All Hallow's Eve series: Though I provide a
clumsy synopsis of sorts in chapter 1, please don't try to read
this without having read at least AHE II at some time. It would be
nice to have read AHE III which is a very non-Christmas Christmas
tale. You may also find the non-dream sequences of AHE I
informative for understanding our heroes fondness for this
particular Halloween party.

Disclaimer: These characters were developed by Chris Carter and Ten
Thirteen Productions and I use them with respect and no hope for
ever getting paid for any of this.
 

ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES (1/18)
By Susan Esty (AKA Windsinger. If in the future I'm no longer on
AOL, I'll ask Gossamer.Simplenet to store my new addy someplace. I
like e-mail too well to miss getting it.)
 

Chapter 1 : Tannis

     The tool in my hand felt like a normal garden trowel and the
earth certainly looked like normal well-turned earth. That was,
however, before I plunged my little trowel into that earth. Up rose
such a stench... Such a grave smell. You would have thought
something had died there. I had already been warned that it was
going to be a turbulent day - my morning tea leaves had refused to
settle but just kept spinning about in my mug - but this! If I were
the superstitious sort, I would have jumped back into bed and
pulled the covers over my head but then no self-respecting wicken
would have let himself or herself be caught dead doing such a thing
- especially not on All Hallow's Eve.

     At that moment I heard a swish of vines and spun around.
Charlotte, an ancient marmalade cat, had put in an appearance. Char
has been my buddy, my pal, my familiar since I was very young. She
walks oddly because of the arthritis in her hips. She now claws up
the furniture rather than leaps and I swear has lost a nine-tenths
of her decibel range, but she's always been a good friend of mine.

     "It's going to be a hell of a day, Char," I told her. I didn't
bother raising my voice because as far as I can tell her sense of
smell hasn't left her and so she must have caught the odor of the
grave as easily as I had. Then near the raspberry canes came
another movement. The source finally came striding out from under
the huge pumpkin leaves.

     It was another feline. This one was steel gray from the tip of
his tail to just behind his little pink nose.

     "Yes, Char, you're right. He also has a little spot of white
under his chin, his own little witch's spot. How stupid of me not
to have looked for that immediately."

     That it was a 'he' I had no doubt even though he was too young
to have started developing his secondary sexual characteristics yet
- the widening of the face and shoulders, the general thickening of
the neck and body. I've gotten pretty good over my twenty-eight
years at picking males out of the herd at a glance. This particular
male very pleasantly strode up to where Charlotte had plopped
herself down, stopped, looked up at me and uttered a hearty and
very proper good morning.

     "My, Char, have you gone in for cradle robbing now? Nice work
though at your age. Well, whoever you are, you've been very well
brought up. Still I don't think this is the best day you could have
picked to come visiting."

     In response he made a sort of shrug and just sat down beside
his new friend, giving no sign of moving along anytime soon.

     "Stay if you want to then but keep out of my way. I've got a
lot of work to do today," and then I began refilling the hole I had
started. It didn't look like I'd be burying any cut potatoes before
sunset today. Hanna's wart would just have to hang around another
day. Worked better under a full moon anyway. Besides, I had other
work to do. There were brews to make that were date sensitive,
committee meetings to attend and tonight there was Samhein, of
course, the celebration of which would last until dawn. Before
then, however, I needed to stop at the grocery and - drat - the
library. I had two overdue library books with fines. The day was
certainly going downhill fast.

     I had just tapped down the shovelful of earth when Charlotte's
new friend meowed meaningfully. I straightened and increased the
range of my radar. He was right. Charlotte wasn't the only one who
was going to receive a visitor this morning. Mine was even now
making his way up the front walk to my house. Long strides, solid.
A young man. I sighed. Just my luck, some lovesick teenager. No,
too confident for that. Definitely young and male though both of
which were good enough for me.

     My digging had been in the back yard. Brushing the dirt from
my hands I trotted up the back steps so I could pull open the front
door just a second before the new arrival had a chance to ring my
bell. It's just one of those little things I do which drives the
headblind absolutely nuts.

     Counting the slight sound of his hesitant steps on my front
stairs, I waited until just the right moment and pulled open the
door. Right on schedule there he was, a tall lean presence in my
doorway. I admit I was blown back a step - a real physical step.
Oh, the effect wasn't in response to his overwhelming beauty though
- as I found out soon enough - that was pretty overwhelming but by
the marks of a creeping yet powerful curse that encroached upon his
aura like a second skin. He'd been touched by one of Them and one
who means him harm. A creature very high up the hierarchy, too,
though I couldn't tell who. Whoever it was obviously knew how to
cover a power signature and that's hard to do. This little fact
should have sent me running. Instead, I found myself distractedly
gazing straight on into the most gorgeous set of startled hazel
eyes that I had had the pleasure to see for a long time. Straight
on meant that he must have been just over six feet. So am I.

     Recovering from his surprise quickly - surprise both at my
height and at how I had known to magically open the door before he
could knock - my caller introduced himself. 'Fox', now that's an
interesting name. Not so unusual among my associates but rare in
the world in general. Amused, I watched how he pulled back his
shoulders and straightened. Added at least another inch to his
height. Happens every time with tall men who suddenly have to deal
with me.

     "Ol' Mom and Dad had a weird sense of humor," I told him as if
that explained everything, then I leaned against the door frame,
arms crossed. "Well, Mr. Fox Mulder, you don't look like you need
a love potion so if you're in the market for something to keep the
hoards of female admirers away then, sorry, I've never managed to
get that one right. Besides,not many men see the need."

     He blushed. At the same time the corners of his mouth inched
upwards. "No hoards," he answered in a voice like cream. Adorable.

     <Hot dog, Charlotte, but the day may not turn out as bad as I
thought.> Then I remembered the tea leaves and the earth and the
cancer on his aura and sobered up pretty fast.

     "How can I help you?" I asked switching rapidly to all-
business mode.

     "I have a problem and I need an expert. Someone in your...
field. A colleague of yours gave me your name. Teven?"

     Ohhh.... Now there's a name. Got my attention. I opened the
door. "Come in. Any friend of Teven's -"

     He came in, his eyes taking in the mundanity of the
accommodations almost with disappointment. Did he expect to find me
living in a dungeon or maybe a hallow tree? I swallowed my
irritation. There were more important matters to discuss than the
pitiful state of my abode.

     Those eyes finally came back to me. "I didn't say he was a
friend exactly," he admitted. "Our paths simply crossed."

     Teven's involvement began to explain the icky okra color of
Mr. Mulder's aura. I began to feel slightly uncomfortable -
slightly meaning that it felt like only about a thousand ants had
decided to begin crawling up my spine. I excused myself and went to
make tea. I didn't ask if he wanted any. 'I' did.

     Once back with one of my special blends - slightly weak
because it, too, refused to brew properly - I sat in my favorite
consulting chair and faced him or at least tried to. He'd sit on
the couch for a while and then get up and pace. He did drink his
own special tea, but absently as though he had much on his mind.
With the stamp of 'the touch' on him and it being the day it was,
I'd be distracted, too.

     "So how is Teven?" I can't believe I asked that so casually.
He's not high up in my family's table of organization but he's
about as far up as you can get in a discipline that wields his kind
of power.

     "Very old, very tired, which is why he sent me to you." He
took another sip.

     <That's right. Drink deep, Mr. Mulder.>

     "He says you're a witch," he said calmly as if he were simply
asking whether I had a degree in business administration. At least
he's up front with the basics.

     "Wicken Master," I corrected. "I know in some circles it's
considered trendy but that is the more accurate term and carries
less emotional baggage."

     He sat again, balancing his cup on his knee and smiled at me.
After an announcement like that most normal thinking beings find a
good reason to head for the hills, but what does this creature do?
He SMILES.

     <I've got a live one this time, Charlotte,> I projected to the
cat on the mantle. She had followed me into the house. She always
does when I have company. Since she can't follow the spoken word
very well any more, I try to keep up a running commentary so she
doesn't feel left out. Her young stud was with her sitting close
beside her recumbent body like some courtier. He was very young but
there was something about him - noble and clean and sleek - that
spoke volumes to me. Well, we'd have to talk later. I had a client.
At least I think I had a client.

     "So under what circumstances did your path cross with
Teven's?"

      "You can ask but I'd rather not say. It's not relevant."

     <Oh, but I think it is, don't you agree, Charlotte? Never
mind, we'll come back to that later.> "Then the current - problem?"
I asked.

     He was standing at this point by my fireplace, leaning against
the mantel. He took a long breath as if to center himself. "A crowd
of about a hundred or so of your local young people hold a Samhein
party every year in a field half way between St.Mary's and
Leonardtown. A 'gentleman' crashed the party last year. I have
reason to believe that he's not quite 'normal'."

     <So few of us are, honey, you included,> but that was not
something I thought he was prepared to hear.  "And by 'not normal'
you mean?" I prompted.

     "Some kind of supernatural being."

     <'Supernatural being'? Oh, that's rich.> "What makes you think
so, Mr. Mulder? And even if this 'supernatural being' did decide
that it wanted to party what makes you think he meant anybody any
harm?"

     "Because I was there last year and he threatened some of the
children very badly."

     He did more than that, I deduced by the hard, vengeful
expression that settled over my visitor's very nice features. <So
this one had been in contact with power he shouldn't tamper with at
least twice.>

     "You're not ready for the retirement home yet, Mr. Mulder, but
you're no teenager either. What were you doing there?"

     "We came upon the party two years ago by accident. The high
school crowd made us feel very welcome. We came back last year.
Besides, studying the customs that link people's connection to the
afterlife and 'otherlife' happens to fall within a particular
interest area of mine. We came back last year only to enjoy
ourselves. We didn't expect, or want, the kind of trouble we
found."

     "You're a ghost hunter? All the ghost hunters I've ever met
have been old maids or older English professors short of funds and
desperate to find something to write a book about." I didn't bother
to tell him that there was no such thing as ghosts - lots of other
things - but no such thing as ghosts as most of Western
civilization thinks of such things.

     "I've been known to spend a night or two in a supposedly
haunted house but that's not my primary field of interest."

     "The paranormal then."

     He didn't look at me straight on. "You might say so."

     He was on his third cup of tea, refilling it himself from the
chipped green tea pot. Consumption in excess of politeness. The
blend will do that to you if you're not paying attention. At this
rate he'd tell me where his father hides the family jewels if I
asked him.  In fact his eyes were even now looking a little glazed.
Suddenly, he sat down on the couch with rather less than what I
expected was his usual grace and just sat there. He certainly was
sensitive to the stuff. <A little dizzy are we, Mr. Mulder?>

     Quickly, I moved the tea pot out of his reach - took it all
the way into the kitchen as a matter of fact - and made a new pot
with the restorative. I felt a little badly about using the big
guns so early in the conversation but I really didn't have time for
sparing today and he was beginning to frighten me. When I returned
he was staring only slightly stupidly into space. I just stood and
appreciated the view for a long time before I set the new pot down.
My, but he was good looking and I had only to crook my little
finger and he'd follow me into the bedroom as sweet as you please.
Too bad the stuff makes men about as much fun as a limp rag.

     "I'm going to ask again, Mr. Mulder, and I want a straight
answer because this could be important: Under what circumstances
did your path cross with Teven's?"

     This time he tried to catch my eye but had trouble finding
either one of them. "Two years ago - almost three. There was this
little boy. An exorcism..." His voice faltered. His eyes went from
unfocused to glassy.

     That was the hook. It was all coming together now. "Damn, you
were there, weren't you. Fool, you watched. It SAW you!"

     He looked a little shaky. No, he looked a lot shaky.  "You can
tell?"

     "Absolutely. And this was the same one who recognized you at
the party last year? He touched you, didn't he? It would have saved
us a lot of time if you had just told me this to start with."

     "We were exorcising a demon. Maybe an acquaintance of yours.
You may not have approved."

     "You'd be surprised what my profession approves of." I plucked
the empty cup from his limp hand and poured in some of the new
stuff. The restorative worked more slowly than the first so I
wanted to get a head start on introducing it into his system. As
long as he kept on the subject, however, and didn't try to evade
the answers to my questions, he'd be perfectly lucid for hours.

     "You've said 'we' a couple of times. You aren't completely
alone in this then. Who was your companion?"

     He was clearly uncomfortable answering that question. His long
fingers shifted nervously around the cup.  "My partner." Slightly
dazed,  he frowned and switched that to, "My friend."

     "Mr. Mulder, you have to be up front with me. Your friend
could be a bible-thumper who thinks the Inquisition was a pretty
good idea. I can't just go off with every curiosity seeker or every
crazy who comes to my door. They burned witches once you know."

     "I know. And hung them and stoned them and drowned them and
pressed - "

     "You can stop now," I said testily, rather uneasy with that
litany myself. "So you've done your homework. Let's try this again.
"Who is your 'partner' and why is he/she a 'partner' even more than
a friend? I can't see you taking a business partner out to a place
like that on Halloween night. And why do you feel it's your
responsibility to protect these kids anyway? Good Samaritan's don't
have a long life expectancy these days."

     He hesitated, then reached into the pocket of his leather
jacket and pulled out - Shit! a badge. He had that flip of the
wrist down just fine. I'd been shaken down often enough for weird
behavior and strange hours to know a cop when I saw one. I took the
time to read this one a little closer than usual. It might be
useful in the future to know what branch of law enforcement hired
strange dudes like Fox Mulder.

     Double shit - FBI! I'd just drugged a federal officer without
his consent! I wonder what trouble he's going to get into the next
time they do a urinalysis? I wonder how much trouble I'm going to
get into when they find out where he got it?

     "Have some more tea, Mr. Mulder." Unfortunately the harm was
done and in my experience increasing the quantity of the
restorative won't speed up the process though it can't hurt.
Meanwhile I did my best to pull my wits back together. "Okay, I'm
impressed, the FBI. Never saw one of those before. Now the concept
of 'partner' makes some sort of sense. So why is the FBI interested
in invading a one-bonfire Halloween party?"

     "What I told you at the beginning was the truth. We found the
party by sheer accident. Had an - interesting time. Sought them out
a second time and - last year happened. It was a nightmare. Both
times we were acting as private citizens. Same as tonight." He
indicated his flannel shirt, jeans and comfortable utility boots.
"Even though I'm not here in any official capacity, protecting the
public is still very much part of who I am. I need an expert with
me who can help if Jack Skelington decides to put in another
appearance. Will you come?"

     Despite his attempt at levity - yes, I'd seen 'Nightmare
Before Christmas', too - this man was scared and from where I was
sitting he had good reason. "I'll come," I said. There really
wasn't any other decision I could have made. I couldn't let him go
off alone to bump into the wrong people all over again. He might
get more than a few bad dreams next time - he could get toasted -
and what a waste that would be.
 

     I leaned forward. "Now, tell me. Just how much of a nightmare
was last Halloween."

                         * * * * * * * *

     After an hour of one of the most fascinating and yet
unsettling interrogations I'd ever performed, I fled the house for
the serenity of the earth and my plants. Until almost noon I dug
and snipped herbs for drying and tried not to think about my
visitor. I concentrated instead on finding my balance in the warmth
of the sun on my back, the feel of the good earth between my
fingers, the scent of it in my head. No stench of the grave now.
The message - or had it been a warning? - had been delivered.
Having calmed down I decided it was time to start on those two
potions which had to be made today or there would be none until
next year. In the potting shed I pulled out mortar and pestle and
began pulverizing the leaves and roots and seeds I needed. It was
mindless work. Good for thinking which was all right to do now that
I was centered. The pungent odors released by the broken plants
drifted up. I could almost feel the last of my knotted nerves begin
to loosen.

     Charlotte crawled arthritically up onto the workbench and
plopped herself down. Her friend soon followed with a sinuous leap
to settle beside her with a grace poor Charlotte had lost years
before. <Hello, Eli. Nice to make your acquaintance.> His name was
Eli. Don't ask how such knowledge is passed. You don't question
after a while, you just accept. Just as I was not going to question
how I had come to have the sweetest lump of manflesh I'd seen in a
long time sleeping off too much Thor's Leaf tea on my couch. The
fact that he'd brought me a problem in the shape of a demon with an
attitude I consciously ignored for the moment. Instead I conjured
his lean form up into my mind and I allowed a little wistful sigh
to escape. He was a sight stretched out helpless like that. Oh, for
the good old days when a witch could entice a young man who caught
her fancy up to her room and keep him for a night or a week or a
month or forever.

     A clay flower pot crashed. A message from Charlotte. Absently,
I reached over to scratch her between the ears.

     "You're right, dear. I'm procrastinating. We have a problem.
Special Agent Foxy Mulder's scared. So am I."

     Charlotte complained with a distinct "Yeowl!".

     "Sorry, I was so distracted I forgot to translate earlier.
What you didn't hear about was the curse our unknown demon cast
last year. A nightmare so vivid that it was indistinguishable from
reality - a nightmare that actually created its own reality - a
split - a spin-off from this world that still exists. I can't
conceive of such power. In his 'dream' Mulder survived death by
cancer only through the injection of non-human - i.e. alien -
proteins. Yes, I know, hard to believe, but considering what I
believe in I guess I have no reason to be skeptical. The treatment
nearly killed him - certainly changed him, definitely scarred him.
But just when most humans and most of our folk would have realized
that this must be a dream because it is just TOO horrible, there
was Scully, his 'partner', in there with him. They suffered, they
loved, they married and yet they endured. They even produced a
child. I guess you can survive anything if you have incentives like
that."

     Setting the much-mashed vegetable matter aside to breathe, I
took Charlotte into my arms and buried my face in her fur. As has
been true these past few years, her thinness appalled me. How frail
and light my friend had become with age. Approaching death hadn't
robbed her of any of her wits, however, for from Charlotte there
came no rumbling purr. She always had been good at picking up on
the seriousness of the situation.

     "Maybe, it's just one of the oldsters playing a very nasty
trick," I considered without much conviction. "I said I'd come so
I will. Maybe this Power just needs a talking to, a little dose of
reality. The old ones forget sometimes that the age has changed.
They can't expect the blind and immediate subjugation they came to
expect in the old superstitious past." So I was still technically
a minor in the coven. My strength had grown considerably over the
past year. I had hoped for some minor recognition of my gains at
the meeting on the winter solstice. "If it became known that I had
actually negotiated with an oldster..."

     A loud cat cry interrupted my plans for glory. Charlotte
leaped out of my arms with a scrape of old claws that didn't
retract so well any more. The cry, however, had come from Eli. I
have seldom seen such a look of destain on a feline face as I saw
on Eli's just before he followed Charlotte back out into the sun.

     "Everyone's a critic," I yelled after him. "So do you have a
better idea?" No response except for a distinct projection of
warning and distress. With irritation I reached for the alcohol
lamp to complete my tincture. "Just you calm your ardor, Mister
Eli, and let Charlotte get some sleep this afternoon. It's going to
be one hell of a night."

End of Chapter 1

ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES (2a/18)
By Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger)

For disclaimer see Chapter 1

Chapter 2a: Tannis

     My unexpected house guest woke up from his nap at noon.
Walking gingerly as if embarrassed down to the soles of his long
feet, he slipped out my front door. Only after some hesitation did
he add that he'd return at five o'clock to pick me up. From my
porch I watched him go with a smirk of satisfaction. He knew. What
about, he wasn't sure, but something. Enough to sober his already
sober mood with some good healthy respect for my abilities. If he
had emerged from our first meeting completely clueless, I wouldn't
have thought much of his intelligence.

     He returned as promised, but not a minute early.  Silently, he
held the car door for me then waited wide-eyed as Charlotte and her
young suitor followed me in, heads high and tails swishing. He
didn't say a word though there were some leery shadows in those
hazel orbs of his. 'Spooked' I think would best describe the way he
felt about the morning's tete-a-tete and now he had this menagerie
to chauffeur around. It raised the hairs on the back of my neck
that though he was clearly alarmed by all of this he wasn't weirded
out enough to go off to the evening's party alone.

     'Alone' is an interesting word. As he drove, I asked about
that when he made no mention of hooking up with his partner. I
admit I had ulterior motives. If she was out of the picture and the
evening's 'negotiations' went well, he might be in a celebratory
mood by and by.

     He took his time answering. "She won't be coming - but not for
lack of courage. You'd have to look very far to find someone with
more guts than Scully but there's our connection we have to this
other world - to our other selves. We feel as responsible for them
as surely as if they were our own children. In the past we've only
been able to hook into their world when we're together. Scully's
determined that that won't happen tonight."

     "You mean if you're not together -"

     "- then there can be no link. And Scully has a point - they've
earned their peace."

     "But you still have a devil of a problem."

     His hand gripped the steering wheel harder. "Scully knows me
too well, and knowing me, knew I couldn't stay away tonight."

     "So she will," I finished. As he spoke, his eyes had been
fixed on the glow on the setting sun on the horizon but a muscle in
his set jaw jumped. Clearly, he was less than pleased with the
arrangements.

     Comforted only by the two cats lying across my feet, I settled
back in my seat and crossed off my hopes for snaring a date from
this particular client. He may not know it, but he was 'taken' but
good.

     As he drove slowly through the small town of Adamsville, both
of us kept our eyes open for trick-or-treaters. There weren't many
along this street of sad, decades-old strip shopping centers. As we
passed a large regional high school on the edge of town, we picked
up speed. From here we were only a few miles from where the party
was being held or at least from where it had been held for the two
years previous. Soon we joined a long line of cars all going the
same way we were. Loud, bass-heavy music boomed from most of them.
It looked like the kids had not given up on their tradition despite
the trouble of the year before. Mulder peered down the line of cars
and then turned briefly to look behind.

     "We never came this way before. Scully and I first noticed the
lights of the bonfire from the interstate and that's where we
always parked."

     With the rest of the pick ups and Saturns and who knows what
all - I've never been good at classifying car styles - we turned up
a rutted gravel drive and a quarter mile of so later parked with
the others. As we left the parking area where the teens lingered
around their cars many of which sat idling with head lights
blazing, the dark closed in. It was clear night, however, and once
our eyes adjusted, there was moon and stars enough. Soon there was
added to these the glitter of penlights and jack-o-lanterns and
glowing cigarette.

     The party ground was a large and mainly flat field surrounded
on three sides with woods and on the fourth by a sort of rolling
plain. Mulder pointed down the plain and with a wry smile said he'd
chased a moose that way the year before. "Uh huh," I replied, "and
I'm Tinkerbelle." This drew a short laugh. Being here had taken
some of the tension away, at least temporarily. I'd already sensed
that Mulder was not a patient person. Clearly he felt more in
control now that the waiting was nearly over.

     We circled the party grounds. The two cats were gray and
yellow wraiths flitting along the ground in our wake. Our being at
least fifteen years older than anyone else here, the younger party-
goers eyed us suspiciously. Some of the older ones, however, nodded
towards Mulder in a friendly way. In particular there was a group
of three tall girls all with streaming hair and swathed in long
black capes like the three weird sisters. I'm talking MacBeth,
here, not the singing group. Each thanked Mulder for coming with
great solemnity and they quite genuinely meant it. They stared at
me and then went off whispering with their heads close together.
Obviously, my sturdy six foot frame didn't bear even a passing
resemblance to Scully's.

     At the edge of the last bit of woods before the plain, Mulder
dropped down on a fallen tree trunk, dejected. Whatever release
from the stress of waiting he had found with our arrival had pretty
much evaporated.

     "You must think I'm crazy for coming back here."

     That thought had occurred to me. "We are a little out of
place."

     "What you don't understand is that everything's changed. The
first year we were here, it was magic. Last year, a little shabby,
more violent, definitely tragic. This year? This is not the place
we knew. There's no life, no spontaneity."

     I sat beside him. I could sympathize with his disappointment.
Mulder was exceedingly empathic for a 'norm'. He could probably
sense the difference as an almost physical pain and, truth be told,
what he had told me of the party two years before bore little
resemblance to what we found tonight. Oh, in the outward trapping
yes, but in spirit - not a bit.

     "They do seem to be trying awfully hard to have a good time
but none of them actually seems to be having one," I noted. "It's
as if they're just going through the motions." The silhouette of
his head nodded slowly against the very last hint of the sunset.
"I'm sorry. It's that way sometimes. You have one perfect day when
everything just fits right, then when you try to recreate it - the
sparkle is gone."

     I stared up at the moon feeling the pull of this night,
appreciating his companionship and feeling an uncontrollable urge
to share my special feelings with this mortal, who, rare among
norms I've known, I thought would understand and appreciate a few
wonders. "I've known some glades enchanted by moonlight," I told
him. "I've seen the fairies dance by starlight. But never have I
seen these wonders reappear in the same place twice. The magic
never dies. Oh, you may catch it again, but not here, always
someplace else. It passes on."

     His head was down now, his hands together between his knees.
He wasn't laughing but I caught a glimpse of a little secret smile.
"'The magic never dies.' Disney will be happy to know that." He
raised his head as the party-goers began drifting towards bonfire.
"Come on," he said, rising. "They're getting ready to start. If
it's going to happen, it will be now." When I got up to join him I
rose perhaps too eagerly because he added, "If it were up to me, my
hope would be that we have a very boring time."

     "No more than I, Agent Mulder,"  I told him and it was true.
I had already decided that a few extra limbs up the old coven tree
weren't worth a scorching. The only disappointment I'd really feel
would be if I let this lovely creature beside me get away unkissed.
But that for later. Serious business now.

     When we were within ten yards of the bonfire, I decided we
were close enough and stayed him with a touch on his arm. "Stop
here." For a second I let my hand linger. For all his fear, he was
steady. Good for him. Guess you learn something about nerve in the
FBI.

     "Now stay still. You hired an expert and now you have to
listen to her." I pulled out the heaviest of the string bags I'd
brought and began to circumscribe a circle on the ground about his
feet. I dropped white stones first, ones I'd collected years ago on
a pilgrimage to the headland of the Colorado. Then I retraced my
path sprinkling the blood of a wild Canadian goose on the stones.
At least I told Mulder it was goose blood. It was really my own: I
was that frightened. What I did do for Mulder's benefit was throw
in my creepiest incantation though I kept it low so as not to
attract attention. The spell wasn't necessary except for its
psychological impact. He had to believe in the power and the
seriousness of the situation if I was going to have any hope that
he'd heed my instructions. Lastly, I scattered the ashes. An
Episcopal hymnal. A phone book would have done as well but hymnal
was what I had. Carbon is carbon, the bones of the Earth.

     "Now just stand there," I ordered.

     "You can't be serious," he said indignantly, though I imagine
he knew that I was.

     "Protection, Mulder. At least I hope it will prove to be so."
Standing on the edge so as not to break the circle, I stared him
straight in the eye like the first time we'd met. Had it only been
that morning?

     "You stay," I told him, then continued before he could begin
his protest. "Not a foot outside, do you hear me! And it's not just
for your good, but for all of us here. If it's you he wants, then
maybe if he can't get you he'll just make like a tree and leave."

     "Leaf," he murmured, arms crossed. Amazingly, he was standing
still. The man had some sense after all. Maybe there WAS hope for
the human race.

     That was the end of any time for talking. The ceremony had
begun. A tall girl stepped up before the modest beginnings of the
bonfire and before my unbelieving eyes dropped her cloak. There was
nothing underneath. Eeeek!!! <It's the end of October, honey, not
Mid Summer's Eve!> Mulder muttered something appreciatively behind
me about the scenery and I relaxed. So far so good. At  least he'd
maintained his appreciation of the absurd. Then the poor naked
child began to chant.

     At her first words I reared up to my full height in
astonishment. Incredulous, I concentrated to catch the next
phrases. They were badly accented and shaky either from fear or
cold but unmistakable. Where in the Ellotian Fields had she gotten
this ceremony from? Certainly she had no idea what she was saying.
No wonder a big, bad devil came running. If I were Satan himself,
I'd come. She was promising him an orgy of lust and blood such as
he hadn't gotten in - oh, a few thousand years at least.

     I was about to stop her, had even taken have a dozen steps
when hell, quite literally, opened its gates. The bonfire exploded,
sending these overgrown children shrieking and stumbling back, and
something you would not want to see in your worst nightmare, burst
through.

     There he was. One moment it was just the flames leaping high
and roaring in the firestorm. The next moment a thick black shape
hovered, silhouetted against that earthly fire. For just a flicker
of a second I thought I saw immense leather wings raised heads and
heads taller than a man. Then the image seemed to shrink. Still
inhumanly tall, the figure solidified into a thin, thin fire-
shrouded cutout against the night. Iron hard it was and tall, two
or three head taller than either me or Mulder, but mostly of arm
and leg. Around us rustled the murmurs and cries from a hundred
throats. I was aware that there was fear, but also fascination on
the young, fire-lit faces.

     Father Storm and Mother Earth, protect me, but he was an old
devil, a very, very old devil. I'd heard of such but never seen
one. He was cackling with menace, his voice like dead bones
rattling against stone. A girl screamed as a sweeping bony finger
came to rest in her direction. As he made a motion to snatch at her
right through the flames, the bravest of her companions took her by
the arms and dragged her away to comparative safety. He laughed
deep and long at the futility of their action, such a chilling
laugh to come from all that heat.

     At my side Mulder's face was a perfect mask of rigid anger.
Only the fear kept his feet rooted to the ground inside the circle.
I could smell that fear. <Good. Be afraid,> I shot at him.  <Shit
in your pants if you have to but stay put!> A growling only rumbled
from somewhere deep in his chest and involuntarily he took one
step.

     Just in case he hadn't heard my mental snarl - which I
couldn't imagine how he had not - I commanded, "Stay!" I even used
the Voice this time just as I had been taught and that was all I
could do for Mulder short of sitting on him. By itself that wasn't
an unpleasant prospect, but not now. Alone, I stepped towards the
fire. There was some comfort in the fact that I had followed my
instincts and worn my blood red ceremonial robes. It was rather
like a uniform and would give me some authority though the picture
that devil and I made could best be compared to a crossing guard
trying to stare down a battle-hardened Green Beret. My blood flowed
so cold already that within half a dozen steps my numb feet could
barely feel the blessed ground. My hands were just as icy.

     <Stupid, stupid,> I swore to myself. I should have brought
more help. Even better, I should have entranced this knight errant
who had appeared at my door and stayed home. If I had, we would
have been safe and snug in my bed now instead of facing near
certain incineration if not worse.

End of Chapter 2a

ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES (2b/18)
By Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger)

For disclaimer see Chapter 1

Chapter 2b: Tannis

     "What is this?" Rattled the devil's voice in what I realized
was satisfaction. "A little witchlet?" I could feel an icicle stab
into my breast at each crystal-sharp syllable. The Norse were
right. Hell WAS a cold place.

     "Father," I said in greeting, bowing slightly. Much as I hated
it, 'Father' was the correct address for one as old as he.

     "Well met... daughter. What brings thee here? Looking for a
companion to walk the stones tonight?"  His mouth stretched in a
leer, all black stubbed teeth and pale blue lips. I thought I had
been cold before... Now there was a lump of ice in my belly where
my womb should be and I had good reason. Many of the old ones had
acquired certain - appetites - from long years studying the
children of earth.

     "Companions I have already and in respectable numbers. They
await me at our own gathering place." How quickly the old stilted
language comes. But there is force in the words, power in the
syntax, some comfort in the ancient forms. "I sensed your presence
in passing and wondered what could interest such a one at such a
pitiful play."

     The fleshless, skull-like features twisted slightly
disapproving. "Don't insult me, child. There's only one who would
have the naivete and the audacity to enlist the aid of one such as
you against me. If not for him, how could you have come to be
here?" The elongated head on its skinny neck stretched forward as
the Old One sniffed the air. "Where have you hidden him? You might
as well speak because I know the smell of him. Come here, little
Fox. In the old times a man wouldn't hide behind a woman's mist and
mirrors. Haven't you learned yet not to meddle in business that is
not your own."

     Loudly enough for Mulder and half the field to hear even over
the crackling of the fire, I cried, "Listen to me, Mulder. Keep to
the circle!" I dared not look back to see if he obeyed, however.
Despite the taunting words, I had the devil's attention and there
was where I needed it to stay. I was nearly ready to offer my first
born that I could. Perhaps he would get bored in time and leave for
unguarded prey. Perhaps...

     "I warn you, little witch. I do not wish to burn you but stand
between me and what I have marked as mine and I promise you that
you will burn like chaff in the summer sun."

     "Father, you are old, as ancient and wise as the stones.
Everything there is to see, you have seen. What pleasure can you
derive from their young fear." I indicated the clumps of tall
children, everyone frozen in place.

     His arm swept in a parody of mine. "These?" he cackled. "I
have no interest at all in these."

     "Why this one man then?"

     "Let's just say that I've acquired a taste for his insolence.
Infinitely refreshing, you should try it."

     At that he paused and then like a snake striking his black
eyes stabbed with one quick dark stroke into my mind. "Ha! I see
you've been tempted already. Is that the true reason why you wish
for me to leave? So you may have him for yourself? I will strike a
bargain with you, little witch. We can share him, you and I. Would
that not be a fine experience to fire your soul on this of all
nights?"

     Then in my mind, between one pounding heartbeat and the next,
there we were. More vivid than any dream. Three naked bodies on a
humid summer night, legs and arms intertwined in a sweating and
passionate tableaux under the fiery stars. One body was pale with
a mortal beauty and a mortal frailty, the second as red and fertile
as a harvest moon, the last as dark as the darkest sin. The wings
of the dark one hovered over all three as their owner stood, legs
spread wide over where the male and the female strained and groaned
and whimpered and sobbed.

     His pale skin burning, my knight, my pet, my chosen mortal
love was moving above me in the shadow of those all-sheltering
wings. I too was on fire from the Earth below me and his desire
above. It was luscious to be so wicked. Bliss to be so filled. And
then suddenly he went rigid, throwing back his head in a silent
scream of mingled passion and terror, his hands convulsively
reaching out to clutch at my shoulders as the long claws of the
third member of our unholy trio slid seductively from one of my
lover's muscled shoulders down the long back, over a firm hip to -

     As if I were saving myself from drowning, I thrust myself out
of the vision and into the cool, blessed freshness of the October
air. For long moments after, however, my innermost self still
shuddered with the intensity of a desire such as I have seldom
known. My palm hurt from the fresh wound where I had dug the nails
of my hand in with pressure enough to draw blood. If only that
scent, his precious, special scent would get out of my head.

     Another shudder. The old devil had a point about acquiring a
taste. I had only to lick the sweat from my own upper lip... and
there it was. Every being has its own scent and texture. Mulder's
was warm as chestnuts and yet as spicy as the richest curry. His
fear could drive a sensitive drunk with longing.

     "Thank you..." I forced out with no little effort," but I find
willing companions the sweeter." Speaking had been nearly
impossible. To forsake the lingering dream and the taste of lust on
my tongue proved harder still.

     "We could make him willing you and I, more than willing.
Impaled and impaling between such as we for all eternity? Only one
in ten million can say they have the chance to fall to their
'petite morte' from a greater height."

     Steady, my heart, I commanded. "Is that all you wish from
eternity? Then I'll let it be known. There are those who would take
you up on your offer of such sport. I'll even help you. I'll tell
them, I'll tell them all. 'Who among you has the taste to ravage
the weak and mortal flesh?' Who shall I say they should ask for?"

     I heard his teeth snap in fury like the jaws of a trap. No, I
wouldn't get his true name out of him that easily. Instead, with a
toss of his head he frowned. "Enough! I bore easily, girl, and you
bore me. Go away. And if you think I have qualms about grinding
your bones to dust, you are even more of a innocent that I thought
you were."

     "You're a bully..."

     "You are a child. Go back and play with your pins and your
dolls and your pitiful bits of leaf and root."

     "Coward..."

     "Your heart honestly bleeds for these creatures and how that
disgusts me..."

     I made a sign. Among his folk it's an insult of the worst kind
inferring that here was one who took his comfort with animals who
were ever so much further down the evolutionary scale then Man.
Humans had at least a passing acquaintance with the divine.

     In response he roared, the skin of his face stretching over
unholy bones. A skeletal arm raised in power and anger to point...
at me. Somewhere thunder began to rumble as if stuff of life itself
in the deep Earth itself were being roused to fury. <Oh, Mother, I
am going to die...> I prayed. <Catch me as I fall and cradle me in
your womb. Let not my ashes descend into hell...>

     A ball of spitting fury at that moment leaped across the
firelight dead on with the old devil's eyes. Dulled claws were
unleashed, ancient teeth bared to attack, to protect.

     Not expecting an assault from that quarter, the devil lunged
back, throwing his arm up to protect his face. At the last moment,
however, as he saw who and what his attacker was, he slapped away
the fierce, little warrior, his iron arm of sinews and tendons
meeting the frail and angry beast as a child might swat at a gnat.

     Later I remembered the lightest of dull thumps at the impact,
the last breath expelled with a whimper of pain. My unbelieving
eyes followed the boneless ball of fur as it was hurled past the
flames and into the darkness beyond. A group of the teenagers
screamed.

     "Charlotte.... CHARLOTTE!" My feet moved. I don't remember
where or how. Over coals, possibly. I never remembered only that it
was the shortest route.  All I recall clearly was finding the rag
of golden fur in the dark, laying my hands under the silent little
body and feeling the head on its broken neck lull as I picked up
the tiny featherlight form and cradled it in my arms. There was no
blood. There could be no blood, she was so frail and thin.

     Damn, damn, worm. Bloody, spineless worm! A shineeka... to
kill a shineeka! One of that race of rare and wise beasts <And my
friend, my little protector. Oh, Charlotte...>

     Time stretched as it sometimes does, so I don't know if
seconds or minutes passed before awareness returned. For that time
my grief was like a hole, black and deep and silent. There was no
end to it and for that moment I wanted no end to it.  Hearing
returned first though the sounds were muffled by the roaring in my
ears. Then feeling, cold on my sweaty skin. Finally sight. There
was a stirring in the air. Bodies moving, slowly and then faster
and faster as more of them, like ghosts, whipped by me in the dark,
shouting, fleeing, stumbling in twos and threes, crying in terror.

     <Where have I been? And more importantly for how long? Oh,
Mother...>

     I lunged back towards the fire but my legs became entangled in
the folds of my unaccustomedly long skirt and I fell forward to
sprawl heavily on my stomach on the grass and stones. The night was
oddly silent now and empty as if in losing my breath I'd expelled
all life and sound. For the first time I concentrated on what was
happening near the central writhing blaze. There are only three
forms anywhere near the fire now. Only three. Mulder, still
miraculously in his circle, the damned devil, wreathed in his fiery
coat as before, and a third, the only element on the whole plain
with the exception of the flames themselves which seemed in motion.
At first, I took this to be one of the teenage girls who had
panicked though I couldn't conceive of any reason why she would be
coming this way - towards the conflagration. Then I realized that
the form ran too fast and too strong and with far too much
determination to be any of the girls I had seen. In fact, I thought
for a second that this must be another shineeka, this one in human
form. She had the size and the fire and the spit.

     Turning, the hellraised saw her, too, and made a sound, hungry
and satisfied. His arms whirled as if he wielded long, sharp knives
and between them formed and spun huge balls of red, unearthly
lightning - fire devils - which he sent boiling out towards the
newcomer.

     "SCULLY!" The bonfire had been between them, so Mulder had not
seen the newcomer approach before this, nor she him. Now, however,
as he followed where the devil had focused his attention, he caught
sight of the slender body, the flame-touched hair. Fear for her
must have overwhelmed his own for in one bursting heartbeat he was
out of the circle, sprinting to intercept her.

     "MULDER! YOU FOOL!" How gloriously, courageously stupid you
mortals can be.

     A straight line is always and ever will be the shortest
distance between two points, unfortunately the bonfire pit lay far
too close to that line between Mulder and who was now, quite
clearly, a young, petite woman. The woman's progress slowed
slightly as she tried between the dark and the glare of the fire to
find the one who had cried her name.

     Oh, God and all his souls and devils, what had I done?
Charlotte was already dead for my stupidity and pride. How many
others would die? My anger snapped - and was replaced by despair.
This Old One had to be insane - it's possible for one of the Old
Ones to go insane - and if this were the case my puny powers would
be next to useless. Still, I had to try. Only just when I knew I
had to do something, I found nothing inside. Nothing. No power, no
spell, no goddess, no help. Only a voice, mine, screaming, "MULDER,
NO!!!!" but my warning cry was far too late.

      Seconds before, Mulder had launched himself across the edge
of the firepit. When he started that corner had been dark, but that
was before the Old One began feeding power and more power like
gasoline into the expanding flames until the long hell-tongues
roared up and out in an exploding blaze that roared like thunder.
And the section nearest the man reared higher than any other taking
the form almost as some burning monster hand from hell - a hand
that reacheded and caught. As the red and gold, the horrible heat
and the burning took its prize, the devil let loose a whoop of
conquest.

      Helplessly, I watched that slender human plucked as if from
the sky itself, like a sparrow snatched out of the air by a
ravaging phoenix. Screaming, body writhing, I watched him borne
towards the old devil who reached out for his prize with lecherous
glee. As the near naked skull crowed its horrible laughter in
anticipation of its owner's triumph, the flames flared three times,
six times, the height of a man now into a thousand shades of red
and gold, yellow and black and crimson. And now the devil opened
his foul mouth and a darkness spilled out forming a fathomless pool
of insatiable hunger and infinite pain. Death would be a sweeter
destination.

     Lurching forward trying to rise, I felt tears of anger and
defeat burn my eyes. I had failed. I had only wanted to help. How
was it possible that everything could go so wrong? How? Because I
had abandoned by charge. I had left him alone and unprotected.

     But failed? No! Mother help me, no not yet! Not without a
fight.

     The Earth was my rock, the Earth my strength. Never had I
asked for such power before, never has it been granted. Compared to
that of an Old One it was nothing but enough to take him unawares.
From where I still half lay on the damp ground tangled in my skirts
I wove a shield of righteous fury and my own stubborn will and sent
it flying. Just that. Just a power of Earth strong enough to slice
its way through the grasping flames that had been drawing the
devil's helpless prey towards that abyss of never ending despair.

     How long did Mulder hang suspended in the air? Three seconds?
Five? Ten? I know I saw his body convulse at least twice, his mouth
stretched open in a tortured, silent wail. Now as the earth shield
dropped between he and the Old One, he fell like a stone, a puppet
shorn of its strings.

     If it were possible for such a dark devil to turn purple with
wrath, this one did. Screaming his outrage, the demon raised his
arms in invocation. I alone saw what followed. Wings emerged from
the furthest reaches of the night - leathered, blood black wings -
wings which expanded to reach from horizon to horizon as the
skeletal arms clawed in their fury at the heavens. Like great
leather bellows they beat down - once - twice - three times, then
faster, ever faster, too fast to see. The wind, oh God, the wind.
I could hear it coming like a hurricane racing towards us over the
tops of the highest trees. Instinctively, I dropped to clutch at
the safety of the earth. Above the rising moan of the approaching
storm I heard the old devil's foul shrieking as he spirited
skywards. Only at the very end did I dare look. Riding a crest of
flame, I saw him go, crying a last howl of triumph towards the cold
dead moon.

     Triumph? How could this be triumph? He was going. I had no
more time to think on that. Those immense barren wings had captured
the still air of acres, of a township, of a county between their
bloody veins. He had roused the earthpower against us. The tops of
the trees whipped as if a tornado's long finger was reaching down
towards us from the black, now boiling sky. I forced myself to
stand. I was never so glad for my height and sturdy build as the
wind like giant hands buffeted by body trying to force it down. But
I stood for as long as I could because there was still Mulder to
worry about as well as the others whom he had trusted me to
protect. My cries were ripped and shredded from my mouth like so
many leaves.  Upright, I felt the full force of that horracious
wind. Bred of evil, evil lingered in that unnatural storm - power
and intelligence and pain and sorrow and betrayal - but mostly
evil. A crumpled mass, Mulder lay crushed by it, a small curled
ball just where he had fallen. His arms were wrapped protectively
around his head as anyone's would be for across the open field blew
a blizzard of splintered branches and ripped leaves, dirt and even
bits of stone and fire.

     Mulder would keep as well where he was as anywhere. Now I
searched for the newcomer whose unforeseen arrival had not started
all this but hadn't helped. Certainly she must be this Scully, the
partner who wasn't supposed to have come, the woman for whom Mulder
- like a fool - had left the safety of the circle to protect.

     As if he could have done anything to help.

     Although furious with her intrusion, I felt I had to make
certain she was all right. Raising my hands, I sheltered my eyes
from the flying debris but it was so dark now. The clouds had come
racing in with the wind so now the moon and the stars were gone.
Even the bonfire was little more than a shredded mass of sparks now
that the source of its supernatural fuel had departed.

     I searched one, twice, across the area where I'd last seen
that slender figure. I admit that I have a bias against such trim,
petite symbols of femininity. That and a tinge of jealousy turned
down the corners of my mouth. On the third sweep I found her. She
was lying flat on her stomach sheltered from the storm in a shallow
hollow near where the land rolled a little. Now there was some
sense I could appreciate. No, that wasn't quite the way of it. She
wasn't keeping to this place of safety voluntarily. She was
struggling to get up and not being allowed to. Someone had thrown
her down and was sheltering her with his body. A slender boy, all
gray like a ghost. As the storm rose to a shrieking climax, I
dropped to the ground myself meaning to make sense of that gray
apparition. At that moment, however, a ball of pure lightning
exploded over the field simultaneous with a deafening crack of
thunder. The sheer implosion of air sucked the air from our lungs.
I cried out in pain as the sudden explosion and just as sudden
plunge in air pressure slammed with agonizing force against my
eardrums. As the white bomb of light and the thunder collapsed into
darkness, so the wind dropped in a heart beat to a deafening
silence. Even the little that remained of the bonfire flickered
down into nothingness as if the light itself had been swallowed up
by that silence.

     No one moved at first. After the light show of the bonfire's
demon blaze and the explosion of the fireball, we were all blind in
the sudden return of night and its total velvet blackness. Only
gradually did the seamless dark come to be sprinkled again by the
low golden glow of coals and the return of the cool, pale light of
distant stars. Of sound there was only the sobbing of a single
soul, the sound becoming fainter and fainter in those first seconds
of paralyzed calm as if the weeper was being carried away with the
wind.

End of Chapter 2b
 

ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES (3a/18)
By Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger)

For Disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 3a: Dana

     I'm going to pull a Mulder here.

     It was all my fault. If I hadn't showed up when I did,
everything that happened that night would have been different.
Impossible for it to have been worse. Only how could I have done it
differently? Was my mistake not coming to the gathering to start
with or was it in coming at all?

     The day had been hell, like the week before Christmas the year
before only a hundred times worse. Something in the air, in my
skin, in my head telling me that I was needed and of course the
only place I could possibly be needed was at that damn field, the
one place I had sworn I would not go. But the walls of my apartment
kept closing in, the temperature first too hot then too cold. I
must have put my hand on the phone to call Mulder to tell him that
I'd changed my mind at least fifty times.

     Finally I just had to go. I kept telling myself that I'd be
careful but instead I was just - stupid! What was I thinking of? I
should have stayed in the shadows and analyzed the situation as
we're taught to do. Instead I went rushing in. At the very least I
should have known by the very brightness of the fire that events
were moving. But, no, I had to run right into the middle of it,
stumbling in to upset some kind of balance. He had been protected,
I'm not going to go into how and I don't know if that protection
would have held out against the power of our old 'acquaintance',
but I do know that when he saw me arrive he left that safety to
warn me so I wouldn't come upon that horror unaware.

     Damn you, Mulder. When are you going to stop and think about
yourself first for a change? I'm a big, tough, FBI agent, too,
remember?

     I won't go into what I thought I saw that night because it
doesn't fit into any frame of reference I can deal with right now.
For just an instant there was Mulder. He must have seen me first
because he was trying to reach me but with that glaring blaze
between us I couldn't make out his expression. Knowing Mulder it
would have been intense but would it have been intense and relieved
to see me or intense and pissed?

     I'll never know because at that moment all hell broke loose.
Literally. A barrage of gunfire would have been more welcome. An
impossible image is burned into my brain of Mulder suspended in the
air, in the flames - twisting, burning, screaming. I lost precious
seconds after that because just then a form leaped at me out of the
darkness and pulled me to the ground. He wasn't very big but he was
wiry and as strong and scrappy as a wild cat. By the time I was
able to lift my head our trouble-making old friend had left the
scene and Mulder was on the ground. He was quite a distance from me
and very still but from what I could see mostly scorch free and no
longer under attack. At least not under attack any more than the
rest of us. A storm had erupted out of nowhere, out of what seconds
before had been a clear night sky. Its howling winds caught my hair
and snapped it back into my face. I remember that sharp pain. Bits
of branch and limb and grass and leaf were all being driven through
the air like snow in a blizzard. The impression was that of a solid
- and lethal - wall of debris like the tornado scene from the
Wizard of Oz.

     Of course I wanted to get to Mulder, but there are times when
I have to accept my own limitations and trust that Mulder can
'usually' take care of himself. This was one of those times. There
was nothing to do but stay down with my unknown protector until the
mother of all thunder claps had rolled away in booming echoes
against distant hills. To have done otherwise would have been to
welcome serious injury and left me unable to help Mulder or anyone
else.

     There was weeping in the sudden calm, or so Tannis says.
Either the temporary ringing in my ears from the noise and pressure
changes kept me from hearing it or the heart wrenching sobs were
all in Tannis's head. From what I know of Tannis now, I assume the
latter. It's not that I refuse to believe that Mulder would cry so,
what I refuse to believe is that if he had, that I would have been
unable to hear him.

     With the storm's passing I had to push my protector off in
order to get to my wobbly legs. Even for this crowd he was very
young, just a boy and he wasn't in the best shape. Covering me with
his body had left him exposed to the storm and he'd been quite
thoroughly bruised and battered by the debris. Mostly though he was
just dazed. Leaving him slumped on the grass to recover, I set off
to find Mulder and appraise the damage. For damage there would be.
This was Mulder after all. Would it be a 'patch him up and take him
home' operation or were the effects of the night going to require
something more extensive.

     Who did I think I was fooling? This was Halloween and this
little piece of real estate was Mulder's and my own personal slice
of hell. I should have known setting this night right would take
more than yet another trip to the emergency room.

                         * * * * * * * *

     I've seen Mulder fall in battle before. I've seen him shot
twice - once by me - and watched his blood spill out upon the
ground. I've held him in my arms to keep him from falling down in
fever and sickness, I've seen him paralyzed both from mind control
and from a rare poison delivered in a dart. I've seen him nearly
catatonic, caught up in the circles and circles of his own dark and
obsessive logic. As he was laid before me clinically dead from
hypothermia, I've shocked his heart into a stumbling beat. I've
heard him in the throes of his nightmares. I have never seen him as
I found him that night.

     First there was the 'find him' part. While my boy protector
sat on the ground at my feet catching his breath, I found myself
turning round and round trying to get my bearing. It was SO dark
after the phosphorescent gleam you get during storms and I'd
dropped my floodlamp somewhere long before that. Finally locating
the bonfire which had dwindled to a few red-orange coals, I ran
down the slope to where I was certain that I'd last seen Mulder
lying so still there was nothing by the edge of the fire pit but
crumpled grass. I cried for light and in response a tall, dark-
haired woman came up to the side of the pit, waved her hands and
hastily uttered a string of words in a language unknown to me.
That's all it took. The coals leaped into a healthy blaze. I know
a few thousand girl scouts who would love to learn the technique
but other than that I didn't give her little talent another
thought. Time was too precious; I had Mulder to find. Mulder hates
it when I turn a blind eye to the wonders and switch off the
receptive part of my brain but when I'm wading through Mulder's
world, there are times when I just have to if I'm going to be able
to function. Now was the time for basics, not metaphysics - food,
shelter, clothing and medical attention.

     With the fire renewed I was finally able to convince myself
that he wasn't anywhere near where I'd seen him last. Filling my
lungs, I called his name. Four years of chasing after that slippery
devil had taught me how to bellow with the best of them. The fire
burned bright but quiet. The air moved in the trees with barely a
whisper now, almost apologetically after all that had gone before.
What party-goers were left seemed afraid to speak even as loud as
the breeze. In other words, if Mulder had been anywhere in the
field and for a good distance into the woods he should have been
able to hear me.

     If he were conscious, that is. If he were sane. For when I
closed my eyes that one scene kept replaying my mind - the hellish
burning  brightness reaching for my partner, engulfing him while
that laughing demon waited to receive him with open arms. I see
Mulder's terror in my mind. Fire is not one of Mulder's favorite
things. An open candle flame makes him flinch. That disastrous case
with Phoebe, the male-eating arachnoid, forced him to face it and
he manages but he doesn't like it. Why do I feel that it's time to
make a few more discrete appointments for him with his phobia
clinic?

     But that for later. Much later. Mulder still wasn't responding
to my calls. Surprise. Surprise. I approached a group of teens
whose curiosity was stronger than good sense and who had started
drifting back towards the fire.

     "Did a man pass you a few minutes ago?" Blank stares. "Tall,
dark-haired, early middle age?" Mulder will kill me for that last
one. Not that it mattered, no one had seen him. I noticed that the
boy who had tackled me on the hill had recovered and was talking
with the woman who had revived the fire. She caught my eye. I think
at that moment that my expression must have looked much like hers.
We were both deeply worried.

     I extended my search to an area further from the fire and
towards the plain, while she began to question the teens who had
clustered near the woods. We hadn't needed to speak. The boy, my
protector, followed her like a gray shadow tenderly carrying a
small bundle for her in his arms.

     As I climbed a slight rise, an irregular shape of shadows and
golden light lay in my path. A group of five or six of the teens
were sitting in a close ring out beyond the light of the bonfire.
They had a couple of jack-o-lanterns with candles lit. By that
eerie light I recognized the frightened girl in their center. Even
closely wrapped in a cloak she was shivering. I'd seen her before.
It was the tall girl who had flirted shamelessly with Mulder during
the two previous parties.

     Crouching down close to her, I asked, "Remember me? I'm
looking for my friend. My FRIEND." I thought for a moment that all
she was going to be able to do was blink. I saw in the depths of
her eyes a struggle to focus. Amazingly, she inclined head to
indicate farther into the dark field. "Hurry..."

     She couldn't find the words to describe what she had seen but
it was enough. I started running. <Please don't give me that. Don't
give me that vague 'Hurry...' Thanks to Mulder, my imagination is
active enough as it is, thank you very much.>

     As I ran, the lay of the land began to seem oddly familiar.
Then I remembered. This was the way he'd come the year before,
chasing that stupid moose call. There was the place where he'd
rolled down the hill and into the barbed wire. No, he hadn't really
done that, had he?  Had that been part of the reality or part of
the dream? The wind must have picked up just a little then for I
suddenly felt a chill walk up my spine.

     No...No...No... No...Not again, please God, not again. Not
now... not like this.

     I began a routine search pattern. I knew I could call in help
from the local officials but my instincts told me that he couldn't
have gotten far. Besides, I wanted to find him myself. As the
minutes passed and no Mulder, the finding-him-myself part took on
less significance. I was honestly relieved when Tannis and the boy
joined me in the large field. Now that the last of the clouds had
drifted away there was bright moonlight and I could clearly see
their dark shapes moving over the uneven ground. We three were
enough for now.

     We crossed back and forth across those hills and hallows for
more than fifteen minutes and found nothing. Not even barbed wire.
Frustrated, I looked down the long slope towards the main party
field where the bonfire seemed just a fingertip of light now. I
needed my floodlamp, the one I'd dropped way back at the beginning
of this. Yes, the moon was bright but not good enough to see far
into shadows of any size. I had turned back towards the fire. There
I knew I could at least borrow a flashlight, when I passed a small
stand of beeches. My attention was caught by the gleam of moonlight
on the white bark of the slender trunks. Then there, on the ground,
a dark smudge. Was that just a shadow cast by a stone and some
downed branches... or was that a man curled in a tight ball and
trembling in the tall grass? I stood still, concentrating. It WAS
a man. I was troubled though. Something about the scene didn't make
sense. Only a few feet away there was deep shadow under the trees,
shadows dark enough and large enough to hide a small car, but this
figure was lying outside in the moonlight so he couldn't be trying
to hide, and yet that's what it seemed that he was doing. If he had
been only a few feet closer to the trees, I would not have found
him until morning.

     "Mulder?" No change in the figure's movement which was not
much to begin with but the kind only Man makes. I stepped closer
remembering the ravaging fire and its incredible heat. 'Mulder's
out of it', I thought. He had just needed to get away, as far away
and as quickly as possible. He was huddled, head down, legs drawn
up, but I had no doubt it was Mulder. Still didn't make sense
though. If he needed to be alone, why stop out here in the open?

     "Mulder... It's all right... It's Scully..." Again no change.
Just an endless nervous twitching and I still hadn't seen his face.
I tried moving quietly as if I were attempting to approach some
wild animal because I knew what I could be walking into. Mulder's
PTSD is well documented and though he lives and functions with it
amazingly well considering all he's been through, I've learned to
anticipate their little reoccurrences. With the fire as a trigger
this could be a major attack. He was only a few feet away from me
when my worry gauge went up a notch. I'm reasonably proficient at
moving quietly but not that good and he still hadn't acknowledged
my presence.

     Just then a branch snapped under my foot. It wasn't a large
one but it was dry and sounded like a small caliber shot on that
lonely hillside.

     Again no response. More secure that he wouldn't spook and run
but more deeply worried for other reasons, I crouched down beside
him. "Mulder, you silly, what are doing here?" Nothing changed,
just more profound shivering. Fine, just fine... He hadn't heard my
coming, my calls before or even my voice now. He was off somewhere
in his head. How far away was he, I wondered. Physically, his arms,
his hands were curled at odd, unnatural angles. His back was bent
too. Over all, he looked very uncomfortable. I reached out a hand
to touch his arm.

End of Chapter 3a
 

ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES (3b/18)
By Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger)

For Disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 3b: Dana

     I'm not stupid, I was very careful. I've seen Mulder lash out
with lethal force when he's startled. He either does that or bolts
like a deer. I was prepared either to defend myself or take off at
a sprint after him. What I wasn't prepared for was that he'd feel
that first light touch so intensely. I'd thought he was far too
deep for that. But he did. Did he ever! His head came up with a
jerk that made his whole body quake and then he went absolutely
still. Slowly, his attention turned to where my hand rested on his
arm. By the pale moonlight it was hard to see his expression, but
it was oddly blank, though his lips were parted as if he might
speak.

     "He's gone, Mulder. It's just us, just you and me."

     No reaction to my words but he seemed both fascinated and
terrified by my hand. I pulled back and he reacted, frantically
reaching out to clutch at it. "Okay, okay.... calm down. I'm not
going anywhere."

     His hands were on my arms now and working themselves up
towards my shoulders. Something was very wrong. His touch didn't
feel right. His fingers were hard, clumsy, stiffly curved. I
realized that every move he'd made since I'd found him had been
unlike himself. On top of that now he was agitated. He began
feeling me all over, sizing me, the length of my arms, the width of
my shoulders. He even cupped my - What the hell! - and all the
while the only sounds he made were little grunts as the breath
struggled out of him.  There was a moment of stillness when his
questing hands touched my throat. After the pause, his awkward
fingers continued on to slide along my jaw then to caress my cheek
with an achingly eternal slowness.

     All through this I'd been too shocked to respond much except
that I kept muttering inane little reminders to myself that were
intended to be comforting. The trouble was, I was rapidly losing
track of who I was trying to comfort. Both of us were breathing in
rapid little gasps now as those very intimate, very un-Mulder-like
hands ran over my face and his stiff fingers combed through my
hair. If only he'd listen! But listening wasn't on his mind or
mine. His mouth was suddenly so close to mine that I could feel his
breath against my lips and, damn it, but my own heart was pounding
like a teenager's in the throes of an infatuation. His arms were
around me now and he was drawing me close. I had spent enough hours
'talking' with my dates in dark corners to know where this was
going. But with Mulder - never.

     "Damn you, Mulder. Stop. Mulder, you're scaring me." I might
have rejoiced at finally getting his undivided attention after all
these years, I might have been able to convince myself that the
shock of having survived the demon at the bonfire had finally
broken through that wall he had built around our relationship - if
it weren't for his eyes which really did scare me. They looked
right through me as if I wasn't even there and yet - and yet -

     Long before I saw the tears, he began to tremble. "They - "
That first word was spoken so softly and was so oddly muffled that
at first I didn't understand. "They told me you were dead." And as
if that broke the dam he began kissing me. Hard at first.
Frantically. On the lips. His taste was both spicy and yet so
touchingly salty. Then his kisses began to petal my face.

     It was hard to breathe, harder to think. Warm lips were now
hungrily nibbling my neck. Brown hair was soft against my cheek. It
really was possible for the world to tilt on its axis, to feel as
if you were falling when you weren't. Only his strong arms held me.
So strong. As strong as his desperate need for this contact.

     But no. No... no...no! This wasn't right. Not for Mulder it
wasn't. This wasn't Mulder. This wasn't us.

     Why now, Mulder? Then I remembered the one statement he had
managed to make. 'THEY told me you were dead.' Who told him? When?
It was Mulder who kept dying, not ME!

     When the truth finally broke through it was like a velvet
knife plunging into my heart. Only then, free from uncertainty, did
I allow my arms to go around him and hold him. A sigh fluttered out
from between his trembling lips as he allowed his head to fall
forward to lie between my breasts as if he were a lost child come
home.

     Footsteps. I didn't turn around though moments before I would
have been grateful for an excuse to break free of those confusing
arms and those lips. Tannis and the slight, silver-haired boy were
standing in the dew-covered grass staring at us. As far as Mulder
was concerned, however, he and I were alone under the moon.

     "You can come closer," I told them. "You won't scare him. He
can't hear you."

     The footsteps approached cautiously.

     "He can't see us either, can he?" Tannis said.

      "No, no, he can't." I stroked the bowed head, teasing out
some bits of leaf and weed that must have gotten there when he
fell. He must have fallen often in his flight from the fire. It was
a wonder he had been able to force his twisted body so far. I
rocked him as I've rocked my nephews and my godson and for the
first time I felt just a little of the unnatural rock-hard
stiffness dissolve from his rigid muscles.

     "At least you found him," Tannis said as if that were some
consolation.

     "But I haven't. This isn't Mulder. Not mine anyway."
 

                         * * * * * * * *

     Damn that bloody demon and his theatrical machinations! All
Mulder's problems come from some hysterical reaction or so I tried
to tell myself. So since when do hysterical reactions trigger
convulsions like the ones he had when we tried to help him stand
and walk with us back to the bonfire. It took all three of us to
hold him down just to keep him from hurting himself. I saw those
looks Tannis and the boy passed to each other. So sympathetic.
Well, their sympathy was pretty damn useless at the moment. I
wanted Mulder out of this! I snarled for someone to bring the drug
bag from my car and two of the more responsible teens who had
followed Tannis took off at a run.

     Which is how he came to be sedated. I told myself that he had
needed that needle under the skin for his peace of mind when really
it was for mine. As the minutes passed, he showed no indication of
additional seizures. This was fortunate since sedatives are
actually contraindicated in such cases without a more thorough
evaluation. What I hadn't wanted to do was face again that
expression of pure happiness that glowed behind those blind eyes
when he touched my face.

    But for all that I couldn't leave him which explains how I
found myself sitting by his cot in this borrowed tent and stroking
that familiar dark head until long after the sedatives took him
under. Even in drugged sleep his limbs maintained their unnatural
rigueur. With those cold chill fingers he kept a death grip on my
hand as I numbly sat and just tried to understand where there was
no understanding. He was functionally blind when my examination
showed that he was not blind. He responded to no sound when all of
my tests showed that he should not be deaf. His joints had hardened
into stiff bends and refused to relax where I could find no injury.

     Over the hours I sat here I went full circle. I had told
Tannis that this was not my Mulder. As often happens during my
dealings with Mulder, I then denied my initial gut feelings. Of
course it was. It had to be. He'd just lost it utterly and
completely this time. You can see how this was not a particularly
comforting alternative.

     So now I am back where I began.

     Tannis dunked under the tent flap. The boy she calls Eli is
still with her like a shadow.

     "How's he doing?" she asked softly as if she thought she could
wake him.

     "Some first degree burns on his face and hands we hadn't seen
before, otherwise the same," I answered only to grumble lower, "as
if you cared."

     "I do."

     "So why did you let him go through with this? You were
obviously aware of the danger." Tannis was clearly distressed by my
accusation but that didn't even begin to appease my anger. "What
did you two think you were doing? How did that monster get hold of
Mulder? How did he get so close?"

     The woman's eyes were red and moist. I could see that in the
lantern light. "What can I say? 'I'm sorry' is pretty lame.  When
Charlotte died - I -"

     "Your cat? You left Mulder alone with that maniac because your
cat died?"

     The tall woman's eyes glowed suddenly with a smoldering fire.
"Who are you to judge? Charlotte was my friend and not just some
cat. But how would you know, you -" And she spat out a word that
was in a language I didn't know but I sensed it was old, very old,
and that my parentage for several hundred generations had just been
insulted. "And where were you anyway - you who were supposed to
have been his friend. You let him come alone and you LOVE hi-"
Embarrassed, her mouth shut tight with a snap of as if she had just
said something she knew she shouldn't.

     But I had heard that four letter word well enough and from her
reaction I must have stared at her as if she had broken some taboo
which, in truth, she had. At least that word and all that it
implied was implicitly forbidden between Mulder and I. For what
Mulder and I share there is no word so we use none. Now to hear it
from this woman... I forced down a biting comeback and let it
slide. I had problems enough in that area with my current Mulder.

     As if she thought it would help to change the subject, Tannis
looked down at the empty prescription vial lying on the camp stool.
"Did you have to put him out?"

     "Probably not," I replied my guilt and anger evaporating
somewhat as I looked down on the gently sleeping form, "but once
won't hurt him and I couldn't continue having him think I was -"
That I was what?

     "That you were HIS Scully?"

     "Sara. He thinks I'm Sara. After their escape from the
Compound they changed her name to Sara just as they changed
Mulder's to Joseph. They knew she would never accept 'Sandy' and no
one had the bad grace to suggest 'Mary'."

     Tannis picked up the empty vial and sat on the vacated camp
stool. She was a tall, sturdy woman and took up most of the
remaining space in the small cabin tent. She obviously wanted to
talk but talk with her was not what I wanted just then. Instead, I
touched the broad forehead of the sleeping man, the silky hair now
somewhat brittle on the ends from the fire. His skin was a slightly
warmer than it should have been. "He should be in a hospital," I
said.

     "Why?" Tannis asked. "What could they do? This is where he
needs to stay. It's peaceful here. No one will disturb him. He's
warm, comfortable." Her eyes fixed on our clasped hands. "He has
you. He feels safe. Considering how he is, how do you think he'd
react to a strange place like that? Think of all those 'helpful'
people touching him."

     I shuddered. It went against all my training but I was
relieved to just be able to stay here. I needed time, just as
'Mulder' did, to get everything sorted out in my head. It was kind
of the boys who pitched this tent to lend it to us though I did
worry. They went off to drink their strained nerves into a stupor
at a friend's house. I hope none of them tried to drive home
afterwards.

     "You think that there's another reason why we should stay
here, don't you?"

     Tannis eye's lifted to my face. "There's precedence. It is
where the transfer happened twice before and ended twice before."

     "It's not the same! We just looked in on their lives before,
like watching television, only it was so real that we didn't even
realize we were only watching until we weren't any longer. We
didn't displace them before. We didn't replace their personalities
or their memories with our own."

     "I know it's different, Dana, but it's got to be related. No,
we don't know where Mulder's spirit is, or why Joseph is here and
Mulder is not but if you took him away my guess is their chances of
finding their way back to their proper places would be far less."

     "Is that what needs to happen? As simple as that?" I snapped.
"The devil just conjured up a storm which blew Joseph's spirit here
and sent Mulder's - someplace else? Where? Into the ether?"

     "You know what you believe, what you believed from the very
beginning... that Mulder is in Joseph's place as Joseph is here. I
personally don't believe it's necessarily all that simple. Devils
care really very little about balancing equations. Besides, there's
a really big factor missing here. You. You didn't transfer which
has always happened in the past. Who knows what affect that has
had."

     I stared at the youth, Eli, who stood looking scratched and
wretched. If he hadn't stopped me, Mulder and I might have been
together when the storm hit. If that was when the transfer
occurred, it all might have happened like before - just a nightmare
to wake up from. Or would I have switched places, too? I felt a
surge of irrational anger towards the boy. At least Mulder and I
would have been together.

     "A lot of 'if's, Dana," Tannis admonished, gently. "And don't
take it out on Eli. He did only what he was born to do - to
protect. Blame me if anyone. I made the devil angry. I played his
game too long. I had no idea how insane he was."

     I turned away. I had no wish to listen to her explanations. I
was already angry at her. I needed someone else to turn my fury on.
Unfortunately, Mulder was the only one left.

     I stared down at that face again, my Mulder's face. But it was
NOT Mulder who had held me and kissed me and cried on my shoulder.
Why was this being Joseph the one thing in this hellish,
unbelievable night that I was absolutely certain of? By flashlight,
I had even checked his sleeping face for the scars. I had - God
help me - even pulled up his shirt to look for the well-remembered
mottled pattern of human and alien skin which Joseph bore. No, this
was Mulder's body down to every new scar, mole and hair follicle.
Only Mulder wasn't here.

     Where are you, Mulder?

     "That other place?" Tannis said, irritatingly answering my
unasked question. "At least it's a place to start. We'll just have
to hope that the supernatural abhors a vacuum."

     Hope. That's not much of a basis for an investigation.
Meanwhile, Joseph's hand was still bruising mine. I looked down at
his quiet face. <What should I do, Mulder? Where do I start?>

     "What did you do before to bring everything back to normal?"
Tannis asked. She'd been zeroing in on my thoughts again.

     I was still looking at that face when "Nothing" came out, and
for the first time I could feel the tears behind the words. "We
didn't DO anything special. Certainly nothing consciously. We just
came back to ourselves in six to eight hours."

     Tannis's expression was not encouraging. "It's always a good
idea when dealing with the supernatural to muddy the waters as
little as possible. Perhaps you should just wait then. Perhaps it
will all - revert - by itself."

     For the first time I realized what I wanted to do. For the
first time I knew what I HAD to do. Six to eight hours here
translated sometimes to YEARS there.

     In that case... Oh, Mulder...

     "I can't wait. I have to find him," I heard myself saying.

     Tannis straightened in her chair. "From all you've both told
me, I thought you couldn't - not alone - and even then not without
an overpowering emotional need."

     Mulder was in a strange place - alone and most likely blind,
deaf and crippled for this was what Joseph believed even now.
Joseph had thought I was dead. He had been certain of it. Finding
me had reduced him to tears. What had they done to him there? What
had they done to my counterpart? Where were Skinner and his group
throughout all this? They were supposed to have been protecting
that vulnerable little nuclear family. And Adam - oh, God, what had
happened to Adam. "I HAVE an overpowering emotional need," I
hissed, "only I don't know if I can go alone."

     "And perhaps you shouldn't," came a soft voice, one I had not
heard speak before. It was the young, fair-haired youth, Eli. "What
if you ARE dead in that Other Place the way Joseph thinks? Where
would your spirit go then?"

     I felt suddenly very cold and it wasn't from the dropping
temperature of the October night. I had no desire to be a ghost
haunting a world that wasn't even my own. "What then?"

     "I have a suggestion," said the strange young man.

End of Chapter 3b
 

ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES (4/18)
By Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger)

For Disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 4: Dana

     After a heated three-way argument, Eli and Tannis put me to
bed in the cot next to Joseph, his arms around me to keep him calm.
I'm ashamed to admit how oddly comfortable it felt.

     "This can't possibly work," I grumbled. At the time what I
meant was that what they planned had better NOT work.

     To my great dismay and genuine terror, it did.

     I woke standing before a mirror with a hair brush in my hand.
Well, I wasn't exactly standing before the mirror. A young girl of
about sixteen was and the eyes I looked out of were hers. In
addition to the girl, the mirror reflected a cluttered room filled
with bright morning light, an unmade bed, a dresser piled with odds
and ends. Clothes were thrown haphazardly over a chair and on the
floor. On the dressing table before me there were the dozens of
bottles of make up and nail polish common to any teenage girl. I
concentrated on the girl again. Her light gray eyes looked out of
a pale wistful face that went with a slim, petite body. All in all
she looked enough like Eli to be his sister.

     Considering how this night was going, she probably was.

     Thank all of Mulder's little green men, but at least I was
going to be time-sharing in a woman's body, a rather young woman,
but at least female. No, time-sharing is not quite the right
description. Co-inhabiting is more accurate and I was relieved not
to have to deal with the added complexity of a sex change. Still,
it was scary. Always before when we had come, Mulder had slid into
Mulder's own self and I into mine. Seamless. Like a dream that you
didn't know was a dream, but this wasn't like all the other times.
Joseph was in my world showing signs of having been horribly
tortured in this one and Mulder had vanished. And my other self in
this world? I am terribly afraid. Before we decided upon this
drastic chance, Tannis, Eli and I made a sort of circle and,
overwhelming need or not, I couldn't feel a trace of Sara. Before,
as her due date approached, I had felt her anxiety both for the
labor and their impending escape. This time nothing. I could find
no trace of my other self.

     So instead I am here. I'm not even completely certain that I'm
in the right world. If there are two why not three or a dozen or a
thousand? Am I panicking? Yes, probably. How Mulder would smile if
he knew what I had agreed to try. If he knew that I'd actually
managed it, he'd laugh himself silly.

     How I would like to hear that laugh right now but my options
are rather limited. I'm stuck instead doing whatever my host wants
to do until I can figure out how to make contact. Eli promised it
could be done but wasn't long on particulars. The girl is brushing
her waist length, silver-blond hair in long strokes. A thought came
to me, <That's Eli's hair.> As if she heard the thought, the brush
paused in the girl's slender hand. Slowly, a curious smile formed
on the young, full lips and the girl gazed into the eyes of her own
reflection giving me the oddest sense that those gray eyes were
focused on my very soul.

     "Hello in there. I'm Ellie."

     I felt a surge of definite panic. Found out so quickly? At
least I'm welcome. Wait until she finds out what fun and games
we're going to have. First order of business though, how to
communicate.

     "Just think in clear sentences. I'll be able to hear you."
Ellie has a nice, steady voice. Deeper and more mature than her
apparent years.

     <You're 'brother' sent me. He sends his regards.>

     A hint of a laugh. "He's not exactly my 'brother' though you
could say he is one of the family." Ellie resumed brushing her
hair. Amazingly, I can FEEL the weight and silkiness of it. I
hadn't expected sensation at this level. The revelation made me
light headed.

     "Steady," the girl said gently. "If you get dizzy, I get
dizzy."

     Mentally, I took a breath and closed my eyes. It helped. <You
don't seem surprised. You've done this sort of thing before?>

     "Oh, yes." Leaning on the glass dresser top, the girl Ellie
paused to think. "Four times before. The earliest was when I was
seven. You are?"

     I blushed or would have if I could. <Sorry, I'm Dana and I'm
so sorry to bother you - >

     "Shhh. Don't apologize. I can feel your pain and that's not
just a cliche under the circumstances. You've lost someone very
close to you." Another pause. I feel a sort of movement inside my
head like a breeze, nudging me. Gently, she said, "It's all right.
Really it is. You can think about him. In fact if I'm going to help
you I need you to as long as it doesn't hurt too much."

     Think about Mulder? Where to start? The intensity of him was
what I always thought of first, that and the quick way the
intelligent fire lights in his eyes. There is his weary sorrow,
too, and the way so much of life has rejected him. His coping
mechanisms - the seed cracking, the sexual innuendos, the jokes,
the black, bone-dry humor. Then there is his immeasurable loyalty
and his great heart that bleeds a little for every victim of every
case. Only after these does his physical self come to mind, his
unique and beautiful face, his lean, model's physique. Overlaying
that image, however, was how I had last seen him - body contorted
in pain, face so pale, hands like claws, living in a black and
silent cage with no lock, not even a door.

     The brush came down gently on the dresser top. When Ellie
gazed once more into the mirror, there were tears in the gray eyes.
Her tears or mine? "Your friend... we'll find him," she said. "I
promise you we will. Now, help me decide what to wear and then you
can finish the make up. It will be good practice for you when you
need to be in control which you will need to do now and again. Much
faster than trying to explain everything to me." Ellie had opened
her closet. What faced me was a jumbled mess, mostly t-shirts and
ripped and faded jeans.

     The things I do for you, Mulder.

                        * * * * * * * *

     I drove. I didn't ask where Ellie got the little Saab; I was
just glad for the freedom and glad that with the selection of the
girl's one serious suit and my hand at the make up and hair that
the girl could now pass for eighteen or nineteen. At least before
we took off on our little road trip, Ellie directed me to a nice
empty church parking lot where we practiced shifting - and I'm not
talking about transmissions here.

     I'm feeling increasingly confident about this arrangement.
Ellie's body is slighter than mine and not as strong but about the
same height and weight, and we do well as long as Ellie doesn't try
to 'lead' at the same time I do. Most of the time I ride along like
taking part in some high tech visual reality game but more and more
Ellie is fading out to let me direct. At those times she's just a
still, small voice in the background. Sort of like my conscience,
like Jimminy Cricket. When I told her this she laughed which comes
off like a pleasant buzz in my head.

     I was having such a good time, almost like being out on a
holiday with a girl friend or a sister, that when I saw Mulder out
of the corner of my eye I didn't think it odd since he is always
popping up at odd moments in my life. I saw him through the rear
view mirror lounging across the back seat, his head thrown back, a
little simpering 'I told you so' smile on his lips. When I turn my
head to get a better look, however, there is no one there. Of
course, he never had been. I had just wished him there.

     If Ellie notices the sudden plunge in my mood, she is
diplomatically silent.

     Back in Ellie's little apartment, once we were as
professionally dressed and presentable to the world as I could make
us, Ellie had asked, "Where to now?"

     <Good question.> I had been pondering that problem myself.
After their rather miraculous Christmas Eve escape from the
Compound, Joseph and Sara had disappeared by living in a cave with
Skinner and Dr. Helen Janus, Skinner's new wife, and Zeke and the
pony, Sphinx, for about six months. My memories of the time in the
cave were warm but unusually hazy. Had Mulder and I been 'along for
the ride' for a day or a month in that magical place? For me, it
certainly was the most dream-like of all of our memories from this
world, as if I only received echoes somehow, a scene here and there
in bits and pieces.

     My clearest memory is probably of our arrival. It was dawn on
Christmas morning. A cold mist swirled Avalon-like around Sphinx's
tired legs. Every muscle in my body ached but especially where my
backside connected with Sphinx's saddle. Padded or not, after four
hours it still hurt like hell. The good part is, I can still sense
Adam's slight, warm weight in my arms. Less than twenty-four hours
old and content to sleep his way through a fourteen hour long
flight through the Pennsylvania woods in the winter with nary a
whimper. Then there was Mulder. Once we finally made contact with
Skinner and the others, he walked beside Adam and me the entire way
ready to steady me if I nodded off which I'm certain I did from
time to time. As I remember, Sphinx only stepped on his foot twice.
Towards the end I was the one who dared not sleep because Mulder
was stumbling so. I think at that point he was staying close to the
pony more to keep himself from falling than to be there for me. It
was cruel the demands he put his body through that night, but then
no one had expected that he would have to spend a tenth of the time
he did either carrying me on his back or pulling Adam and me on a
travois. I saw Skinner and Helen exchange worried glances. Like any
an old married couple, no words had been needed to communicate
their concern. Partners can do that too.

     It was Skinner's strong and steady arms which lifted me from
the saddle as Sphinx finally stood blowing outside the dark hole of
the cave's mouth that frosty dawn. It was Helen's gentle hands
which supported me into the cave. She helped me change and wash and
forced food and warm liquids into me even though I was too tired to
eat. Yes, I know I should say 'Sara' and not 'me' but we really
were one and the same at the time so I hope you can excuse my
occasional lapses. Helen does a good massage which kept me awake
long enough to nurse Adam. After that she tucked me into the most
civilized and yet the most barbarian bed I could have imagined.
They must have air lifted in the firm queen-sized mattress and
there were warm flannel sheets, even though the walls were raw,
undressed stone. Since all electricity came from a generator and
was thus at a premium, the only lighting came from the golden glow
of torches thrust into iron sconces along the walls. To round out
the affect the bed was piled with furs. Even though all but the
sheepskins were artificial, the look was there. Dr. Helen was
clearly a dyed-in-wool romantic. I remember wondering what her and
Skinner's section of the cave looked like.

     The only thing missing in the chamber besides groveling
peasants was Mulder. Both Helen and I had expected to find him
snoring away when I came from my bath, but the big bed was empty.

     Skinner and Zeke went searching but it was Sphinx who found
him. The pony was not too pleased to find a trespasser passed out
in his bedding. Mulder had collapsed into the clean straw in an
alcove just off the cave's entrance which had been designated as
the pony's stall. Between them Skinner and Zeke brought Mulder in,
some pieces of straw still clinging to his hair. Even when Skinner
had stripped him of his sweaty clothes thus exposing his parti-
colored skin to the chill air of the cave Mulder didn't twitch. He
was that far out of it. I'll never forget the sadness that passed
over Skinner's face as he saw for the first time all those new
scars as well as the alien patchwork. It was with a tenderness that
I never thought I'd see that he dressed Mulder's limp body in a
long RedSkins night shirt and placed him in bed beside me.
 

     <<That's a very nice memory, Dana.>>

     I jerked with alarm at Ellie's words. I had faded out, faded
down, that is, and let the girl's personality rise to the surface.
Good thing Ellie is skillful for her years both as a driver and as
a 'host' but then I suspect that Ellie is no more sixteen than her
'brother' Eli is thirteen or so.

     Ashamed, I mentally ground my teeth. <I can't afford to do
that!>

     Ellie deftly steered through a curve, one hand on the wheel.
<<You need to learn not to lose concentration but it's not
dangerous. I'm always paying attention even when I let you
'drive'.>>

     The next few miles passed quietly and this time I paid
attention to the road and the feel of strange hands and feet and to
the sound of Ellie's calm voice in my head. A road sign glided by.

     <<We're almost there,>> she remarked. <<I hope it's the right
place.>>

     So do I.

     Back at the apartment I'd pored over maps. I wouldn't approach
the cave except as a last resort. For one, there were no roads and
the time spent would probably gain us little. By the calendar,
three years had passed since the planned move from the cave so the
place was most likely deserted. Two, if the Consortia's hounds had
finally succeeded in sniffing it out, unfriendly eyes might be
watching that peaceful place and I have enough problems at the
moment without calling the goons down on us.

     Instead, tracing the roads and rivers on the maps had coaxed
a surprisingly useful memory from my foggy brain. It was a
conversation 'Sara' had had with Skinner one afternoon after they'd
been living in the cave for weeks or so it seemed. The winter was
at its height and everyone was feeling claustrophobic. Joseph was
working in what could be referred to as 'the shop' trying to build
a cradle for the baby. It actually wasn't his idea - neither Joseph
nor Mulder is as domestic as all that - but Sara had challenged him
if only to give that restless body and mind of his something to do
before he drove the rest of the group crazy. To help take the shut-
in's minds off the miles of uninhabited snow between themselves and
the outside world, Skinner had talked about their future and pulled
out maps. He told Sara that his group, the ones who resisted the
Consortia and their alien contacts, were putting the finishing
touches on an elaborate headquarters and that all five of them
would move there when the 'heat' was off. It was being built
underground using technology from URSULA's own alien allies. The
main entrance was through a currently working quarry and involved
tunneling down to an existing aquifer, pumping it out, and
supporting the remaining structure. Very ambitious, but then there
were hundreds of people on the project and money was no object -
not with a war as important as this one to win. Interestingly, he
pointed out that the place wasn't so far away, less than fifty
miles. That area of Pennsylvania was blessed with a lot of old
mines and quarries.

     As they talked about their future, Sara voiced her concern
about Adam growing up isolated from so much that was 'normal'. To
reassure her, Skinner described the public entrance which was
through the basement of a modest house some miles away from the
quarry. The house was situated at the very edge of a neighborhood
that was so middle American  it would make Sara's teeth ache. Their
conversation never went any farther because at that moment there
issued from the 'shop' a string of very loud, very colorful swear
words. A carving tool had slipped and Mulder had cut himself. Not
badly, but considering the toxicity of his altered blood and the
limitations of the cave's medical facilities, this was no minor
emergency.

     I have no memory of further discussions on the topic of Sara
and Joseph's future home though I couldn't think of a better place
to start. A working quarry within a fifty miles radius of the Cave
and within a few miles of a modern housing development should not
be that difficult to find. The Internet is a wonderful thing and
Ellie had a good set up. The national stone and masonry unions have
a quite elaborate list of quarries and it wasn't long after that
that I was scanning Census Bureau aerial maps of neighborhoods.
Most are available at a variety of elevations with the most
detailed showing individual buildings. Within twenty minutes I
found a likely candidate.

     Ellie was referring to this when she saw the city limits sign
slide by. We elected to try the neighborhood loop before
investigating the nearby quarries of which there were three. For
two women traveling alone - excuse me, ONE very young woman - the
action would attract little attention. As with most subdivisions,
its design on paper was like a maze or the schematic of an ant
farm. Skinner would want privacy so we drove slowly by all the cul-
de-sacs that terminated on the perimeter of the property. There
were two dozen at least. Which one if any? How would I know? I'd
never thought the plan down that far. As Mulder had said once,
'That's why they put the 'I' in 'FBI'.' Which meant that it was
probably time to dig. My mood plummeted. Title searches, tax
returns, birth records - it could take weeks.

     I was actually reaching for a pen in Ellie's purse to start
taking down addresses when Ellie turned into the next street on our
route, Oak View Lane. At first it was just another long stretch of
gray asphalt lined with houses and cars, flower beds and mailboxes
- then I felt a shiver. I 'knew' this place though there was no
reason why I should. 'I' had never been here though Sara and Joseph
and Adam had known it well, of that I was certain. A sort of
dizziness passed over me as my eyes settled on a large sixty's era
split level.

     <Ellie, stop. Stop here.>

     It sat by itself at the end of a drive. Trees were all around
it - more than around it - they seemed to loom, blanketing it in
shadow. The only part of the property that got any sun in summer
would be the front yard.

     <I see tomato plants. Tomato plants in the front yard. Shocked
the few close neighbors.>

      Tearing my eyes away from the house and the memories I
shouldn't have, I found the building on the aerial map I'd brought.
There was only woods beyond the house, a marshy wet lands
preservation area. The tall trees were actually a part of that
forest. Beyond the woods the land rose up becoming Salem Ridge and
on the other side of the ridge, Trenton and Son's Stoneworks.

     In the driveway was a Ford Bronco. I let Ellie park the car
and extract our stunned body out from behind the wheel. At least my
part was stunned. The house was well maintained but no different
than a thousand others. There were daffodils and tulips blooming in
beds beside the walk and around the mailbox. I'd left my world in
dark October and here it was an early but brilliant spring day. I
knew that didn't mean much. Time moved at a different rate here.

     <The flowers are doing well. I planted those or ones like
them. In the summer there will be snapdragons and zinnias and, of
course, the tomatoes. In the fall, orange and yellow mums. Joseph
knelt beside me once in the warm sun and together we pulled out the
bulbs. I'd had to drag him away from his work, warning him that he
was going to turn into a mushroom if he didn't get outside more.
The little domestic task took us longer than we'd planned because
a certain two-year-old kept racing about with his bucket and spoon
trying to help. All he managed to do, however, was make Joseph
laugh and get us all quite dirty, and that wasn't such a very bad
thing.>

     I had no more time for memories that weren't mine or even to
wonder how they got there. A man walked around from the side of the
house, a big, solid man in jeans and a light suede jacket. As he
came out into the sun from the heavy shade, he pulled keys from his
pants pocket and headed towards the Bronco. I stood still beside
Ellie's Saab too overcome to move or make a sound. He looked older
than the last time I'd seen him but then I'd know the top of that
head anywhere.

     Before he had even put his keys in the door of the Bronco,
Walter Skinner sensed me, but then he's a man who knows the
importance of vigilance at all times. I would have been more
surprised if he had not been instantly aware of a stranger standing
a hundred feet away and staring at him. We just stood for the
longest time, just looking at each other. I don't know what I
expected him to see. Other than being small and female, Ellie
didn't resemble Dana Scully in the least. I was a thin teenager
who, even wearing her grown-up suit and tasteful make up, must have
looked barely old enough to drive. Maybe it was the suit. I had
picked it out. I had applied the make up and pulled up the long
white-blond hair. Maybe it was the way I stood, the expression in
my eyes. He put the keys back in his pocket and walked down the
drive towards me, hesitant even with those long purposeful strides
of his.

     "Sara?" he asked.

     I had been afraid to believe the dream memories, but this man
and that name was part of no dream.  All I was and believed in at
that moment coalesced into one bright, shining thought. For the
first time, for the very first time since this incredible nightmare
had begun, I knew with certainty that I was in the right world and
in the right place and time - and come hell or high water I was
going to find Mulder.

     There was nothing in this or any other world that I wanted
more.

End of Chapter 4
 
 
 
 

Date: 26 FEB 1998 02:48:15 GMT
From: Windsinger <windsinger@aol.com>
Subject: NEW: All Hallow's Eve IV (5/18) by Windsinger

ALL HALLOW'S EVE IV: MIRACLES (5/18)
By Sue Esty (AKA Windsinger)

For Disclaimer see chapter 1

Chapter 5: Dana

     "Sara?" Walter Skinner asked again.

     Now I know what a deer caught in headlights feels likes.
Nothing he could have said would have surprised me more. He came
closer but warily as if he didn't believe what he was seeing
himself. What was he seeing? A small, trim woman in a neat suit,
weight balanced securely on both feet hands deep in the pockets of
her all-weather coat? That certainly was my style. On the outside
I was all coolness, on the inside I was the falling apart, the
reins of control slipping through my fingers.

     "I apologize," he said when he had halved the distance between
us. "For a moment there, by the way you were standing, you reminded
me of someone."

     When Skinner appeared, Ellie had evaporated like smoke leaving
the playing field to me. Becoming aware of my fumbling, however,
she came to my rescue. "Someone?" Ellie asked. "Didn't I hear you
say 'Sara'?"

     His jaw hardened in response at having caught himself doing
something so stupid and potentially dangerous. "A friend." His tone
turned icy. "Are you lost? Can I help you?" His intent was clear.
Get rid of this woman, correct the damage as quickly as possible.

     Ellie still seemed to be waiting for me to take charge, but
now that the moment had come I realized with some real panic that
I didn't know what to say. Subterfuge has never been my strong suit
- if it were, I would have applied to the CIA. Even after all those
years managing Mulder, Skinner would have found this truth rather
hard to accept. I just couldn't hear myself saying, "Director
Skinner, I'm Agent Scully. Dana, not Sara. The real one. I'm from
another time dimension, another world. But that's not important.
It's really just my consciousness which is in this body and I've
come for your help because I've lost Mulder and I don't know where
to find him."

     <Yeah, sure.>

     No, even after four years of the X-files Skinner would have
been suspicious of a story like that. He had to be, that was his
job, and this place was far more of a fortress than the FBI ever
was. Even if Mulder were inside, security would be tighter than Ft.
Knox and the staff much more paranoid. Like Skinner they had to be,
they had more than cold, hard gold to protect.

     So I was embarrassingly adrift. On the other hand, my
companion, I'm relieved to say, had poise. <<Leave it to me,>> she
projected with brazen confidence. <<I've got a trick or two. We
just need one little word as an ice breaker...>>

     Out loud she said, "Thank you for your concern, Mr. Skinner,
but I'm not lost. I was sent."

     His eyes narrowed. Yes, he was suspicious. Good for him. "By
who?" he asked.

     "Whom," Ellie corrected with a hint of a smile. "Zanth sent
me."

     <Where did that come from?> I wondered and then realized that
Ellie had maneuvered Skinner into thinking about the very
information she needed, in this case a code name, and then she had
simply plucked it from his mind. Why should I be surprised? Ellie,
like Eli and Tannis, probably has more than one useful skill normal
people don't have.

     Meanwhile I could see Skinner tasting the word and studying
Ellie with his almost X-ray eyes. More often than not that steely
gaze had succeeded in making Mulder squirm.

     "If you're on his team and he sent you here then you must be
going in undercover?"

     "Undercover," Ellie confirmed without hesitation.

     "You're very young."

     <I'll say so - about sixteen going on - sixty? - six hundred?
Ellie, do you really think this is going to work?>

     <<Calm yourself,>> Ellie returned to me. <<I cast a sort of
glamour when we first saw him. He really did think I was you for a
moment. Now he just sees a woman of about twenty-one. Still young
but not jail bait.>>

     In response to Skinner's observation about her age, Ellie
merely shrugged as if age was not a factor. Skinner must have
approved of her attitude because I sensed a relaxation of the
tension in his shoulders. With the relaxation, however, I sensed a
far deeper emotion. Sadness. "Are you going to bring her out?" he
asked.

     There was no confusion between Skinner and Ellie about who
'she' was or where she was being brought out 'from', but I was
floored. <Wait a minute... The man lying in the tent back in my
time thinks - knows - that his