Okay, a little warning: This story might eventually have some violent content that may be disturbing for some readers. Also, there probably won't be a "nice" ending.

And on that day, at 11:11 am, the planets shall align to form the Sacred Tree, and the human world enters the Sixth Age.
-Mayan Prophecy

North of Sandy Lake, Ontario
December 17th, 2012
Sunday

Icy wind hurled the gnarled branches of the ancient oak into the window pane with a harsh tap tap tap. The sound tore her from a heavy, dreamless sleep, as it always did. A tingling sensation rose in the back of her neck, and she shrugged her shoulders and rubbed the sensitive flesh. Knowing all too well that sleep would not easily return, she gently pulled the wool blankets back and tentatively stepped onto the chilly, hardwood floor. After she was robbed of her warm cocoon, her teeth immediately started to chatter, and gooseflesh lightly pricked her bare arms. She gathered the fleece robe from the pile of clothes on the floor, and on her way to the bathroom, she carefully avoided the creaky floorboards so that she wouldn't wake her husband, who continued to sleep peacefully. Out of habit, as she passed his side of the bed, she pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead and pulled the covers up closer to his chin. His eyes danced behind closed lids in response, and he flopped over onto his stomach, instinctively reaching for the warmth of her body beside him. After drinking a glass of water and tripping over her husband's tennis shoes, she returned to the bedroom and stood at the bay window, peering into the winter night. Thick clouds engulfed the moon entirely and left the front lawn in pitch darkness. The wind howled and whistled through the tree limbs. Snow is coming.

Before succumbing to the heated sanctuary of the bed, she stepped into the hallway to raise the thermostat slightly. A soft whimper emanated from across the hall, so shewalked to the door and quietly pushed it open. The little girl slept in a sea of quilts and stuffed animals. Kitty, the faded, pink, worn out, stuffed cat that her grandmother had sent her when she was born was tucked protectively in the crook of her arm. The girl whimpered once more, trapped in a fitful dream. Her mother bent over her, smoothed the curly chestnut hair back from her face, and brushed a delicate kiss against her cheek.

"I don't think I should have it. Our lives are too dangerous; I mean, we're fugitives for God's sake! And besides, who knows what the world is coming to-after what you found..."

"What about 'everything happens for a reason'? Promise me that you'll consider it...please..."

The little girl blinked her pale blue eyes, though she was still half asleep.

"Mommy, is it snowing yet?"

"Not yet, honey. It's very late. Go back to sleep, and I bet there will be snow on the ground when you wake up in the morning."

"Had a bad dream."

"Shhh, it's okay. You're nice and safe in your bed with all your animals."

"You and Daddy were gone. I kept calling for you...but you didn't hear. Then he said you were never coming back."

"You know that we would never leave you, sweetheart. There's nothing to worry about, okay?"

"'K..." the girl whispered as she drifted back to sleep.

"I love you," the woman murmured as she re-tucked the sleeping child into the nest of quilts. Before she left, she paused for a moment to gaze at her daughter. Eight years old already...hard to believe.

When she returned to her bedroom, her husband was awake.

"Scully?"

"Abby had another bad dream."

"Is everything all right now? Does she want me?"

"She's already back to sleep."

Dana Mulder smiled at what had become her husband's secret name for her. It was comforting-a link to her old life. He pulled the covers back, and after she climbed into bed, he wrapped his arms around her, spooning up behind her body. She sighed in contentment as her chilled flesh was enveloped in his heat.

"Do you have time to buy the bike on your way home from work tomorrow?" Dana asked.

"Yeah, tomorrow's my easy day. I'm only teaching two intro to psych courses in the afternoon, so I'll have plenty of time."

"I think she'll be happy on Christmas. She's grown so much; it's time for a bigger bike."

"Well, you know, she really wanted a cat."

"No Mulder, no living gifts. I'd be the one taking care of it, and I'm allergic."

"I know...so when do you get off tomorrow? I thought we could go out to dinner."

"I'm not at the hospital tomorrow; I'm working in the urgent care clinic, so...Probably around five. It depends if any emergency cases come in during the afternoon. Though, we don't usually get many, so most likely I won't be home any later than 5:30."

"Mm-hmm," he murmured, no longer fully conscious. She could feel hot, even breaths on the back of her neck

"Good night, Mulder."

"'Night...Love you."

They stood in the tiny office in the municipal building in Ottawa with the judge before them, but it was as if no other soul was in the room; it felt so intimate. He slid the white gold band onto her finger, and tears began to streak her cheeks at the intense love in his eyes. In a way, they'd been married for years. He knew her better than she knew herself...Their pasts were gone forever, but she knew that with him, she could keep fighting... build a new life...

Dana awoke suddenly and sucked in a sharp breath. The bed was shaking. No-not just the bed- the room, the entire house. Pictures crashed to the floor and shattered on the wood, the bookcase tumbled forward, its contents flying halfway across the room. Mulder held her against him, bracing their bodies against the headboard. He was yelling something, but she couldn't make out his words over the din of the shaking. He motioned for her to hold onto the bed and keep still while he hurled his body over the side and crawled across the floor, dodging flying objects. She knew that he was going to get Abigail when he hurriedly scampered out of the room.

All of a sudden, just as abruptly as it had begun, the shaking ceased, and the outside world was silent. Abigail was screaming, and Dana could hear Mulder gently shushing her. He slowly walked back into the bedroom carrying the little girl, her arms clenched in a death grip around his neck.

"Are you hurt, Scully?" he asked shakily.

"No, I'm fine. Is Abby okay?"

"Yeah. She's just scared."

Mulder gingerly placed the little girl on the bed beside Dana, and she looked up at her mother with large, frightened eyes.

"Mommy, what happened?"

"I don't know, baby." She glanced at Mulder. "Earthquake?" she asked.

"That's what it felt like and a big one at that... but in Ontario? What the hell..."

Dana held Abigail close as Mulder sat on the bed and draped a protective arm over both of them.

"The date...it's...it's close. Do you think it's happening...are they coming?" Dana asked in a small voice.

"No. None of the other prophecies came true...it was a ruse to mislead us. This doesn't mean anything..."

The fear in his voice betrayed the certainty of his words.

Arlington, Washington D.C.

The old man gripped an upturned leg of the desk as hedelicately bent his aching knees and lowered himself to the floor. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and sorted through the mess of papers that were scattered across the carpet. The badge was on the top of the pile behind him. He'd forgotten that he still had it; so many items had been discarded after his retirement. The picture had been taken over ten years before, and he smiled crookedly as he studied his younger face, remembering a time that felt like ages ago. He tossed the badge aside and continued rummaging through the jumbled files. Under a sea of papers was a photograph of a newborn infant, pink-faced and squinty-eyed with a white cap covering a dusting of dark hair. The old man smiled at the sweet image and flipped the picture over to read the familiar, scrawled writing on the back. Abigail Margaret. October 30, 2004.

The telephone rang shrilly, causing the old man to jump nearly a foot and bang the top of his bald head on the corner of the desk. He cursed under his breath and rubbed the painful lump that was already beginning to swell. Awkwardly, he crawled across the floor, pushing debris aside in a desperate attempt to find the land phone. Figures-cell towers must be out. It's big if he's willing to risk an insecure line. Finally, he located the phone under the upside-down trashcan and quickly grabbed for the receiver. He already knew who it was.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, it's me. Were you injured?

"Nope, I managed to crouch in a doorframe and avoid any major impact. What about you and...your family?

"We're all okay. How is the damage in Washington?"

"Pretty bad just like everywhere else. My building survived, though. The furniture however-that's another story. What about the house?"

"Some structural damage, but nothing major."

A silence hung on the line, both men caught on the same foreboding thought. The older man was the first to voice it.

"You think this is some sign that they're coming, don't you?"

The other man paused and drew a deep breath.

"Yes. I think there is an immense force at work, possibly from a large number of outside gravitational influences. I've attempted to break into NASA imaging files, but of course, the government would be covering it up. Me and Scu-my wife are taking our daughter and driving northwest to get far away from the oceans. I'd advise you to do the same."

"But this is just a geological phenomenon. Very unusual, yes, but it doesn't necessarily mean..."

"A worldwide, simultaneous earthquake? Have you forgotten the date?"

"...No, of course not. I've been trying to get information about it for the past ten years and haven't found anything more. You know that."

"Please warn my wife's family. Tell them to head for the quarry areas in the center of the country. That'll protect them from earthquakes and tsunamis...but not much else."

"All right. I will."

The line clicked as the other man broke the connection. This can't be happening...

Near Sandy Lake

"Mulder, can you please help me with this?"

He was sitting at her vanity table in the corner of the bedroom with his arms crossed tensely on his chest, staring at nothing with glazed eyes. Mulder had not spoken a word all morning with the exception of the phone call.However, it wasn't necessary for her to verbally converse with him to understand his thoughts; his looks and gestures told her everything, as they always had. Words had always been a secondary form of communication for them. When he did not answer her, Dana sighed heavily in frustration, blowing a long strand of auburn hair out of her eyes; and she turned to face him, her hands on her hips.

"I'm trying to clean up here! I know you think there's no point now, but I need this, Mulder. You know I need this-something tangible to do. I can't just sit back and do nothing, waiting to run."

His soft hazel eyes met hers, and for a moment, her rapid pulse slowed and she felt safer. Time and pain and fear could be forgotten in his gaze; Mulder gave her now-always and forever now. Their life partnership had been built on a series of fleeting moments and chance circumstances that could only promise an uncertain future, but the now belonged only and eternally to them; not to aliens or the Syndicate or a corrupt government...or to cancer.

Mulder smiled softly with a twinge of sadness in his eyes, and at that moment, he seemed older than he ever had. Fine lines appeared in the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his posture slumped tiredly. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and helped Dana push the heavy bookcase upright, and then silently crouched beside her on the floor to gather the books and pictures that told the story of their life together. As Dana stacked her science journals into orderly rows, she sensed him inching closer to her. With gentle fingers, he tilted her chin towards him until he was gazing into her eyes and studying the emotions behind them. At the same second, they allowed their bodies to sink together and melt into one entity. After all of these years, the familiar butterflies still returned to dance in her belly when his lips found hers.

At the coincidence of the moment of the solstice and the heliacal rising of the galactic center, levels of planetary novelty will exponentially increase and will result in solar explosion, planetesimal impact, or alien contact.
-Novelty Theory of December 22nd, 2012

Sasabe, Arizona
December 20th
Wednesday

The young man paused to wipe sweat from his brow with the red bandana that he had tucked in the pocket of his faded jeans. His long hair was beginning to fall loose around his face and was becoming damp with perspiration, so he tugged the ponytail tighter. After the brief respite, he lifted the pieces of smoothed timber and carried them to edge of the field where he was reconstructing the fence around the ranch. He was a small man, but he was strong. As he worked, the muscles on his bare chest and back contracted and rippled under his skin. He'd become very dark from several years as a field hand in the southwestern sun; his skin tone was only a few shades lighter than that of his Navajo brothers, but the light brown hair and green eyes set him apart from the other workers. He was a quiet man; he lived in the world of his thoughts and preferred listening to speaking-he was always listening.

"You're trying to tell me this boy can read minds?"

"Yes."

"He's reading your mind right now."

"And the minds of the judges too?"

"Yes."

The boy is the missing link between us and them. We need him. We will come for him. But he'll be stronger, more valuable. His gift will have time to grow. When it comes, he will be a man. He can lead the others. He will be the first-the most powerful. Once he is changed, the rest will follow...

"Even his."

"And what makes him so special?"

"He's not human."

"Hey Gibson, do you need help with that?"

The young man turned from hammering and squinted as he glanced up at the figure silhouetted in the blinding sunlight. Olli crouched beside him, flipping his thick black hair to one shoulder to cool his back. His olive complexion and high cheek bones reflected the faces of his Navajo and Apache ancestors.

"No, I'm okay."

"I just finished checking the horses...It's hotter than hell out here. I can't remember it ever being this bad. Well, maybe in July, but December? I guess global warming is finally turning on us, huh?...Gibson, hello? Are you listening to me?"

"What? Yeah, sorry," he said, realizing that his brow was creased and that he'd been staring intently past his friend.

"So what do you make of these temperatures? It's well over 90 today."

"I...I don't know, Olli."

"You've got that look again."

"And what look is that?"

"Like you know something, but you don't want to tell me."

"I don't know anything."

Gibson silently returned to his job at hand. He was grateful for the anonymity this life offered. No one knew anything, and for the most part, they didn't ask; he kept to himself. His employer and fellow workers thought he was simply another drifter, and while they agreed that he was a bit strange, they didn't pry. Olli was his closest friend, and once, after more than a few drinks, Gibson had almost told him. Almost.

"Gibson, I have a question."

"All right."

"Why do you do this? This work, I mean. The rest of us, that's easy, we couldn't do much else, but you...you're smart. How come you didn't go to college and become a doctor or something?"

"Because I'd rather be here."

"That's not really an answer."

"Yes it is."

Olli sighed and shrugged his shoulders before rising to his feet.

"It's after two. Do you want to take lunch break with me?"

Gibson nodded and stood to follow his friend to the shade of the barn, but after he'd taken a few steps, he froze.

"C'mon, man. What are you just standing there for? What's up with you today?"

He could not hear Olli's words; he grimaced and collapsed to the ground, unable to hold back the screams of pain and terror.

"Gibson, what? What is it? Are you okay? Talk to me!"

"So loud...Oh, oh God. I can hear them, Oh my God-I HEAR THEM! THEY'RE COMING! THEY'RE COMING!"

"What? What the hell are you saying?"

Gibson, his hands pressed over his ears, looked up at Olli blankly with expressionless green eyes.

"We're going to die."

Baltimore, Maryland

The old woman stared at the ceiling while she fingered the gold cross at her neck. The bed had been destroyed, so she slept on the mattress on the floor. Damage to her building was extensive and most residents fled to shelters, but she had not. She didn't see the point. This is my home. Whatever happens, I am in God's hands. Her daughter and son-in-law thought she should leave, but she would not. She'd called her sons and warned of the elusive "Them", and that was all she could do. Even though the warnings came from their sister, the men had been reluctant to believe, and quickly dismissed the idea, since Dana had clearly been corrupted by "that Mulder". The woman could not force them to believe-it was not her purpose.

She reached beside her and studied the tattered photograph of two little girls playing in the rain, both with curly red hair. Her fingers desperately gripped at the image as if she could physically propel herself back into that time of comfort and security and hot chocolate; a time when she wasn't alone and all of her children needed her. Before Bill and Melissa-What's gone is gone. We will be together again someday. Tears pooled in her eyes when she thought of Dana and the granddaughter she would never know. Softly, she murmured a prayer for those she loved.

"Mom, please understand why I have to do this. I love him. He's my life, just like Daddy was yours. I already lost my son-I cannot lose my soul mate...I'm going to get him out of there and I will run with him."

"But where will you go? Where will you live? How will you work? Oh Dana, please...you're being rash...it's too dangerous. You need to put your faith in the Lord. He has a plan for us all, for you and Mulder. Whatever happens, we are all in God's hands-"

"NO! There is no fate, no greater plan. There is only this, right here, right now. I will not let him die; if he dies, I will die with him. I don't know what will happen or where we'll go or what we'll do when we get there...but I'm leaving."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know, Mom. Probably not...I'm sorry-"

"Do what you must. Please know that I love you more than anything, I always have and I always will. And if you ever need me..."

"I know, Mom. I know. And I love you too."

"...And please, Lord, be with my Dana. Love her and protect her and send her your grace. Whatever happens, whatever comes, give her the strength to survive and to fight until the end. Help us all find peace..."

Without warning, a brilliant flash assaulted the old woman's vision, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her face and cowered to shield her body. The final sensations she would experience in this life were the heat bubbling and inflating her skin, a powerful wind, and the weightlessness of flying. The blast wave took her swiftly and spared her from what was to come.

Near Stony Rapids, Saskatchewan
December 21st
Thursday

The pink-orange glow of dawn began to kiss the jagged mountain peaks that circled like a giant cereal bowl. They spoke in frantic, hushed voices while Abby slept, oblivious, across the backseat. Mulder clenched his jaw and tensed his knuckles against the steering wheel while Dana flipped radio stations, as she had done ceaselessly for the last few hours.

"Scully, just stop. There's nothing but static."

"It's worth checking. Maybe the signal will come back."

"I don't think so. The U.S. government is gone. They took it out from the inside, and those explosions were nuclear. No telling how far the fall-out zone reaches."

"It took the super soldiers one day to overthrow the government?"

"They'd pretty much become the government. Everyone else was vastly outnumbered, and now, the human leaders are all dead. They're preparing now...for it to begin."

"Oh my God, Mulder...do you think they survived? My mother, Skinner, John and Monica?"

"Hopefully they all got out in time."

"So what happens now? No central government, no law...do you think the militia will try to fight them?"

"Maybe, but it'll be more than futile; they'll be crushed in a heartbeat. Now it's...it's just about survival. Everyone fighting for themselves. If we can find some kind of shelter here in the mountains, a cave system or something...maybe we can hide..."

"Our food and water supply will only last a couple of weeks, and what about gasoline? We only have half a tank left."

"I don't have the answers, Scully. I have no idea about anything right now. I'm just running on instinct; there's no time for careful planning...You put the guns in the glove box, right?"

"Yes."

"We're going to need them."

Mulder drew a deep, shaking breath, and fixed his eyes on the road before him as if the double yellow line held the answers. Don't think. Just drive. Just go. He turned his head toward his wife when he heard her stifled sobs. She was facing away from him, her forehead resting on the window. He reached for her left hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and she interlocked her fingers with his on her thigh.

"Scully, would you do something for me?"

She studied his expression with glistening blue eyes and nodded.

"Would you pray?"

"I'll pray for you every day."

"I thought you didn't pray anymore."

"I don't, but I will."

"I'll come back as soon as it's safe."

"I wish it could be easier for us."

"This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Don't worry about me... I'll be careful, I promise."

"I can't lose you again, Mulder. I wouldn't be able to live."

"You would live for our son. Give William a kiss for me every day, and remind him that I love him; I don't care if he doesn't understand."

"I will."

"Hey...don't cry, Scully. If you cry, I'm going to cry, and then I'll never be able to leave..."

Dana had fallen into a light doze, since she hadn't slept in 24 hours; her hand went limp in his, and her head lolled to one side. Mulder glanced in the rear-view mirror to check on his little girl. Her thick, curly dark hair spilled over her peaceful, round face. He was in awe each time he looked at her, this little person that was such a perfect mixture of the two of them. Scully's laugh, my pouty lip, Scully's nose (thank God), my persistence and curiosity, Scully's glare...What will she be like when she's grown?...Will she have the chance to grow in this world?

Mulder sighed, willing himself not to think of the future. William, wherever you are...I hope someone is looking after you. And that they love you...like we love both of our children.

These are the Signs that great destruction is here: The world shall rock to and fro. The white man will battle people in other lands - those who possessed the first light of wisdom. There will be many columns of smoke and fire such as the white man has made in the deserts not far from here. Hopi prophecy for the beginning of the Fifth World-December, 2012

Cyprus Hills, Saskatchewan
December 22nd
Friday

The dawn was mysteriously warm, just as the long night had been. Well, it should have been past dawn, but the light of morning was yet to come. A stagnant, foreboding heat seemed to hang in the air along with an oppressive stillness. No sounds of animals or cars on the road below permeated the silence; it felt as though a presence was watching, waiting. The family huddled together in a rocky crevice on a small cliff. Remnants of a tiny fire from the night had disintegrated into a thin pile of smoldering ash. None of them had slept that night.

Dana ran her fingers through Abby's hair, as if the simple gesture could provide her daughter with a comfort words could not. The little girl stared into the darkness with wide eyes and clutched her stuffed cat to her chest, unsure of what exactly was lurking out there. Mulder sat ready on Abby's other side, poised to defend his family against an invisible attacker. His expression was frozen in a completely blank gaze, and Dana knew that this was his way of conveying utter terror. She reached behind her and patted the bulge of the 9mm tucked in the back of her jeans, so that she might feel a little less helpless.

I fucking hate this! Lying in this hospital bed waiting for my body to give in...God, I can't stand feeling helpless. I can't...I can't do this. I don't want to die here. I just want my dignity. I could end it. I could end it today. No...I can't...I'm weak...I can't. I'm scared, I'm scared. I don't want to fall asleep, because what if I don't wake up? I want to know when it's happening. Will I know? Or will it be like sleeping or maybe dreaming-vague awareness but not quite reality? Why not a bullet or a car accident, something quick, but cancer-I never thought it would be cancer. Life slowly sucking away...Where are you, God? Are you there? Please help me. I don't want to be alone.

"Scully, are you awake?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry it's so late I just...I wanted to see you, and-"

"Mulder, I'm not ready. I'm not finished here. I don't want to die."

"Don't say that! You can't know...you can't give up hope. You're stronger than that."

"I want...I just want..."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to hold me. Really hold me. Next to me."

"I love you, Scully."

"I hate the quiet. Tell me a story," Abby said in a quavering, little voice.

"What kind of story would you like to hear?" Mulder murmured gently.

"Tell me about when we first met."

"You could tell that story by now."

"But I want to hear it again."

Mulder glanced over at Dana, and she attempted a half smile.

"Okay, baby blue," he said as Abby scooted over to sit on his lap. "You surprised Mommy and me because you were ready to be born two months early."

"Because I was bored and I wanted to come out and see everybody."

"That's right. Mommy and I were out to eat at a Japanese restaurant-"

"It was Thai, Daddy."

"You're right-it was Thai. So, we were waiting for our food, and we were talking about what to name you-"

"Kevin Walter if I was a boy-"

"Yep, and we knew that if you were a girl your middle name would be Margaret after Grandma, but we hadn't decided on a first name. We were talking about it, and then suddenly Mommy said we had to go to the hospital."

"And you did the panic face."

"Yes, I did. We were both very scared. When we got to the hospital, we had to wait around for a long time to see if you were really coming or if you were just tricking us."

"Then my heart started beating slower."

"And the doctor said Mommy had to have surgery to take you out. I sat beside her in the operating room-"

"And you wiped her eyes for her, because she was crying."

"Yes. And then something went wrong-"

"Mommy fell asleep, because she was bleeding."

"And the doctors and nurses made me go outside-"

"And you cried."

"I cried very hard, because I was so worried about my precious girls. And then a nurse came out and told me Mommy was okay, but they were worried about you, because you were so tiny."

"Then you came to the special nursery to meet me, and I was in an incubator with lots of tubes."

"Yes, and I reached inside to touch you. I stroked your hair and held your hand and told you how much I loved you."

"And you thought I was beautiful."

"Yes I did. Then a little later when Mommy was better we sat in that room with you, and we prayed that you would be okay."

"And then a few days later I was better and you and Mommy held me."

"We took turns holding you for hours. And we named you Abigail, because we thought the name was beautiful, just like you."

"The end."

"Nope, that was the beginning."

We almost had hope then. Hope that it wouldn't happen. Hope that it wouldn't end like this, Dana thought.

"Are the people from outer space going to hurt us?" Abby asked.

Dana remained silent, having no idea how to give an answer that we be both truthful and allow room for hope. Mulder and Dana had given Abigail censored snippets of the truth throughout her young life; she knew about the existence of aliens, but her parents had spared her from the more gruesome details.

"We won't let anyone hurt you. I promise." Mulder said softly.

"And we're going to stay together," Dana added. She thought of saying "and everything will be all right," but decided against it.

"I'm scared. Mommy, will you sing?" Abby whispered.

"Okay, I'll sing."

"Why don't you sing something?"

"No, Mulder."

"Well, if you sing something, I'll know you're awake."

"Mulder, you don't want me to sing. I can't carry a tune."

"It doesn't matter. Just sing anything."

Dana thought for a moment, and remembered her mother's soothing voice on stormy nights. She began to sing softly,

" ...My life goes on in endless song
Above earth's lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation."

"No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?"

A blinding flash streaked through the heavens, bathing the mountainside in white-orange light. The family shielded their eyes from the brightness, but not before Dana saw the ships. Hundreds of them were merely black dots against the searing radiance. Abigail covered her face with her hands and wept, trembling between her parents. Mulder covered the little girl's body with his own and wrapped his arms around his wife. And Dana sang. She continued in a thin, shaky voice,

"While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though the darkness 'round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth..."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sang. And so it begins.

Casa Grande, Arizona

The two friends huddled in the darkness of the crude, underground shelter. They leaned their backs against the shelving units that lined the dirt walls.

"No fucking way! Aliens? Gibson, you've lost it."

"Olli, Shhhh! We don't want anyone to hear us down here."

"So honestly, you can read minds and shit?"

"I've already explained it to you. Yes."

"Read this thought."

"You're hungry, you want a bowl of chili, the smell of this place reminds you of when you used to hide under your porch as a kid, you believe me, but you're afraid to admit it to yourself."

"Damn it. You've always been able to do this?"

"For as long as I can remember."

"And this alien invasion thing...you've always known it would happen?"

"Not always, but I found out about it a long time ago. When I was a kid. They wanted me then because of what I can do. My abilities make me...something more than human."

"This is a hell of a lot to take in, Gibson."

"I know. It's my life story in less than an hour."

"You really think the aliens are coming today?"

"Yes. They're here. The light earlier-that was them."

"The earthquake, the heat..."

"It was all them-preparing to arrive. They're manipulating the planet's atmosphere to better suit their bodies."

"How long do we stay in here?"

"I don't know. Until the food and water are gone, I guess. Then I suppose we take as many weapons as we can carry and head out."

"How long have you been preparing this place? For this day?"

"Eleven years."

"Why did you bring me? It would have been easier to slip away on your own."

"Because you're my only friend, Olli."

The men sat in a silence so depthless that their own breathing seemed painfully loud. The town was close by; there should have been sounds of civilization, but there was nothing. For hours, there had been nothing.

"You shouldn't have come. You'll lead them to me."

"I'm here to protect you, Gibson. I know you know that's the truth."

She's thinking about him, just like he's thinking about her. Always about her. He talks to her. Pretends she's there. It makes it easier. Why can I still hear it? And the baby-should I tell her I know?

"If they find me, they'll take me. I know it. I've always known it."

"They want to take you because of what you are-you're a special boy. I'm going to come back for you. I promise. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

But no one can help me. It's me and them. Just me and them. Forever.

Muffled voices and footsteps echoed above, and Gibson and Olli forgot to breathe as they overheard threads of a conversation.

"It's a door, I think! In the dirt-" a woman's voice called

"HELLO? Is there anyone alive down there? I can't open it-Can anyone hear me?" a man's voice shouted.

"If anyone's there-please, we need help! Please!"

Olli squinted at the trap door above, and slowly rose to his feet.

"Olli, get down!" Gibson hissed, "We can't trust them!"

"But, if they need help-"

"NO!"

"Look, we've got a pile of weapons down here, right? If they're baddies, we got the upper hand, anyway."

Olli continued moving towards the folding ladder, pulled it down, climbed up a few rungs, and opened the outer door before Gibson could stop him. The outside world was engulfed in pitch darkness, despite the fact that it was just after three in the afternoon. A putrid odor sunk into the stale air of the shelter, and Gibson and Olli immediately began to choke on the foulness. Gibson grabbed a flashlight from the corner of the cramped space and shined it up into the frightened faces of a young man and woman, probably both of college age.

"Do you have any medical supplies?" the man asked, "Please, when the light came we crashed into a telephone pole, and our friend is badly injured."

Gibson sighed, knowing that they couldn't help everyone that would come along, and yet he was unable to refuse.

"We don't have much...a basic first aid kit is all. Where is your friend?" Gibson asked hesitantly.

"He was thrown from the car. We didn't want to move him," the woman said shakily, tears in her voice.

"Your car is nearby?" Gibson asked.

"Just down the road. Not far," the man replied.

"All right....We'll go with you. Olli, the first aid kit is on the top shelf in front of you."

Gibson shined the light on the shelf so Olli could grab the small white box before stepping onto the ground outside the door. Gibson followed, reluctantly. After they departed from the underground, the stench soon became unbearable.

"What the hell is that?" Olli cried, cupping a hand over his mouth and nose, grimacing.

Before anyone could think of an answer, Gibson tripped over a soft mass that was sprawled on the desert floor, and he tumbled to his knees, the rocks snagging holes in his jeans. He scrambled to a crouch position and pointed the light at the object, and no further questioning was needed. The body was hideously deformed as if the face had been completely smashed inside the skull. Clothing and body type revealed masculinity, but no other defining features could be discerned. The skin was bloated from intense heat; and ugly red marks streaked the flesh, evidently severe burns. Everyone in the small group gasped collectively in horror and disgust. Gibson was the first to recover enough to speak, and he was surprised at the calmness and steadiness of his own voice.

"We were underground when this happened. Did either of you see anything?"

"No. We just, we crashed, and then Mike went through the windshield. Me and Katie were unconscious for awhile...I don't know how long. We woke up and it was dark, and we ran for help. We didn't see..." the man stuttered.

The woman, Katie, clung to the man's arm, her eyes wide in shock and fear.

"Okay. Let's just keep walking, and...and see if we can help your friend-Mike." Gibson said as he pushed a frozen Olli forward past the corpse.

The group followed tentatively behind Gibson, who kept the light steady on the ground before them to avoid any more surprises. In the short walk to the two-lane highway, they came across more bodies in the same condition as the first, scattered randomly across the land. On the highway, blood splattered the pavement beneath their feet, warm and slick and fresh. After less than a mile, they came to remnants of a jeep wrangler wrapped around a telephone pole, and a body lay facedown in the middle of the road at a 100-foot distance. Gibson grabbed the white box from Olli, as if a household first aid kit can possibly help, and knelt beside the body. He grasped the hip and shoulder and pulled it onto its back to reveal a faceless, bloody mass at the front of its skull. The burn marks were identical to the other victims.

"I'm sorry," Gibson called behind him, "This man is dead." Why him and not us? How could the other two have survived...and for what purpose? Who...what... are they? They can't be...I would know if they were... He glanced back at his two newest companions and reached down to his boot where he had concealed the switchblade.

"IT WILL BE CRUMBLED, DRIVEN OUT; I WILL TEAR IT TO PIECES!" This is found touching the date 2012."
-Bible Codes: Genesis. The end of times.

Casa Grande, Arizona
December 23rd
Saturday

Gibson struck a match and lit the gas lantern in silence. The tiny flame flickered and jumped, causing an unearthly yellow glow to dance about the dirt walls of the shelter. The faces around the small circle were illuminated softly with hints of shadow, and for the first time since their abrupt meeting, Gibson was able to get a good luck at the two strangers. Katie was fair-skinned with long honey-blonde hair and dark brown eyes; and the young man had sun-tanned skin, dark hair and light eyes, and a thin, sporadic beard that framed his features. They were covered in scrapes and bruises from the car crash, but neither of them appeared to have suffered any serious injuries.

No one had said a word since the body was found; Gibson had simply turned and walked away from the highway, and the others followed. He was wary of his two new companions, and did not trust their mysterious "survival". They did not seem threatening, but Gibson kept one hand on his boot nevertheless. We can let them stay the night, and Olli and I can leave with some supplies by morning. When they fall asleep, we'll run. Please sleep. Katie stared unblinking into the flame, glistening tears spilling over her cheeks; and the man was desperately attempting to hold himself together, but tears were gathering in his eyes that he quickly swiped away. Gibson allowed his own eyes to flutter closed, and he turned his gaze inward so that he could listen. The man was fairly easy to read.

Mike I'm sorry, I'm sorry...we shouldn't have been driving...what do we do now? Four is better than two. Maybe we'll be safer with four. But Katie-she'll be all right. Trust them. I don't know if we can trust them. But they helped-I don't know. Should I tell them? Fuck it, that's insane. I can't tell them.

He turned his focus to Katie, hoping she would give away some answer, but it was as if her thoughts were enclosed by an impenetrable wall. Gibson had never encountered a resistance so strong; she was completely blank-no thoughts-nothing. After a few moments, he gave up, opened his eyes, and leaned back against the wall. Olli sat beside him with his legs tucked in to his chest and his chin resting on his knees. His eyes were fixed on the worn-out Birkenstock sandals on his feet, and he traced little circles in the dirt floor with his pointer finger. Olli and Gibson flinched in surprise when the man loudly cleared his throat, fracturing the stillness. His voice was unsteady and cracked slightly when he began to speak.

"Uh, I guess we didn't get the chance to introduce ourselves. I'm Rowan and this is Katie. We, well, I suppose we were, seniors at Berkeley....and, uh, we were planning on getting married after graduation, and...we shared an apartment with Mike."

Olli and Gibson shifted their attention to Katie, expecting her to add something, but she didn't move her eyes from their intent gaze on the lantern.

"Is she cold? I think she might be in shock," Gibson said, studying her frozen expression.

"She'll be all right. This happens to her sometimes, when she gets really upset. It's been a helluva day. She just needs some time," Rowan answered. "So, um, we didn't catch your names."

When Gibson didn't respond, Olli tentatively spoke up.

"My name is Olathewe-call me Olli, and this is Gibson. We've worked on a ranch together for the past three years in Sasabe."

"So, if I can ask, did you just find this shelter, or is it yours? I mean, it's a long way from Sasabe."

"We found this place, but the supplies are ours. We were going on a cross-country trip when we heard about the bombings on the east coast, so we figured it would be a good idea to lay low for awhile, you know, see what's going on. We left the truck in town and hiked here and then literally stumbled on this shelter," Gibson said quickly. He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

"Oh, I thought for a minute that maybe you knew-nevermind."

"Knew what?" Gibson asked carefully.

Rowan sighed and crinkled his brow, as if mulling over which version of his story would work best.

"Um, okay...This is gonna sound weird, and it's really personal...I know we don't know each other, but I think it's important for us to stick together now, help each other out. So, all right, here it is-I know what's going on. The earthquake, the temperature change, the flash of light, the darkness...I'm not sure about the bombings, but they have to be related."

Gibson and Olli froze and waited impatiently for him to continue. After a pause for a few seconds, Rowan spoke again.

"Katie and I, we met when we were in high school in a support group for, for um...alien abductees. I know this sounds insane, but I swear to God, I've been...taken three times. It started when I was eleven on a fucking Boy Scout camping trip. They did tests on me-I have scars...and I remember, I remember being chained to this rock-like thing and they used needles and surgical tools to experiment on me or whatever. And Katie-she's been taken seven times; the first time she was only four. Her family kept moving, but They always found her...So, um, so we met and we had this connection. It was like we'd known each other for years. Nobody else understood what we were going through. No one else believed, sometimes not even our families. Well, anyway, we went to college together; she was an art major and I was studying psychology. Two years ago, we moved in with Mike and this other guy. Mike was cool-we became really close with him after awhile. So close, that we told him our secret. He totally didn't believe us of course, until Katie started having these premonitions a couple weeks ago. She said the world was going to end, and she told us how. She said They showed her-in her dreams. Then when shit started going down and it was exactly like she said it would be, we got in the car and just drove south. We were planning on hiding in Mexico."

"So, you're saying the earth has been invaded by intelligent extraterrestrials, who want to, what, colonize?" Gibson asked.

"Look, I know how it sounds! But something to that effect, yes."

"Well, if that's the truth, then where are these aliens? Olli and I haven't seen any."

"I don't know where they are, but they're here. I know that much."

The group sat in silence for several moments before Gibson murmured,

"Then I guess that's why the two of you survived. They've chosen you...just like they've chosen me."

Gibson sucked in his breath, not having intended to express his realization aloud. He sighed, wondering how to begin.

Olli blinked open his bleary eyes and squinted in the darkness. He couldn't remember falling asleep. The chaos of the past few days had sent him on an adrenaline rush, and he hadn't realized how exhausted his body had become. Apparently, the others were equally worn out; a chorus of soft rhythmic breathing and a light snore filled the tiny shelter. Olli slowly sat up, rubbed his sore neck and shoulders, stretched, and yawned. His last memory before collapsing into the deep, dreamless sleep was hearing Gibson explain his knowledge of the colonization plan to Rowan. All he'd admitted to was experiencing premonitions of the invasion, as Katie had. Probably a good idea. We still may not be able to trust them. I can't believe he told that much...but if he can read them...

Overhead, the trapdoor creaked, and there was a faint shuffling back and forth like footsteps pacing. Olli jumped and grabbed the small handgun that Gibson had forced him to keep. The weapon felt awkward in his hand; he hadn't wanted to admit that he had absolutely no idea how to use the thing. Truthfully, he'd only fired a gun three times in his life-and that was a shotgun-during deer hunts with his father and older brother. He never made the kill shot, but the image of the helpless animal stumbling forward, its legs sinking under its body and crimson blood flowing, haunted his dreams for days after. As a boy, he wept for the poor, defenseless creatures. Now, after what he'd learned from Gibson, he felt like one of the hunted dodging an unfathomable predator, and he wondered if he'd have the strength to pull the trigger.

Olli slowly rose to his feet, his knees cracking on the way up, and he aimed the gun at the ceiling as he pulled down the ladder and climbed up as noiselessly possible. He silently counted to three before banging his fist into the latch, causing the small door to fly up and out; and he pointed the gun at the shadowed figure standing nearby and attempted to appear menacing despite the frantic beating of his heart. The figure gasped and slowly moved his arms out in a gesture of surrender.

"Who's there? I'm armed!" Olli whispered harshly in the cruelest tone he could muster.

"Just me. Katie," she said softly.

Olli released his breath in relief and shoved the weapon into his belt loop. Immediately, he felt his cheeks grow hot from embarrassment, and for once, he was grateful for the darkness.

"You shouldn't be out here. It's dangerous," he muttered as he dug his hands into his pockets.

"I can look out for myself just fine...I needed a smoke," she said.

Suddenly, a tiny flame struck, and Olli saw her large chocolate brown eyes sparkling as she placed a cigarette between her lips and lit the tip. He shyly averted his eyes from her glare and nervously kicked a rock that was embedded in the ground.

"I only have three left. Do you want one?" she offered.

"No. No, thanks. I don't smoke. But, I mean, I don't mind if you do. I guess I'll just stay out here for a few minutes-if you don't mind. It's nice to have space to move around. But, if we hear anything, we need to get back underground quick."

"I don't need you to protect me."

"I know-I wasn't implying that you did."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Olli finally thought of something legitimate to say.

"Are you okay? Earlier, you seemed really out there."

"Out there?"

"You know, you just seemed completely frozen, and...your mind was somewhere else."

"My mind was somewhere else. But, to answer your question, of course I'm not okay. No one is okay... I've moved on from my grief, though. That's something we'll have to do quickly in this new world if we're to continue. Many more will die. All of us maybe."

"Rowan said something about you having premonitions...in dreams," Olli said, surprised at his new boldness that came from his curiosity over this enigmatic woman.

"I've seen things," she said simply as she took a long drag. "I know he told you everything-most everything. About the abductions...I told him not to, but he never listens to me."

"What have you seen?"

"...No, no not now. I don't want to talk about it now."

"Okay, sorry, I didn't mean to...so, um, you're from California?"

"No, I'm from New York. I've lived in California since I was sixteen...What about you? Where are you from?"

"Arizona. I spent a lot of time on a Navajo reservation as a kid. I didn't live there, but some of my relatives did."

"So both of your parents are Navajo?"

"Were, and no, my family's heritage is mixed-Apache and Navajo mostly."

"Were?"

"My parents are dead."

"Oh...I'm sorry. Did they die in the invasion?"

"No, my mother died along with my little brother when he was born, and my father had cancer. I've been on my own for a long time."

Olli shifted his weight from the balls of his feet to his heels, and focused his attention on studying the sky, searching for any signs of starlight amid the murky cloud wrack. The two shared a silence that lasted several minutes, and surprisingly, it became increasingly more comfortable. He sensed an odd warmth of familiarity spreading through his chest, as if he had spent many nights such as this gazing up at an infinite sphere of heavens with this person beside him. When he spoke again, his words were not simply an obligation to fill the quiet.

"Rowan said that you're engaged to be married."

"Rowan says a lot of things. He and I are connected through shared pained. Our relationship isn't about love as much as it is about a need for sanity and understanding...and fate, I suppose. He used to talk about us getting married someday, but it never really went beyond talk. I think he wants me to be something I'm not. I don't believe in marriage."

"You don't love him?" Shit, did I really just ask that?

"Like I said, we have a bond. Maybe that's love. I don't know. I've never been much for romance."

She sighed, took one last drag from her cigarette, and flicked it to the ground. "Now I have a question for you. Your friend-Gibson-he's special isn't he?"

"Special? Well, he's had premonitions-"

"No, it's more than that. I have a sense about him. He can hear people's thoughts, can't he? Earlier he tried to read my mind, but he couldn't, so he doesn't know if he can trust me."

"I-"

"That's why They want him. Because of what he hears. And They want me because of what I see."

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
8 days after

"I don't even see the point in getting gas. We don't know where we're going; we've just been driving aimlessly," Dana said in exasperation as Mulder pulled into the lone, abandoned Amico station.

"Well, we know we need food; we can't just starve to death in the mountains."

"I don't think it's a good idea to travel away from the magnetite deposits. That's the only reason we're still alive."

"All right, so we'll go back to the magnetite-filled mountains with no supplies and see how long we can last. I mean, at least we can say They never got to us," Mulder replied curtly. He regretted the words as soon as he'd spoken them; Dana obviously wasn't at fault for their predicament, but he needed a vent post for his own helplessness. Sarcasm and bitterness as defense mechanisms were among his many faults, and only in times of great stress did they resurface. Mulder turned to look at Dana and opened his mouth in an expression of apology, but she cut him off before he was able.

"I know. It's okay."

"I have to go to the bathroom," Abigail whined. Sitting still for hours in a car was not among her strengths.

"We're taking a rest break here, baby blue. You can go to the bathroom in just a few minutes," Mulder said, attempting a reassuring smile in the rearview mirror.

He parked the car beside a gas pump, but after a closer look, discovered that all four pumps had been smashed, leaving not a drop of gasoline behind.

"So there goes that plan," he muttered under his breath.

"Maybe there's at least some food or something inside," Dana said hopefully.

Abigail's ears perked up at the prospect of lunch. "I'm hungry," she declared.

"I know baby, I know," Dana sighed.

"Abby, Mommy and I are going to have a look around really quickly. You're just going to sit tight in the car for a few minutes. I'm locking the doors, and you're not to open them for anything, understand?"

"No! No! You promised you wouldn't leave me anywhere. Please take me with you!" Her voice cracked in her desperate plea, and her bottom lip began to tremble.

"Honey, we'll be right back. We're not going far. Just stay here for a little while, and then you can come out too," Dana tried.

Evidently finding no further points to argue, Abby huffed in protest, crinkled her forehead into a frown, crossed her arms, and slouched low in her seat. Mulder and Dana took her response as their ticket to move.

"Be right back, blue," Mulder called as he and Dana slammed their doors shut.

As they turned the corner to investigate the opposite side of the building, they both drew their 9mm's and cautiously felt their way along the cool brick wall. The sun had not shone in over a week, and while their eyes were slowly adjusting to the new, darkened world, it was nevertheless exceedingly difficult to move about.

"Any bodies?" Dana whispered from behind him.

Mulder grimaced at the memory of the mutilated corpses they had found along the road. Thank God he and Dana had managed to keep Abby from seeing them. But how long can we really shelter her? Mulder guessed the bodies had been sucked into the light and then hurled back to the earth; Their unique method of genocide, no doubt. What if we're the only ones left? Unless there are others in the mountains...

"Nothing out here. Let's go inside," Mulder said softly.

They inched their way to the front of the small building, and Mulder couldn't help but smile as he was tempted to mutter, "Just like old times." The lock had been broken, and the glass on the door was smashed. The bell sounded shrilly in the silence when he kicked the door open. Not surprisingly, the inside of the little convenience store had been completely ransacked. Plastic shelves had been turned over and the glass doors in the refrigerated section were shattered. Shreds of cellophane wrappers littering the tile floor were the only evidence that there had once been food in the place.

Dana walked around the side of the store, while Mulder headed for the back. As he kicked the debris about, searching for anything that might be salvaged, he suddenly felt a sharp chill travel the length of his spine as if someone were breathing coolly down his neck. He whirled around, gun drawn, and called out, "Scully!" in a harsh whisper, unsure of exactly what he was warning her of. Her shadow turned swiftly in the darkness toward his voice; and when she moved, Mulder heard her cry out abruptly in surprise.

In less than half a second, he rushed across the store, and then skittered to a halt at the sight before him. A large figure loomed behind Dana, and an assault rifle was pressed into the back of her neck.

"You get any closer, motherfucker, and she's dead. I know what I'm doing. Now, how about you explain," a gravely voice said evenly.

"December 22, 2012 dawns the Age of Aquarius, and with its birth comes great change- for good or ill"
- ancient Egyptian prophecy

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
9 days after

Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to hold her body completely still. She heard Mulder's gun click as the safety was switched off and the barrel aimed at her large captor. Don't Mulder. Just put it down.

"Put the gun down on the floor. Hey-you get that gun off me or I kill her," the large man said gruffly.

Mulder bent over, and Dana heard the metal of the chrome 9mm sliding across the tile floor.

"What do you want?" Mulder asked caustically.

"Are you one of Them?"

"One of whom?"

"Turn around...NOW!"

Mulder complied tensely, and the man reached over Dana to examine the back of Mulder's neck carefully with his fingers. Appearing satisfied, the man backed away and pushed Dana forward roughly so that she stumbled into her husband's outstretched arms.

"If you're not them, then who are you? Are you with them?"

"Define Them," Dana said through clenched teeth as she rubbed the fresh bruises on her shoulders and collarbone.

"The ones who came to kill us. The ones who aren't human."

"We're humans, I can assure you. Have you seen...the others?" Mulder asked.

"Yes...yes, but they looked like people. They looked human and weren't. We tried to shoot them. It was two against five of us. They should have died but didn't. And their necks-there was something under the skin."

"There are others just like him. You can call them what you want. They're human replacements, alien replicants. They're virtually unstoppable..."

"They want to knock out any and all attempts by us to survive the final days- - when they come back to retake the planet."

" They didn't even know about your baby. I don't know exactly how they could have found out just how... how important it is... how special."

"Please don't let this happen! It's my baby! Please don't let them take it! It's mine!"

They won't get him! I'll die first, goddamnit!

"We've seen them before. A long time ago." Mulder said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you here alone?" Dana asked, quickly turning the conversation in another direction.

"No, there are two others. We've been hiding here for the past couple of days. There's a hidden basement with several large storage rooms. It's my shift to do the watch."

"Did They come here?" Mulder asked.

"No, we met them on the road. We were camping in the mountains-me and two friends and their wives-when...everything started happening. We waited awhile after the light, and then hiked back to the car and just started driving to try and figure out what the hell was going on. All of a sudden, these two guys in, like, business suits were standing in the middle of the road, and I don't know how, but they reached out and stopped the car with their bare hands. They didn't say anything. We shot at them-and hit them-several times, but they didn't stop.

Then they took the two women, just grabbed them and left. We couldn't even see where they went cause it happened so fast, but we followed the direction they'd headed in. For days, we tried to find them, and we were starving...then we came to this place and decided to stay, at least for awhile. It was all messed up like this when we got here, but we found a stock of food and stuff in the basement that hadn't been touched."

"Joe? Joe! Who's here?" a voice hollered from somewhere below. Footsteps pounded up a flight of stairs and a small door in the back corner of the store was thrown open. As the smaller man strode closer, Dana could see that he also carried a rifle that was aimed at her and Mulder.

"Clint, it's okay. They're human. They're not going to hurt us."

"How do you know that? We agreed that you would yell for us if anyone came in."

"Hey. Hey. My name is Mulder and this is my wife, Dana. We just came down from the mountains like you did, and our car is out of gas. We're stranded here."

Dana turned to address Clint, who looked like a child with his curly hair and small frame standing beside Joe, who was well over six feet tall.

"Joe told us that the women with you were abducted," Dana said

Clint heaved a sigh of frustration and punched the larger man in the arm.

"I can't believe you would go talking to strangers when we don't even know if they-"

"You can trust us. Please, we have nowhere to go," Dana said

Clint sighed once more and spoke reluctantly.

"We're probably going to leave soon. We have to find Beth and Carly."

"Why would they take only the women?" Mulder murmured to himself, rubbing his forehead with his fist.

"Have you two seen...Them?" Clint asked.

"Um, several years ago, we used to work for the U.S. government, and we encountered some of these people that couldn't be killed through our...investigations," Dana explained.

"And they're taking over the world or something?"

"Maybe, we're not sure. At least partially; they're most likely a part of something greater," Mulder added.

"But we haven't seen anything since then. We don't know anything, really...Listen, we're hungry, and now we're stranded here. Joe mentioned that there is food and supplies downstairs...Please, our little girl is with us; she's sitting outside in the car. Could you spare anything?" Dana pleaded.

"Yeah, of course," Joe piped in, and Clint shot him another warning glance.

"I don't know-" he began.

"I'm a medical doctor, and I'm willing to help in any way that I can. And both my husband and I have experience with super-these...beings. Would that not be a fair exchange?"

Clint thought for a few moments before deciding on an answer.

"All right. You can stay here." He said cautiously.

Casa Grande, Arizona
20 days after

"Yes! Finally!" Gibson breathed in relief.

He'd never actually hotwired a car before, and after nearly two hours of failed attempts, he'd almost given up and decided to embark on the two day hike in the dark to find his truck, which he'd intended to ditch. The small town of Casa Grande was thankfully a short walking distance from the shelter, and an abundance of abandoned vehicles were scattered throughout the ghostly downtown area.

The engine of the grey Cadillac sputtered and coughed until it was able to sustain an even purr and ensure Gibson of his success.

"It works?" Olli cried excitedly, poking his head through the driver's door and hovering over Gibson.

"Yeah, we're good. Go get them and say we're ready to go." Go where? I guess we'll figure it out when we get there.

Interstate 70, near Alemogardo, New Mexico

Gibson's eyelids began to feel heavy as he kept his gaze transfixed upon the double yellow line. He yawned, turned his head from side to side, and shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to remain alert. A glance beside him and over his shoulder revealed that his three passengers slept soundly; Olli with his face pressed against the front seat window and Katie and Rowan leaning against each other in the back. After being cooped up with these people for three weeks in the underground shelter, Gibson was amazed that they hadn't been ready to slit each other's throats. If the circumstances were different, he would have said that he enjoyed getting to know Rowan and Katie. She was proving to be quite a puzzle, and Gibson couldn't seem to find all of the pieces. He glanced in the rearview mirror to see her sleeping peacefully on Rowan's shoulder. Gibson had not asked about her dreams, and she had not been forthcoming. In fact, she didn't say much of anything, though she clearly knew a great deal, despite Gibson's inability to read her. Who is she? Secrets don't keep forever...

In a way, Gibson had felt reluctant to leave the quiet safety of the shelter, even though he knew they had no choice, since most of the supplies were gone. His initial planning had only warranted enough food and water for one person, not four. Surprisingly, it was quite a relief to travel the open road. For a brief moment,he allowed himself to forget the danger, and he simply reveled in the normalcy of it. A road trip. Four young people with their whole lives ahead of them searching for a new adventure. I'm only 23. 23-year-olds do this kind of thing, right? As far back as he could remember, Gibson had been an adult. He'd always lived in a state of fear and preparation for whatever the future would bring; he'd never relished in the feel of being young and free.

Another mile marker breezed by his window. How long have I been driving? Three hours? Four? From what he could see, he was traveling through the middle of nowhere, with nothing but open desert on all sides. The feeling of complete exposure was a bit unnerving. Gibson leaned forward to see if he could see the stars, and then he remembered that it was actually morning, and even if it were night, the stars and moon had not shone in weeks. He'd never seen utter darkness before this. Time could no longer be measured by night and day, and Gibson felt that the survivors on Earth were trapped in some bizarre purgatory.

He squinted to read a sign on a wooden post beside the road. Preserve the natural beauty of New Mexico. So we're in New Mexico? It looks like...

"Let me go! Let me go!"

"Let the boy go! Let him go, Mulder!"

But he isn't Mulder. NO ONE EVER BELIEVES ME. They took Mulder. He was my friend, he believed me, but now he's gone. Everything always gets taken away. And they're going to take me. Sometimes I wish I could just die...that would be easier, wouldn't it?

Where are you? Did you survive this? Even if they did, I'll never see them again, Gibson thought grimly.

"Hey Gibson, do you want me to drive now? Sorry, I really didn't mean to sleep so long," Olli mumbled groggily as he sat up and rolled his neck.

"It's okay. I'll be fine for another hour or so-what the hell is that!"

"What? Gibson...what?"

Gibson pointed at the horizon as they drove around a curve in the road. "That light..."

He slowed his speed as the car approached a vivid purple glow that was emanating around some sort of dome-like structure. Gibson pulled the car over to the shoulder, just as Rowan and Katie began to stir in the backseat.

"What's going on? Why are we stopping?" Rowan muttered between yawns.

In response, Olli pointed straight ahead to the unnatural structure that stood a mile or so off the road. Gibson got out of the car, closing the door softly behind him, and the others followed. As they silently crept closer to the strange light, they realized that there was a bustle of activity around the building. Shadows of people moving about were silhouetted against the brilliant glow, and an electrical whirr could be heard above a cacophony of scattered voices.

"RUN!" Gibson suddenly choked in a hoarse whisper. "BACK TO THE CAR! NOW! GO NOW!"

"What is it?" Olli asked in a small, frightened voice.

"Them. It's Them. I can hear them, and...and they know I'm close...They know I'm here...oh god...RUN!"

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
30 days after

"We missed New Year's. I didn't even think about it, but I guess it was several days ago. 2013...what's the date today?"

Mulder blinked his eyes sleepily in the darkness and sighed deeply as he inhaled the sweetness of Dana's hair, which at just past her shoulders, he realized, was longer than he'd ever seen it. She'd managed to get a hold of some shampoo in one of the stock storage compartments in the lower level, and everyone had been using the sink upstairs in the single employee restroom to bathe. They had cleared half of the downstairs storage area for sleep quarters and hung make-shift curtains for mock privacy; not that anyone could see without a strong flashlight anyway.

Mulder groaned slightly when he rolled his sore shoulder; he was new at hunting and he'd never been much of a sportsman, despite the fact that he was a good shot. Killing a helpless animal was different than shooting at a fair opponent. He would not hurt his pride, however, by admitting that much of his difficulty with the rifle came from his guilt over murdering innocence and not necessarily a lack of skill. Whether he liked it or not, hunting for food had become part of his job in serving their little community, which now numbered eighteen. Along with Mulder, Dana, Abigail and the three men who first arrived, there were now three lone drifters, one older married couple, and two small families that now called the convenience store home. Mulder and Dana were grateful that one of the families had a nine-year-old daughter, Harper; she and Abby had been getting along well and their playtime had helped brighten the monotonous boredom.

The women seldom left the store, because word had traveled that They were searching for human women as trophies, and if a man were desperate enough, he might kidnap a woman and turn her in for a bounty. All anyone knew of the outside world came from the mouths of the newer members of the group. More people had begun arriving after Mulder and Dana had only been there a couple of days. It was difficult to turn anyone down, but they were going to have to start saying no fairly soon; space was running out, and too many people could not easily remain hidden. For the most part, everyone did their share in giving to the others, but with her medical experience, Dana was probably the most valued member. She had examined countless cuts and bruises and even set a broken wrist the week before after a small hunting accident. Mulder was not the only one who tended to fail miserably in the old ways of hunting and gathering.

For the first few nights, Abigail had insisted on sleeping between her parents on their "bed" that they had made out of sleeping bags, but now she was content in her own little corner on the other side of the curtain. "It's like your own pillow fort castle," Mulder had told her, only partially so that he might have a bit of privacy with Dana. Night was the only time they saw one another, and Mulder hated to sleep, because he never wanted to miss it.

"Mulder, are you awake?"

"Hmm?...yeah...yes."

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"Uh, yes...um maybe...er, no...I don't remember."

Dana had been lying across his bare chest, and she slowly sat up, her hair tickling his nose and cheeks. In the darkness, she traced a finger over the sharp bridge of his nose until she reached his lips. He gently grasped her wrist and kissed each of her fingers, lingering on her thumb.

"I was afraid of what knowing would do to you. I was afraid it would crush your spirit."

"Why would I accept defeat? Why would I accept it, if you won't? Mulder, you say that you've failed but you only fail if you give up. And I know you -- you can't give up. It's what I saw in you when we first met. It's what made me follow you ... why I'd do it all over again."

"Maybe there's hope."

I want to hold onto this moment. Keep it forever so that when I'm dying I can remember my favorite part of life. If someone asks me as I draw my last breath what the best thing was, I will say this night; feeling Scully's heart beating against my chest as we lay in a shitty motel bed in Roswell, New Mexico when we're fugitives of the United States government. Tonight I have hope. I have love. Maybe I have a new beginning. It doesn't matter, because there is only now. Only this.

"I said we missed New Year's. What is the date today?" Dana whispered into Mulder's ear as she settled her head against his shoulder.

"I don't know. I would guess around January 20th."

"That's so strange. We're in Saskatchewan-there should be several feet of snow on the ground this time of year."

"I don't think we'll ever see snow again."

"I wish we could fight them..."

"Time will give us answers, Scully. We can't accept defeat. Not yet."

"I haven't. ..There's always hope, right?"

Mulder smiled, knowing that she remembered. He turned over onto his side, facing her, and lovingly cupped her cheeks in his hands. Their lips met in a tender kiss that gradually built in intensity until their mouths opened, hearts beating faster. Mulder reached under her shirt to caress her back as he pushed the garment up to her neck, and then grasped her hips to turn their bodies so that she lay on top of him.

"Mulder, we can't...people will hear us," Dana murmured breathlessly.

"I can be quiet if you can," he whispered.

They both jumped when the door at the top of the stairs swung open, and heavy footsteps hurried down. Mulder and Dana rushed out of their curtained "bedroom" and were met by the blinding glare of two industrial strength flashlights.

"Dana?"

It was Nate, one of the newer drifters, and Clint stood beside him.

"Yeah. Clint, Nate...what's wrong? Has someone been hurt?"

"No. Come outside." Clint said.

"What is it!..." Mulder called as he rushed up the stairs behind his wife. When he caught the sight outside the large front windows of the store, he stopped and sucked in his breath.

"Oh my god, Mulder," Dana breathed.

"Sunrise..." he said softly. For the first time in weeks, he could really see his wife. Pale golden light glowed on her skin and danced in her hair, so that it was the color of a gentle flame. Tears shone in her blue eyes.

"On December 22, 2012, the ancient Timewave will reach its infinite point of zero, and mankind will enter the next phase of being." Chinese I-Ching prophecy, interpreted by Terence McKenna.

I-64 near Boise City, Oklahoma
32 days after

"You haven't slept in two days. Just relax now. We're all taking driving shifts to give you a break."

"I'm not tired."

"Bullshit."

"...Okay fine, just keep heading-"

"Northeast, I know." Olli turned his focus back on the road, satisfied with his easy victory in this argument.

Gibson released his anxious breath and leaned the passenger seat backward a bit. Olli's drumming on the steering wheel was getting on his nerves, but he was too exhausted to put forth enough effort to ask him to stop. He'd been reluctant to give up the driver's seat; because he felt at least somewhat in control when he was at the wheel, almost as if he were accomplishing something instead of sitting back passively and allowing the enemy to catch up. And then there were the voices-the disembodied speech and thought of not only the enemy, but the screams and pleas of the damned and the tortured as well. Gibson hadn't shared that part with his companions. His head was filled with noise that dwindled sometimes only to return a few hours later. The reappearance of daylight almost gave him some hope, but he was too afraid to hope.

"Hey, what are we gonna do about gas? There's only about a quarter of a tank in this thing. And then there's the issue of food and water..." Rowan said from the backseat.

"When we find a safe place to stop, we will," Gibson said, his eyelids suddenly growing heavier.

"You know, I'm sick of following you blindly, hanging on every word you say. What aren't you telling us? And who gives you the right to choose where we go?" Rowan said, gradually raising the volume of his voice.

"No one's forcing you to follow us. You can get out of the car now if you want," Olli responded softly.

"Why do I feel like you two have some kind of conspiracy going on? I mean, seriously, I've, like, opened up to you guys and shared my life story, and Katie and I know next to nothing about you!" Rowan was close to yelling, which added to Gibson's throbbing headache and began to test his patience. "Maybe we were wrong to trust you," he muttered.

"We're not hiding anything, but if you don't want to travel with us anymore, you're welcome to go your own way. However, since I got us this car, I'm afraid you'd be the one on foot," Gibson said, keeping his voice calm.

"What gives you-" Rowan began, but Katie, who had been a silent observer for almost the entirety of this leg of the trip, immediately cut him off.

"Rowan, why don't you just shut the fuck up? They saved our lives; what more do you want?" she said sharply, stunning him to silence. "And another thing-stop speaking for me. You don't own me, and I'm not a child. So if you plan on making any more jackass accusations, leave me the hell out of it!"

No one spoke again after that. Rowan scooted away from Katie and leaned his head on his fist, staring out the backseat window with a child-like pout. Before Gibson fell asleep, he looked over at Olli to see a wistful smile play across his lips and a satisfied gleam shine in his eyes.

Come, Gibson. You could be a leader. Powerful, respected. Have anything you want. Wouldn't you like that? We can make you into something even greater than you are. Come to us. What does a life on the run have to offer? Don't you want to be happy for once?

The voice comes from a room at the end of the hall. He walks slowly towards the door, wanting to see and wanting to know. Needing to know. He pushes the door open gently, the sound of the creaking of old wood startling him. The room is filled with light-the bright light of day. There is a bed with red sheets-no, white sheets. White sheets stained crimson. Blood everywhere. Splattered on the wall. Pooling on the hardwood floor. Two bodies in the bed and another sprawled on the floor. He can't see the faces-only the pieces of bone and flecks of brain matter. He's going to vomit. Above him and below him, the disembodied voices shriek with laughter.

See? There's no reason to stay here.

Gibson jolted awake, hitting his head against the sun visor of the passenger seat. He was panting, and he couldn't cease the fearful tears that gathered in his eyes.

"Gibson, are you okay?" Olli asked, staring at his friend in concern.

"...Yeah. It was a dream. I just had a bad dream."

"What did you see? What are They telling you?" Katie asked quietly.

"Nothing. It was just a dream." Gibson whispered.

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
35 days after

"We should be back by tonight at the latest."

Dana glanced over her shoulder at Mulder hovering behind her, and then quickly returned her focus to examining the old woman's ankle.

"Marcy, it's just a sprain. You'll want to stay off of it today and keep it elevated. It would be great if we had some ice left, but we'll just have to make do. I can give you some Advil, but not very much, since we're getting low. Be careful going up and down those stairs. Make sure to always use the rail from now on."

"All right. Thank you very much, Mrs. Mulder."

"Call me Dana," she said, smiling. Hearing herself addressed as "Mrs. Mulder" still made her laugh.

"Okay Dana. We sure are lucky to have you here."

She smiled and nodded, then turned around to face Mulder.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"You haven't heard anything I've said?"

"Mulder, I was busy. Please, fill me in now."

"Mommy! Mommy!" Abigail called as she ran up behind Dana, nearly colliding into her and causing her to jump in surprise.

"Abby, don't do that! What's the matter?"

"Nothing, but Mr. Sowell is taking Harper outside and I want to go too. Can you come with me?"

"Honey, I can't come right now."

"But I'm so bored! It's not fair that I have to stay inside all the time! Daddy, will you come?" she whined.

"I can't Abby, I have a lot to do. Why don't you politely ask Mr. Sowell if you can go with them?"

Abby furrowed her brow, considering his proposition. "Okay. Bye!" she called and bounded up the stairs.

Dana sighed and rubbed her temples. And I thought working for the FBI was a demanding job.

"What Mulder?" she asked.

"We're almost out of bottled water, so a group of us are going to go scouting for a creek or something. Hopefully we won't have to travel far, but we should be back tonight at the latest."

"I thought you were helping build the addition to the living quarters today."

"I was, but now I'm doing this. Clint, Nate, and Tom are going also."

"It takes four people to look for a creek?"

"To bring water back-yeah. Do you not want me to go or something?"

"No, fine. Go... I just don't see why you're the one that always has to lead these excursions. You go on every single hunt."

"I do what I can to help, Scully. If you really don't want me to go..."

"I said go, Mulder."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine. I'm just tired and stressed and I have a headache, but what else is new, right? I just...I worry when you go off and I'm stuck here."

"I'll be back tonight. I'll be careful. I promise."

"Okay, I know."

He bent his knees to lower himself to her height and lightly kissed her lips, and then leaned his forehead against hers.

"Abby, hold still. It's going to hurt worse if you keep wiggling around."

Dana tilted the bottle of rubbing alcohol to soak the cotton, and gently dabbed it across the raw flesh on Abby's knee. The cut on her shin was fairly deep and could probably use a few stitches, but cleaning and bandaging was all that the limited supplies allowed. She would no doubt carry the scar for the rest of her life. Abby scrunched her face in pain, but she didn't cry; she took after her mother.

"Mommy, are you mad? I know I wasn't supposed to be running around outside. We're supposed to be quiet."

"Yes, we all need to be very quiet, but no, I'm not mad. I think falling on broken glass is enough of a punishment, don't you?"

"Yes...when is Daddy coming back?"

"Probably in another couple of hours."

"I wish he would come back now."

"Soon honey...okay, you're done."

Abby winced slightly as she stood, kissed her mother's cheek, and hobbled off to find her friend Harper.

"Dana?" Joe called as he quickly descended the stairs.

"I'm over here," she said, crossing to meet him.

"Somebody saw a person on the road outside, so we've been hiding upstairs in the back."

"Did you see who it was? I'm sure it's just the group coming back with the water, well, assuming they found water."

"No. It was just one man. He's a stranger."

"Is he still outside? Maybe he needs help."

"I don't know. It's only been a few minutes, but we haven't heard anything."

"Who saw him?"

"Grant Sowell and his wife."

"All right, hold on. I'm coming up."

Dana hurried into her and Mulder's area and grabbed her 9mm from underneath the bedding. She jogged up the stairs and carefully opened the door to join the few people that were hiding behind the shelving unit that covered the storage entrance.

"It's probably nothing; just somebody wandering around lost, but I'm going to take a look," she whispered.

"You can't go alone," Joe murmured.

"No, it's better if I'm alone; it'll be quieter. Trust me-I used to be an FBI agent."

No one argued as she silently stepped out into the store, which was now cast in shadow from the sunset. Slowly and carefully, she inched her way along the left side of the room, and then crouched when she reached the front and peered into the growing darkness outside. Sure enough, a dark figure stood in the drive beside the broken gas pumps, facing away from the store. Dana sucked in her breath, pushed the front door open, and aimed her weapon. The figure whirled around at the sudden clinking of the bell.

"I don't know how well you can see me, but I've got a loaded weapon aimed at your neck. Who are you and what's your business?" she demanded.

The figure, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat, casually stepped forward out of the shadows until Dana could clearly make out his features. She gasped and lowered her gun in shock. The bald, older man smiled and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.

"Oh my god...Skinner?"

Elkhart, Kansas
35 days after

"It looks empty to me," Olli called as he explored the side of the old farm house.

"Shhh! Not so loud. We don't know who might be listening," Gibson whispered.

"Olli's right. We've looked around the whole outside of the place and through all the windows. There's nobody home. And since there were three bodies on the gravel drive out front, I'm guessing no one's coming back," Rowan said loudly.

Gibson sighed, trying to hold onto his waning patience. "Okay, we go in, but be quiet and stay close together."

He brought one hand to the bulge on his lower back where he'd hidden one of the guns from the shelter, and slowly walked up the creaky steps to the front porch. Not surprisingly, the door was unlocked, and he was able to push it open easily. The others gathered behind as they tentatively entered the darkened foyer. Gibson motioned for everyone to stay put beside the front door while he carefully ascended the staircase to the small landing above. In the hall upstairs, a large grandfather clock softly ticked the seconds away. He opened each of the three doors to reveal two bedrooms with an antique bathroom in the center. One of the bedrooms had probably been used a guestroom, since it was sparsely furnished with the bed neatly made; and the other room was fairly cluttered with books and pieces of clothing strewn across the floor.

Gibson returned to the foyer to find that his companions had already begun exploring the rest of the house. He rushed through the dining room into the kitchen and found the others digging through the food pantry.

"Hey Gibson, look at this! There's a ton of food in here!" Olli cried excitedly.

"What are you doing? I said to wait for me in the foyer," Gibson hissed.

"We-" Rowan paused to throw a glance at Katie. "Excuse me, I-don't need you around to hold my hand. You know, it's because of your constant paranoia that it took us forever to get from New Mexico to Kansas-you making us hole up every few miles cause you think you heard something or saw something. It's more dangerous when you keep slowing us down, man...and for the tenth fucking time, there's nobody here."

Gibson clenched his jaw and looked away.

"Really, it's okay. We looked around and we were careful. There's nothing here. We even checked the cellar. So let's just sit down and get something to eat. We're all starving," Olli said.

Gibson nodded tersely and pulled a chair back from the round oak table.

He couldn't sleep in this place. The old house creaked and rattled in the wind, and all Gibson could think about was the people that had lived here before and how they had died. Everyone else was exhausted and slept soundly; he and Olli had taken the two rooms upstairs, and Rowan and Katie were in the master bedroom down the hallway from the kitchen. He stood at the picture window in the kitchen and stared at the slopes of fields outside bathed in gentle starlight. The tips of his fingers brushed the blue checkered curtains, and he closed his eyes for a moment, imagining what it would feel like to settle here and live a quiet, simple life.

"So I guess I'm not the only one who can't sleep."

Gibson jumped from his reverie and whirled around to see Katie standing in the doorway holding a long candlestick in a saucer holder. The flame flickered and danced, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor.

"Where did you find that?" Gibson asked

"In the closet across from the bathroom, and there were matches in the drawer beside the bed."

She placed the candle in the center of the table and sat across from the window so that she could see outside.

"New places make me nervous. I can't sleep until I know my way around," she murmured.

"Yeah, me too," Gibson lied.

He took a seat beside her and crossed his arms on the table. His long, dark hair fell over his face as he looked down and studied his hands.

"I'm ready to tell you now," Katie said quietly.

"According to the cross at Hendaye the Iron Age, or the Kali Yuga, will be coming to an end with the galactic alignment on the winter solstice of December 22nd
2012." Hindu Faith

Elkhart, Kansas
35 days after

"I used to be afraid to close my eyes, but I got used to it after awhile. I would disconnect from it-tell myself it wasn't real. Sometimes that was the truth-it would all be a dream, or if it came true, it wouldn't necessarily happen to me or anyone I knew. Sometimes it would happen years after I dreamed it."

"When did it start?" Gibson asked.

The clock upstairs struck two a.m., and then the old house was once again covered in a cloak of silence. The musky stillness in the air made him feel as if they were the only two people left in the world to share the witching hour: that time after midnight when ancient magic stirs, ghosts and demons walk, and dreams become reality. Katie gazed out the window as she spoke, her face bathed in ethereal rays of moonlight, her visage expressionless and difficult to read. Gibson switched between examining his folded hands and staring intently at a rip in the wallpaper in front of his eyes. He rubbed the gooseflesh on his arms, but he couldn't rid himself of the chill on his spine. Her words were too close, too familiar, and they reminded him of the terrors in his own life.

"...When I was three years old."

"And you remember that?"

"I remember everything...after a few years, after I was abducted...I realized that sometimes They would show me things. But some of the dreams weren't from Them; I could just see certain things that were going to happen...and not everything I saw was bad...But everything They showed me-it was all about the world after...after They came."

"Do you know if-if...there is something about you that's not-if you're not exactly..."

"What, human? Yes, there's something different about me. I don't understand it, but I know that part of their DNA is in my body. My parents knew I was different when I was a child, especially after I explained the abduction experiences, so they took me to doctors who described my condition as a simple genetic anomaly...It's the same for you, isn't it? It's the reason they're searching for us. They're wiping out the human race. They've already killed everyone that's expendable, everyone They couldn't change. The people that are left will be genetically altered to become Them, so They can have a race of servants."

"And They want us, because we're closer to Them than any other humans alive." Gibson murmured.

"Yes...we're part of their prophecy; one man and one woman who will begin it...They formed them and breathed into their nostrils the breath of life. Woman and man were thus created so that they shall be fruitful, and multiply upon the earth."

"You're quoting the Bible."

"No. The prophecy is theirs-their genesis. I can explain more...Darkness came upon the face of the old earth and then it was said, Let there be a new light; and there was light...

The darkness was a gas covering over the atmosphere to alter the composition of the air, so that their natural bodies could breathe it."

"You saw this?"

"They showed me."

"Why us? Why humans? In the vast universe, why did They choose to come here?"

"I don't know...What about you? Tell me what you've heard."

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
35 days after

Mulder swore he felt his jaw drop at least three feet-possibly four-when he quickly halted on the last step, nearly dumping the cooler of fresh water onto the cement floor. Nate hurried down the stairs behind him and took the cooler out of his arms before it had the chance to spill; but Mulder's forearms remained frozen in their outstretched position long after his hands were empty.

"Mulder..." Skinner said questioningly as he slowly stood from the folding table where he'd been seated across from Dana.

This isn't real...We haven't seen you in ten years...

"I-we, we thought you were dead...I can't-oh my god..."

Mulder moved swiftly to the older man and embraced him firmly, and then he began to laugh. A deep laugh that began in his belly and flowed out of his lungs in sweet release-a sensation he hadn't experienced in months. He broke the hug to look into the eyes of his former assistant director and dear friend.

"Mulder, you haven't changed at all."

"I don't know if I can say the same for you," he said through his smile as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "How did you survive? What are you doing here? How did you find us?"

"Let's all sit down together. We have a lot to talk about," Dana said from the table behind them.

"Your little girl is absolutely beautiful. I can't believe how she's grown-of course, I only had that one picture you sent me when she was born, so of course eight years would make quite a difference, but it's just...surreal. She knew me when she saw me. She called me Uncle Walter."

"We've shown her pictures. When she was a toddler, she thought you lived inside the telephone." Mulder said.

All three of them laughed for a long moment before falling into an awkward silence.

"I have to know...are they all dead?" Dana asked hesitantly after a long pause, her voice nearly dropping to a hoarse whisper.

"I'm sorry, but I honestly don't know. I warned everyone like you asked, and then I headed out of D.C. before the bombings, so I haven't heard."

"No word about John and Monica?" Mulder asked.

"No...I'm sorry but, I just don't know. I called them, and they said they would leave as soon as possible. I don't know if it was soon enough. We should have stuck together, but...I didn't want to wait."

"I feel horrible...we haven't even spoken to them since they got married. How long ago was that-three years?" Dana asked quietly.

"Four," Mulder murmured.

"So, after you left D.C., where did you go?" she asked.

"I drove to Missouri to the quarries, like Mulder advised. Other people were there...in the caves. I hid there for a few days until the darkness came, and after that, I headed north. I made up my mind to find you...I've just been going through different pocket communities, trading supplies when I can, and getting word on other groups living in Canada. Then I traveled into Saskatchewan, and my car broke down; so I walked for several miles before I came upon this place and saw people inside. I had no idea that you were living here. It's a complete coincidence that I found you."

"That's unbelievable... I hope you got plenty to eat when you arrived. You must have been famished," Mulder said.

"I did, thank you. I feel much better now."

"I'm sure you're exhausted. We won't keep you up any longer tonight," Dana said. She sounded hesitant and furrowed her brow, glancing away.

"Mulder, are you awake?" she whispered tentatively into the darkness.

"Mm-hmm" he hummed sleepily.

Dana took a deep breath in an attempt to slow the frantic pace of her thoughts. She placed a hand on her chest; it felt as though her heart was racing. Something wasn't right; her uneasiness had been pulling her from sleep for at least two hours.

"I can't believe Skinner found us...what did you think of his story?" she asked.

"I dunno, pure luck, chance circumstances. It happens, Scully," he mumbled.

"No...Mulder, something feels wrong about this."

He turned over to face her, rested his elbow on the pillow, and propped his head up on his fist.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"When I found him, he...it was almost like he was expecting to see me, like he knew I was there and that I would come outside. I was shocked as hell to see him, but he was completely calm. It felt, I don't know...unnatural somehow."

"Scully, that doesn't prove anything. He was looking for us, he was tired, he was happy he found you. I think that explains it."

"We're a needle in a haystack here. Saskatchewan is an enormous place. The odds against him stumbling on us like that are just...well, they're incredibly low."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...it's not just that, Mulder. Things about him didn't make sense. For instance, it doesn't seem like him to have taken off abruptly without John and Monica...without even knowing anything about my family."

"Everything happened so fast. I'm sure he did all he could."

"And...didn't you notice that he seemed to have a flat affect and that his mannerisms...he's different."

"Scully, do you want to know what I think? I think we haven't seen the guy in ten years, he's getting older, and he was exhausted. That's it."

"I have this strange feeling that I can't shake."

"Look, you checked his neck like regular procedure, right? He's not a super soldier. He knew everything about us in detail. We talked about shared memories. It's really him; trust me on this."

Dana sighed and rolled over, knowing that she wouldn't get any further in this debate. After a few minutes, she heard Mulder's slow, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep. Maybe he's right...I'm probably just being overly paranoid.

Elkhart Kansas
36 days after

"We found more gardens and stuff a mile back. There are plenty of fresh vegetables, even potatoes. The barn's empty, though." Olli said as he flung the door to the kitchen open and tracked chunks of mud across the floor. Katie followed behind, her arms filled with various greenery, carrots, and cabbages.

"Perfect," Gibson said, helping them place the vegetables on the counter beside the metal sink. "We shouldn't go hungry...not for a while at least. Though we may have to resort to vegetarianism fairly soon. The canned meat's almost gone."

"So what have you and Rowan been up to while we've been exploring?" Katie asked.

"Rowan's been looking through the cellar to see what kinds of supplies we have available, and I've been checking the foundation all morning. I'm going up on the roof in a few minutes to make sure everything's sturdy."

"It's almost noon. Do you want to have lunch first?" Olli asked.

"Sure, I could use a break," Gibson replied.

"I'll get Rowan," Katie said as she walked into the hallway towards the cellar door.

"Let's wash some of these vegetables. We can make stew or something," Gibson said as he rummaged through the pile of dirt mixed with leafy greens.

"Hey, the door's locked. Are you sure he's down here?" Katie called.

"Yeah, he hasn't come up all morning," Gibson answered, walking behind Katie to try the knob. "Maybe it's stuck...Rowan?" he hollered as he jiggled the knob and banged on the door with his palm.

"ROWAN!" Katie yelled. "We can't open the door. Come on the other side and help us!"

They waited a few moments, but got no response.

"ROWAN!" she tried again, banging her fists forcefully. "If he was down there, he'd hear us."

"I'm going to walk around back and look through the windows, just to make sure," Gibson said.

Olli and Katie followed him out of the kitchen door to the back of the house, and they all crouched down to peer through the small windows down into the cellar. Sure enough, Rowan was sitting in an old rocking chair, his back facing them. Gibson banged on the window, but once again, received no response.

"Something's wrong...get something to break the glass." Gibson said.

Olli grabbed a rake from the woodpile, and Gibson and Katie stepped aside as he jabbed the metal handle into the old glass, which shattered easily. Gibson broke the remaining shards around the window frame with his elbow, slowly snaked his body through the small opening, and dropped to the dirt floor below. Rowan continued to rock back and forth in the creaky antique chair, oblivious, as Gibson rushed around him and dropped to his knees in front of the chair. Rowan's eyes were glazed over, frozen on the stone wall, and his lips were twisted into a half grin.

"Rowan, can you hear me?"

Rowan's eyes shifted focus, and his cold expression made Gibson uneasy.

"Yes?" he replied softly.

"We've been calling you. Why did you lock the door?"

"I'm sorry. It must have been an accident. I'm ready for lunch now." He said calmly.

"Okay, so something is clearly wrong with him. He's sleeping in the cellar again tonight, isn't he?" Gibson whispered.

"Yes," Katie murmured.

All three of them jumped and sucked in their breaths when the clock upstairs struck one a.m. After three days of Rowan's increasingly strange, aloof, and erratic behavior, Gibson had called a little meeting.

"It's okay. He's a heavy sleeper," Katie whispered. Olli and Gibson raised their eyebrows at her questioningly.

"All right...in the past, Rowan has suffered from post-traumatic stress syndrome, after his abductions," Katie admitted.

"No it's more than that. There's something else going on. Katie, you need to tell us." Gibson said.

She sighed shakily and nodded. "He has bi-polar disorder and IED."

"IED?" Olli asked.

"Intermittent Explosive Disorder...random, irrational, violent behavior. But he was on medication for a long time and hasn't had any symptoms in years."

"Stress is a trigger for psychotic breaks. Everything he's been through in the past few months may just be registering," Gibson remarked.

"So what do we do?" Olli asked.

"We continue to monitor his behavior and note any changes...if he becomes a threat... we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Gibson said. "I think the best plan is to act normal. Don't let on that we're suspicious of him in any way."

"All right," Katie agreed, "Is that all then?"

"Yeah. For now," Gibson said, "Let's get some sleep."

"I'm not tired right now. I think I'll take a walk outside," Katie said.

"Not alone. It's too dangerous."

"I'll go with you," Olli said softly.

"Are you afraid?"

Olli's voice was barely a whisper as he paused on the dirt path leading to the barn. He tilted his neck back to gaze into the heavens and tucked strands of long black hair behind his ears as the warm breeze blew them across his face. For the first moment since he had left the house with her, he worked up the courage to look into Katie's eyes, searching for answers in their depths.

"Afraid...of what?"

"I don't know, of whatever's going to happen to us...people, I mean."

"No, I'm not afraid. Things happen that we can't change, and there are some fights we were never meant to win...What scares you? Meeting Them face to face? Dying?"

"I'm not ready to die."

"But is death really the most horrible thing? The age of humans is over...maybe it's time for us all to go."

"How can you say that? We can't just let Them win."

"It's about choosing the right battles, Olli. If you look at it on a cosmic scale, it's simply evolution; survival of the fittest-fate."

"I'm not talking about a cosmic scale. I'm asking you-just you-are you really prepared to die?"

"No...I mean, of course I'm afraid of pain and suffering and the unknown...but I'd like to believe that death isn't the end, that those we love will meet us on the other side."

"It's a nice idea...I just wish...I don't know what I wish."

"Why do you like me, Olli?"

He quickly looked up from the hole he'd been digging in the soil with his toe and met her questioning gaze. He took a nervous breath, unsure of what explanation she would accept.

"I'm sorry-I...I don't know why."

"You mean you don't want to say."

"I guess, I just...when I first met you, I found you beautiful, and then talking to you...It's so familiar, and it makes me feel safe in a way that I can't explain. I love being with you... I'm sorry-"

Olli's face burned with embarrassment, and he was horrified when he felt his eyes sting with tears. He quickly whirled around to hurry back in the direction of the house and pray that she would somehow forget their entire conversation. Before he could cover a distance of more than a couple of strides, Katie firmly caught his arm and pulled him back to face her. She held his cheeks in her palms and her thumbs wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes. With her hands on the back of his neck, she drew him down towards her until their lips gently met. He wrapped his arms around her as they kissed and held her against his body, never wanting to let go. Shameless tears trickled down his cheeks.

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
39 days after

Something just doesn't feel right. I'm over-analyzing...Stop thinking about it. As many times as she told herself she'd imagined everything, Dana still could not shake the uneasiness; and her instincts were rarely wrong. She shook her head and sighed heavily, trying desperately to focus all of her thought onto the menial task at hand: sorting through all of the remaining first aid kits to do an inventory of supplies. She checked each item off her list and scribbled down the exact numbers of what was left, and for a few moments, was able to numb her mind in the simple work. At least I have something to do here...I couldn't handle doing nothing, waiting for...

"Do you need some help with that?"

Dana flinched and glanced up to see Skinner hovering over her.

"No, thanks. I've got it."

"That's what everyone's been saying. Please, let me help out with something."

He crouched down beside her, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable. This is irrational.

"Sure, okay. You can count how many items are in each of these piles and write the numbers down on this notepad...Can I ask you something, sir?"

"Yeah...no need for the 'sir'."

"Right, um...so, you said it was just a coincidence that you found us, right?"

"That's right," he replied with an unfamiliar, defensive edge to his tone.

"When I found you outside, you weren't...you weren't even looking around or taking precautions. You were standing in the open facing away from the building...like you were waiting for me."

"I don't know what to tell you, Scully. I was surprised to find you. Why are we still dwelling on this?"

"Sorry-never mind," she muttered.

He reached his arm in front of her to grab a stack of band-aid packages when Dana saw a dark green stain running along the inside of the arm of his white shirt.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing at his sleeve, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Oh, I must have spilled something," he said quickly as he moved his arm behind his back to lean against it, but not before Dana saw part of a ragged scab peeking out from underneath his cuff.

Author's note: Sorry this one's a little long, but I needed to get this part out in one go. The quote at the end is from Kahlil Gibran.

These are the End times and the people must know the truth, share what we have taught you. There can be no more secrets now if we are to survive as a thinking species through these times." "This," they say, "must be done because the dream of humanity can only be preserved through the combined efforts of all peoples, and the joining and merging of all cultures into a oneness." --Cho Qosh Auh Ho Oh, a Chumash elder, interprets ancient prophecy.

Elkhart, Kansas
43 days after

"Olli, can you give me a hand out back? We need to chop more wood for the stove."

Katie glanced at Gibson knowingly when he spoke, and then quickly looked away. She grabbed a handful of dry cereal from the box on the table and crunched one piece in her mouth at a time. Despite the fact that it was just past eight a.m., the three of them had been puttering around the house for at least two hours. Rowan was, of course, still in the cellar evidently ogling at walls for all that Gibson knew; he seldom came upstairs save for one meal a day. Katie had spoken to him briefly the day before in an attempt to coax him back to some semblance of normalcy; but she must have given up, because she later explained to Gibson and Olli that they would simply have to wait out this "episode" and leave Rowan his space.

Olli stiffened and pulled his chair back from the table, obviously having some idea of what his friend wanted to discuss privately. Gibson nodded and motioned for Olli to follow him out of the back door.

They walked through the early morning fog in silence, the dewy grasses dampening the legs of their jeans. When they'd reached a fair distance from the house, Gibson stopped, folded his arms, and turned around to face his friend.

"What is this about?" Olli asked defensively.

"What do you think you're doing, Olli?"

"What am I doing?"

"I'm insulted if you think I'm that oblivious."

"Gibson, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Okay, maybe you do think I'm that oblivious, but you seem to have forgotten that I have the ability to read minds."

"Stop it! I hate it when you do that! Stay the hell away from my thoughts!"

"I do, Olli, but there are some things I can't keep from hearing."

"So why don't you just say it?"

"Fine...don't fuck around, and I mean that in both the figurative and literal senses."

"What are you implying?"

"I know you think you love her, but if you act on it, you'll be putting yourself in danger. Whether she's with Rowan or not, he thinks she is, and we all know that he's quite mentally unstable at the moment. And besides, she would hurt you soon enough anyway."

"She has feelings for me. You should know that since you are, as you pointed out, the mind reader."

"I'm not saying she doesn't, it's just that...I want you to be careful."

"Do you not want me to find a little bit of happiness in this fucked-up world? Is that what this is about-misery in company?"

Gibson froze, stunned to silence and deeply hurt. After a few moments, he looked down at his feet and spoke softly.

"Of course I want you to be happy. You're my best friend, and I don't want to see you hurt. That's all."

He turned and began to walk back the way they had come.

"Gibson, wait...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be-I guess I'm just afraid...I promise I'll be careful, okay? And...thank you. I don't think I've ever told you," Olli murmured.

Gibson nodded and continued along the path.

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
43 days after

"Mulder!" Dana called as the hunting party crowded into the store carrying bags full of game from the long excursion.

Dana dodged through the group of people and reached out for her husband's arm. He must have instantly recognized the fear in her eyes, because his expression quickly shifted into panic mode.

"Dana, what happened? Is Abigail okay?"

Yes, "Dana" was always reserved for moments of panic.

"She's fine. I'm fine. But I need to talk to you. Can we go outside for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure."

They stepped into the late afternoon sunlight and brusquely walked around the corner of the small brick building.

"What is it?" he asked anxiously.

"Skinner..." she said breathlessly, "It's about Skinner."

"What about Skinner?"

"He's one of Them, Mulder. He's some sort of hybrid or maybe a shape shifter."

"How do you know this? What happened?"

"He had a green stain on his sleeve and I saw a pretty bad cut on his arm."

"So you immediately jumped to the conclusion that he bled green blood?"

"Yes! Especially taking into account everything that seemed strange about him to begin with; now it makes sense."

"Aren't you overreacting a little bit? I'm sure you just saw a grass stain or something, and we all have plenty of cuts and bruises. Why don't you ask him what happened?"

"I did; he said he spilled something."

"Well there you go."

"I cannot believe you're shrugging this off, Mulder! For godssakes, it's me! How can you doubt my instincts?"

"I would never doubt you, Scully. But I think that because we've all been so paranoid about Them, we're likely to see the enemy wherever we look. It's like walking into an old, abandoned house and mistaking a sheet for a ghost; the powers of fear and suggestion control what you perceive as truth."

"No, Mulder, you're the one who's deluding yourself. You want him to be Skinner. You want it be him so badly that you're willing to completely disregard the evidence that's right in front of your eyes!"

Mulder sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"We're going back to the creek late tonight to fill the rest of the coolers. Skinner volunteered to join us. I'll use that time to observe him closely, and see if there's anything...strange. Okay?"

"No! You can't wander off with him!"

"Three other people are going. Everything will be fine."

"Mulder, don't. Please."

"Scully, I have to go. Look, it'll give me a couple of hours to make sure that Skinner really is Skinner, and then you'll be able to relax about this."

Dana crinkled her brow and pursed her lips out of fear and frustration, and her hands were shaking with nervous energy; he really didn't believe her. I am not crazy!

"Hey," he said softly, "C'mere."

Mulder opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace. For a brief moment, time slowed down as she buried her face in the warmth of his chest. He stepped back slightly so that he could lift her chin with his fingers, and he placed tender kisses on her forehead, nose, and lips.

"Who loves you, baby?" he whispered, "Trust me."

Elkhart, Kansas
44 days after

She didn't want to sleep tonight, because she knew she would dream. Every time the night terrors came, she always sensed their presence lingering in the shadows before she drifted off to sleep. Sometimes, she willingly traveled to that place where vision and reality collide, because she wanted to receive the message; but on nights like tonight, she yearned to feel safe. So instead of settling into the high queen-sized bed by herself, she perched on the window seat and gazed out at the darkened, unkempt expanse of fields that must have once been bustling with activity.

I wonder if Olli's sleeping...if he's awake-no, I can't. Rowan will be himself again soon, and he'll need me. It doesn't matter what I want...Some things never change...

As she observed the clear night sky through the little window, she realized that she had unconsciously begun to braid her long, golden hair. Katie smiled in bemusement; when she was a little girl, she used to braid her hair while she was deep in thought. Some habits never die.

The floorboards creaked slightly, so she casually looked back over her shoulder and then instantly gasped and jumped up in surprise. She clutched a hand to her chest and breathed out slowly.

"Rowan, you scared the shit out of me! How long have you been standing there?"

"I'm not blind, you know."

"Excuse me?"

"I've seen you with him. I've watched you...the way you look at him."

"What?"

"You don't look at me that way. Why have you never looked at me that way?"

"Rowan, you're sick. You don't know what you're saying."

"Do you love me, Katie?"

"...Yes."

"You don't. You never have."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"How about-"

He forcefully grabbed her shoulders and hurled her onto the bed before she had a chance to fight back. She tried to knee him in the stomach, but he quickly straddled her body, pinning her to the mattress. With one hand, he held both of her wrists above her head against the wall.

"That you love me-only me. You want to marry me. Make love to me. You want me to fuck you hard," he whispered icily in her ear.

"Rowan, stop. You're hurting me. Please stop."

He reached down between them to fumble with his belt buckle and briefly loosened his grip on her wrists. Katie jerked her arm over, and in less than a second, quickly reached behind the lamp on the end table and snatched the knife. She pointed the tip of the blade into the skin on his throat.

"Get off me," she hissed.

Suddenly, she saw a shift in his focus and a look of terror flash into his cold, blue eyes. He held his palms up and out away from her as he slowly inched off of the bed. The door closed softly behind him, and Katie lay frozen on the bed until she heard the creaking of the cellar door and the descending footsteps.

She stood and smoothed out her long tee shirt, and then dragged a rickety wooden chair across the room, closed the door, and propped the back of the chair against the handle. As she slowly backed away from the door until she fell backwards on the bed, she wept softly.

Weyburn, Saskatchewan
44 days after

"Where the hell are they? They should have been back over an hour ago!"

Dana paced the back of the store anxiously, unconsciously piercing crescent shapes into her palms with her fingernails.

"Dana, I'm sure it won't be much longer. Why don't you come back downstairs and wait?" Joe suggested hopefully.

"No...it should have taken two hours at the most, right? Something must have happened."

"I'm sure they're fine. These trips are unpredictable."

"Wait, I see something out front...oh, it's them. It is them. Thank god..." she released a refreshing sigh of release and walked to the front of the store. As she watched the men approach the building, however, fear choked her breath once more. "There's only three..."

Dana began to run and collided forcefully with the glass door as she threw it open.

"Where is Mulder! Where is he!"

Clint, Nate, and Tom exchanged nervous glances.

"We don't know. We split up and went on opposite ends of the creek. One minute, Mulder and that other guy were helping each other get the water into their coolers, and then...we looked up and they were just gone," Clint said flatly.

"What do you mean gone?"

"We spent forever looking for'em. We searched everywhere...all up and down the creek and in the woods. They just disappeared," Nate added softly.

"So you all came back and left him there!"

"We didn't know what else to do," Tom muttered.

"Take me there now. Someone show me the way to the creek!"

"Dana..." Joe said from the doorway.

"Now, goddamnit!"

Foreboding dread pounded along with the blood in her ears as she ran. The others shouted her name behind her, calling for her to slow down and wait for them as she approached the clearing. Her brain couldn't respond to their cries; she wasn't thinking-she was simply moving. Ragged holes were ripped in the knees of her jeans from each time she'd stumbled over a root or rock in the thicket of the trees, but the sting only made her run faster. Perhaps she should not panic yet, but this felt so familiar...

"How bad is he? How bad is he hurt?"

"It's too late."

"He needs help!"

"Agent Scully..."

"No...no...This is not happening!"

She ran back to the crumpled body rested in a fetal position on the cold earth with someone's trench draped over him for the sake of dignity. She collapsed at his side and pushed him onto his back. I'll save you...if They won't...if God won't...I will.

"Oh God Dana, I'm sorry. I am so sorry. But you have to stop this. It looks like he's been dead for several hours. We can't bring him back."

"NO! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU ALL I'M GOING TO SAVE HIM...I PROMISED NEVER TO STOP!....there is no me without him......do you see? doyousee..."

There was nothing left to do, nothing to move toward, nowhere to run. She let her body fall limp, and felt a prickling numbness begin to settle over her from her toes to the crown of her head. Skinner held her then. He wrapped his strong arms around her body and rocked them both gently back and forth, their bodies huddled together on the cold wet earth.

As she skidded to a halt in the clearing beside the creek, the memory of the worst moment of her life felt so close and so real that she expected to find him there. Again. Her breathing slowed and she willed herself to return to reality. He's alive and I'm going to find him.

"Dana!" Clint hollered.

"I'm here!" she yelled as she strode up and down the bank of the creek, searching for some kind of evidence. Suddenly, the moonlight caught a tiny glimmer of metal hidden in the grasses. She crouched down and picked up a large needle with fresh blood pooled in the base of the syringe.

"He was drugged and abducted."

"Whoa, wait a minute. I thought this Skinner guy was a friend of yours," Joe said.

The small group gathered just inside the front door of the store while Dana paced what was left of the aisles.

"He was...but now he's one of Them. I don't know how it happened, but he's the enemy. And Mulder-Mulder was abducted once before. They wanted him, because he had unusual brain activity... and he was a true believer. It makes sense that They would send 'Skinner' for him now, because They know that Mulder would trust him without question."

"Um, okay...so, where do you think They took him?" Clint asked.

"I don't know...The residents' cars were dumped a bit further south off the road, right?"

"Yeah," Joe answered hesitantly.

"Did any of them have gas?"

"Uh, a few, but I don't think any had more than half a tank," Joe responded.

"Okay, I'm taking a car and going,"

"No! Dana, you can't. It's too dangerous for you to...one of us can go if we can somehow be pointed in the right direction or at least told what to look for," Nate offered.

"No. I have to do this. Can I take some food rations with me? For me and my daughter?"

"Of course, but...if you really must do this, why don't you leave Abby here? We can all look after her until you come back," Joe said.

"I'm not leaving her. I promised her I never would."

"Abby...Abigail...wake up, honey," Dana murmured into her daughter's ear as she gently shook her.

The little girl blinked her blue eyes groggily and tried to sink further into her sleeping bag.

"Abby, you have to get up now."

"It's not morning, yet...sleepy," she muttered.

"I know it's not morning, but we have to leave right now. Bring Kitty and come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To get Daddy."

Elkhart, Kansas
44 days after

Olli slowly opened his eyes and jumped when he glanced up to see Katie hanging over him, her hair in a loose braid that rested against his shoulder as she gazed into his eyes.

"Katie, what-"

"Come downstairs. Come to bed with me."

"Have you been crying?" he whispered, delicately tracing a finger over her flushed cheeks, "Did something happen?"

"Come to bed with me," she whispered.

She pulled her shirt over her head and held him close, relishing in the soothing sensation of skin to skin contact. They rolled together on the mattress until Olli's solid heat covered her body like a blanket, and she tasted the warm sweetness of his mouth.

"Are you sure about this?" he breathed.

"Why would I not be sure?"

"I just...I need to know that...you're doing this because you want to, and not for any other reason."

"Make love to me, Olli...I want this..."

Beams of gentle sunlight bathed their bodies in a warm cocoon as they lay together tangled in the sheets. Olli woke first, and he smiled as he watched her face while she slept peacefully. He smoothed his palm over her hair and tenderly tucked the loose wisps behind her ears. In his opinion, she had never looked so beautiful. The bright light of day shined in her golden hair, framing her pale face in a yellow halo. She stirred under his soft touch, and her dark eyes fluttered open. Wordlessly, she brushed her palm over his cheek and ran her fingers delicately through his long, thick hair.

"I think this is the first time I've seen you smile," he whispered.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck and sighed contentedly as he closed his arms more tightly around her.

Neither of them heard the soft footfall on the other side of the closed door.

Gibson awoke with the dawn, as he usually did. He crawled out of bed and stretched as he looked out the window at the pink and orange tones splashed like watercolor paint across the sky. After throwing on a pair of jeans, he wandered downstairs and was not surprised to find that he was the only one awake. Olli's door had been shut upstairs, and he assumed that Katie was still sleeping in the master bedroom, possibly with Rowan, if he had finally decided to leave the cellar. He rummaged through the pantry to discover that the food supply was dwindling, so he laced up his boots, grabbed the leather sack behind the back door, and headed outside to see if he could find any fresh vegetables left in the fields.

The misty morning breeze traveled into his nostrils, and he breathed it in deeply. He felt alive and refreshed in a way that he hadn't in months; it almost felt normal...real. This land was his to tend and cultivate, and the light of day left no room for shadows where an enemy could lurk. The warm sunlight heated his bare back as he dug his fingers into the soil, searching for edible roots.

Suddenly, a series of shattering bangs cut through the peaceful stillness and echoed in the air with a menacing ring. Gibson choked in his breath and was unable to suck enough air into his lungs. He knew that sound. Before he could allow the thoughts enough time to pass through his brain, he was on his feet and hurtling down the path towards the house.

Gibson stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the door at the end of the hallway with glazed eyes. His heart was pounding so intensely that it threatened to explode within his chest; and the nausea swirled in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to see it, but he needed to know. He had to know. With legs made of jelly, he clumsily shuffled down the hall until he reached the door, which was cracked open and spilling gentle light into the darkened hall. Except for a soft sobbing in the room, all was quiet. Gibson drew a deep breath and was startled by the sound of creaking wood as he pushed the door open.

The first thing he saw was the wall directly in front of him. Dark, wet crimson was splattered over the white paint, and it trickled down in little streams to gather in a pool on the hardwood floor. On the bed, two bodies were tangled in the blood-soaked sheets. One had been shot in the face, and there was nothing left but chunks of flesh and white bone resembling soft putty wrapped in a golden mane. The other had a gaping hole in the left side of its head, and the one eye that was left stared up blankly at the ceiling. Long, jet black hair fell across its forehead and nearly brushed the floor, since the body was leaning over the edge of the bed with one arm hanging stagnantly in midair.

Rowan was crumpled in the corner, his hands covering his face as he shook with sobs. A shot gun lay on the floor in front of him. He looked up and saw Gibson.

"What have I done? Oh my god, what have I done?" he choked.

Without a moment's hesitation, Gibson reached into the back of his pants and grabbed the loaded handgun he always wore. He squeezed his eyes shut and fired three shots into Rowan's torso. When he regained the strength to look, he saw the man clutching his abdomen and writhing on the floor.

"Please, Gibson, please," he sputtered.

Gibson pressed the barrel of his gun into the man's forehead and looked him in the eye.

"Forgive me," Rowan wheezed.

Gibson pulled the trigger, and silence fell.

He walked over to the bed, and for several minutes, simply stared, unable to move. Then he lifted Olli's arm, placed it over his chest, and pulled his body up so that he lay on his back on the mattress. Gibson wiped the matted hair off of his friend's face and gazed into the one open eye. He noticed that Olli's lips were curled up lightly in a soft smile.

"What did you see?" he whispered.

He rested his head against Olli's chest and found that he was still warm.

The tears began to flow.

For the first time since he was a little boy, he wept aloud in soft wails.

He sat up, and delicately closed the eye with his thumb.

"Farewell, brother. I'll see you at the eastern gate."

For what is it to die,

but to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?

Author's note: I feel the need to post another warning. There's some dark content here, because I'm trying to portray an anarchical society, and the characters are in desperate situations. If this bothers you, don't read it. Flames will be deleted.

"The eyes are not here

There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms" T.S. Eliot

Interstate 15, Montana
47 days after

Her eyes wavered nervously on the gas gage; the warning light would probably turn on soon. They'd been lucky the last time-she'd driven past a small group hoarding gasoline at another abandoned station, and she'd traded a large portion of their food for a full tank. Now the food and the gas were both dwindling, and Dana was running out of ideas. Her initial plan had been to simply follow her instincts: to drive in the direction she imagined he'd been taken and then wait and see. Perhaps they'd come across people that could tell her more, or maybe she'd find where They were hiding. So far, nothing had been discovered except one desperate group and a lot of empty highway space.

Where the hell was she? She didn't even know. A road sign. Amazing. Oh, Montana.

Dana thought of all the times she'd been stuck in a rental car on a highway outside some nameless Podunk town. She smiled at the memories of so many pointless cases, her partner's unique ability to amuse her and piss her off at the same time, and her dire need to always have the last word. I think I fell in love with him in a Ford Taurus.

"It's the dim hope of finding that proof that's kept us in this car, or one very much like it for more nights than I care to remember. Driving hundreds if not thousands of miles through neighborhoods and cities and towns where people are raising families and buying homes and playing with their kids and their dogs, and... in short, living their lives. While we - we - we just keep driving. Don't you ever just want to stop? Get out of the damn car? Settle down and live something approaching a normal life?"

I'd give anything to have it back again. It was ours... Mulder...

The engine of the old Honda started to sputter. Oh shit. No. Not here. Abby stirred in the front seat but did not wake. She readjusted her stuffed cat-turned-pillow against the window and curled her knobby knees up into a fetal position. Dana pulled the car over to the shoulder of the highway as it coughed one final time before dying. Helpless. Again. She folded her arms over the wheel and rested her head on her forearms. I will not cry. Crying is giving up, and I will not give up. The sun was setting over the jagged mountain peaks in the west, and even though she did not want to admit it to herself, Dana was afraid of what new things might come out after dark.

"Why did we stop?" Abigail asked thickly as she yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"The car's broken, so we have to walk now." Dana struggled to keep both the fear and the tears out of her voice. No food and nowhere to go. Mulder, where are you? Please...

"Mommy, we'll find him," she murmured, gently placing her palm on her mother's cheek.

Near Oskaloosa, Kansas
47 days after

Numbness; it was the only sensation that Gibson could register. At first there had been pain and disbelief and anger...and even guilt. I killed a man. He had wept all of the emotions away until his body was purged of all feeling. And then he was punched in the gut with the realization of what it felt like to be utterly alone-something he hadn't experienced in a long time. His goal was to flee as far away as he possible could from that house and the nightmares it held. The question of how exactly he planned to survive was up in the air. Truthfully, he didn't know if he cared. Why struggle, fight, run? What's the point anymore?

He drove with his shoulders hunched over the steering wheel, his eyes glazed over and not actually seeing anything in front of him. Not that it mattered; no other cars were on the road. With each passing mile, he drew closer and closer to the forbidden east. He imagined it was where They were, since everyone seemed to have fled west. After the bombings, there was no telling what They had done with the land or who or what now dwelt there. Gibson needed to know. He needed to know what he had been fighting against, fighting to prevent his entire life. Whether it was the thing...

"It's here."

"Where?"

"Somewhere."

"Open it! Open the door!"

"I told you it was here."

"Gibson! Gibson! Gibson!"

I'll be all right. I can fight it. I know how. It's afraid of me. I can feel it. It knows it can't keep secrets forever. It's afraid of me and I refuse to be afraid. I'll see you again, Mulder...

I don't want to run anymore. I have tasted the unknown...learned things about Them, and then I always run before the answers come. But I have to know. If They can know our secrets, why can't we know theirs?

Slowly, an entirely new will began to empower him and propel him forward. The barrier of numbness began to break into a tingling sensation that welled up from the center of his chest. His existence, his survival, no longer seemed pointless. He would continue, if for no other reason than to find the answers. Answers for himself. For his friends-if any still lived. Answers for the vindication of the dead. He would meet Them face to face, he would enter their world, their consciousness, and then maybe he would know why. If he died trying, which he intended to do, he would sure as hell know Why.

Interstate 15
48 days after

Dana dragged Abby forward by the hand down the long stretch of endless highway. They squinted painfully at the brightness of the sun, having not been outside yet to experience its new full intensity. Abby's cheeks were already slightly pink with a light burn, and Dana started to feel the sting on her own skin. After walking overnight and most of the day, Dana was hot, exhausted, thirsty, and afraid...perhaps closer to terrified. Somehow she managed to smile for her daughter and reassure her that everything would be all right, though she soon felt the guilt aching in her chest; the guilt of lying, of bringing Abigail into the wilderness probably to die, of allowing Mulder to be taken. Again.

Days of traveling and still nothing. Miles and miles of nothing. Oh God, help me. Please please help me.

The food rations were officially depleted. She'd given Abby all that was left the night before. We can survive for a couple of weeks if we can just find water.

"I can't...I can't walk anymore. My feet hurt," Abigail whimpered.

"Okay. Let's stop for a minute, baby."

They collapsed in the grass a few feet from the highway, and Dana pulled off Abby's tennis shoes and socks to find her feet bloodied and blistered; she was very close to outgrowing the shoe size. Dana drew a shaky breath to censor her need for tears, and she used her sleeve to apply pressure to the bleeding as she delicately rubbed the sores on Abby's feet.

"Honey, we have to keep going. We have to keep going to find water. Do you think you can?"

Abigail rubbed her eyes and shook her head "no" as she clutched her stuffed kitten tightly to her chest.

"Okay. Put your arms around my neck."

Dana scooped the little girl up into her arms, holding her behind her shoulders with one arm and behind her knees with the other. At first, she wobbled slightly with the weight; and then after she adjusted, she began to amble down the highway with a new determination, ignoring the pain in her back.

St. Louis, Missouri
49 days after

He'd never seen St. Louis, and as he drove through what was left of Richmond Heights, he could only imagine what it had been like before. Now there were only ruins. Abandoned cars that were smashed and burned cluttered the streets, and piles of burned bodies had been left to rot and stink in the midday sun. They have been here. Gibson slowed the car to weave through the debris, and he scanned the now empty horizon, as most of the tall buildings had been burned, revealing miles of nothing.

Gibson gasped and flinched, startled, when suddenly a fist pounded onto the passenger side window. The man was covered in dirt and grime, and to Gibson's horror, he saw that the man's skin was peeling off of his face in burned, bloody sheets. I'm not stopping. I can't help anyone. Not anymore. As he placed his foot on the gas pedal in preparation to speed away, the man knocked out the glass on the window with his elbow and raised a gun at Gibson with shaking hands. Gibson sighed, more exhausted and frustrated than afraid for his life.

"What do you want?" Gibson asked in irritation.

"Food...Gimme whatever you got. Then I think I'm gonna have to take the car too."

"All right. I have some supplies in the back, but I have to get out to look."

The man held the gun nervously while Gibson stepped out of the car and walked around to open the trunk. As he turned the corner, Gibson casually moved his hand behind him, and then quickly drew his own 9mm. Before the man could even react, Gibson fired two shots, one to his neck and the other to his forehead. He calmly replaced his gun, stepped over the body sprawled on the cement, got into the car, and kept driving. I'm changed, hardened. I don't feel guilty. I can't pity him. This new world makes soldiers of us all, each man forming his own army. Perhaps I gave him what he wanted after all...what we all want.

Somewhere in Montana
50 days after

Dana squinted and blinked several times to be sure that what she saw was not a mirage. A small campfire flickered througha grove of trees. Abby squeezed her mother's hand tightly.

"People?" she asked hopefully.

"I think so, honey. I think so. We're going to see, but we have to be careful."

"Do you think they'll help us?"

"I don't know. I hope they will..."

We shouldn't. We should turn back before they see us. Who are they? For all I know, they could be...but we're starving. If we keep wandering like this, going nowhere, we'll die. My baby will die and it will be my fault. Hope is worth the risk, isn't it?

She led Abby down a small hill through a thicket of pine trees. Dana's heart was pounding, the blood pulsing in her ears. Don't Don't Don't. The word drummed in her brain, but she had no other choice but to keep moving. The decision was already made.

"Hello? Excuse me?" Dana called tentatively at the four figures silhouetted against the flame.

Two of them whirled around quickly and stood to face Dana and Abby. Four men-probably all in their forties, wearing hunting flannel, the largest with deep scars across his face, regarded the woman and child quizzically.

"What can we do for you?" the large one asked icily.

His voice sent a chill down Dana's spine, and Abby cowered behind her mother.

"Aw, ain't she a cute little thing? C'mere precious, we ain't gonna hurt nobody," the smaller man standing cooed at Abigail.

"We haven't eaten in days. Do you have anything that you could spare?" Dana asked nervously. I have my gun. It's okay. I have my gun.

"Well, actually, yeah. We got some stuff we could give ya. But we're business men, see. Nothing comes without a little price, if ya know what I mean."

The others smiled and Dana drew a shaky breath, fearful of where this might be going. But Abby needs food. If they don't let us leave, I have my gun. I have my gun.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have anything to trade," she said.

"Aw, but yer real pretty. I've always had a thing for redheads haven't I, Wade? 'Specially natural redheads."

"You do like your red ones, Bill," the larger man responded.

Bill bent down and lifted a camping pack, which he held out to Dana.

"Look in there," he said.

She peered inside to see packages of salted meats, bread, and cheese.

"You can have all that-really. And the price ain't nothin'."

He hooked his fingers in his belt loop and grinned.

"Half an hour. That's all I'm askin'...unless these guys wanna share. In that case, maybe a little longer."

There's no walking away now. For Abby. For Abby. And then it's over. It's over and we go.

"Abigail, go back up that hill and sit beside a tree and play with Kitty. Sit facing the road."

"No! Not without you. You promised!"

"I'm not leaving you. I'll be right here, okay? I'll be able to see you. Just don't look back."

"Why?"

"Just don't, Abby! Go on, honey. Everything will be all right."

When Dana was sure that her daughter was a far enough distance away and not watching the campsite, she turned around to face Bill.

"If you want all the food in that pack there fer you and yer girl, then I want everything," he said.

Bile burned the back of her throat, and she couldn't stop the tears as she knelt in front of him and shakily removed his belt.

Washington, D.C.
51 days after

He sat on the hood of the car and leaned back against the windshield. Washington D.C. was splayed out before him, nothing but a wasteland. The terrain stretched out into the horizon in an endless, charred, black plain. Dust and ash and the smell of burnt flesh hung in the air, causing him to choke. He hadn't seen any sign of life since he'd arrived in Virginia, and he estimated that much less than a quarter of the country's population had survived this holocaust. No telling who remained across the world-if anyone remained.

Gibson fixed his gaze on the horizon where the lonely structure stood. A dome-bigger than the one he'd seen before, and brighter; it glowed in a violet haze. The voices were close; he couldn't distinguish words, but he could hear whispers of thoughts, conversations, someone pleading for his life. He felt like he was under water listening to a world of chaos on the shore. To hear everything, he would simply have to move closer. Do I want to hear? Do I really want to know? They don't realize I'm close; I could just turn back. No...Maybe this is my chance to help them. Maybe it's what I was born to do...

We have to make every effort to ensure that nothing happens to this boy because whatever he is, whatever gives him the ability to do what he does, he's your scientific evidence. It's just like we said. He could be the key to everything in the X-Files. He's our last best chance.

I go.

Gibson slid off the car and strode forward with determination, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. This is the day I stop running.

When the dome grew close before him, he could see the familiar shadowed figures moving about-and then suddenly, they all stopped. Gibson watched them halt and turn in his direction from the other side of the light. He opened his arms in surrender and linked his fingers behind his head.

"I'M HERE! I'M HERE, YOU SONS OF BITCHES, AND I'M NOT AFRAID!"

He was not afraid. The car stunk of smoke. It was overwhelming, and his head ached. He knew that he was the end of the treasure hunt for this man, and he was not afraid. But the man was afraid of him.

"Why don't you believe me when you're so afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"You think I can destroy you for what I know, because of what I am."

"I'M NOT AFRAID! YOU KNOW WHAT I AM!"

Somewhere in Montana
50 days after

Numb, hollow, broken...empty. She felt nothing. The tears tapered off, and she severed herself from reality. Her eyes stopped seeing, and her ears filtered the sounds away. Her body did what it had to do, but her conscious mind burrowed deep inside where it could travel elsewhere.

"Hey Scully, you think you could ever cannibalize someone? I mean if you really had to."

"Scully, would you think less of me as a man if I told you I was kind of excited right now?"

"All this because I didn't get you a desk?"

"We're going to keep our eye on the ball. Then, we're just going to make contact. We're not going to think. We're just going to let it fly, Scully, okay? Hips before hands..."

"Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant... my touchstone."

Afterwards, she wrapped her arms around her body and shivered despite the heat. It wasn't that hard...not really. It's over, and it doesn't mean anything. Nothing's changed.

"Give me the food," she demanded.

Her voice sounded foreign and hollow in her own ears.

"Not quite yet. We might wanna have some more fun later," Bill said.

"No. Give it to me now."

"Sorry, sugar."

She quickly drew the gun and aimed the barrel at the space between Bill's cold eyes.

"Now," she hissed.

"I ain't scared a' no pretty little redhead."

She fired-she tried to fire. The trigger clicked, but to her horror, the clip was empty. NO! How could I have left the bullets in the car?

The fourth man, who had been silently watching, grinned widely as he held out his palm and shook the bullets before closing them in his fist.

"You're not very observant, are you dear? I collected these while you were...busy."

"How much do ya think they'll give us fer this one? A lot, right? She's real pretty," Bill said excitedly.

"We'll get plenty, Bill. Plenty. Get the ropes and tie her."

She tried to fight them. She kicked and punched and bit with all her might, but it was no use. Not against four. Wade straddled her after she was thrown to the ground, and he pressed her cheek roughly into the dirt.

"NO! GET OFF ME, YOU BASTARD! ABIGAIL... RUN!"

Author's note: I don't believe this situation is "uncharacteristic" of Scully. She never thinks of herself-consider everything she's done for Mulder. What would she do, what would she sacrifice, for her child? And she's a scientist-she realizes that technically, this situation doesn't have to mean anything, and she looks for comfort in thinking of Mulder and detaching herself from the physical act. So I think Mulder saves her in this moment.

Also, I think this deplorable behavior of people (referring to the four men) is realistic of what would happen in a post-nuclear holocaust, lawless society. Animalistic behavior comes forth when there are no boundaries and people naturally revert back to pre-democratic ideals...Lord of the Flies?

Those thousands of white faces, those dazed eyes,
There in the starless dark, the poise, the hover,
There with vast wings across the cancelled skies,
There in the sudden blackness the black pall
Of nothing, nothing, nothing -- nothing at all.
--- Archibald MacLeish, "The End of the World"

Somewhere in Montana
50 days after

Her breath came in shuddery gasps as she ran. The forest swallowed her in a sea of murky greens and browns that slid past like water as she fled into its depths. The back of her throat constricted in panic, and she choked on the thick, heavy air. She didn't want to run, but she knew that there was no other choice. The dreams...the dreams are alive-they're real. I told them they were real. That they'd leave me. The man said they'd leave me. But he said I'd keep going. That I would always be strong. It doesn't mean forever. They'll come back 'cause God wouldn't do that, right? I wish that the man was here. I have to ask him...maybe he could help us. He's real. He's real somewhere. Maybe he'll find me and then he'll get them back from the bad ones.

It had taken the strongest will she possessed to obey her mother's words and run away. But that voice inside propelled her to do it, told her it was the right thing, and so she did it. She waited until she couldn't hear the shouting anymore and then collapsed into the dead leaves and underbrush on the forest floor. Little beads of cold sweat dotted her forehead, and she swiped them away with the back of her hand. The familiar lump and sting arose in the back of her throat; and she struggled not to cry. For some comfort, she cradled the battered stuffed cat tightly against her chest.

"It's okay, Kitty. Don't be afraid. We're going to find a way out of here, I promise. And after we get out of here, we'll find Mommy and Daddy and everything will be all right. We have to be brave now. If we're brave, we can't lose. And the bad guys never win. He says we have to believe that if we're going to continue."

For as long as she could remember, she'd dreamed about the same things. The man appeared often, sometimes older and sometimes younger. A boy also came, but not as frequently. He was different from the man, and yet they seemed connected somehow. All she could remember about the boy were his cat eyes as he looked up from the shadows; flecks of green and gold that glittered as he watched her. He never spoke, but when he looked at her, she knew he was afraid, which made her afraid. When she saw bad things happen, the man would hold her hand, but it didn't make seeing it any easier. Then she always awoke panting and frightened in her bed. Her mother and father reassured her that nightmares couldn't come true...but they were wrong.

Location unknown
51 days after

When Dana awoke groggily, she felt as though she were just breaking the surface of a thick pool of fog. Her head was muddled, and the only sensation she could register was the painful throbbing in her temples.

"Abby?...Abigail?" she managed in a hoarse whisper.

My arms...stuck together. She lifted her seemingly attached wrists and lightly brushed her hand against the back of her head where the pain was emanating; and her fingers were wet when she pulled them away. Blood. Her arms and legs were bound with rope and twine; she couldn't move. She twisted and writhed against the hard surface, but she couldn't break free. Dark. So dark. Where am I? Something's moving below...oh god, a car...a trunk. I'm in a trunk. The low ceiling of her prison sharply struck her knees when she raised them, and panic began to permeate her consciousness. Her heart was racing as her brain registered the limited oxygen supply, and her breath came in short gasps. She forced her legs upward in an attempt to bang the lid of the trunk open, but she only managed to bruise her already scarped knees.

"Could you just give me the ticket now so I can go? I got to be someplace."

On a gathering storm comes

"Where?"

A tall handsome man

"I'm not sure but... they'll tell me when I get there."

In a dusty black coat with

"Sir... put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them."

A red right hand. He's a god he's a man he's a ghost

"You don't understand. They're waiting for me, I, I can't be late. Please? For your own sake? Don't stop Duane Barry."

I'm here I'm alive I'm here. My last chance. Hear me please hearmeplease. Mulder find me see me. Someone...

The dream surrounded her again; the substance of dozens of nightmares on cold and lonely nights. The visions always took place in the trunk, limbs tied, darkness-terrible darkness-the sound of hissing snakes in her ears, his cold voice somewhere far away, and the song. Slowly, her mind began to clear, and her thoughts reassembled in the present, nearly twenty years after Skyland Mountain. Immediately the grim realization seized her: she'd failed, allowed herself to be needlessly drawn into the net. Now the isolation of the darkness overpowered her, and she knew that she would be utterly alone until the end. Hope of finding Mulder was lost, and Abigail was abandoned, left in the woods unable to defend herself. Dana softly moved her lips in a prayer she would have never imagined offering. Let the end come soon. The end for all of us. Let it be quick and painless, especially for Abigail. Even if death is truly the end, it would be better than this.

Near Washington, D.C.
51 days after

At first, he could not discern any English in the broken speech at all, but slowly he began to understand single interjections and piece together conversation threads. He tried reading them, but there were too many voices for him to focus on listening to one. Where were they? He couldn't see anything except for a single swirl of colors and lights with no shape or depth.

"Is he really the One?"

"Yes! Yes, it is he."

"Should we bring him before Them?"

"No, not yet. We must let him adjust first. He cannot be allowed to see until we can trust him."

"He cannot be trusted until he is changed, like the others."

"Why would he come to us?"

"Perhaps he understands. Maybe he understands the power and is ready to accept it. He must have always known it; how could one not recognize their own destiny?"

"This is the final step then?"

"Yes. Now is the time for their fate to be sealed. We will tell Them at once, and hopefully he will be ready by tomorrow."

Gibson slipped back into unconsciousness as he felt himself being lifted and dragged by his arms. In his final thoughts before the sleep overtook him, he remembered the tall dark figures with long, hollow faces and empty eyes looming over him, and the powerlessness he felt when one of them thrust a sharp object into his neck.

He awoke with difficulty, and as he blinked his heavy lids open, he realized that he could see again. Of course, there was nothing much to be seen. He was trapped in a small, empty, box-like room with a black tile ceiling, walls, and floor. A single violet bulb hung on a string from the ceiling, casting an unearthly glow and swaying back and forth eerily. His right wrist was cuffed with a hook and chain from the wall that dug harshly into his flesh and painfully broke the skin each time he moved. As his eyes began to focus more clearly, he glimpsed a figure in the shadows in the opposite corner. The individual seemed to be chained to the wall in the same manner. Gibson cleared his dry throat and hesitantly spoke.

"Hello? Who are you?" he asked.

The figure shifted and seemed to sit up straighter, but remained completely silent.

"Excuse me? How did you get here?...Do you speak English?"

Gibson tried to read the other person but found that he was unable. Whoever it was seemed to have the ability to block him from entering.

"Yes."

The voice was unlike anything Gibson had been expecting; it was the voice of a child.

"I know that you're not one of Them. How did you get here?" Gibson asked.

"They brought me here."

The child's voice carried a slightly deeper resonance, and Gibson decided that he was speaking with a young boy.

"How long ago?"

"I don't know. Weeks maybe. They've kept me in here mostly. They let me out sometimes for tests, but afterwards, I never remember what happened."

"You don't know what those tests are about? What do they want?"

"Something in my brain is special. They want all the special people, so They can turn us into Them. All the regular people are going to be killed; but They want to save us, so that we can be servants. They want to make us closer to Them than those men who look like people but aren't-the ones who are more like machines. We would have more power than those men; we would be a new race, They say. And after we're changed, we wouldn't remember being human. Our whole lives would be erased."

"Is there a resistance to this? Are people just letting it happen? Have you seen this happen?" Gibson asked incredulously.

"Yes, I've seen men changed. Women too. They're taking all of us in some kind of order. They've been waiting for the One-the leader of the new race who will be the most powerful servant. He and a woman will lead together, and they will have the first natural children of the new race."

"How do you know all this?"

"I listen," the boy replied simply.

"Well, that isn't the way it's going to happen. We will fight this. There are enough humans left..."

"But there aren't. People can't fight Them; They're too powerful. They know and understand things that we can't. At least this way They won't kill us. We'll live like Them, know what They know, and we won't remember hurting before."

"Don't say that! You can't be so willing to give up!"

"You just got here. When I first got here, I thought we could win too. But after what I've seen, I know that we can't."

"Where are you from? Were you taken from your parents?"

"I don't want to say anything about that," the boy said sharply with a hint of tears in his voice.

"Okay...have you always known you were different? Can you read people?"

"Read people? I don't know what that means. Mostly I can just sense things. I know when something's about to happen. Sometimes, when someone asks me a question, I know what they're going to say before they say it. Stuff like that."

A silence fell between them. Gibson waited to be asked the same questions, but the boy didn't seem as curious about him.

"I'm sorry about your parents. That must have been terrible, watching them suffer like that. I know what it's like-I've watched people that I love die...and to be an only child, feeling so alone all the time. I've taken care of myself for most of my life," Gibson said softly.

"Stop it! I don't like that! Stop looking in my mind."

"Okay, I'll stop. But it's not your fault, you know; Them murdering your parents to get to you. You need to stop blaming yourself. And not everything is lost-you still have reason to keep fighting."

"Whatever..." the boy muttered.

"My name is Gibson. Gibson Andrew Praise. What's yours?"

"William...Will," he answered tentatively.

Gibson sucked in his breath slightly and his heartbeat quickened. No way. Why is that the first thing that comes to mind? It's impossible...the chances are...but he's special. They said he was special.

"How old are you, Will?"

"I'm almost twelve."

"So you were born in 2001?"

"Yeah, in May. Why?"

"The chain on the wall has a relatively long reach. Could you step into the light a little bit?" Gibson asked hoarsely.

Gibson crawled forward as far as he was able, and as soon as he met the boy's confused expression in the center of the room, he gasped. He'd seen those eyes before, sparkling hazel with an old soul reaching out from behind them. Will's dark auburn hair fell into his eyes as he studied Gibson's look of shock.

"What?" Will asked.

"Were you adopted? Did your parents ever tell you?"

"Um, yeah. They adopted me when I was a baby. Why are you asking me all this?"

"Did they...did they ever tell you about your natural parents?"

"Not really, just that my real parents couldn't keep me-they wanted to but couldn't. They gave me up, because they wanted to do what was best for me. Sometimes I've thought about finding them but...Why do you want to know?"

"Because William...I know who you are."

Author's note: Answer to the gun question-Scully was trying to avoid a violent shootout in front of her daughter at all costs. Also, people can be somewhat illogical in moments of high stress and rapid thinking, like she didn't even bother checking the clip for bullets. Additionally, I needed a little poetic license to push the story in the direction where it needed to go.

"When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall -- think of it, ALWAYS." --Gandhi

Near Washington, D.C.
52 days after

"...And that was the last time I saw them. Then they drove south to New Mexico, and the government believed they died in an explosion. Afterward, they fled the country to Canada, I assume."

William stared ahead blankly in stunned silence. He had not uttered a word since the story began a few hours before. Gibson had described everything he could in as much detail as possible, starting with the day he first met Mulder and Scully after the infamous chess match. He revealed all he knew about them, including the details of Mulder's abduction, his "death", his return, and the months he lived with Gibson in a tiny hovel in the middle of the desert. Gibson studied William's pensive expression, trying to read his reaction. After a few minutes of quiet, William spoke softly.

"So...they really wanted me?" he asked hesitantly, obviously fearful of the answer.

"Yes, of course they wanted you... When I asked about you, your mother cried. She told me how devastated and heartbroken she was, because she'd had no choice but to give you up. She wanted you to be safe and to never have to be afraid-to have a chance at a normal life. And when your father was hiding with me, he talked about you all the time. He wondered how you were growing and changing, and he wanted to see you again more than anything. They both loved you very much-I'm sure they still do."

"Do you think they're still alive?"

"I think they are. They knew this was coming, just like I did. I'm sure they had time to prepare for it."

"I hope so...but I guess I won't ever get out of here to find out."

Suddenly, the metal locks outside the room swished, and the heavy door was forced open with a loud creak. William's face crumpled, and he squeezed himself into a ball, hugging his knees.

"More tests," the boy whimpered.

Instead of moving towards William, the two large men dressed in lab suits strode over to Gibson. One of them removed a key from his belt, unlocked the chain from the wall, and hooked it around both of Gibson's wrists.

"Up," the other man said icily.

As he was pushed out the door, Gibson glanced back over his shoulder to see William, eyes wide, huddled in the corner, shaking.

Somewhere in Iowa
52 days after

Dana squinted her eyes against the blinding sunlight as the trunk popped opened. She recognized the quiet bullet-thief as he peered down at her with an amused grin.

"We're here," he said cheerily, "I'll help you out, but don't try anything, darling. Remember what happened last time when you refused to cooperate?"

Dana pursed her lips and looked away from his leer. She knew it was hopeless to fight him at this point, but she wouldn't be cooperative either. Her limbs fell completely limp, so that he had to struggle to lift her out of the trunk; and his grunts and curses almost brought a satisfied smile to her lips. When she was finally on her feet, he cut the twine on her thighs and shins so that she could walk. Her legs were painfully numb and jelly-like as she stumbled with her first steps. The man clasped her arms behind her back and led her foreword.

"Where am I? Where are you taking me?" she asked coolly, curiosity getting the better of her.

"We're in Iowa. Not much to see, I know. I grew up here actually."

"What the hell am I doing in Iowa?"

"Oh, you'll see soon enough. We're going to that hardware store parking lot straight ahead."

The lot was full of various vehicles, and a large crowd was gathered around the front of the ruined building. When they arrived at the outside edge of the semicircle of people-all male-the man shoved Dana forward past the throng until she stood in a center line with five other women. As she examined the male spectators, she realized that many of them had swollen notches on the backs of their necks. Super soldiers.

"Hey, excuse me," she murmured to a blonde woman directly in front of her.

The woman turned her face slightly in Dana's direction, keeping her eyes and head down. Her left cheek was swollen, and pink finger marks were visible on the skin of her neck.

"Shhh...we're not supposed to talk," the woman whispered.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"You don't know? This must be your first time."

"I-"

Before Dana could finish, a voice boomed from behind her. She jerked her head back, startled, to see a man in a business suit and hat standing on a box in front of the shattered windows of the store.

"Gentlemen, it's wonderful to see such a large turnout today. You have a choice of one of the six in front of you, and, as always, best offer wins. No one takes more than one each. Sorry, but there's not enough for multiples this time. We'll start with the one on the end, the red head. Who brought her?"

"I did," the quiet man stepped to the front and proudly stood behind Dana.

A smaller man in the back jumped up, flailing his arm in the air.

"I have three loaves of bread, some beef jerky, and some new clothes."

"Any other offers?" the moderator asked.

"First aid kit, blankets, gasoline, matches," another shouted.

"I'll raise that. A car-Jeep Cherokee-with a full tank of gas. Two weeks supply of dry food-breads and nuts, and a lantern," someone called out from the left side of the group.

"I'll take it!" Dana's captor exclaimed.

She watched helplessly as a large man stepped towards her and grasped her shoulders, forcing her out of the line. Rage and hatred deeper than anything she had ever known burned fiercely within her.

Near Washington D.C.
51 days after

The room reminded Gibson of a dentist's office, except colder and harsher, if that was possible. Everything was white and stainless steel, though the overhead lights were tinted a purple hue, just like all the others. Leathery restraints bound his limbs against the icy metal of a medical table, and several bizarre instruments were splayed out on a tray beside his left arm. Masses of cords and other strange pieces of equipment were suspended from the tile ceiling. A sudden prick in his right arm caused him to jump. One of the men, now wearing a facial mask, inserted a long, thick needle into the inside of Gibson's elbow. Horrified, he watched his skin begin to emit a soft violet glow as the injected substance began to travel through his veins.

"What is that? What are you doing?"

"Just relax. It will be less painful if you release your muscles and let it pass."

"But what is it?"

"Simple nutrients and hormone therapy, nothing more."

Gibson felt as though an icy heat were flowing through his entire body. The liquid seemed heavy, and it burned with a biting sting. His body began to shake at the painful tingling sensation, and he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on drawing deep, slow breaths. When he could finally focus his thoughts away from the present, he was abruptly jerked back to reality as a thick metal ring clicked and tightened against his forehead. A three-dimensional hologram took shape in front of the blank white wall opposite him, and Gibson soon realized that the image was a diagram of his brain.

"Look there! We were right!" the man with the mask exclaimed.

"Just as I suspected," the other replied.

After the procedure, the two technicians hauled a severely dazed and light-headed Gibson onto his feet and past the double swinging doors.

"Thank you, I'll take him from here," a third man said, grabbing Gibson by the tender flesh of his elbow and commencing to drag him down a long, tunnel-like corridor. Something about his voice seemed so familiar...Gibson blinked several times through his mental haze while he studied the man's face to reassure himself that the vision was real.

"Mr. Skinner? Oh my god! Walter Skinner? It's Gibson Praise. Sir, do you know me?"

Skinner stared at him vacantly, then turned his head and continued walking without saying a word.

"Please, it's me! You used to be an Assistant Director with the FBI. I knew you through agents Mulder and Scully. Do you know who I am? Talk to me, please!"

He tightened his grip on Gibson's arm and continued to ignore his pleas, striding brusquely though a large entryway into a large white room with a long glass table in its center. Four men were seated at the far end, and Skinner pushed him into a chair opposite the group.

"Gibson Praise, my Lords," Skinner announced formally. He bowed with his hands clasped behind his back and stepped into a corner.

"Mr. Praise, I understand that you have surrendered yourself willingly. A wise choice," declared a tall, dark-haired man in a black suit seated in the largest, center chair.

"Yes sir," he answered carefully, "I am ready to accept my...power and responsibilities as you see fit."

"You are very special man. But you know that."

"Yes sir."

"Will you vow to grant us your allegiance and devote yourself to our cause?"

"Yes...sir."

"Splendid. You will not remember this session when you return to your living area. It is part of the treatment plan, I'm sure you understand...He may leave us now. He will be ready for the next step tomorrow"

Gibson felt Skinner's strong clutch once more, and the endless tunnels and passage ways back to his "living area" flashed by in a giant white and purple blur. I will remember I will remember I will remember They do not have power over me I will remember

"Do you know what happened to you?" William murmured after they were alone in the room. "You don't remember it, do you?"

"No, I...Yes! Yes, I remember...everything."

"But how?"

"I don't know, it's like, I just...I wouldn't let them in. I could feel all of them trying to get into my head, and I blocked it. I'm pretty sure they think they succeeded in brain washing me, though... We need to let them believe we're on their side, don't fight them...cooperate."

"What?"

"Yeah, that way we can learn as much as we can...find Their weaknesses, so we can get out of here and give humankind a fighting chance."

"We can't really even see Them until we're changed, and by then it won't matter anymore."

"No, see maybe there's a way to go through the 'changing' procedure only partially...but stop it before our memories are gone. That way we'll have the advantage of being close to Them while remaining on our side. Like sleeping with the enemy...maybe that's the key here."

Gibson's words hung in the air while the two shared a heavy silence.

"What are you thinking about now?" William asked after several minutes.

"I saw a man I once knew...he's one of Them now. They've made him some kind of low-class servant...Actually, he worked with your real parents a long time ago; that's how I knew him...it's strange, I mean, he clearly didn't know me at all, but when I mentioned your parents' names, he knew exactly who I was talking about. So...he must have been programmed to remember certain things and not others...I wonder why that is."

"I dunno," William yawned. "Gibson?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me more about my parents. What are they like?"

"Um, well, your father is tall and has dark hair. You have his eyes. He's funny, passionate about his beliefs, fearless...he would have laid down his life for his quest... He loves horrible science fiction movies, baseball, and sunflower seeds. And he is completely in love with your mother. Since the day I first met him, he was always thinking about her. Even when They took him, I could hear him thinking about her, talking to her. She was his strength...Your mother is very beautiful. She has red hair like you. I remember she wore a gold cross around her neck...She was a scientist, intelligent, rational, pretty serious a lot of the time...She seemed so selfless and compassionate...You were her dream, William. She wanted to have a baby with your father ...and you were the answer to her prayers. I heard that in her thoughts."

When Gibson finished, he looked over to see William curled on his side, asleep, with a gentle smile on his lips.

Somewhere in Virginia
54 days after

Day became night, and then another day dawned; and maybe another after that-Dana lost count. Everything looked the same, felt the same. Was this giving up? She promised Mulder she never would. Why would I accept defeat? At this moment, that promise felt like a lifetime ago.

Outside, a once lush and green landscape was now painted with a pallet of beige and brown, just like the desert. So much was lost...gone forever... dead. At twilight, the large van lurched to a stop. Dana pressed her cheek against the window and gazed up towards the stars.

"I once had a talk with Mulder about starlight...How it's billions of years old...Stars that are now long dead whose light is still traveling through time. It won't die, that light. Maybe that's the only thing that never does. He said that's where souls reside...I hope he's right.

Only a faint orange glow could be seen beyond the heavy smog enveloping the heavens; the ash residue from the bombs completely masked all starlight. The sliding door beside her opened, breaking her reverie, and Dana compliantly scooted forward in her seat so that the man could help her out. Her wrists were bleeding from the twine restraints, but she had long disconnected herself from physical discomfort.

"Where are we?" she asked softly.

"Where should not concern you. Human geography is now inconsequential. But if you must know, we are in the land you used to call Virginia."

"Ah...it's been awhile," she murmured.

The man led her down a winding gravel path that headed towards a large, industrial-looking building.

"So, what do I call you?" Dana asked, "I have to call you something."

"My human name was Isaac. You may call me Isaac," the man replied evenly.

"Okay, Isaac. What exactly do you plan on doing with me?"

"You are here to work, but not for me. I am merely another servant, though I am of higher ranking than you, of course."

"Well naturally. Who do we work for?"

"His name is not important. You will call him Lord. He is not here often; I run the factory while he is gone, but when he returns, you are required to perform favors as he wishes-you and the others."

"There are other women here?"

"There are only women here-fourteen now."

"What sort of factory do you run?"

"You are told only what you need to know...We chiefly manufacture supplies and weapons for the Army."

"Army?"

"As I said, you are told only what you need to know."

When they drew close to the building, Dana observed that it indeed appeared to be an old factory with high mill-style windows that had surprisingly escaped damage from the bombs. Isaac pulled a key from his pocket to open the double doors, and then led her into a high-ceilinged, darkened room filled with strange equipment. They walked down the center aisle to the back and through another wooden door, revealing a steep, stone staircase with a soft yellow glow emanating from the bottom. When they reached the lower level, Dana looked up to see that the light came from several gas lanterns hanging on the low ceiling. Isaac jiggled his key chain as they traveled down the narrow hallway, and he unlocked an iron-bar gate at the end of the passage. Gently, he shoved Dana inside before cutting the twine on her wrists.

"Work has ended for the day. You start tomorrow," he said as he stepped out of the chamber and locked the gate behind him. Dana watched miserably as he disappeared down the hall, trapping her in the gloomy prison.

"Hello, what's your name?" a faint, squeaky voice asked.

Dana whirled around to face the shadows; she had thought she was alone.

"My name is Dana...who are you?"

A young woman with short, black hair stepped into the glow of the lantern light.

"Lauren. I'm glad they put someone in here again. It's been so lonely since Jamie went away."

"What happened to Jamie?"

"She died. The Lord killed her, because she spit in his face. He chopped her head off and said that would teach us never to defy him."

Dana studied the woman curiously. Clearly she was an adult, but she spoke like a child.

"I see."

"He killed Ruth first-that was a few weeks ago. She tried to escape. But she didn't get her head chopped off, cause that's a lesser crime than spitting. She just got shot. So that's why I listen. If you listen and do everything they say, they won't bother you. The food's nasty, but everyone gets used to it after the first week."

Numerous questions bounded through Dana's mind, but she didn't want to think about this reality anymore. She longed for an empty, dreamless sleep, so that she could be numb and unaware for at least a few hours before her hell resumed. Instead of responding to Lauren, she trudged to the back corner of the empty chamber and peered out a tiny window. On her tiptoes, Dana grasped the bars covering the window and craned her chin up to look outside. In the darkness, a purple light smoldered in a dome shape against the horizon.

"Lauren...do you know what that light is in the distance?"

"Oh yes. That's where the Lord stays most of the time. It's the place where the valuable humans with special brains are taken so they can get changed."

"What does 'changed' mean?"

"You know-make 'em not human. But only the special ones get kidnapped and taken there."

"Special ...abductees...brain abnormalities... hybridization?" Dana murmured to herself.

Oh god, what if...Mulder... I have to get out get me out of here I have to know whatever they do to me I have to see if I can find him... fate maybe fate brought me here...

God, are you there? I feel like he's close...if he's here, let me find him. Please let me find him. Before I die, I need to see him...I don't care how badly they hurt me in the end...how much I suffer...I just want to have a few minutes.... If there is love and justice in this universe, please bring us together.

Author's note: Sorry about time confusion in chapter eleven. The date of Gibson's "hormone therapy" should have been 52 days after. Happy holidays!

"Time is on the side of the oppressed today, it's against the oppressor. Truth is on the side of the oppressed today, it's against the oppressor. You don't need anything else." Malcolm X

Near Washington, D.C.
53 days after

He was dreaming. Falling asleep on the cold tile floor with a chain on his wrist had seemed impossible, but apparently exhaustion had gotten the better of him. This was one of those dreams that he knew wasn't real...like watching a movie and wondering absently what might happen next and what it could mean on a deeper, psychological level. He saw a little girl in denim overalls meandering through the shadows of tall trees. Streams of silver moonlight shined in her long, curly, dark hair, and a stuffed animal dangled from her hand. She began to walk brusquely, causing her hair to billow behind her, and Gibson felt his dream self hurrying down a beaten path after her. He couldn't explain it, but he needed to see her face-he needed to speak with her. Panic began to set in. The farther he ran, the further away she became until her small frame was nothing more than another shadow tapering away in the distance. Suddenly, a soft voice whispered in his ear, Don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself. Someone will find me. He whirled around to see that he stood alone in a circle of pine trees-but, no-he was moving, rising, higher and higher, flying? No-someone holding him, sending him up and away.

Gibson awoke with a start, gasping and shaking his head from side to side. Okay, so the sensation had not been flying exactly; the same two technicians from the day before had lifted him and were now carrying him, one supporting his head and shoulders and the other bearing the weight of his legs. He squirmed about in their grasp, feeling as though he were falling, careening toward the earth from a great height. The dream world had not entirely abandoned his consciousness.

"Hold still," the one above his head directed sternly.

Gibson squinted at the man's round face and into his dark, empty eyes; the whites were barely showing. Gibson shivered and looked away. Just then, Skinner passed, coming from the opposite direction with William slung, unconscious, over his shoulder.

"Hey-hey Skinner," Gibson called, "where are you taking him?"

Of course, he offered no reply; Gibson attempted to crane his neck back to see where they were going as Skinner's heavy footsteps echoed to the end of the corridor and around the corner.

The lighting shifted from dull to bright as the men carried him into another passage. Abruptly, it was as if someone had flipped on a sound system. A cacophony of shrieks and agonized screams and desperate pleas surrounded him on all sides. At first, Gibson thought the voices were only in his head-he had heard them before from far away. No. They were here, aloud, tangible...the torture was so real he could smell it. Violet lights overhead burned painfully onto his retinas. If I don't see any more fucking purple for the rest of my life, I will die a happy man.

All of the blood rushed from his temples dizzyingly as the men hastily flipped him upright and began to strap him in to some kind of device on the wall. They hooked his feet into metal rings, and when he could no longer move a muscle, he heard an electric whir as the machine raised him a good ten feet off the ground. The room was completely bare, unlike the medical bay he'd had the pleasure of seeing the day before, except for a blank screen on the wall in front of him.

"Since you are the chosen one, you are able to move to the last step now. Today is the day of your transformation. This is the beginning of your true existence, your destiny."

The lights extinguished all at once, and Gibson's heart pounded as the darkness came alive like a venomous snake swallowing him whole. The electric whir returned, and he cried out when a clamp came over his eyelids, forcing them to remain open. Bright colored lights appeared on the screen and slowly morphed into an image.

"Focus on the inner dot on the screen," came a voice from below, "You will not feel pain while we alter your genetics if you concentrate on the screen. Before you see it, you must repeat this after me-From this day forward, I devote my existence to the cause and will bow before my Lords and pay homage to Them for all eternity."

This is it. Oh God, this is it. I will not lose myself I will remember I will not let go never... never

"From this day forward, I devote my existence to the cause and will bow before my Lords and pay homage to Them for all eternity," he repeated mechanically.

"Very good. Now it may begin."

A sea of colors swirled around the screen, and as Gibson kept his eyes on the center, he began to perceive a clear picture. It was a landscape, familiar somehow and yet wholly unlike anything he had seen on Earth. Magnificent stars swept across the sky over a splash of violet and midnight blue. The heavens were bright and close, and four moons each covered a quadrant of the sky. Gibson lowered his gaze and realized that his eyes controlled the image. He looked straight ahead and then from right to left to discover that he was seeing a beach, but it was more than simple observation; he could smell the tangy salt splashing off the surf and feel the wind ruffling his hair and the soft velvet sand trickling between his toes. When he looked down, he watched his own toes on the screen resting on a bed of wine red sand, deeper and richer than the color of blood. The ocean ahead was a dark, inky blue, almost black. Gibson stepped forward until he was ankle deep in the small waves. Around his feet, the water glowed in rings of royal purple that faded around the edges to soft lavender.

"That is our life force. The human eye distinguishes it as a purple aura. We have many other colors that you have never known, so your brain reads them all as either purple or black."

Gibson quickly turned to look behind him, and the sensation of entrapment in the restraints completely disappeared. His surroundings had become as real as anything he'd ever seen or touched or smelled.

An old man stood behind him; tall and thin with a wiry, bony face and thick white hair.

"And this place-it was part of our home long ago," he continued, "We were driven out by others that came, who sought to kill and destroy. Soon it was our time to leave. But our Gods-our creators, sent five spirit protectors as had been decreed in the Exodus prophecy 12 million years before. They are our Lords, our saviors, and They traveled with us into the far reaches of space and time."

Gibson cleared his throat and realized that he could speak.

"Why Earth? Why humans? After the violence done to you, how could you inflict the same on us?"

"Because that is the way of it-one civilization dies and another prospers. But we have helped you, and you will understand that in time. Humans had reached a deplorable state, had destroyed the land and the water given to them. Now after selecting the ones who can survive, we will make you into something greater than you are and rebuild this planet. You will be born again into the clemency of our Gods. We watched your race closely, prepared for the attack for over a century in your time while the people of the Earth continued the mundane tasks of their daily lives in total ignorance. We took some of you-those special ones that believed in us-tested you, and learned how your bodies worked. We were able to alter our surface appearances in imitation of yours. Some humans learned of our cause and agreed to help us, but you already know the rest of that story."

"Your cause is some kind of holy war?"

"We merely desire to help your lost race so that through good works, we might reach the next stage of illumination after our own deaths. Your people will also have the chance to obtain eternal life."

"Some believe we already have that-through our God."

"Your God does not exist. If he does, then where is he now, pray tell? I don't see him doing much in the way of protecting his imperfect creation. Even if he were real, he could not stand against our great army. Our forces shall sweep over your planet in a great wave, destroying every mountain, rock, tree, and of course, all expendable creatures."

Over the old man's shoulder, Gibson saw a woman slowly walking down the beach. She wore a long, black gown that billowed in a train behind her, and as she approached him, he was immediately struck by her beauty. Her face was framed with delicate chestnut curls cropped just below her chin, and piercing sapphire eyes gazed back at him. Intense love and sadness swirled in the blue depths of those eyes, making his heart ache. Her silence told him more than words ever could.

"Take her hand, Gibson. Her destiny lies alongside your own. Together you shall be the ears and eyes of the new Kingdom, and you will be blessed to wield great power. One day your children of the new race will rule the fate of many."

Gibson brushed his fingers against hers, and she looked down and squeezed his hand in return. He felt her shaking. No, this is not our fate. I promise it will never happen. He willed her to hear him, and he believed she understood.

"Look at me, Gibson Praise. See me as I am," the old man commanded.

Gibson squinted as great flashes of white light flooded and broke the man's skin until he was completely transformed. Dark oval hollows took the place of his eyes, his nose disappeared, his mouth shrank, and his chin narrowed to a point. He stood now clothed in a robe of the most brilliant color Gibson had ever seen; it was blue and silver, yet shone glints of amber and turquoise.

"Kneel before me. Kneel before me and swear your honor," the man's voice boomed, though his lips did not move.

Gibson reached desperately for the woman's hand; her touch had briefly comforted him. But she was gone. Where she had stood, the red sand swirled from the ground into the wind. He stumbled to his knees. I am stronger than this. I won't let it beat me. I will never serve Them. I will stop it I will stop it

"I wash you clean of the dirt of your former life. You are born anew this day."

He touched Gibson's forehead, and tingling warmth spread from the crown of Gibson's head to the tips of his toes. His skin glowed in a soft, warm light.

"Welcome your new eyes, your new ears, and your new strength."

"NO...I...WILL...NOT...FOLLOW...YOU...I AM GIBSON PRAISE AND I WILL FIGHT YOU UNTIL THE DAY I DIE."

With greater strength than he had ever possessed, Gibson tore through the restraints that bound his head and arms. The vision morphed from reality to displaced images on the screen, and his consciousness returned to the room with the two technicians. One of them was injecting a long, metal syringe into his ankle. With incredible ease, he kicked through the thick strapping and metal clamps around his legs, and the technician flew backward helplessly after being struck in the face. Gibson jumped down from where he hung on the wall just as the other flew over to tackle him. Swiftly, he snatched the syringe from the floor and jammed the needle into the back of the man's neck before racing out of the room. I'm coming, William.

Somewhere in Virginia
55 days after

Sweat tricked down her forehead and her eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion. She was famished; she'd had nothing to eat in almost two days. Apparently, the one meal a day came after nightfall, and she'd already missed it when she arrived the night before. The assembly line work proved quickly to be painfully never-ending and monotonous, and her back and legs ached from hunching over the wooden table for hours.

The short, squinty-eyed overseer loomed over her for the fifth time to observe the finished work; and obviously dissatisfied with her progress, brandished his night stick in front of her eyes in silent threat. Dana hurriedly grabbed a pair of blades from the table beside her, bound them with three strips of leather, and thrust the bundle into the pile on her other side. The overseer sneered, cracked the stick across his palm, and continued down the aisle.

"I'm pretty fast with this. I can help you finish those," said the fair-skinned, freckled, sandy-haired woman standing behind Dana. She sharpened the blades quickly, leaving a mountainous pile beside her.

"Thank you... I'm just so tired."

"I understand...I don't know if this will help, but...it isn't so terrible here. I mean, it's better than being dead. And they aren't all as bad as him," the woman indicated the overseer with a tilt of her chin as he barked at someone two rows in front of them.

"What do you mean not as bad?"

"Well, Isaac brought you, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"He's the kindest. Sometimes, he sneaks us extra food and brings special things from outside. He feels sorry for us, and he doesn't agree with the Lord a lot of the time."

"When does the Lord come?"

"Every few weeks or so. He observes us while we work. The new ones are sent to bed with him for one night each. It's symbolic of us giving ourselves to him, or some shit like that. I know that sounds horrible, but it's just one night, and we've all done it. He should be back in a few days."

"Lauren told me he lives in that purple dome a few miles from here."

"Yes, he and the four other Lords live there. It's some kind of hospital camp for altering human DNA. That's all I know. We're just told that he's a powerful leader, and we have to worship him...sorry, I didn't catch your name, did I?"

"I'm Dana."

"I'm Sarah. I was afourth grade teacher. What did you do, Dana?"

"I was a doctor...Has anyone ever escaped from here?"

"...Not successfully," Sarah whispered nervously as her fingers sped up awkwardly to tie the blades faster.

"Sarah, I have to get out of here."

"We all have to get out of here!" she snapped.

"Listen," Dana whispered, "I think my husband is in that dome. I have to get him out of there before...he's changed, or worse. If you can help me find a way out, I'll come back for you."

"We'll be tortured and killed."

"If we're caught."

"They'd catch us."

"What about Isaac? Maybe he could help."

"No...he may feel sorry for us, but he'd never commit treason for us."

"I'm going to talk to him," Dana said hesitantly.

"And then he'll turn you in. You may as well sign your own death warrant."

56 days after

Dana paced her cell, chewing her fingernails as she threw anxious glances out the window at the shimmer of violet on the inky horizon. Lauren slept on her side in the far corner, snoring softly. He would be back soon to collect their trays and bowls from the meal. Yesterday, he'd come exactly two hours after bringing the food to remove the trash. Then he'd asked Dana if she'd needed anything. "If you ever want something, all you have to do is ask. I can get it for you." For the first time that night, she'd looked into his eyes and found something almost human: sadness, shame, compassion.

Would he really turn me in? Probably...But he might agree to help. It's my only chance-I have to ask. This is worth the risk.

Exactly on time, she heard the click of Isaac's boots on the stone staircase and watched silently as he approached out of the shadows, carrying a large trash bag.

"Trash and dishes," he said simply.

"Isaac...I need something," she whispered.

Near Washington, D.C.
53 days after

A shrill alarm rang through the long corridor menacingly. Somewhere, They were shouting, calling to one another in frantic voices, running after him. Gibson silently crept along the wall, quickly poking his head in each exam room. No, not here. Keep going. It's this way. He felt as though a string were attached at the center of his chest pulling him down an unseen path. Maybe it's William. It's helping me find him. When he came to a dead end and had to choose between right or left, he naturally veered to the left without any hesitation. Not much farther. As he turned the corner, he heard several footsteps pounding down the hall behind him, so he ducked into the closest, darkened room to avoid being seen. Someone drew a sharp breath behind him, and as he whipped around in a defensive posture, prepared to fight, he saw that it was merely another prisoner. A man hung bound to the wall in the same manner that Gibson had, and his eyes were glazed over robotically, focused on a blank screen. I'm going to see so many of them. I can't help them. I have to keep going. Time's running out-William...

Just as Gibson began to cautiously step out the door, he heard something that made him halt immediately.

"No, I would rather die...You'll never have me, you son of a bitch."

His voice...No. I imagined it.

The man continued to mumble, apparently conversing with the image he saw on the screen.

"Where's Scully? What have you done with her? What have you done..."

"Oh my God!" Gibson gasped.

Somewhere in Virginia
56 days after

"Please...Just let me get him out of there. I have to see him, I need to...even if it's one last time. I'll come back. If you do this for me, I give you my word that I will come back. I wouldn't let you suffer for me. You provide for the women here...it gives them hope..."

"If I do this, you have to promise...promise that you would return before the light of day. Even if you do not find whom you seek."

"I promise."

Isaac buried his face in his hands and leaned back against the stone wall. He had remained in the cell quietly listening to her story for over an hour. Judging by his look of shock when she'd first asked him, Dana had feared that he would slap her across the face and immediately inform the Lord of her escape plans. However, he had allowed her to continue speaking, giving her the adrenaline rush of hope. Her heart thudded rapidly while she waited anxiously for his response.

"...The Lord will be here in three days. I can release you tomorrow night after the meal if you can return by day break."

"I don't know if that's enough time-"

"I will wait for you. If you have not returned by one hour before the sun rises, I will inform my colleagues that you have escaped...Be assured that we would soon find you, and the consequences would be severe."

"Agreed."

Near Washington, D.C.
53 days after

Gibson fumbled with the control panel in his haste to lower the machine to the ground.

"Come on, damn it!"

He punched each button before he finally heard the motor whirring as the contraption slid down the wall.

"Mulder...can you hear me? Don't listen to him. You can still come back...All you have to do is force yourself to leave. Listen to my voice. I'm a friend," Gibson said evenly as he tried to restrain himself from violently shaking the man back to reality.

"No...not real."

"Yes, you're right. It isn't real."

Gibson glanced over at a tray of syringes beside the control panel. Mulder had not yet been injected. The technician probably ran from the room in the middle of the procedure when the alarm sounded. After a great deal of struggling, Gibson removed all of the restraints, and Mulder sank to the ground limply. I can't believe this is real. He was here-this entire time-he was here. Voices echoed down the hall. They were close. I won't go without him. Gibson could no longer contain his frustration; he slapped Mulder's cheek and firmly shook his shoulders.

"Mulder, open your eyes and look at me! Come back...for Scully. If you ever want to see her again, then listen to me and open your eyes NOW!"

Slowly and with great difficulty, Mulder blinked open his heavy eyelids. Gibson studied his face closely in the dim light, trying to see if he'd really left the dream.

"My wife and my daughter...I have to find them. Please help me. I need to get out of here. My family is in danger..." Mulder murmured.

"I'll help you, but you have to get up. They're coming. We need to get out of here before They find us."

Mulder nodded, and Gibson gripped his arms and hauled him to his feet.

"This way, My Lord. I think the unbeliever ran this way," a voice called from around the corner.

"Run!" Gibson hissed.

"I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains."

-Anne Frank

Near Washington, D.C.
53 days after

He couldn't pick up his feet. From his knees to his toes, he felt as if the flesh and bone were molding together into a solid, leaden mass. A pitiful shuffle proved to be all that he could manage. His world still seemed foggy and not entirely real; everything had happened so quickly. He'd been imprisoned for a long time; he had no clue just how long, and for days he had not been allowed to move. Muscles and joints that had not received recent use were now, not surprisingly, refusing to cooperate just when the need for his agility had grown so dire.

Thinking in the present was terribly difficult, because the recent weeks or months were full of time ellipses and gaping holes. Mulder remembered standing beside the creek with Skinner and wondering how he was going to prove to Scully that the man was who he claimed to be. Only seconds later it seemed, he had been transported to this bizarre hospital with no clear recollection as to how he'd arrived. Then, of course, there were the tests. Days and days of tests. And pain. And fear. And helplessness. Please be okay, Scully. Don't come after me. Please don't come after me. Abigail needs you. Our baby needs you. I'm sorry...I was wrong. You proved me wrong, Scully... not for the first time...but maybe the last. The words had repeated as a mantra in his brain for days. Sometimes he'd spoken his chant aloud; but more often he'd simply talked to her, pretending she could hear:

"Hey Scully, which did you despise more: Caddy Shack or Monty Python?... What was the exact moment that you were sure you loved me?... I knew you were my friend when I first told you about Samantha, and you didn't roll your eyes or look at me like I was insane...I knew I loved you when they first tried to separate us, and I remembered what it was to be alone...I knew I couldn't live without you when They took you away from me...I knew I believed in God when we kissed, holding between us this tiny person that we created...You know, it's funny-here I am witnessing this Truth I searched a lifetime for, but now I finally realize that I knew it all along..."

"Mulder, we have to move faster! I can't drag you much farther!"

The jumbled mess of thoughts running circles in his head settled somewhat as he was jerked back into the present. He could only assume and hope that this man could be trusted. He helped get me out of it...and I've got nothing to lose. Mulder gritted his teeth through the pain and stiffness and quickened his pace as much as he was able. The voices were even closer, louder than before.

"In here! There's some kind of storage space behind this door. Hurry and get in! We'll wait for Them to pass," the man said urgently.

Mulder ducked below the short doorframe and hurried to crouch behind a shelving unit. The man knelt in front of him, eyes glued on the closed door. Their ragged breathing seemed frightfully loud in the newfound silence. Running footsteps faded away, but Mulder sucked in his breath when he heard the voices again; a group of Them were gathered just outside the door.

"Another is missing! The P-216 post was abandoned briefly-there should not have been time..."

"The unbeliever must have freed him; he could not have escaped otherwise."

"Yes. Now the hunt is for two. Inform the others."

"Let us make for the gates."

"But the unbelievers could not have reached the outside."

"We must take precautions. Follow me!"

When the footsteps echoed down the hallway and the sounds of voices dissipated, both men released small sighs of relief.

"Let's wait a little longer to make sure They get a good head start," the man whispered.

"How did you know my name?" Mulder asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

The man turned around, flipping his long, dark hair out of his soft, green eyes.

Something seemed vaguely familiar about those eyes, but Mulder couldn't place the memory.

"It really is amazing what a growth spurt, a voice change, a few years without a haircut, and contact lenses can do for you," the man replied with a thin, sad smile.

"What? Wait a minute...No."

"No?"

"You can't be..."

"Wanna play chess? I'd kick your ass."

"Gibson..."

"Why did you go south, Mulder? It caused such an unnecessary hassle."

"Oh my God...Gibson. It's really you?"

"Yep. I escaped before They changed me."

Mulder felt his eyes sting with tears as he reached out to embrace his old friend. After They had first arrived, he'd thought the worst: assumed that Gibson was either dead or unaccounted for, just like the rest. I should've known better.

"Apparently I've missed a lot in ten years. It was obvious that you and Scully were going to get married, but what's this about a daughter?"

"Her name's Abigail. She's eight."

"Wow..." Gibson laughed softly, "We'll have to postpone our reunion; it's time to move again."

"Yes, you're right. Let's get the hell out of this place."

"Well, we can't leave quite yet. There's someone here we have to find first."

"Who?"

"William...Your son."

Somewhere in Virginia
57 days after

The heavy silence frightened her. She'd expected enough sound outside to at least cover her own footsteps, but the dead world around her offered no scamper of living creatures, nor even a brush of wind. Shivers traveled up her spine, and her nerves were on edge as she waited for something to jump from the shadows and pounce on her. Maybe if there were some light, she would feel somewhat more at ease. Of course, moon and starlight would leave her completely exposed, so she welcomed the shadows. The faint purple glow, still miles ahead, served as the only beacon in the darkness.

Even though she was gaining significant distance from the factory, she could still feel Isaac's eyes boring into her back as he undoubtedly stared out the tiny window in the northern wing. She knew that he would not be sleeping tonight, and just before sunrise, he would be inside the gate, waiting. What if I don't get there in time? I could just turn back...No. He'll never give me this chance again. I'm not coming back until I find him, no matter how long it takes. Let Them find me. Let Them kill me. It doesn't really matter anymore. I just want a few minutes. Maybe I could get him out...if he's even there. I'm doing this for us, Mulder. I can't save humankind. I can't change what's been done. But I can fight for us. For you and me.

She felt as though she grewfive feet taller, and she began to move faster, not allowing the sounds of her footsteps and breathing to frighten her. Fuck the dark. Fuck the quiet. Fuck the aliens. Traveling on the open plain, weaponless and defenseless, Dana felt more powerful than she had in a long time.

Near Washington, D.C.
53 days after

Mulder's heart pounded rapidly, his pulse thudding in his ears, and for several seconds, he stared blankly at Gibson, afraid to believe.

"We have to move now while we still can," Gibson whispered.

"He's here? William is here?" Mulder murmured.

"Yes. We shared a cell. I don't know what They've done with him."

"But how can you know that...it's him?"

"He has special sensory perception, he'll be twelve in May, he was given up by a mother who wanted him to be safe...but more than that, you just have to look at him. Come on."

Somehow, Mulder hauled himself to his feet and followed Gibson into the empty corridor. As he ran, he felt as though he were traveling through water. Time seemed to slow down, and for a moment, he honestly thought that he might be dreaming. After eleven years, he had come to accept that he would never see his son again. The loss left an empty space in his heart. Leaving them for that year was his greatest regret. So many nights, Mulder had lain awake, wondering if he could've done something...The one year he was ours, I wasn't even there...

"Mulder, listen to me...There's something you need to know. Scully...this is really hard. I want you to know before she tells you, so you can be prepared."

"What?...Did-did something happen to William?"

"No, the baby's fine, but you know about the danger he's been in. Scully wanted him to have the chance at a normal life...She didn't think the two of you could ever give him that, so she gave him up for adoption. It was done out of love."

"...Um, his new parents...they can give him a normal life? Love him? Keep him safe? Make sure he goes to a good school?"

"Yes."

"Will they tell him about us? Scully and me?"

"I don't know."

"But I want him to know. When I'm dead and gone, I want him to know that his father loved him...that he was a gift. If I write him a letter, will you give it to...his parents?

"Mulder, I don't know who or where they are. Neither does Scully. If none of us know, then the people who have tried to hurt him won't know either."

"But there's so much...so many things I want him to have...so much he needs to know."

"You have no idea how much has already been lost...What I've had to do..."

"I do know. Skinner told me."

"Our son, Mulder...I gave him up. Our son. I was so afraid you could never forgive me."

"I know you had no choice. I just missed both of you so much."

His belief that Scully had made the right decision consoled him; forcing their child to live in dangerous chaos would have been selfish. She gave her son the greatest gift a mother could-safety, normalcy, and anonymity. Mulder had come to terms with that; he knew William was loved by someone, and the thought brought some closure. But now-the thought of seeing him again...

"This way!" Gibson called out softly, beckoning for Mulder to follow him down another passageway.

"Where are we going?"

"To get William."

"Yes-but you said that you don't know where he is."

"I do somehow."

"What?"

"I don't know exactly where, but I know it's this way. I have a feeling."

"Okay, I guess a feeling's better than searching randomly."

The alarm continued to blare overhead, but fortunately, They seemed to have all fled to the outside and center areas of the dome; and Mulder and Gibson were on an outer edge. The corridor they were traveling through was completely clear. At the end of the long hall, Gibson paused at a set of double doors.

"He's in here," Gibson declared as he pushed through the doors without hesitation.

"Wait! Be careful-we don't know if any of Them are in there."

"No, They're not," Gibson called back over his shoulder.

The large, vaulted, high-ceilinged chamber was filled with at least twenty rows of what appeared to be identical, adult-sized incubators. As Mulder peered beneath the glass of the first few near the door, he saw the pleasant faces of sleeping children with IV's in their arms attached to small bags filled with a purple liquid. A set of six initials were engraved on a metal bar above each child's right foot. Gibson strode ahead toward the center row.

"Mulder! Here!"

He bolted, ran as fast as he could, and yet time seemed to slow again. The closer he came to arriving where Gibson stood, the further away it felt. His legs turned to jelly, and his heart rate sped up. And then he was there. And he saw.

"It's him..." Mulder choked breathlessly. He brushed his shaking fingers over the engraved letters. DKS-FWM. "My son."

Auburn hair-Scully's hair-fell across the boy's forward. His cheeks were lightly dusted with freckles, and his nose and jaw were defined and angular, just like his father's. The need to touch him, to hold him, to make sure that he was real, overcame Mulder. He clawed at the incubator frantically and tried to smash the glass with his fist.

"Mulder, stop! There's a lever in the back...I've got it!"

The lid on the glass case split down the middle, and with a swish, both halves retracted into the sides of the gurney. Mulder hurriedly reached for the needle in William's arm and carefully pulled it out of the vein. His touch lingered there, smoothing his fingers over the pale skin of the boy's forearm; and with his other hand, he gently brushed strands of hair out of his son's sleeping face. Mulder jumped and quickly stepped back when William suddenly began to stir. The boy wrinkled his forehead and blinked his eyes open with difficulty. Mulder gazed, mesmerized, into those pure hazel eyes that were the exact match of his own.

"I hate Them. I'll never be one of Them. I just want to go home," William mumbled as his eyes fluttered closed again.

Mulder checked the boy's pulse and breathing, which were both normal, before delicately scooping him up into his arms. William's head rested gently against his father's shoulder.

"We're going home," Mulder murmured.

"What are They doing to these kids?" Gibson muttered.

"These children have been monitored their whole lives. It's the reason William was always in danger when he was a baby. They wanted him, because he's special. I don't know how They managed to find him again."

"Let's go."

The powerful sensation returned immediately. Gibson instinctively knew which passageways to take and exactly where to turn in order to avoid Them. A clear picture of the next corridor formed in his mind before he arrived to see it with his eyes. Mulder obviously trusted him, and followed closely behind with William in his arms. They're coming. Gibson saw in his mind two figures, hooded and cloaked, walking side by side down a dark hallway. They know where we are. They think they're going to kill us soon. Kill us and keep the boy.

"Mulder!" he whispered harshly, "Keep following this way, then take a left at the dead end, and there will be open doors leading outside. I'm going to go right."

"Why?"

"Something's happened to me. They partially altered my genetics, even though technically, I'm still me. I can sense that They're close-the most powerful ones. Two Lords. And They know I'm close. I have to face Them. I can't run forever."

"No! I'm not leaving you!"

"I'll meet you outside. Trust me; I'll be able to find you."

"We should go together."

"No, Mulder, They'll track me. Please just go."

Mulder sighed heavily and nodded. Gibson stood and watched him disappear in the opposite direction toward escape. Heavy, booted footsteps approached from the right, and Gibson whirled around and strode assuredly toward the sound. Two shadowed figures seemed to materialize out of nowhere at the end of the passageway. The glittering black fabric of Their hoods fell back to reveal dark, hollow eyes and deathly grey skin. Gibson stood frozen, holding Their stare, and soon his head began to ache intensely from a dull throbbing to a piercing pain. He crumpled to the floor, hands pressed against his temples. I can't beat Them. I can't. This is the end.

"Gibson, what are you doing?" a woman's voice echoed.

"I can't-I thought I could win. But we can't win."

"No. If we're brave, we can't lose. You have to believe that. You made me believe. Get up and fight, Gibson."

He saw her face behind his closed eyelids as she spoke. Blue eyes glared at him.

"Who are you?" he mumbled.

"You know. Get up."

Through the unbearable pain, Gibson slowly rose on shaky legs. He lowered his hands from his head and opened his eyes.

"I will fight you until the day I die," he hissed.

He thought he heard the figures laughing hysterically, though Their mouths did not move. A bright light emanated from Their skin as They each drew a long, thin, sword from sheaths at Their hips.

What happened next, Gibson would only remember as a blur. He dove forward, and in one fluid motion with incredible strength, snapped both of Their necks. He winced as a piercing shriek tore through the corridor when the lifeless figures collapsed to the floor. The light remained, hovering over the bodies in an empty cloud. Gibson's pain ceased instantly, and he turned and ran with the hideous, disembodied scream following close behind.

Somewhere in Virginia
7 days after

She knew it had been hours; a small twinge of light appeared in the eastern sky. Isaac would be anticipating her return very soon. The journey had seemed so easy at first, but now with a heavy heart, she realized that the purple light was much further away than she'd originally thought. The dome was only slightly larger than it had first appeared. She'd vowed to continue, no matter how long it took, but it would be at least another full day of traveling before she reached her destination. Isaac and his people would surely find her by then. Dana stopped walking and glanced back at the dim lights of the factory, now miles away in the distance. I will not cry. I will not go back. She whirled around to face her goal and started running.

Only a few minutes had passed when she glimpsed three moving shadows ahead. It's Them. Oh God, it's Them. She stopped, breathing harshly, knowing that running was no longer any use. They had found her. With her arms crossed protectively around her middle, she began to slowly step backward, trembling. She heard voices, but couldn't make out the words. Abruptly, the tallest figure strode forward and began to run in her direction. Dana whipped around and dashed toward the factory, but she halted instantly when she head a voice call out.

"Scully?"

It's a dream. They're tricking me. It can't be real.

"Scully, is it really you?"

No, it is. It is him. It is. I know it.

"Mulder!" she screamed as tears flooded her vision.

Reality felt like a dream playing in slow motion as she hurtled in his direction until he became clearly visible. She was sobbing now, babbling incoherently, as she ran with her arms outstretched. Finally their bodies met in an electric crash, and he stumbled backward a few steps when she jumped into his arms. Hetwirled her around in circles, her feet flying off the ground. Sobs wracked his chest, and she felt wet tears streaking his face when she pressed her cheek against his. Neither of them could speak. They didn't need to. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar, musky scent. When she looked up at him, into his shining eyes, his warm lips firmly covered hers. The kiss seemed to last forever. She was home.

"I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."
-Martin Luther King, Jr.

Somewhere in Virginia
57 days after

In that moment, nothing else mattered. She forgot the dark and the danger and Them. All she heard was the beating of his heart as she rested her head against his chest. All she felt was the strength and warmth of his arms around her. All she saw were visions of happiness and security and peace from times past. The sun would rise soon, but it didn't matter.

"Scully..." he whispered hoarsely.

She pulled away slightly, her arms still around his middle, and gazed up at him through her blurry vision. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, lightly tracing the path of her tears with his thumbs.

"Scully, where is-" Mulder began.

After glancing behind them, Dana jumped, startled, when she glimpsed two figures standing in the shadows. She'd forgotten there'd been others when she first saw him.

"It's okay," he said, "two friends escaped with me...Gibson."

A young man stepped closer to allow Dana to see him clearly, while the other individual inched further away. Gibson...same name as...

"You might remember him as the miniature chess champion we knew a few years back," Mulder said with a small smile.

"...Gibson Praise? The little boy, Gibson Praise?"

"Well, I grew up a little bit," Gibson said shyly, glancing down at his feet.

"I can't believe...How did you find each other?"

"This man saved my life," Mulder said.

"This is all so ...My God, ten years. What have you been doing Gibson?"

"Oh, not much. Odd jobs in the desert mostly, hiding out."

Dana began to laugh out of giddiness and sheer joy; an outburst that sounded foreign to her own ears. Laughter was a lifetime away; she couldn't even remember the last time she had reason to smile. Warmly, she opened her arms to embrace Gibson. Is this real? Am I actually standing here? None of it feels real...like a dream.

"You're taller than me!" Dana said with a giggle as Gibson stepped back and broke their hug.

"That's not saying much," Mulder interjected seriously.

She playfully smacked his elbow while he feigned severe injury. This is real. He's here, and I can touch him. I can hold him. They can't hurt me now...at least They can't break my spirit.

After colliding with her husband on chance circumstance in the middle of nowhere, seeing Gibson again was not as great of a shock as it might have been otherwise. Because Dana had already been blessed with such an impossible miracle, anything else seemed feasible. So she thought, until Mulder's expression suddenly grew somber when he glanced over her shoulder. Dana quickly looked back at the other person, who stood some distance away from the group.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, "Who's this?"

Mulder simply gazed at her, deep in thought. A mixture of pain and joy passed over his face as tears gathered in his eyes.

"What?" she asked in frustration.

Instead of answering her, Mulder addressed whoever remained in the shadows. "It's okay. Come over here."

The figure moved slowly and seemed reluctant at first, so Mulder walked to meet the person halfway.

"She'll like you, I promise. That's a guarantee," he murmured gently.

Dana glanced at Gibson for some clue as to what was going on, but he looked away awkwardly and turned in the opposite direction as Mulder approached with a young boy. When they stopped in front of Dana, he wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Dana, I'd like you to meet Will. Will, this is your mother."

The boy peeked up timidly, and Dana gasped when she saw his eyes. She choked as her vision instantly flooded with tears, and she clasped her hands over her mouth in shock. Her knees felt wobbly, and for a brief second, she thought she might faint. Mulder's arm flew out to steady her.

"Dana?" Mulder said nervously.

William William my William

"Oh God..." she whispered.

I gave him up. He'll never forgive me. I am his mother and I gave him up.

She needed desperately to hold him tightly, to kiss him and tell him she loved him. Thinking about you every day. How can I possibly explain...Waking up crying hating myself wondering who has my baby and what is he like and what did he get for his birthday this year. How do I explain, make him understand how much...just how much

Dana bent her knees slightly until she was even with his height; but when she lifted her fingers to touch his face, she flinched away at the last second.

I can't. I'll scare him. I'm just a stranger. My son and I'm only a stranger to him...I felt you inside of me and you kept me alive. When everything was lost, you kept me alive. You need to know that...before you were conceived I wanted you, before you were born I loved you, before you were a minute old I would've died for you.

"I know you wanted to protect me...My parents took good care of me. I had a happy life," William said softly, obviously struggling not to burst into tears.

Before Dana could react, he threw his arms around her and pressed his face against her shoulder. She shook with sobs, her cheek resting on the top of his head.

"I love you, William-Will. I always have."

"I know...I know, Mom."

Dana glanced up to see Mulder crying as he watched them. She held her arm out to him, and he stepped forward into their embrace, placing his hand on his son's back. After several moments of holding one another in silence, William spoke.

"Where's my sister?" he asked.

Location Unknown
51 days after

"But that's not my name. I'm not Carol."

"My beautiful little girl...It's been such a long time."

"No, I have to find my parents. The bad guys took them away."

"Don't be silly, Carol. You're home now, darling. You shouldn't have been wandering around the highway. I've told you repeatedly how dangerous that is. You remember what happened last time you did that? Remember how that truck hit you? Banged your head in, it did. We'll talk about punishment later. No T.V. No Muppet Show."

"There is no T.V. anymore. Please let me go! The man has to find me so I can see Mommy and Daddy."

"Mommy's here, Carol. Don't cry, darling."

Somewhere in Virginia
57 days after

"I told her to run. She got away from them, but I...I don't know what happened...where she could have gone. I don't even know how long I've been here."

Daylight was rising from the east when Dana began her story. For nearly an hour, they'd forgotten the urgency of escape, but they remembered quickly when they could clearly see one another in the light, realizing that their location left them visible to every possible direction. All Mulder knew was that the direction out of the wasteland had to be west, so while Dana continued speaking, they fled west.

His throat tightened as panic squeezed inside his chest. Baby Blue...how could she...how could she survive out there on her own? If those men kidnapped Scully...someone could have her. Someone could be hurting her. He realized that Dana was staring at him intently, searching for his response: Reassurance? Hope, maybe? She was crying again.

"Montana?" Mulder asked softly.

She nodded.

"Then we'll go to Montana, and we'll never stop searching until we find her. We're going to find her," he said firmly, trying to make himself believe it. He refused to think of the alternative.

"Where are we now?" Will asked.

"Somewhere in Virginia. A few miles outside of what used to be D.C., I think," Mulder replied.

"I can hotwire, but we're going to have to find several cars to get us that far. Gas is nonexistent," Gibson said. He'd been silent since his initial reunion with Dana.

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Gibson," Mulder said.

"So, when exactly did the three of you get out of that place? Last night? We met just about halfway." Dana said.

"No, actually, it's been a few days. We started heading north from the dome but ended up turning back."

"Why?"

Mulder glanced at Gibson and nodded for him to respond.

"Because I told them we had to go back. I knew...I sensed that...there was something or someone here we were supposed to find. I had no idea it would be you. We hid during the days and traveled by night. They almost caught us yesterday. We decided that if we hadn't found anything by last night, we would move on. I thought I might've been wrong. And then you found us."

"I don't understand. How did you know to wait? And how did you manage to escape in the first place?"

"It's quite a story," Mulder said.

Near Moorefield, West Virginia
58 days after

Another ruined town. At the edge of the wasteland, evidence of civilization still lingered, though there was still no hint of life. The small, abandoned community had suffered damage from the explosions, but several hollowed-out buildings and homes remained standing. Locating a deserted vehicle with a fairly good amount of gas hadn't been difficult.

After checking the tank of the Ford Taurus, Gibson called out, "This one's almost full!" to Mulder and Dana, who searched the remnants on the other side of the parking lot.

Escape seemed incredibly easy, which frightened Gibson more for some reason. He and his companions had fled across a vast, open terrain, and had seen absolutely no indication of pursuit-of Them. Everything was completely silent, and soon they would be on the road heading west. We're fugitives of the highest priority. How could They let us slip through Their fingers? They're highly intelligent, and They have unimaginable technology at Their disposal. This isn't right. This feels wrong. But what do we do? What else do we do but keep going and hope we're not being tracked?

Gibson opened the driver's door and crouched on the ground to examine underneath the dash.

"Can you show me how to do that?" Will asked, hovering over him.

"Sure, you just pull these wires down and-"

As soon as Gibson placed his fingers on the vinyl plate, the engine instantly produced an even purr. He snapped his hand away, startled, and then stared at his fingers in bewilderment.

"How did that happen? You didn't even do anything!" Will exclaimed.

"I have no idea."

Near Springfield, Ohio
58 days after

Gibson volunteered to drive first, because he knew that he would never be able to calm his mind enough to rest now. Mulder and William sat in the back while Dana slept in the front, her seat reclined all the way so that her head was practically in Mulder's lap. Gibson glanced in the rearview mirror to see Mulder lightly running his fingers through her hair while he spoke softly with William. He tried not to listen to their conversation, or their thoughts for that matter; he felt like he was intruding on their family, but he knew they were grateful to him.

"Tell me something else, Will. Something about you I don't know," Mulder said.

"I got to pitch for my baseball team last year, and I'm good at basketball. And I can play the violin."

"I played baseball when I was your age. I wish we could've...I was on my high school basketball team, but I'm sure I wasn't as good as you. And violin, that's very impressive. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's okay. My parents made me take lessons..."

"My father made me play the piano; and I hated every minute of it, but now I'm glad I did it. I played for your mother once in an attempt to impress her. I'll ask her later if it worked."

"How did you first meet my mother?"

"Well, one day this beautiful redhead came into my office..."

Gibson heard no more as his thoughts began to drift. And suddenly, he was there. He was there again.

As he races down the hall to the open door leading to escape, the light grows brighter than ever. The searing radiance has a weight, a power, and it has thought, and it screams.

You can keep running, Gibson, but you'll never be free; not after what you've done. You think you've won, but you have not. You cannot destroy us. We were here before humans were, and we will be here after humans cease to be. Of the depth and power of this universe, you know nothing. You cannot wield a power you do not understand.

A shriek becomes overpowering and it pounds into his brain as...as...

"Gibson, are you all right?" Mulder's voice permeated his vision.

"Yes, yes I'm fine. I was just thinking...I'm fine."

"Would you like me to drive now?"

"No...Um, okay. I guess I need to rest my eyes for a little while. I'll pull over up here."

As Gibson slowed, the engine began to sputter and cough.

"Shit!"

"What happened?" Mulder asked.

"Piece of shit car! The engine's severely overheated. I can't believe I haven't been paying attention to the gages! Shit!"

"We'll just have to sit and wait then. I wish we had extra water for the radiator, but hopefully it'll cool down on its own."

"Why did we stop?" Dana asked groggily, rubbing her eyes as she sat up.

Gibson slept upright, his back leaning against the side of the parked car; and Dana felt guilty that he'd driven so long, since he was clearly exhausted. He'd gone out like a light just after she and Mulder had started the tiny fire, which now was reduced to only a few glowing orange embers and a small pile of ash. William had stayed awake, asking endless questions, mostly about his sister, but was now curled on his side between his parents, sleeping soundly.

Dana and Mulder sat awake in silence, gazing at their son.

"He's so beautiful," she murmured in awe, "...I hope he forgives me."

"He understands."

"...I hope Abby's okay. I hope we find her soon."

"Me too," he whispered thickly.

"If something happened to her, Mulder...I couldn't take it. I don't know how I could survive."

"Don't talk about that. Don't think it. She's okay. We'll find her."

"It's my fault. Everything is my fault. If she...if she dies out there, I may as well have killed her myself."

Anger sizzled within her, and she hated herself even more when the tears returned to sting her eyes.

"I hate that my baby is lost somewhere, hungry and frightened and alone and hurting and there's nothing I can do but sit and cry about it!" she sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

Mulder maneuvered around William to Dana's side and wrapped his arms around her tightly, rocking her softly.

"Shhhh. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. Things just happen," he murmured, placing kisses tenderly in her hair.

She pulled away to look at him and saw that he was struggling to hold back his own tears.

"But it is my fault! Those men-they wouldn't have taken me if I hadn't been so stupid! I thought they could give us food. I knew I shouldn't have approached them-I knew it, but I ignored my instincts."

"No, Scully. Don't blame yourself. If it has to be someone's fault, it's mine. I should've listened to you about Skinner."

"But I should never have brought her with me! I did it because I promised I wouldn't leave her, but more than that, I think I just didn't have the strength to do it again... I left William with strangers so that he would be safe, but I couldn't bring myself to do it again. It was incredibly selfish...She was starving. I let her starve."

"You did what you thought was right, Scully. We were living in a different world when you gave William up. If you'd left Abigail, there could have been a raid on that service station, or the group might've dispersed and abandoned her. We can't trust anybody but ourselves now."

"You don't know, Mulder. You don't know," she was fighting to keep her voice down when all she wanted to do was scream until her lungs bled. "You don't know what I did, Mulder. You'll never forgive me for what I did."

"No. You couldn't do anything so terrible that I wouldn't forgive you. What happened, Scully? What did you do?"

"I-I...They said they'd give us food, but only if I-if I..."

For a brief moment, Mulder's face contorted in pain, and he looked down and nodded.

"I touched them. I let them touch me-I let them inside me. It hurt-everything hurt so much. Mulder...oh my God Mulder..."

He reached out for her and pulled her close again.

"I'm so sorry, Dana...You had no choice. You did it for Abigail...I know you had no choice...It's okay. I'm here, Dana. Shhhh. I love you...I love you... I love you..."

Near Clinton, Iowa
59 days after

I want to kill them. I wish I could kill them.

Mulder gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Her words kept echoing in his mind, haunting him, making his heart ache. He'd only heard that raw pain in her voice twice before: when she first told him she gave William up, and the day after she gave birth to Abigail, when he had to tell her that the doctor said the baby might not live. She was always the strong one. He'd leaned against her more times than he could count, and to hear her like that...it tore him apart.

We're together now. We'll all be together again soon.

After the engine had finally cooled down, they were at last making steady progress westward, and that gave him hope, it gave him something tangible-a goal to reach.

"Mulder!" Gibson yelled suddenly.

Everyone jumped and looked at Gibson in surprise.

"What?" Mulder asked anxiously.

"I'm sorry...I just realized...You need to turn back, Mulder. We need to get out of Iowa and head back into Indiana."

"You're sure?"

He was hesitant to trust this, but Gibson had been right about everything so far.

"Yes. Abigail is there."

"And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea." - Revelation 21:1

Near Jasper, Indiana
59 days after

No one said a word while Gibson drove. He had never been to Indiana in his life, and yet as he turned onto each new road, he knew exactly what lay around every corner. In a way, it was like an invisible force outside his own body pulled the car forward on a track. Scully doesn't trust me. Eavesdropping on her thoughts was not intentional on his part; she was just so loud. He'd found that when people experienced intense emotions like fear and panic, their inner voices became even louder to his mind. She thinks I was lucky before, and now I'm losing my mind. Gibson wanted to tell her that he couldn't explain it, but that he knew they would find her daughter. Explanations would be futile, however; she would know he could hear her, and he didn't want her to know he was listening.

"Are we close?" Mulder asked tensely from the backseat.

"Not much farther," Gibson replied, though truthfully, he wasn't so sure.

The pulling sensation grew more intense, so much so that Gibson's chest literally began to ache from the force of it. Without braking, he swerved off the state highway and veered onto a smaller road.

"Jesus! Gibson, let me drive," Dana exclaimed.

"Almost there," Gibson said under his breath.

He pulled into a large, deserted parking lot of what used to be a K-Mart. The place looked completely empty; it had probably been looted long ago, nothing remaining but broken glass. Gibson parked the car a good distance from the building, removed the keys from the ignition, and folded his hands in his lap. The others must have been waiting for some explanation, judging from the confused glances they gave him.

"She's here," he said.

"What? There's nothing here," Dana said exasperatedly.

Gibson opened his door and strode toward the building. The car doors slammed, and he heard a chorus of whispers behind him. Suddenly, he noticed some shadowed movement behind the shattered windows; and he stopped immediately when he clearly saw two barrels of a shot gun aiming straight at him from the ledge under the window.

"We don't mean to harm you," he called out, "And we don't intend to take anything from you. Have you seen a little girl? We're looking for a little girl!"

To everyone's astonishment, an elderly woman slowly rose to her feet and stepped over the low jagged shards of glass that remained of the front windows. Both of her hands held a surprisingly steady grip on the gun, which she kept trained on Gibson. Her eyes were dark and cold, and long tendrils of grey hair blew wildly around her gaunt, wrinkled face. She wore an old-fashioned sundress and apron. Her ghostly appearance caused Gibson to shiver.

"You're trying to take my daughter away from me! Who the hell do you people think you are? The good Lord took her away, yes he did, long ago. But the Day of Judgment is nigh: the day the dead will walk among the living in His glory, and He will take the innocents in the twinkling of an eye. My little girl rose up out of her own grave to meet Him when He comes. The good Lord sent her back to me, he did. I found her walking on that same road where her spirit left her earthly form. Nobody's taking her away again!"

"Ma'am, I'm afraid you're mistaken. Please, can I see...your daughter?" Gibson asked calmly.

"Put down your weapon ma'am! We don't want to use force against you!" Dana cried from behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gibson saw Mulder dart around to the woman's other side while her attention was focused on he and Dana. He kept his gaze straight ahead while Mulder crept behind the old woman, and just as she flinched when she felt his presence, he grasped her wrists until the shotgun clattered to the pavement. The woman screamed and wailed, and despite her age and frail physical stature, she put up a strong fight, clawing and biting. While Dana ran to help Mulder and Will stood gaping at the scene before him, Gibson hurried past into the store. He jogged through the darkness yelling, "Abigail! Abigail, are you here? If you're here, please come out! It's okay, you don't need to hide. Abigail!"

Feet shuffled in the shadows. Whispers, faint whispers echoed around him.

"Who's there?" he cried.

Gibson was met by three frightened faces that appeared in the pool of light that seeped from cracks in the painted windows overhead. A middle-aged man and two younger women studied him cautiously.

"Are you a believer?" the man whispered.

"Believer in what? Look, my party is searching for a little girl. Dark hair, eight years old. Does anyone here match that description?"

"These are the last days. The Lord is coming soon to take the faithful. Do you believe?"

"I believe your group is holding a young child against her will."

"Perhaps you refer to Susan's daughter who returned from death in this age of miracles. We all care for her."

"How many of you are hiding here?"

"Our congregation numbers twenty of His servants," one of the women responded.

"Listen, that woman out there has lost her mind. The girl isn't her daughter. Where is she?"

"Jonas, who's here?"

Gibson squinted into the shadows to try to see the source of the small voice.

The man, Jonas, held out his arms in a protective posture, obviously prepared to block Gibson's attempt to locate the speaker.

"Dawn, please take her to the back. She shouldn't be wandering on her own," Jonas said curtly.

"Abby?" Gibson tried, "Abigail Mulder?"

A small figure darted under Jonas's outstretched arms, evading his grasp, and stepped into the patch of light in front of Gibson.

"Carol, get back right now. You're not to talk to strangers," Dawn scolded.

The young girl had long dark hair, tangled and unkempt. Blue eyes glared up at him quizzically, and then her expression softened as her face lit up in a smile. I've seen her before. Where have I seen her?

She skipped forward and grasped Gibson in a hug around his waist.

"I knew you'd come. Mommy and Daddy said you were just a dream, but I always knew you were real."

"Wh-what," he stammered.

"Abigail!" Mulder hollered, racing toward them from the front of the store.

Abby gasped, whirled around Gibson, and dashed straight into her father's arms. He swept her off her feet in a tight embrace and cradled the back of her head with his hand as she pressed her face against his shoulder.

"Daddy!" she cried, her voice muffled.

"I'm here, baby blue. Are you okay? Have you been hurt, honey?" he said tearfully.

"No, I'm fine. Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy's here too. And there's another very special person with us that you need to meet."

Near Washington, D.C.
59 days after

"All five of them are there? And they have found the girl?"

"That cannot be determined, my Lord."

"We have waited for them to locate the girl before moving on them. She is the one. We must have both of them, despite what he's done. We still need him."

"Yes my Lord, but the woman from your factory and her man are the only two that we have been able to see. The others might be with them. It is possible."

"Very well, we cannot wait any longer. If the others are not with them, we will simply have to locate the three on our own. Inform section 226 to proceed; they are the closest to the location."

"Yes, my Lord. And what shall I tell them are your orders?"

"I want the man and woman executed formally. That will show the rest of them what happens when they defy us."

"Yes, my Lord."

Dana wiped the tears from her eyes as she watched both of her children together, laughing in a secret conversation in the corner under the front windows. Abigail had taken the shocking news extremely well; she didn't question or doubt or even appear to be terribly surprised. When she was younger, she'd often asked her parents for a brother for Christmas and had never understood why the question made her mother cry. Now she was delighted to have what she'd always longed for.

William instantly lit up and turned into a chatterbox when he met his sister; he'd gained an entire family in the span of merely a few days. Dana smiled as she gazed at them; she could already tell that he was quite protective of Abby. She felt Mulder squeeze her hand, and she glanced over to see that he too was in awe, observing his two children interacting for the first time.

She absently fingered the tiny gold cross that she'd worn around her neck for most of her life. My prayers have been answered. Hope rekindled within her that maybe there actually was something else out there other than humans and Them. Something greater.

"Can we talk now?" Jonas crossed her line of vision and sat opposite Dana, Mulder, and Gibson. "We finally got Susan calmed down. She's in back with everybody, sleeping. This is late for us. We typically rest and wake with the sun, but your coming's got everybody in a frenzy. They're sitting up talking; having a meeting about you...that girl's your daughter?"

"Yes," Mulder answered, "We were separated in Montana, and Susan just found her by the road."

"She told us it was her girl, and we took it to mean Armageddon is close, since she'd risen from death."

"Well, you were wrong," Dana said tersely.

"I'm not trying to offend you, ma'am...So what do you all plan to do now?"

Gibson cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"We're not safe here," he said, "I know we're not safe here. Neither are you," he nodded at Jonas.

"Where do you think we should go, Gibson?" Mulder asked.

"I think...I think we should head south and make for Central and South America."

"We're not leaving Indiana. The good Lord will protect us," Jonas said.

"Why South America?" Dana asked, ignoring Jonas.

"I don't know why, and I can't explain how I know it, but They've only settled in the northern hemisphere. It's something about how this climate is more easily manipulated for Their settlements. And there's a greater concentration of pockets of magnetite in the south; They fear it-it may be the key to discovering Their weakness."

"You're suggesting that you're going to try to fight Them? The good Lord will do that. We just have to have patience," Jonas interjected.

"Everything you've advised has been right so far, Gibson. I'm going to trust this. We should head out first thing in the morning. I think a few hours of rest here will be fine," Mulder said.

"Maybe if-if we could somehow spread word to other people-we could form a human resistance in the south: an army," Gibson said, "Maybe one day we can retake our planet."

"That's a nice idea," Dana murmured, "We can hope."

He slept soundly for the first time in weeks. At last, his family was all together, everyone safe, everyone healthy. The moment he curled up next to Dana, he'd forgotten where he was; it could've been their bedroom in the house they shared not so long ago. He closed his eyes, inhaled her scent, listened to her gentle, even breathing, and wrapped his arms around her softness. Though he wanted to savor the sensations of home, he was asleep in a matter of minutes.

He is twelve years old. He is himself as he is today, but he is twelve years old again. He is standing on his porch in the Vineyard, gazing out into the field. The four sandbags are set out in a diamond for the game this afternoon. Sun shining brightly, not a cloud in the sky. The scent in the air tells him that it is autumn; clear and crisp. Suddenly, the screen door bangs open and she is there, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched, pigtails and all.

"Mom says you have to let me play today. You never give me a chance. I'm good, Fox. You wait and see."

"Samantha..."

His throat tightens. He wants to hold her and never let go.

"I've missed you so much...I should've let you play. That was the day before it happened. I've regretted it my entire life."

Her eyes grow older, wiser. She is not a little girl, just like he is not a boy.

"Don't be stupid, Fox. You know I forgave you. You know how much I loved you. I never would have wanted you to blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. None of it."

"You were my quest, Samantha. For years, you were my quest...the X- Files...it all started with you."

"Was it all worth it?"

"No. You died when you were fourteen. I couldn't save you."

"But she became your quest, after me. She was worth it, right?"

"Yes."

"It's almost the end, you know."

"Yes, I know."

She becomes a child again and bounds through the screen door.

"Mom made cider, Fox. Come and get some," she calls over her shoulder.

"I'll be right there," he says as he turns back to gaze at the open field.

Something awakened him. It was a heavy sound, dark and foreboding, and it echoed.

"Scully! Scully, wake up!" he whispered harshly in her ear.

"Hmm? Mulder, what's wrong?" she muttered.

"That noise..."

He stood quickly, stepped over the sleeping figures of Gibson, Abby, and Will, and crossed to peek out the front windows. Down the road, silhouetted against the soft glow of dawn on the horizon, he saw Them. A large group, a small army, hooded and cloaked in black robes. They marched in even rows.

"They're coming for us. My God, They're coming for us," he said softly.

"Everyone, get up! Now!" Gibson hollered.

He strode through the alcove in the back of the store where the congregation slept on mats, side by side. They looked up at Gibson in fear and scurried away from him, huddling together.

"What is going on here?" Jonas fumed as he stormed forward to meet Gibson.

"They're coming! What weapons do you have? We need everything you have!"

"Slow down a minute, son. Who's coming?"

"There's an army of Them; They're going to attack us!"

"The Devil's army. The Devil's army has come upon us. We must pray, and the good Lord will deliver us through the great battle of good and evil. We have finally come to the end! Today we will look upon His face!"

"No! You can't just hide back here and wait to be killed! We need weapons so we can fight Them!"

"We're not fighting, son. There are three shot guns in the corner. That's all we have. If you feel that you are called to use your own force against Them, then you're welcome to the weapons."

"Fine!"

Gibson dropped the guns and let them clatter on the linoleum. Mulder and Dana were leaning against the front wall beside the windows, and when he approached, they looked up at him in bewilderment.

"That's it?" Mulder exclaimed.

"Yes, and they refuse to fight."

"This isn't...we can't...there's no way," Dana stammered.

"How close are They?" Gibson asked.

"Maybe a mile away, last time I looked," Mulder said.

"What's happening?" Abigail wailed, as she jumped up from the other side of the windows to look outside and see for herself what the fuss was about.

"Abby, get down!" Mulder yelled, diving forward to grab her and pull her away.

The tone in her father's voice made her cry harder, so he held her gently in his lap to calm her, stroking her hair, while Dana emptied the cartridges in the weapons to check the ammunition.

"Gibson," Dana said, "Take Will and Abby to the back with the others."

"No Mommy, I don't want to go!" Abby whimpered.

"You're going, baby. It'll be okay. Will, crawl over here. Keep your head under the window ledge."

The boy, frightened and shaking, slowly made his way to where the others were gathered.

"They're going to take me back! Please please don't let Them take me back!" Will pleaded, his voice cracking.

"No one is taking you anywhere. I promise, William. You need to go with Gibson now," Mulder said.

"But I can help you! I can fight!"

"I know you could, William, but you don't need to. Watch your sister for us, okay?"

Dana murmured.

Reluctantly, Will rose to his feet and stood beside Gibson, while Abigail still clung to her father.

"Abby, Abigail..." Mulder tried as he attempted to pry her off. "Go with your brother."

"Come on, Abby," Will said shakily.

She slowly pulled away from him, and glanced over her shoulder at Gibson and William.

"Give me a kiss, baby blue. I love you," Mulder said softly.

She leaned forward and lightly kissed the tip of his nose.

"We love both of you," Dana said, squeezing Abby's hand.

Dana and Mulder both looked at Will and he nodded, reaching his arm out to his sister. Abby stood, rubbing her eyes, and grasped her brother's hand before Gibson ushered them on and walked behind them toward the back of the building.

"They're here," Mulder whispered as Gibson crouched beside them underneath the window. Dana passed him one of the guns, and he took it in his shaking hands. He propped himself up on one elbow to peer into the early morning outside and gasped as he felt a shudder run through his body. Yes, They were there. Black hoods thrown back to reveal familiar faces, the same face. The bounty hunter. All of them. They stood in a staggered line, each grasping the hilt of his weapon sheathed at his waist in readiness for the strike. Lights seeped through the irises of their cold grey eyes, and Gibson felt like They were boring holes into him with their stare.

"They can't see me, can't sense me. They don't know I'm here. But They know you're here," Gibson murmured under his breath.

"What about the children? Do They know the children are here?" Dana asked fearfully.

"...No. Just the two of you...We can still run. There's a way out back. We could take one of the congregation member's cars hidden behind the building," Gibson said.

"...But They'll still be able to track us somehow. They'll know where we are. Gibson, They don't ever have to know you were here. Leave now. Go. Take William and Abigail and head south," Mulder said firmly.

"No, I'm not leaving you. You can't do this alone."

"Three isn't any better than two. Not against Them. Go Gibson, while you still can. Before They find you with us," Dana said.

Tears stung his eyes. They're right. It's the only way.

"If we get out of this, we'll find you. But if not..." Mulder trailed off.

"Take care of my babies," Dana whispered hoarsely.

Gibson nodded and quickly turned to flee just as Dana grabbed his arm.

"Give this to Abby," she said, unhooking the gold chain from around her neck and pressing it to Gibson's palm.

He stuffed the necklace into his pocket and ran without looking back.

"No we can't leave! Not without Mommy and Daddy!" Abigail cried, clutching her stuffed cat to her chest.

Gibson scooped her up in his arms and raced toward the car while she kicked and squirmed in a failed attempt to break free of his grasp.

"If we go now, Mom and Dad will find us, right?" Will asked, running after him.

"I don't know. Take her, William."

Gibson swung Abby down beside the driver's door, and Will gripped her arms at her sides so she couldn't struggle away. Amazingly enough, the keys were on the floor board. He quickly started the ignition while Will pulled his sister into the backseat.

"Be brave, Abby. If we're brave, we can't lose," Gibson murmured as he sped away from the building. "We have to believe that."

Letum est non terminus

Guns were worthless. She knew they would be, and yet holding one in preparation to fire had given her a small sense of power, a sense of hope that she could fight it-that she could stop it. When They entered the building, Their heavy boots cracked broken glass under the front windows, and she knew that it was finished. Her weapon had been braced in front of her, her finger on the trigger, when she looked at Mulder-the man who knew her heart better than she. Hiding was not an option; running was not an option. For a long moment, frozen in time, she and her husband studied one another. She wasn't sure, but she remembered nodding first. His expression softened, his eyes glistening with tears, but he was almost smiling. She smiled. The children were safe, together, and maybe this broken world could hold a future for them. Maybe in their lifetimes, it would truly be over. Dana smiled, because she knew this wasn't giving up; it was recognizing when their part, their purpose in the fight, had ended. Gibson would carry on; he would bring hope and leadership to a new generation born in the world After. We fought the good fight, and we never gave up. Everything we stood for, everything we sacrificed, everything we lost, led to this moment. I wouldn't change it.

"I wouldn't change it," she said.

Mulder nodded, and their lips met. She felt his heat, his reassurance that she wasn't alone; that she would never be alone again. Words didn't matter. Love was with them. Truth was with them. Faith was with them. The guns clattered to the ground as they stood, leaning into one another, holding hands, fingers linked; and they faced the enemy outside as believers. Unafraid.

He could still feel the heat on his back from the fire looming behind him, the smoke billowing in the clear morning sky. After They took he and Dana, Their leader set fire to the ruined store, creating an enormous explosion. Inside, the members of the congregation burned alive when their prayers were interrupted. I suppose they got what they wanted; a quick and painless end. He must have slowed his pace, because he felt a sharp tug on the chains securing his wrists behind his back. Glancing over his shoulder around one of Them, he saw Dana being led on the same chain. Death itself did not scare him, but the possibility that the end of this life could truly be the end terrified him. I wish we could have one more morning, one more petty argument, one more drive, one more dance, one more kiss...But this can't be the end. This can't be all there is. Scully, I'll find you after, I promise. We'll go on together. I believe.

"Here. We stop here!" the leader called from the front of the procession.

Mulder looked up to see a large oak tree; large and ancient and beautiful, it's gnarled limbs like the fingers of an old man. It reminded him of a tree in the Vineyard behind his old house. He helped Samantha put up a tire-swing, but when she got on, the rope snapped and she broke her collar bone. 'I'm sorry, Sam. Do you want me to read to you? It might help if I read. What about The Hobbit?'

Two of Them swung thick rope over the largest branches. Dana was pushed to one side and Mulder to the other.

"One at a time or together?" one of Them called from the crowd gathered around the tree.

"One at a time! We will make this last!" the leader cried.

The others cheered and laughed, but Mulder didn't hear Them, nor did he see Them. He felt himself being raised on the shoulders of one as a loop of rope slipped over his head.

"We execute two of our enemies today to show them that they cannot win. And if they chose to disobey us, this will be the fate of their entire race! We will record this execution to display as a lesson to all those that would defy us!"

His mother holds him in a rocking chair on the screened-in porch. The whispering sounds of waves on the Atlantic lull him to sleep. She sings an Irish hymn softly while she wraps the quilt around his small body as a shield against the wind.

Samantha runs across the yard in the pink and orange haze of twilight. She opens her chubby fingers to show him her little miracle; a firefly shimmering in its own yellow glow.

The office door opens, and a young woman steps inside. He doesn't want to trust her. He doesn't want to let her in. For a fleeting moment, he wonders what her lips would feel like against his own.

He feels the tiny metal cross resting against the pulse on his neck. He brushes it gently with his fingers.

He knew her before this life. She has always been his friend. He has always loved her. Now he understands.

Dancing, dancing, twirling her around in circles. She wears a dark red dress and she's laughing. It's like no other sound on earth.

He watches her sleeping in the hospital bed and he prays for her, even though he doesn't really believe that anyone is listening.

Patches of sunlight fall over the white sheets. Her red hair is tousled, fanned out across the pillow as she sleeps. He smoothes his fingers over her creamy skin. Her lips are still swollen and full from passionate kisses the night before.

He feels her hand squeezing his, and he opens his eyes. He doesn't understand why she's crying.

He takes the baby in his arms, and he is astounded at how much he can love someone that he's known for less than a minute.

He gently brushes the tissue across her cheek to dry the tears. She looks up at him from the operating table with large, frightened eyes. He doesn't want her to know how afraid he is.

Abigail's tiny, sticky fists fit perfectly inside his large hands. He holds her steady while she takes her first steps.

Darkness and then a light that gets brighter. He knows she's not far behind.

She heard the rope drop with his weight, and she couldn't hold back a sob.

Together. I always knew we would go together. It couldn't end any other way.

The crowd shouted and clapped. They seemed like a hazy, dark blur to her tired eyes. Suddenly, she gasped and blinked to assure herself that what she saw was real. Slowly making her way to the front of the group was Melissa, looking just as she had seventeen years before; long, curly auburn hair, flowing skirt, black chocker. They couldn't see her. She looked up at Dana and smiled as she opened her arms widely.

Thank you, Missy. I'm coming home. Tell Ahab I'll be there soon. This is not the end. Today, I see God. I believe, Mulder. I believe enough for both of us.

The rope tightened roughly around her neck, and she did not see nor hear anything that followed.

Her father reads Moby Dick after he tucks her in. She doesn't understand the words, but she is captivated by the pictures of the sea.

She and Missy watch heavy drops of rain pound against the glass on the patio door. They take turns counting the seconds before the next clap of thunder, and they squeal each time it gets louder.

Her heart beats faster when she places the cigarette between her lips and strikes the match to light the tip. Tonight she feels dangerous. Tonight she knows what it means to be alive.

She tries to keep her fingers from shaking as she inserts the trachea tube through the skin on the boy's throat. His warm, sticky blood flows onto her hands. Less than an hour later, he opens his eyes. She weeps softly at the feeling of giving a stranger a second chance.

Wearing nothing but her bathrobe and underwear, she knocks on the door of his motel room. She doesn't want to let him see her fear. Butterflies dance in her belly when his warm fingers brush against her bare skin.

He's sitting at the table across from Modell , his fingers resting on the barrel of the gun. He's stronger than this. She needs him to fight it. Today she realizes how much she loves him.

She sees tears in his eyes when he brushes the skin above his upper lip with his finger to let her know she's bleeding again.

They sit on his couch at four a.m. and watch the sci-fi channel. He turns the volume down on the horrible zombie movie and they laugh hysterically as they write their own dialogue.

She fastens her necklace around the little girl's neck lovingly, and she wonders what it would sound like to be called 'Mommy'.

The first time she feels the baby move inside, it's like the delicate flutter of butterfly wings. She begins to sob, because she knows that this little creature is all she has left of him.

William's shrill cry is the most magical sound she has ever heard. Monica wraps him in a towel and places him on her belly. She's not afraid anymore.

He holds her close in the motel bed. She knows it's not the end, but rather, a new beginning. They have the power to save themselves.

She laughs so forcefully that tears stream down her cheeks while he tries to explain to Abigail why she must learn her 'k' sound. 'Kitty, Abby. Say Kitty. It doesn't sound nice when you say titty.'

She finds a trail of her make-up compacts leading into Abby's room, and when she opens the door, she discovers that her daughter is playing 'dress-up like Mommy'. It takes two hours of scrubbing the little girl's rosy cheeks to remove the mess of lipstick and eye liner.

The light comes and envelopes her in its heat. She's not alone.

"Momma, why wasn't Charlotte in the barn when Wilbur came back?"

"Because Charlotte died. She was very old."

"But she'll come back, won't she? How could she leave everybody she loved?"

"She can't come back. Her body was tired, and it was time for her to rest. But her love and spirit will stay close to everyone she touched in life."

"Momma...am I going to die?"

"Yes, Dana."

"I don't want to."

"Nobody wants to, but it's a part of living...Don't cry...you're not going to die for a long time. There are many things you have yet to see and learn and know and love before your life here is finished. And afterwards, you'll go on to the next life...and the people you love will be with you always.

"Truth as it may be shall be known. Truth as it once was shall never be forgotten."
-Seara Pacter

Near Atalanta, Costa Rica

The warm, midnight breeze whispers through the open window, and she feels its tingling heat against her skin. She rolls on her side to watch her husband sleeping peacefully, and she delicately twirls strands of his hair between her fingers. Scars on his face tell the story of years of pain and strife and war. As he sleeps, however, his rugged features soften, and she sees how he might have looked as a boy. She lightly kisses his forehead before swinging her legs over the side of the bed to place her feet on the straw mat. Wearing nothing but her cotton slip, she stands at the thatched window and gazes out at the sleeping, tropical forest below. The wind blows her short, cropped chestnut curls into her eyes, and she absently brushes them back. She crosses to the opposite corner of the small room, strikes a match to light the oil lamp, and opens a drawer to retrieve the journal she keeps. Before she lifts the pencil to write, she catches a glimpse of her reflection in her husband's shaving mirror on the wall. She runs her fingers through her short, dark hair in an attempt to tame the wild curls. Her eyes are, in her opinion, the greatest aspect of her appearance. She has her mother's eyes. She smiles and begins to write.

Today is the anniversary of the day it happened. It's so impossible to imagine that I once lived in a world where humans lived alone, going about the business of their own lives; a world before the shadow, before Them, before the great wars that seem endless. I can scarcely remember what Before was like. William and I spoke about it just the other day, how there used to be sports and games and vacations...Now we simply live to fight. The last battle ended in Mexico three weeks ago, and I led the strategy with my husband-well, I call him my husband, even though marriage doesn't exist. We're life partners, and I love him more than I can say; it's more than a ring and empty vows. He's the leader of the resistance, he says we're both the leaders, but he is the one who drew everyone together in the dark, early years. The resistance numbers five hundred strong men and women, and while we are still vastly outnumbered, we often find new survivors who wish to join us. William trains the new soldiers, and he always leads the battles. I often worry about losing him; we've lost so much. Before he leaves, he promises me that he'll be careful, and I have to smile.

I love nights like this, when everyone I love is safe in the camp and the enemy is far away. Something feels so normal about it, and I can almost pretend...We have gathered scientists here, who build new weapons and work everyday to solve Their mysteries, to understand where the key to Their destruction lies. I can honestly say we're getting close.

I find it incredibly strange that I am somehow part of Their prophecy. When I dream, I see visions, so I suppose that makes me special in Their eyes-different. Last night a dreamed of a little red-haired girl, and I told my husband she is a daughter we will have one day... They predicted that we would have special senses and that we would love each other. But They never predicted that we would fight back. Maybe when I am gone and my children are grown, this planet will be ours again. Maybe one day, many years from now, the human race will have no memory that They were ever here. Maybe there's hope. I want to believe.

Abigail Margaret Mulder

December 23rd, 2030

She closes the journal and places it in the drawer, and her mind drifts as she brushes her fingers against the tiny gold cross at her neck. A bittersweet smile plays across her lips when she glances at the old, tattered stuffed cat sitting on the shelf; a link to her old life.

"Abigail?" her husband whispers groggily.

"I was just writing. I'm coming back to bed now, Gibson."

He wraps his arms around her and kisses the back of her neck as she climbs into the bed beside him. She will lose reality in love and warmth and dreams until the morning dawns.

Author's notes: It was hard to kill Mulder and Scully, and I hope no one hates me for it. I was not planning on it originally; but I felt that that was where the story was going. I think their part in the fight was finished, and it was time to pass on their strengths, wisdoms, and faiths to a new generation. Also, I find it fitting that they would sacrifice themselves, together, as martyrs.

First of all, I want to thank my beta, who will forever be the Merry to my Pippin. And thank you so much to everyone for reading this story. I loved reading all of the feedback-thank you for all your comments, questions, and suggestions-they really made me want to finish this thing, knowing that people were responding to it. Merci beaucoup!