**

Inverse Reflections (continued)
by annaK

**

Chapter 8

**
 

One and one half wandering Jews,
Free to wander wherever they choose,
Are traveling together in the Sangre de Cristo,
The Blood of Christ Mountains in New Mexico.
On the last leg of a journey
They started a long time ago.
The arc of a love affair,
Rainbows in the high desert air.

                             Hearts and Bones, Paul Simon
 

**
 

Information in her lap, eyes staring straight ahead, she gazes
into nothingness. He sits across the room, studying the careful
poise in her, the graceful tilt of her chin, the ignored piece
of hair that lies across her cheek. He can't speak, can't move.
He can only watch. The watching is killing him.

A waxwork model where his world had been, the information
gathered from Monica hanging between them in the oppressive
air.

It has started.

Breathing seems difficult, his throat full of bile and his eyes
starting to water. Tears or the strain of staring unblinking at
the creature across the room; he doesn't know.

Still, she doesn't move.

The crash of thunder echoes outside, the rain growing heavier
and attacking the window with brutal force. Lightning
illuminates the room, her features suddenly bright and deathly
pale.

It has started.

He'd known something was wrong the moment Monica had said the
five words he'd least thought to hear. "I've been expecting your
call."

Information had been passed quickly so as not to stay on the
line too long, but he'd known the truth from those first words.

Contact with their old friends would never have been a risk.
The powers that be had known their location all along. Scully
was right.

It has started.

Another crack of thunder tears through the night, and he
wonders if that's what it will sound like when the portal
opens. Wonders if it will burn his flesh as he pushes inside.

Still, Scully remains perfectly poised, unmoving.

Porcelain perfection in midnight watercolor, her imperial nose
outlined in charcoal against the shimmering window.

And suddenly, he can see her on a thousand rainy nights,
laughing by an open grave in Oregon, outside his motel room,
hair damp and curling, blouse turned opaque, and the water on
her face was tears because the rain couldn't touch her, and he
was holding her and they were both getting drenched and
without a word he knew she was crying for a lost little girl
and he just kept holding her and knowing her and loving her.

The statue across from him won't cry. They won't cling to each
other in the rain. Because despite the newfound peace, the
gentle understanding that came just a day ago, she is silent.
One step forward, ten steps back.

It has started, and he is alone with a stranger and the
painful burden of Krycek's words.

"There's a key, Mulder. December 31, 2010, a ship will crash
onto the city of London, England. Millions of people will die,
some from the impact, some from radiation, and the public will
know the truth. Think 'Independence Day', Mulder, only
bigger... much bigger. Widespread panic will lead to anarchy
as the world governments crumble under the rage and fear of
the people. Colonization will begin, two years before it's
meant to, and eighteen months before the Russian's will
discover that high frequency sound and light waves
disorientate the ships, drill a hole through their technology,
and allow for missiles to work against them. If colonization
happens in 2012, we'll beat it.

"We don't know why the London incident occurs, though there
are suspicions that their government have a part in it,
thinking they can destroy the ship without public knowledge.
You have to stop them, Mulder. You have to change the future."
 

**
 

Morning comes with the flickering of clouds passing over the
newly risen sun. Work is a lifetime away, and she doubts
she'll ever see Lisa or Jenny again, knows that Katrina will
be playing on her own.

Monica told them to leave town. Head for New Orleans, she
said. She and John would meet them there.

So they've packed their bags, unsure if they'll see their
house again, and she knows they're doing the right thing.
Because Mulder was right. *She* lived the past, not him, and
she can't do it again.

Hand in hand, they walk through town. She wants to see the
old plaza one last time. They may never return.

The street buzzes with tourists, the area quaint and
expensive and painfully beautiful. So much time pining for
the past, for a Georgetown apartment and a tank of fish.
She's not sure how she never truly realized this had become
home.

They stop to look at shop windows, not a word passing between
them. He's been quiet since last night, since she saw him
talking to nothing and knew that he had information. Knew that
he wouldn't share. She accepts it. It's familiar. They're
Mulder and Scully again.

But they're holding hands in public, D.C is miles away, and
soon, soon they'll be back with old friends, combining the
two worlds that she never thought she'd know.

And for the first time in a decade, she feels the sunlight on
her face without a trace of darkness blocking its light, and
the man at her side is everything.

Memories are safe and warm within her. But she's here, in the
moment, walking down the ancient streets of the town that's
become home, Mulder's hand strong in her own. And she's free.

A scream behind them.

"Wha...?" The word is lost as the earth moves and the blue
sky above is shimmering with waves of lightening and her feet
are gone from beneath her and the portal gapes in front and
*Oh. My. God.*

A wave of blackness and screams in the air and she lets go of
his hand as the dust burns her lungs.
 

**
 

Sirens ring in his ears as the fire department starts pouring
in. Earth cracking beneath him as electricity sends its wiry
tendrils flying into the ground. Lightening all around him and
dust in his eyes.

The cold earth is hard beneath his chapped hands as he crawls
towards the gaping hole that blurs before him.

Time sparks and burns on the edges, his mind overcome by
memories past and present, of lives half lived and of the
warmth of a babe in his arms and a woman by his side.

The street lamp flickers above, its glass casing broken, sharp
pieces cutting into his knees.

Crawling along, army maneuvers seeming strangely fitting as he
starts out on his mission, crawling towards the hole, towards
the future; towards his war.

A flash of red and he tries to look away, tries to keep moving,
but over the screams he can hear her voice, feel her beside
him.

"Mulder?!"

He can't move.

Fingers outstretching, hands molding together like they had
before, twined into one like on the day he left for the Oregon
woods, clinging until he pulled away on the day she made him
leave.

But the visions are blurring and all he knows is now, this
moment, this time, and her hand is strong in his.

*Scully.*

"We have to get away from here! Monica told us to stay out of
its way!" A tug on his wrist. "Come on, Mulder!" **"There's no
time!" Screaming at him as the Dallas building ticked down to
infinity behind them.**

"Get out of here!"

"I'm not leaving without you!"

"Go!"

"Mulder?" Her voice is nothing but a whisper as she crawls
towards him, her face close to his own, one hand still clinging
to his as the other cups his cheek.

"We have to get out of here. What are you doing?"

"I have to go in there."

"What?!"

Her eyes are watering from the smoke, but she's still strong
and immovable, still has the look in her eye that he's seen on
so many nights, so many roads. *You can't be serious!*

He grabs her face, the world around disappearing as he stares
into her eyes. Confusion, pain. Fear.

"Listen to me. We don't have much time..." A flicker of
comprehension dances in her pupils, and she's pulling him
closer, trying to shelter him with her will alone, trying to
silence him with a kiss because she doesn't want to listen,
doesn't want to ever let go. "... This is it, Scully. This is
what we've been waiting for. A way to fight the future."

"But..."

"I *love* you, and I am not going to sit around and wait for the
world to end so that I can watch you die. I won't do it, Scully.
I can't."

"I don't understand." Tears now, pouring down dusty cheeks,
tracks left in the dirt as her lips quiver and her eyes shine.
But she's lying, she does understand. He knows that, because
she's looking at him, staring into him, and he knows she can
see the fire of the quest burning within him, knows that she's
missed it just like he has, and he knows she'll let him go.

*Keep breathing.*

Another crash and the ground moves beneath them, but they're in
his apartment and she's begging him not to go looking for the
ship with Skinner, begging to go with him, but he knows she
won't stop him, or follow him, because this is the end of a road
and when he gets back they'll be together and there won't be any
more X Files and they'll be together and nothing else will
matter. And he can't let go.

His mouth on hers, urgently, desperately, the tang of salt on
his lips; his tears or hers? He's drowning in her, breath for
breath, stroke for stroke, but the earth's moving beneath him
and he's pulling away, and the door's ahead of him, and he
can't look back.

Time stops.

The portal closes behind him.

*Wait for me, Scully.*
 

**
 
 

Headers in part one...

**

Inverse Reflections by annaK

**

Chapter 9

**
 

Desperate for changing,
Starving for truth,
I'm closer to where I started,
Chasing after you.
I'm falling even more in love with you,
Letting go of all I've held on to.
 

                         Hanging By A Moment, Lifehouse
 

**
 

**You ditched me.**

She remembers that first night in Roswell, remembers
promising never to give up, telling Mulder that she'd
follow him all over again. She remembers the fight they
had last week, when for the first time she allowed herself
to admit defeat.

For years, all she wanted was a normal life; a white picket
fence and a family of her own. The last five years have
been normal; painful, but normal. A nice house, a solid job,
a husband, of sorts. But she'd never taken the time to sit
still, to treasure the moments as they passed. The feel of
his body behind her when she awoke in the morning. The
gentle laughter as she teased him over dinner. The lazy
Saturdays when they stayed in bed all day and didn't have to
go to work, didn't have to argue about the latest case,
didn't have to risk their lives.

She'd never treasured the moments, always taking for granted
that he'd be there when she got home from work.

Five years of living and loving in the light, and all she'd
felt was the oppressive weight of shadows.

Now, as she leaves the I-25 behind and heads towards Santa
Rosa, the sun glinting off the windshield and her foot
strong and firm against the accelerator, the tears that cloud
her vision are shed for the past years, for the time wasted
and the hurts caused. But it's not like it has been, it's not
about mourning the past; it's about healing, about laying the
last decade to rest, because the road's open ahead, and for
the first time in years, she's Agent Scully again, and Mulder
needs her.
 

**
 

**Scully?**

He's aware of distant sounds. The hum of traffic to his left
and the sound of water to his right. A beach? No. The ground
beneath him is too hard for sand. A pier?

And then he remembers. And he doesn't want to open his eyes.

Krycek said the portal would take him to whatever time and
place he was focusing on as he entered. London, England, 2010.

He doesn't want to open his eyes.

A wet trickle down his cheek, then another. Lashes finally
fluttering, head raising ever so slightly, eyes dragging open
to gaze at the rainy sky.

Yes, he is where he intended to be. He only hopes he is *when*
he intended to be, as well.

He'd been to the city a few times during his Oxford days, and,
pulling himself to his feet, he tries to get his bearings.
Big Ben stands proudly ahead of him, its imposing shadow
falling across the river. Parliament glints in the few rays
of sunlight that seep through the overcast sky, and the Thames
ripples beneath the rain drops to his right. He's on
the river bank, near Victoria Gardens, he guesses. One of
the great things about a photographic memory: visit a place
once, know it for life.  Good thing, too. He doesn't have
time to play tourist: if this is the eve of 2011, he has less
than twelve hours to save the world.

Almost laughing at the absurdity of his situation, he heads
towards the main road. He has work to do.
 

**
 

"Dana!"

Monica is standing in the doorway of the hotel room, eyes
clear and smile bright. Scully thought she would 'fit' here,
but now, as her old friend envelops her in a warm embrace,
she's not sure what to do. It's been too long.

"It's great to see you, Monica." She doesn't belong here, but
she means it all the same.

Agent Doggett stands inside the room, smiling softly at her.
It's a look that makes her want to cry. She doesn't belong
here, but she wishes she did.

"Agent Doggett." She moves towards him. She never realized
before how much this man had meant to her.

"Agent Scully."

"Not anymore, I'm afraid." Teasing him. Like old times.

"Sorry. Old habits die hard, huh?"

"Yeah."

"It's good to see ya, Dana."

He hugs her, and she wants to cry.

Small talk exchanged and watery smiles shared, the three
turn their attention to the fourth person in the room.

"Miss Ianelli. I believe you can help me."

Cleaning her glasses, the young woman nods.

Scully doesn't belong here, but there's a witness to
interrogate, two skilled agents at her side, and Mulder
needs her.

"Tell me what you know..."
 

**
 

Having confirmed it is December 31, 2010, Mulder soon
realized he didn't have a clue where to go, despite his
knowledge of the city. Krycek said there was a "suspicion"
the government could be involved, but rushing into
Parliament and demanding to speak to the Prime Minister
probably wouldn't go down well.

**Prime Minister, Prime Minister, don't shoot the aliens!!
Don't do it!**

No, probably wouldn't go down well at all.

Faced with the most important mission of his life, he
suddenly finds everything morbidly amusing. He just wishes
Scully were here to listen to his jokes and roll her eyes at
him. He wishes a lot of things. He doesn't have time.

Walking past the government offices and back towards Victoria
Station for what feels like the hundredth time, he tries to
come up with a plan. Any plan. He considered trying to contact
Agent Doggett, hoping he might be able to pull some strings
and get him into MI5. But he couldn't do it. He didn't know if
John was even alive now. He didn't know if Scully was alive.
He couldn't risk learning the future; if she was gone, he had
no world to save.

That plan aborted, he thought about contacting Phoebe, maybe
getting Scotland Yard to help. But he couldn't do that either.
She probably would have laughed at him anyway, and his day was
bad enough without adding that to the mix.

So, planless and running out of time, he navigates his way
through the New Year crowds in Westminster, and tries not to
give up.

"This way."

"What?" Turning to the right, he stares at Krycek. He's not
sure if it's just his morbid sense of humor again, but somehow
he's glad to see him.
 

**
 

"... They told me they knew about the research, about the
experiments, and that they'd kill me if I didn't share what
I'd learned. I couldn't, though. I couldn't let them go public,
not after what Jason told me."

"But you did the research despite what Jason said." Cool,
disapproving. Scully remembers this persona well.

"I'm a scientist. I had to know that it really was possible. I
had to know how."

"Fine." She understands, really, but she can't show it. Dismiss
her, make her squirm. "These men you said threatened you, can
you describe them?"

"I only saw one of them. African-American, tall, middle aged.
He was strong, imperial."

"And what exactly did he say to you?"

"I've already told Agent Reyes all of this."

"It's okay, Lisa, just tell Scully what you told me," Monica
says.

"Fine." She responds, her tone that of an impudent child.
She's still cleaning her glasses though. She's still scared.
"He said, 'You will share what you've learned, or else there
will be severe consequences. There's no one to help you.'
Then he said he knew about my 'brush with the FBI', but that
the agents I knew were long gone, so the only people who
would have been able to help, couldn't."

"He mentioned me and Mulder?" Something isn't right here.

"Yes. I'd never have thought to try and contact you if he
hadn't mentioned it. He kept going on about how you were the
only ones who could have helped."

"What are you thinking, Dana?" Monica is by her side, head
slightly tilted in inquiry.

"That whoever this man was, he wanted Lisa to contact you,
and for you to contact us. He wanted Mulder to go through
that portal." Voice growing in strength, she's putting the
pieces together, unraveling the conspiracies.

"Why?"

Why? A setup? Have they been led into another trap? Have
false prophets once again lured them with beautiful lies?
Or, have the tides turned? Mulder said this was his chance,
the final battle. He said he would change the future, save
the world. His parting kiss was a promise of redemption.
She saw hope in his eyes. But not the hope of wishful
thinking. The spark had flared like the fire of knowledge,
not the all too easily extinguished candle of desperation.

They have been played, they have been used. But this time,
they are in control.

A fearful hope grows and blooms, breaking into a small
smile on Scully's face.

Eyes clear and sure, she answers Monica.

"To change the future. To save the world." For the first
time in a decade, she can feel Mulder. The old Mulder. The
one she fell in love with.

Attention turned back to Ianelli, "How do we get him back?"

"Agent Mulder? Look, I don't know what's going on here,
but you can't 'get him back.' He has to find his own way
back."

"How does he do that?"

"If he changes something. Changes the course of history by
altering the future. The moment something's irreparably
changed, a portal opens, and he comes home."

"Your research showed that?"

"No. Jason told me." A wistful smile and Lisa returns to
cleaning her glasses. John and Monica talk quietly in the
corner.

And, as the room darkens with the arrival of dusk, Scully
sits by the window and watches the night creep in and hears
the first chords of jazz drift through the air. The future
is Mulder's alone to protect now, so she'll just sit here
and wait. Tomorrow or the day after, they'll walk away.
They'll sit in the sun. But tonight, for the last time,
she'll allow herself the glory of shadows, and she'll heal.

**Come home soon, Baby.**
 

**
 
 

Headers in part one...

**

Inverse Reflections by annaK

**

Chapter 10

**
 

If you're lost, you can look and you will find me,
Time after time.
 

                          Time After Time, Cindy Lauper
 

**
 

Krycek had led him into what seemed like a labyrinth. Now,
once more alone, he wanders through the caves of the old
Covent Garden. The distant sounds of New Year revelers echo
through the ceiling from the bars above.

He's holding a knife, its weight reassuring in his hands,
but he wishes he had his gun. He wishes he knew where he was
going.

A sound to his right, and he's turning to stand flat against
the wall. Krycek had said that the vaults here were where
the UK's Shadow Government would operate in a time of
emergency.  Not twenty feet below London's most reputable
neighborhood. It almost makes him think his own government
has more sense.

The sounds of footsteps get closer. Two of them he thinks.

"General Smith has got a clear picture on radar. It just
suddenly appeared. The defenses are lowered, but they're
moving back into place. We have twenty minutes before the
shield's back and that ship's out of here. If we don't take
it down by midnight, we're not going to be able to take it
down at all." Loud voice, commanding. Army.

"Are we sure taking it down is going to work? I mean, aren't
we risking an apocalyptic sized Lockerbie?"

"The ship's protection field should mean it just
disintegrates on impact with our missiles."

"I still think we should evacuate the city."

"We don't pay you to think, Captain. We can't afford for the
media to get wind of this. If they do, the allies will
realize we're working alone. We can't afford a diplomatic
disaster."

"But, sir..." Mulder feels sorry for the younger sounding
man. In over his head.

"You have your orders. Now, go!"

"Sir."

The footsteps move away, and Mulder allows himself to
breathe. Turning to follow the two men, he once again grips
the knife in his hand.

Show time.
 

**
 

The moonlight dances across the room, traces of light
glinting off auburn hair. Bourbon Street is still alive and
vibrant in the distance, and tourists are still returning to
the hotel, despite the late hour. One eye half open, Scully
watches the shadows flicker, and keeps guard. Lisa is slumped
in a chair in the corner, and Monica and John lie curled
together on the other bed. She's happy for them.

Curling further into her pillow, she closes her eyes and
imagines that Mulder is beside her.

Ianelli had confirmed her suspicions that they had been
purposefully maneuvered for the past decade, that Mulder had
gone through that portal on a mission. On The mission. The
knowledge is almost liberating; it's the night before the
world changes. Before they change it. She'd feel free if not
for the weight on her chest. **What if he doesn't come
back?**

There are still thousands of questions she wants to ask
about the scientific logistics of this, of how it's possible.
She'd thought that things couldn't be changed, that history
and fate would not allow the past to be altered. But that
the future could be. Now, she wants to know *why.* She wants
to understand why Jason Nichols had needed to use an unknown
freezing compound to travel 'back' all those years ago, and
how Mulder didn't. She has so many questions, but she can't
ask them. They don't matter. Nothing matters until he's home.

A scratch by the door and she's alert again. The guests next
door returning home, too drunk to realize their room is
further along the corridor? A buzzing sound. Professional
lock pick. Not a drunk tourist.

Moving swiftly off the bed, she quietly rouses Monica and
John. Silent communication, John goes to Lisa and whispers
for her to go into the bathroom and lock the door. The
sound's getting louder, the lock ready to give. The room's
so dark, and Monica hands her a gun, and it's strong in her
hand. She remembers this. And, just for a second, she thinks
she's home.
 

**
 

He had lost track of where the soldiers had gone, the caves
too dark and hollow to allow him to follow by sight or sound.

They'd said he only had twenty minutes, and that was ten
minutes ago. **Shit.**

He turns yet another corner. There's a silhouette ahead; a
man, staring at him, and for a minute he thinks it's Krycek.
But then the lights come on and there's an alarm ringing and
it's not Krycek, and oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

He's running through the tunnels, but he doesn't know where
he's going and the footsteps behind him have been joined by
more and the men are shouting, and he's back in Mount Weather
and they're gaining on him but he has to get out because he
knows the truth and he can't let it happen, he can't, he can't
let his son grow up only to die with the rest of the human
race before his twelfth birthday, and Scully... Scully. Oh
God, they're gaining on him, and he doesn't think he can
remember her face and oh God.

But he's not in Mount Weather, and he saw her yesterday, and
he can picture her right now and he has to do this, has to
get away, because his fucking father was wrong, he can stop
it, he's going to, but they're so fast, and he's so out of
shape and it feels worse than Mount Weather because this is
it, this is the only chance, but he's alone again, just like
then, and he can't do this on his own.

And then, just like before, his unlikely ally is directing
him, and somehow, God, he doesn't know how, but he's in, and
he's lost them. And he has an almost irrepressible desire to
scream at Krycek "No! You're dead," just like before.

Funny that traveling ten years into the future can feel so
much like reliving the past.

"Which way now?"

"End of the corridor, second door on the right. Go! There
are others." Krycek smiles at his choice of words. He
remembers too.

Taking off down the hall, Mulder comes to the door. He can
hear voices inside, two men arguing, and he wants nothing
more than to feel his Sig. at his side and hear Scully
whisper "I've got your back." Instead, all he hears is the
crash of the door, the crack of the first man's face as he
slams him into the wall, and the eerie echo of an old enemy
in the back of his mind.

"Good luck to you, my friend."
 

**
 

Monica's spare weapon in hand, she moves towards the door.
The scene's too familiar, the three of them chasing after
ghosts in the night, her mind half grateful for the
presence of two skilled agents, of two friends, the other
half desperate to feel Mulder beside her, whispering "I've
got your back."

The past is done though, over, and she has no child to go
home to. She's in the moment, feels the adrenalin pumping
through her veins, and her weapon's solid in her hands.
She's been missing this for years, missing the weight of
steel in her grip, the intoxicating fear of the unknown;
missing Agent Scully. But, now she's living it, now she
finally has the yearned for past back within reach, she just
wants to curl op on the couch with Mulder and watch an old
movie. Now, in this moment, she misses Albuquerque, misses
Dana Scully, pediatrician.

So many regrets, so many personas, so many homes. She
doesn't know who she is, or where she belongs, but, as she
moves to flank Monica, and the moon disappears behind a
cloud, bathing the room in darkness, she finally realizes
that, wherever, or whoever she is, she belongs in the
sunlight.

The lock groans, about to give way.

"Three, two, one," Monica mouths.

And the door is open, someone is shouting, and there's a
man on the ground and she's on top of him and her hair is
in her eyes and her gun's pressed into his chest and the
moon comes out and "FBI," she screams *Not any more, you're
not*, and Monica's hand is on her shoulder and she has
dropped her weapon and she's staring at the man.

Scully brushes the hair out of her eyes.

"What the hell?!..."
 

**

Chapter 11

**
 

This is our time, we can't rewind,
Our place to shine out, we can live it anyway.
This is our time, to feel sublime,
Our place to shine now, and we can do it anyway.
We can't rewind.

                         We Can't Rewind, Feeder
 

**
 

The blade's cool in his hand, and the air seems to stand
still as he presses the sharp object against the man's neck.
His hostage has stopped struggling, and now lies still
against him.

The clock is ticking, but time stands still.

The other man, weapon drawn, is shouting at him, but he
can't hear what he's saying. The guy's just a kid. He won't
shoot. He's in over his head.

"Listen." Cool, calm. He's Special Agent Mulder and he's
done this before. He can make them listen. He has to. "You
can't shoot down that ship."

His hostage grunts, but Mulder can't take the time to find
out what he's trying to say.

It's 11:57pm. Three minutes and it's over. Three minutes
and he can breathe again.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The young cadet
spits the words out between clenched teeth. He's trying to
be the 'big man.' His gun hand's trembling though.

"Listen to me. Just stay exactly where you are. Don't touch
anything, and nobody gets hurt. You cannot shoot down that
ship."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" His hostage seems to
be back in the game. He's still winded, probably speaking
through a broken jaw, but the words are still forceful,
strong.

"Someone who's sick of living life with a big clock ticking
down the minutes to Armageddon in the corner. You shoot
down that ship and you destroy this city. It's suicide."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Let. Me. Go." He's
spitting the words, but he remains totally still.

Two minutes.

"No."

"Get your bloody hands off me!"

His hostage starts struggling, writhing against him, and
Mulder turns his focus to the blade, relaxing his grip just
the slightest. Nobody has to get hurt.

One minute.

But he's looked away from the kid, and the boy's moving,
time's moving, and the soldier's at a computer, typing
things in and this is not happening, this is not happening,
and suddenly he sees Scully collapsing to the floor after
they've found his body and it's agony, bright red seething
pain, and he won't let her go through that again, he'll
never let her hurt again, and the boy's still typing, and
he's about to hit enter, and Mulder's behind him and he's
trying to pull him back but the boy's about to hit enter
and he's got to kill him but he can't because he's already
spilt too much blood, and he's just a kid and...

The image on the screen goes blank.

The radar shows nothing.

The ship is gone.

The bangs in the night sky are just the fireworks welcoming
in the New Year.

And he can breathe.
 

**
 

She's still staring at the man beneath her, weapon still
loosely trained on his chest. She never knew which side
her old boss worked for. She's not taking any chances now.

"Deputy Director?"

It's Monica who has the presence of mind to speak. Scully's
still too shocked.

"Agent Reyes." His tone is authoritative. Just like before.
The formality is undermined, however, by the fact she's
sitting on his chest.

"Miss Scully."

"Sir."

"May I...?" He motions to get up. She pushes to her feet.
This is too bizarre.

"Thank you."

"What are you doing here? Who are you working for?" Her
mind's back in gear. So many questions, so few answers. It
feels like an X-file, like old times. She misses Mulder.

"You can put the weapon down, Miss Scully."

"I think I'll be the judge of that, *sir*." Paranoia in
place, she hisses the word.

"Look, I know you have a lot of questions, but I can assure
you, I'm one of the good guys."

"What are you saying?"

"Put the gun down, Scully." Monica's at her side, gentle and
concerned as ever. Scully doesn't know who to trust. She
misses Mulder.

Weapon wavering, she squares her shoulders. Eyes still on
Kersh, she addresses Reyes. "Why should we trust him?"

"He's helped you before. He's the reason we got to keep the
X-files. Let's hear him out."

"Fine."

Her weapon's still in her hand, but it's by her side. The
three walk back into the room.

"What's going on? Deputy Director?!" John's still guarding
the bathroom, and he flicks on the lights. "Does someone
wanna tell me what the hell's goin' on here?"

"We're hoping Alvin here will tell us," Scully replies
sarcastically.

"I will, Miss Scully. Maybe you want to let Miss Ianelli
out of the bathroom first?" Eyebrow arched, he nods
towards the door.

"I'm thinking she can stay in there 'til you tell us exactly
what you're doing here, *sir.*" John's as skeptical as she.
She'd forgotten what a good team they made.

"Fine. I'm a member of a group of top government officials.
We replaced the men that I believe you knew as the
'consortium.' Some of us were part of the resistance. Some
of us, myself included, were merely men who found ourselves
working for a cause we didn't believe in. Men like Agent
Mulder's father."

Scully stares in disbelief. She doesn't know whether to
laugh or cry. More riddles to untangle, more truths to find.

"The new consortium... we had very little to go on. The
resistance's work had mostly been destroyed during the
alien war, battles that you yourself witnessed being fought
at Skyland Mountain and Ruskin Dam."

There are three sets of eyes on him, but he's only speaking
to Scully. She understands why. Monica and John are good
agents, but this life was hers. Hers and Mulder's. The
quest is theirs, no one else's.

"Our chances of defeating the alien force were low. This
group was first formed when Agent Mulder was in hiding. We
soon realized we needed him back, that he was a form of
'key', someone who could make a difference. *The*
difference. Unfortunately, the colonists thought it, too. I
was manipulated, just like you, to ensure Mulder would be
taken out of the picture."

** "Death by lethal injection," and the world disappears
as the tears blur. She's just gotten him back, and she
can't lose him, she can't.**

She didn't lose him though, and they had almost five years
of nothing but each other. But she was alone by his side,
and now he's gone again, and she just wants to start over.
To have him back, and enjoy the moments. She's sick of the
past.

A warm hand on her shoulder, and she leans into Monica just
a bit. She's Scully and she can't be weak, but she's Dana,
too, and Dana can cry.

"Go on." Her voice is hoarse but strong. It'll be okay.

"As you know, I helped Mulder escape. But the 'Super
Soldiers' had a powerful hold on the Bureau, and still have
to this day. There was no way of bringing you back to work
without putting your lives and the project at risk.

"Our predecessors learned about Miss Ianelli's research
when Jason Nichols first contacted you in 1997. We've
continued to keep track of her work, hoping that, should
we fail to prevent colonization, time travel would allow
us a form of second chance. On a more practical note,
however, we wanted Mulder back. We never wanted him to
leave. So..."

"You maneuvered us to New Mexico. So that when the portal
opened, we'd get sucked back in time and do things
differently."

She was right. Trust no one.

"Yes. And then we gave Miss Ianelli the 'push' she needed
to seek your help. So that you would know what was to
come."

"But the past can't be changed. The laws of physics show
that!"

"We know that now."

"What do you mean? Where's Mulder?!"

"As usual, Mr. Mulder was a lot harder to control than we
expected. Acting on information that we believe he was made
'open' to after being infected with the alien virus, Mulder
has gone to try to change the future."

She knew as much already, but it makes it no easier to
accept.

"How do you know this? Are you 'open' to information, too?"

"No. But some of our members are. Native Americans, mainly.
They're known as Starseeds. When the portal opened, they
could look through."

"They can see him?" The tears are winning, her voice
catching. "Where is he?"

"Last I heard, he was in London, England in December 2010."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know."

"Find out!"

Kersh removes a small radio from his jacket. It looks like
something the Gunmen would have owned, she thinks. Her
head is spinning, the information blurring within her
damaged psyche. It's all too much, and she misses the warmth
of their little home in the Sandia Mountains. She misses her
normal life. She misses the man she loves.

Head finally resting on Monica's shoulder and gun lying
loosely in her lap, she allows the tears to come.

**Mulder, where are you?**
 

**

Chapter 12

**
 

We said we'd take a little time
For both of us to see,
And wonder what it'd be like to carry on.
Yeah, I know I got crazy,
Well I guess that's just me;
If I could turn back time before
The wrong.

And I, I think I'll change my ways
So all your words get noticed;
Tomorrow's a brand new day.

              Brand New Day, Forty Foot Echo
 

**
 

He's aware of music in the distance, of solid ground
beneath his cheek. Eyelids flutter as his head swims,
but the tunes he hears are jazz, and the air's too
warm for England. Krycek was right; the portal
takes you wherever you want to go. New Orleans, 2007.

He knows Scully will have carried on to Louisiana,
knows she'll be with Monica and Doggett. He knows the
address that they'd given him. And he knows the world
is finally safe.

He's changed the future, saved the world. He's a hero.
And he just wants to go home. Because he didn't
prevent the apocalypse to allow a billion faceless
people to live in ignorant bliss. He did it so he
could take his girl in his arms, and know that he'd
never have to let go.

Picking himself up from the floor, he looks around at
the crowds of early morning tourists watching the sun
rise over the Mississippi, takes in the beautiful
surroundings of Jackson Square, and for a moment, he
just breathes.

He was wrong all those years ago; some things can be
changed, some fates are not meant to be.

Albert Hosteen was right; the dead were just the
messengers, and he has the feeling they'll be left to
rest in peace from now on. He'll miss them, the old
friends that would joke and laugh by his side, but
they will never be far away. His gift is that-- a gift,
not a curse. The dead will never be lost to him. They
are inside him, warm with memory and forever at peace.

The first rays of sunlight touch his face, and he feels
its warmth.

He is free.
 

**
 

Kersh was only on the small radio for a few minutes,
but the silence in the room stretched to eternity. Lisa
huddles in the corner, released from her makeshift cage,
but still afraid of the man who now turns to address
them.

"The Starseeds have sensed a change..."

A knock on the door.

She forgets to breathe.

A familiar voice. "Scully?"

And she's rushing to the door, and she's opening it, and
he's there. Time stands still as she buries her face in
his neck, inhales the musky scent that is uniquely his,
as she sinks towards his warmth and clings to him with a
desperation that brands. His hands are in her hair, and
he's kissing her, and it's Kersh who's going to look away
this time, she knows, but no superior, no regulations;
nothing will make her stop kissing this man. Because it
feels like she hasn't seen him in years. Too lost in
memories to enjoy the moments. She'll make that change
though, she'll hold his hand and never let go. Because
no matter how many roads left un-walked, no matter how
many dead ends they've faced, there's only one path to
follow now, and it leads into the future. Their future.

"Mulder?!"

** "I smelled you coming, Clarice." **

"I'm here. It's okay."

He kisses her hand. Just like before.

One hand entangled with his, the other gripping the
material of his shirt, she pulls him into the room and
turns around to face the others. To give them
permission to speak.

"Good to see you, Mulder."

"You, too, Monica."

"Mulder."

"Agent Doggett."

There's a warmth in the room, old friends reunited at
long last. But there's a tension, too. An imposter in
the corner.

"Kersh? What's he doing here?" Frown lines on his brow.
She runs her fingers across his face, a gentle caress.
** No more worrying.**

"It's a long story. He's here to help though. He knows
where you've been. What happened, Mulder?"

She can't stop touching him.

"I..."

"Mr. Mulder has altered the future. As I was saying,
the Starseeds have sensed a change. The energies that
surrounded the portal have disappeared."

"Can I go, then?" Lisa gets to her feet, looking around
the room and wringing her hands. She's terrified.

"Yes, you can. But, Lisa, the research has to stop."
Monica's firm but smiling. She feels sorry for the girl,
Scully thinks.

"I burned my papers. It's over."

A nervous smile and Ianelli heads out of the door.

"As I was saying," Kersh continues, "the portal's closed.
Something's changed. I don't know how to describe it,
but... They can sense it. They know it's over. The alien
force has weakened. I think... I think we've won!"

Looking at her ex-boss, Scully sees the joyful exuberance
of a child. So many complicated topics that this man
claims to understand. He doesn't have a clue. He's never
lived it like they have. He never will, now. She's happy
for him.

"How did you do it, Mulder?" Monica's looking at him in
awe. A warmth seeps through Scully's veins. Pride. Love.

But now is not the time for questions. She just wants to
send the room's occupants back to DC, wants to be left
alone with the man whose fingers are still linked with
her own and make up for lost time. So much lost time.
They'll make it right, though. They have to.

When Mulder doesn't answer, Reyes nods in acceptance.
She understands.

A cough from the corner and Kersh once again interrupts
the moment. "There's one more thing. When I said the
alien will is weakened, what I meant was they're
abandoning their posts, so to speak. Leaving the Bureau.
It's safe for you there, now."

"What are you saying?" She doesn't think she can breathe.

"We'd like for you to return to work; to the X-Files."

"Colonization isn't going to happen, sir. I promise you
that." Mulder's tense behind her, his hand rigid in hers.

"I think you're right, but that's not why we want you back.
There's far more to the X-Files division than colonization,
Mr. Mulder. You know that better than anyone. Agents
Doggett and Reyes have been doing good work, but this was
your life. We want to give it back. To make amends." She
doesn't think she can breathe.

**Give it back.**

So many things that can never be returned, so many losses
that will stay forever that. But a chance to try again...
to go home.

She's crying, and she doesn't know why. **Agent Scully
would never cry.** But she's not Agent Scully, she's
*Dana* Scully; and that's how it should be.

Blurry eyed and fighting for composure, she's only
vaguely aware of Mulder staring at her. He wants an answer,
she thinks. Wants to know whether she wants to recapture
the past.

And she doesn't.

A thousand starry nights, stakeouts and old Chinese food
on the dashboard. Motel rooms in unknown towns, and the
local PD she knows they'll piss off. Morning smiles as she
walks into the dusty basement office, and crumpled posters
on the wall. 'I want to believe.' A phone call at three in
the morning telling her to get dressed, and the open road
leading towards the latest crime. Dead little girls and
shadowy woods. Him at her side.

He's at her side now, though, and he'll wake her at ungodly
hours to hold, to touch, to make love. There's a house in
Albuquerque with their name on the mailbox, and a job that
makes her proud.  They'll spend Saturday in bed and not have
to worry about a monthly audit. They'll drive along distant
roads to see the beauty of the world, not its monsters.
They'll walk in the sun.

The past is inside her, it burns in her blood, dancing
through her veins. Memories are solid and safe within her
mind. She'll never let them go. But they must stay that;
memories. Because the past is done, over with, and there's
a whole world out there she's never seen, and she wants to
live in it.

"Scully?"

Eyes glistening, gaze locked with his. "Take me home."

And he knows where she means, and he smiles. And she knows
it's because this is his second chance. There's life
outside of the Hoover building, and they're finally going
to live it together.

**

Epilogue

**
 

Take my future, past, it's fine;
But now is mine.

                    Now Is Mine, K's Choice
 

**
 

Days turned to months as the eyes of the stars
began to rain with tears. She returned to work at
Lovelace and he found a less covert position as a
Psychology professor at UNM. Life moved on.

She no longer sat in the playroom at lunch time,
no longer preferred ancient hurts to the hollow
moments. Because the moments weren't hollow; they
had form, texture, and a man she loved working nearby.

The past decades had been laid to rest, memories
allowed and treasured:

A tiny picture on the mantle, bright blue eyes and
a chubby grin, cocooned in Mulder's embrace the day
before he left.

The bookshelf overflowing with guides to the
paranormal.

'Superstars of the Super Bowl' in the VCR.

And a picture of the two of them sitting beneath
the Petroglyph National Monument, holding hands,
smiling. In the daylight.

Timeless mementos were there for all to see, and DC
and their old life was just a phone call away. 2012
would bring with it nothing but another Christmas
Eve, and they'd spend the Holidays with her family.
They'd come full circle to find the truth, their
truth, and they'd never let it go.

The truth wasn't about lights in the sky, or about
a chip in her neck; it was about the moments, the
open roads that they were free to walk, and the days
they could laugh at the memories, and not cry for the
losses.

He would miss Samantha for as long as he lived,
just as she would miss Emily and Melissa, and
neither would ever go a day without thinking of
chubby cheeks and tiny hands, and the life that
couldn't be...

...But, as they sit together now, sunlight seeps
through the windows, and they laugh about an old case.
And, though they know they'll still have days where
they mourn for the choices made and the roads taken,
in this moment, the past holds no questions, no
recriminations. All they feel is the sunlight on their
faces, the safety of their home, and the affirming
presence of each other. Because the past holds many
regrets, but, right now, things are how they should
be; they are together.

And it will always be that way.  Their connection is
instinctual, uncontrollable.

Both know that one would die without the other.
 

**

End of Inverse Reflections
 

Feedback: If you've made it this far, I'd love to hear
from you. Liked it? Hated it? Let me know!
annakarrennina@hotmail.com
 

Author's final rambling and thanks:

IR might not be 'long' by most standards, but for me
of the short vignettes, it was a milestone. And one
that I couldn't have achieved alone. The wonderful
Foxxy and xdks have been with me on this from the
beginning. They put up with my horribly slow progress,
my constant whining, my strange thought processes,
and they made this story far, far better than it
would have been without them.

The other half of my beta team are equally fabulous.
Tali; your enthusiasm and help was incredible, and I
can't thank you enough. And Elizabeth; it is a true
honor to have the author who first inspired me to
write helping with my work. I cannot tell you enough
how grateful I am for all that you have done; you are
a treasure, my dear.

These gals are undoubtedly the best betas and the
best friends a girl could ask for, and they have my
undying gratitude.

I also have to thank the wonderful ladies who kept me
in line whilst I posted this. Die, Donna, Lidia,
Klaryssa, Nina, Jean, Cindy, Emfer, Sandra and Kim;
thank you for your encouragement and enthusiasm, and
for restraining from strangling me after the
repetitive cliff-hangers <g> You gals keep me writing.

Okay, I've babbled on enough! Thanks, everyone, and
hope you enjoyed!

~Anna
 
 

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