Dana lifted a weary hand to her temple and brushed away a drop of sweat that was slowly rolling down her forehead. You always hear of the pain, excruciating, but she hadn't thought for a very long time that she would ever get the chance to experience it. It was bright, much too bright for her tastes, in this room. And people... people seemed to be everywhere, shouting directions. The pain slowly drifted away and she moaned slightly as she rolled her head over to the left and breathed deeply.

"That was good, Dana. We just need one more push, and it'll all be over. Okay, here comes the next contraction... This baby's ready to come out.

She felt her stomach tighten as another contraction came -- this one was even worse than the ones before it had been, if that was possible. The doctor's hand brushed her foot and she said "Now, Dana! Push!"

The pain grew to the point of being unbearable. As a midwife pushed her back off of the bed to create leverage, a strange groaning scream filled the room. Scully wondered for a moment where the noise was coming from before she realized it was coming from her. The doctors were still yelling encouragement as Dana heard a baby cry, and then collapsed back onto the bed in a dead faint.

Six months earlier

FBI Special Agent Dana Scully leaned back in the desk chair. Her eyes moved slowly over the walls and ceiling of the basement office, and then finally stopped to rest on a nameplate -- Agent Fox Mulder. She reached over and touched it, letting her fingers linger on the cool metal engraving. How often she had done this same thing, but out of musing then, not sadness. She reached down and touched her stomach gently. She hadn't told her mother yet of her pregnancy... there was so much trouble around it. Would she be happy because of another child, and from her "barren" daughter no less? Or would she be dishonored at the thought of pregnancy outside of marriage, and with no apparent father at that? Plus, Scully hadn't called because she knew that her mother wouldn't have wanted to see her in the hospital again -- Maggie Scully had gone through that more times than anyone should ever have to. Scully had been released less than half an hour before and, while being advised to go home and rest, she had come to the office. Perhaps it had been some small glimmer of hope, that she would walk in and find Mulder sitting at the desk as usual, looking up at her over his reading glasses as she walked in, with some quip about who knows what and with some strange case on his mind. But, of course, she met none of that when she entered -- only an empty desk and an office strewn with memories from so long, their memories together. It had been almost eight years now. Hard to believe it had been so long already, and yet it was really such a short time. So many people had been born, lived, married, had children in that time. And many people died. She started quickly and tried to think of something else to qualm the unspeakable pain she felt welling up inside of her. All the losses she had experienced over the years, all the pain and suffering... and now the one thing that had always been there for her was gone. Mulder was somewhere, God knows where, out in the wide and unreachable universe. What was he doing? Was he thinking of her? Was he in pain? And finally, reluctantly thought... was he alive? Surely, if he was gone... surely, she would know it. She would feel an emptiness, like after her father and her sister had died. There was... a great nothingness. But she could feel Mulder, somewhere... she knew she had to find him.

    There was a light knock at the office door.  Part of her expected to look up and see Mulder coming in, joking about their next case, making some stupid, albeit hilarious, remark about the supernatural, but the rest of her... well, frankly, the rest of her felt like dying.  Finally, she managed to swallow the lump rising quickly in the back of her throat and managed a quiet "Come in."

     She turned as she heard the door opening -- it was Assistant Director Skinner.  He looked at her with an expression it seemed she had seen all too often:  sad, hopeful, gentle, treading lightly to try to avoid any tender points.  It was obvious he has something to say.

    "Dana?" He said softly.  It was only the second time she could remember him calling her by only her first name, the other being when Mulder was hospitalized the previous year for abnormal brain functions.  Strange that it would only be when Mulder was in trouble.  He seemed worried.  Of course, why wouldn't he be?  He stepped in and pushed the door to.  "I saw you come in and thought I should come down and check on you. How are you doing?  I really don't think you should be back at work this soon, not after... well, everything."

     Scully sighed gently.  "I'm fine.  I really am.  Anyway, I'm only her to pick up some things."  She started shuffling some papers nervously, then dropped a few on the floor.  She leaned down, flustered, to pick them up, but Skinner beat her to it.  He looked up at her worried.

     "Are you sure you're all right?"

      She sighed again and sat down.  "It just... it seems like everything is falling apart.  There's the case, which was never solved; then Mulder's disappearance; and now there's..."  She placed a hand over her lower stomach briefly, contemplatingly, then brushed her hair back and closed her eyes.  "I just... I feel so useless, so worn out."

    "I can imagine.  You've been through a lot these past few days.  What you need right now is rest, and lots of it.  I want you to take some time off, relax.  You certainly deserve it.  Don't worry, everything will be all right.  And we will find Mulder.  But, until then..."  He let his last word trail off.

     Scully's eyes snapped open on Skinner's last, anxious-sounding note.  He looked at her, but didn't continue.  "Until then what?"  She looked fiercely into his eyes.  He broke the stare before he started talking again.  He spoke quickly.

     "The board of directors has decided to assign you a new partner."

     Scully opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.  "Wait.  I need you to know that it wasn't my choice.  If I had it my way, I would've preferred to wait, for at least a month or so.  We waited when you were missing.  But the rest of the board isn't as... optimistic... as we are."

     "What do you mean, 'not as optimistic'?"

     "They think... they think he's dead."

     Scully turned toward the desk, away from Skinner, trying to hide the tears that quickly sprung to her eyes.  How could anyone have so little faith in him?  He had always been the strong one:  the one to pull through, to believe when the believing was hardest, to save her.  He was a Phoenix, always rising from the ashes.  She breathed deeply and looked up to stop the tears from flowing.  Finally, she spoke.

     "Well, who is it?"

     "His name is John Doggett.  He's a fairly new agent.  He's currently assigned to the Dallas, Texas office, so he won't be here for another week.  They already talked to him about it.  He's not very... enthusiastic about being assigned down here.  He's a skeptic." Scully gave a mirthless scoff.  "Yes, he reminded me of you, back in the beginning."

     "When do I meet him?"

     "I have a meeting set with him for ten days from now, at two o'clock.  He should be done by about three o'clock."

     "All right."  She quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek before turning to face Skinner.

     "Scully, I want you to know that I'm on your side.  Whatever you need, you can come to me.  I think it's too soon, but I'm sure it'll all turn out all right.  You'll see."

     "Thank you."

     He gave her a small worried smile as he closed the door and left.

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

"And you are mine."

     Scully leaned against the closed door and gasped lightly to try to stop the imminent tears she felt coming.  A new partner?  How?  She would never be able to have the same loyalty, trust, friendship she had built with Mulder with someone else.  It had taken them eight years to form their relationship; she was closer to him than anyone even in her own family.  Her eyes flew around the room, to mementos of him and their years together, all scattered around the office: photographs from famous myths, old case files strewn about, pencils embedded deep in the ceiling during moments of boredom -- wasted moments while they were apart.  She finally stopped at the one thing that defined Mulder, the one thing that never changed:  his "I WANT TO BELIEVE" poster.  It represented him, the things he believed, the things he had searched for -- unchanging, perfect in its equivocal symbolism.  She smiled lightly at its simple charm... and then her smile hardened.  The poster and its symbolism may not change, but life does.  Mulder was gone, and it seemed that it would be impossible to find him.  And it was certain that nothing they had known would ever be the same.  Scully walked around the desk, tracing her hand across papers left haphazard that he had been reviewing before he left.  She swiveled the chair for a moment, sat down, dropped her head on her arms, and cried.

     She didn't bother to pack much; she only got one small suitcase with the necessities and a few changes of clothes.  There was no need to spend more time than absolutely necessary there, in her apartment, as usual.  As she ran out the door, she noticed her badge sitting on the table, where she always grabbed it before she left for work in the mornings.  She realized she hadn't told anyone she was going.  Skinner would be so worried -- he had already been worried while she was in the hospital... but she decided against telling him.  He certainly wouldn't object to it, but she felt like she needed to leave it all behind.  She grabbed her badge and left.

     As she drove, her mind flipped unconsiously from subject to subject.  It finally came to rest on her life, all the people she had ever loved, and lost.  She thought about all of it -- the ups, the downs.  It always seemed the downs far outnumbered the ups.  First, she lost her father.  Though she had always been in awe of him, slightly afraid at times, she loved him and knew that he loved her.  They were very close when she was a child and, though they grew apart over the years, she knew he loved her the same.  Then she lost her only sister, Melissa, who was shot in Dana's own apartment.  And to know that it wasn't Melissa who they meant to kill, but Dana herself, added a great deal of guilt.  Not being with her when she had died added such a great weight to the loss.  And perhaps the greatest loss of all was when she had been abducted and her ova had been harvested, leaving her barren.  She found her daughter, Emily, who had been created from one of these ova, but then she also lost Emily.  But now, after all this... it all changed.  She was going to have a baby of her own.  The sheer impossibility of it astounded her.

     While she told herself that this was a gift, a miracle, she had a small doubting voice in the back of her head.  It seemed to want her to realize that this too could be a trick of the Syndicate, another clone, another disappointment.  She tried to silence the voice, but it just got louder and louder.  She flipped on the radio to drown out the thoughts.

In the year 3535
Ain't gonna need your husband, won't need your wife
You'll pick your sons, pick your daughters too
From the bottom of a long glass tube...

     She quickly turned the station.

Livin' it up at the Hotel California,
Such a lovely place,
Such a lovely face...
Plenty of room at the Hotel California,
Any time of year,
You can find it here...

     Much better.

     Though she tried to keep her mind off of Mulder, it kept somehow shifting back and she wouldn't realize it for a moment, and then she reprimanded herself.  She finally resolved to let her mind wander... and, of course, it wandered to him.

     She loved Mulder.  She knew she did, that she always had.  Not like a lust, not a romantic kind of love, but a love that was more like a brother.  Well, maybe not a brother... she had never been as close to either of her brothers as she was to Mulder.  She loved him as a best friend, a confidante... of course, as a partner.  She could tell Mulder anything and, when he was surprised, she knew it was all an act.  She had never found anyone like him... he was the sweet kind, the kind you fell in love with, the kind you married.  But she couldn't.  The truth was, the thought of marrying scared her.  She knew what it was like to love, to want to be with someone forever, to never leave them; but she was afraid too; afraid of the statistics: of divorce, of bereavement, especially in a job as dangerous and demanding as theirs.  He had been so close to death so many times before, countless times.  Perhaps that was why she had never let their relationship go any farther, even when it seemed that they both wanted to: she was afraid of losing him.  And now it seemed that there was no way out but down.

     "Dana, what if early in our four years together somebody told you that's we'd been friends together -- always.  Would it have changed the way we look at one another?

     "Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day."

     It hardly seemed that she had been on the road more than ten minutes when she found herself pulling up in her mother's driveway, but it was already getting late, getting dark.  She sat in the car for a few minutes, staring up at the house, trying to gather her strength to go up to the door.  It seemed to be more than she could muster, but she finally took a long, deep breath and made herself open the car door and go up the walk, which seemed to go on forever.  But before she knew it, she was on the porch, in front of the door, lifting her hand to knock...

The door opened before she had a chance.  "Dana!"  Maggie sounded very surprised at seeing her daughter.  "What are you doing here?  I saw you drive up and I thought for sure something horrible had happened.  Has it?  Oh goodness, you look ill.  What's the matter, dear?"  All through this she was grabbing Dana, pulling her inside, shutting the door, seating her on the couch, wrapping her in a blanket, feeling her forehead for signs of fever.  Her typical mother.

     "No, Mom, it's nothing bad."  She was overwhelmed with nausea in remembering Mulder.  "Well, not directly.  Not to me."  Her mother stared expectantly, knowing she was stalling.  "I have something to tell you."  Her mother kept rushing around, flustered.  "Please sit down, mother, you're making me nervous."

     "Well, dear?  What is it, sweetheart?"  Maggie sat down and looked at her, worried, anxious, expectant.  Dana turned her eyes down and focused on the floor to keep from having to look in those eyes.

     "Mom, I need to say this, to just get it out.  I know you'll probably be overwhelmed with this... I certainly was... but I don't need you to judge me for it. Mom... I'm pregnant."

     Maggie froze.  "Wh-what?  Dana, I thought you were... I mean, I thought you couldn't..."

     "I know.  I don't know how.  It's literally, medically, scientifically impossible, but it's true."

     Maggie paused and Dana could hear her shock in her breath.  She waited anxiously for her mother to speak again.

     "How far along are you?"

     "They said it's almost three months."

     "Well, then, whose is it?  I mean, do you even know?"

     "No, I don't know.  I had been feeling faint for a few days and finally I was admitted to a hospital.  They ran a few tests and... well, you know.  There's no way I could've gotten pregnant."

     Maggie was silent out of shock.  Dana stared apprehensively at the floor.  A million thoughts flew through her mind:  What is she thinking?  Is she happy about the pregnancy?  And most of all, Is she disappointed in me?

     Finally, Maggie looked up.  There were tears shining in her eyes.  "Dana... I'm overwhelmed.  I'm so happy that you're pregnant, but... there are so many questions, so many that I know you can't answer.  I need you to know that I'll stand by you.  I love you, Dana.  And you're my only daughter now.  I never get to see Bill and Tara, and your brother Charlie's always out to sea... you're the only one I can count on.  I just wonder, though... how are you going to balance taking care of a baby with your career?  I know that's not the most important question right now, but it's the only one I know how to ask."

     Dana was taken aback.  She hadn't really considered much yet.  She had only though about all the good things, not all the trouble.  She decided to be truthful.  "I haven't really had a chance to think about that yet.  I only just found out.  It still hasn't quite hit -- all the problems, everything."

     "I don't want to sound unsupportive, Dana, but I don't think you'll be able to handle having the baby and doing your best at work.  I know you're a very strong person.  That's why I've always felt I could lean on you when I was having trouble -- when your father died, when Melissa..."  She paused.  "I just think that one of them will dominate your time more, and I'm afraid it would be your work."

     Dana was dumbfounded.  She was part angry that her mother had such little faith in her, but then the rest of her knew she was right.  Scully had never dealt with anything like this before.  "Mom... you know I've always been a very hardworking person.  It's how I was able to graduate, get my PHD, make it into the FBI.  And I've never let it get to me."  Now she knew she was stretching the truth -- there had been many times when she'd felt the horror of a case.  Philip Padgett's obsession with her... and Donnie Pfaster, certainly.  But she had never left a case for personal feelings, only taken a day or two away from the location and gone back to DC.  But she knew more than anything that she hated running away from her problems.  Which is why she knew that soon, she'd have to go back and face her new partner, face the changes she'd have to make to accomidate everything that had happened.  But she was resolved to it, and didn't deny what she knew she had to do.

     "I know, sweetheart, but I want what's best for you and for the baby.  You can't give one hundred percent to both a baby and to your work -- one of them will win.  And you've always been very dedicated to your work.  You've never slowed down or slacked off... I don't think you'd be able to stop for anything, even a baby.  And you're constantly traveling to sites of cases."  She paused, thinking.  "You know, I'm all alone up here... the baby could come and live with me.  I certainly raised you all right."

     Dana was silent out of shock.  Not raise her own baby by herself?  How could she do that?  Surely that would cause more problems than it would solve.  Everything was so mixed-up, spinning out of control.  She looked up at her mother with despairing eyes.

     "Oh, dear, Dana, you don't have to decide right away.  There are six months until the baby will be here,  and then even longer before you could come off of maternity leave.  After that, you could go back to work and I can take care of the baby.  You can come up and visit, then take them home for holidays or something like that.  Or you could come up here.  You and Mulder."

     Dana's eyes welled up with tears.  Mulder.  She hadn't told Maggie about Mulder.  Should she?  It was yet another life-changing problem she had to deal with.  She usually told her mother everything -- eventually.  She finally decided that it wouldn't be best, not now, not yet.  Her mother loved Mulder, despite Bill's hatred for him.  There was no need to make her even more worried.

     "Yes, of course Mulder.  Now that he's all alone, I'm sure he'll be glad to come, as long as he's not busy at the time.  You know him, obsessed with his work.  Hard to pull him away."  She hoped her mother wouldn't notice the catch in her voice.

     Her mother smiled.  "Good.  You know how much I love having Mulder around."  She hadn't noticed.  Dana smiled back.  She glanced at the clock, and her mother followed her eyes.  "Goodness, I didn't realize it had gotten so late!  We ought to get to bed."

     "Mm.  Sounds good to me."

     "Well, just find yourself a man with a spotless genetic makeup and a really high tolerance for being second-guessed and start pumping out the little uber-Scullys."

     Faith.  Her faith had always been so much stronger than his.  Her faith in God, anyway.  She reached up to touch her cross necklace.  She remembered all the times she had lost it, lost her faith, but Mulder had always found it, restored her.  She deeply missed him... they were so rarely apart, at least in seperate states -- and certainly being in potentially seperate countries and certainly states of being were out of the question.

     She let one hand gently rest on her lower stomach.  She could hardly believe that there could be a tiny person being formed in there, cells dividing, nuclei forming... or perhaps it was sleeping.  But she could feel something, almost like when one knows that something special is going to happen soon, a feeling of joy.  A joy that she knew could be ruined quite easily.  A child could never be kept innocent living in a house with a single mother FBI Special Agent.  Though her spirits fell as she considered her possibilities, she knew that in the end, her mother's offer was for the best.  She would have to send the baby to live with her mother, after coming off of maternity leave.  The only other option would be to quit her job and, while she did have some money saved, it would never be enough to sustain them all though its childhood, which would be how long it would take.  It would be better for all parties involved to have the baby stay with Maggie until Dana had enough saved to live on until it was old enough.

     Dana was overwhelmed with sadness, despair, even hostility.  Her life, it seemed, would never be what she wanted it to be.  And so, for the second night in a row, she cried herself to sleep.

     It was night.  Not an ominous, frightening night -- the glow of the moon was soft, gentle, glistening on the water as the waves crashed on the beach, up the shore, on her feet.  Dana rubbed her arms gently as she stared out at a lone beacon far away -- a lighthouse.

     She smoothed a few loose strands of wavy red hair back behind her ear.  She gazed dreamily at the light -- flickering, glimmering, dancing.  It was almost magical in its perfect simplicity.  A warm breeze gently blew the tall salt grass that grew scattered along the shore.

     Dana didn't recognize the landscape.  She didn't really care.  It seemed like the only two things in the world were her and the little beacon light, so far away.

     "Dana?"  She heard a voice behind her.  She recognized the voice and turned around.

     "Yes, Mrs. Mulder?"  The fact that Mrs. Mulder had died earlier that year didn't seem to be of much consequence.

     "It's getting chilly, Dana.  You shouldn't be out here -- you could catch cold."

     "I know... it's just so beautiful."

     "It certainly is.  Fox loved vacationing up here when he was a child.  That was before Samantha left, of course, and before his father and I got divorced.  He and Samantha would go running up the beach, get sunburned, build sandcastles..."  She laughed.  "It was a much more innocent time."

     "He never bothered spending any time to share stories of his youth up here.  The only story from his youth I heard was... about Samantha's disappearance."

     "Yes, Fox never was one for dwelling on those memories.  He's always preferred worrying about the future, and what he belives it will bring for us.  But he doesn't see... he thinks he does sometimes, but he can never truly see it all."

     Dana was silent.  The future.  She knew what the future had done for her before.  It had given her so many things, and taken so many things.  She had wished so many times that she could see, prevent things, like people they had seen over the years.  She could have fixed so many events...

     Mrs. Mulder finally spoke.  "You'll find him, Dana."  They turned to face each other.  Mrs. Mulder put one hand on Scully's shoulder.  "Don't worry.  You're meant to find him.  He's not meant to be gone forever.  He'll come back."

     Dana felt filled with warmth.  She was happy, for the first time in ages.  She smiled at Mrs. Mulder, and then looked back out to the beacon, serenely, watching the gentle glimmer as it swayed, twinkled...

     "I've always felt that dreams are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out how to ask."

     When Dana awoke, the feeling of happiness stayed with her.  It had been a unique experience for her... had it been real?  Was that possible?  Was Mrs. Mulder right?  She knew that the only way to find out would be to go back, back to DC, back to Skinner, back to the new partner, and start her search for Mulder.

     Maggie Scully came downstairs, groggy, hair tousled, still wearing her robe, to find Dana dressed, reading the paper, and drinking coffee.  Dana smiled at her mother.  It had been three days since she had arrived there.

     "Well, this is a first.  Never the whole time you were growing up were you out of bed and dressed before I was awake."

     "Guess it's time for a change.  If I'm going to be a mother, I should start acting like one."

     Maggie paused.  "You're going back now, aren't you?"

     Dana sighed.  "Yes, Mom.  I've got to go back.  It's my job.  I have things I have to do."

     "Yes, I know... it just seems like I never get to see any of my children anymore.  Especially with you living so close."

     "Don't worry, Mom.  I'll see you soon enough."  They smiled at each other.  "But Mom, please don't tell Bill about... the baby.  Please, I'd prefer to tell him myself.  You know how disapproving he is of everything."

     "He's not disapproving, he's just..."

     "I know, just an overprotective big brother.  Please, Mom, will you promise me?"  Maggie didn't answer.  "You've got to promise me."

     Maggie sighed.  "I suppose I could keep it.  But I don't like this secrecy, Dana.  Tell him soon, okay?"

     "Don't worry, Mom.  I will.  Thank you."  She leaned over and kissed her mother on the cheek.  "I've got to go.  I've got a job to go to, things I have to do.  And I don't think they'd like me to call in sick again."

     Maggie hugged her daughter.  "Goodbye, sweetheart."

     "You've got to try to make sense of this, Dana.  It'll help you through the pain.  To understand why this is happening to you."

     Dana straightened her skirt and smoothed her hair down.  She was nervous, uncharacteristically nervous.  She wanted to seem perfect, the way Mulder had the first day she had met him.  So together, so sophisticated, yet playful and funny.  She had thought from the beginning that she would like him, but she hadn't known that they would develop the kind of relationship they had.  She wanted the new agent to like her, of course, but she would feel uncomfortable if he tried to take Mulder's place.  But that would be impossible... no one could ever take his place.

     It had been a whole week since she had left her mother's house.  It had been a rough week, and a boring week.  She had spent the entire time doing paperwork, going over old case files, trying to make sense of everything Mulder had left behind.  She hadn't wanted to touch it, out of respect -- how would he feel when he returned if all of his things had been moved? -- but more importantly, she didn't want the new agent to touch any of it.  It would have been much worse that way.  And today, finally, she would meet her new partner.

     She glanced around the office.  It was only then she realized that there was really not much of her in her, except the case files she had worked on and written up.  There were all Mulder's photos, Mulder's huge jars of sunflower seeds, Mulder's desk nameplate.  Even Mulder's drawer of videos, which she had been sure to lock safely.

     Just as she had begun to arrange herself, finish putting away a last few things, there was a knock on the door.  Her eyes flew up to the clock: 2:57.  She sat at the desk, turned her back to the door for impact, and managed a loud, quick "Come in."

     She heard the door open.  She had to remind herself to breathe, breathe, but quietly.  She leaned back in the chair, her back to the door, and acted as if she was reviewing a case file.  She could feel his uncomfortable tension as he stood patiently.  Finally, after waiting a good minute for impact, she spun around nonchalantly, acting indifferent and preoccupied.  She glanced at the new agent over the top of the file.  Though she didn't show it, her heart was beating so hard she could barely hear over it.

     "So, you're the poor guy they stuck down here, are you?  What's your name?"

     The new guy seemed nervous too, but wasn't hiding it as well.  It made her more confident.  "Uh, John.  John Doggett."  He shifted a briefcase to his left hand and held out his right to shake.  Scully glanced at it and continued talking.  He put in down after a minute.

     "Well, Doggett, how long have you been with the Bureau?"

     "A-about a year and a half... two years this--"

     "Well, I suggest you forget everything you ever learned.  This is going to be a lot different than any job you have here before.  What all did Skinner tell you?"

     "Um, ah, basically that this was outside of the bureau mainstream, a section for unsolved cases with unusual circumstances... he told me about you and the guy who worked here before..."

     Dana winced.  It was both at Doggett calling him "the guy" and at him saying that Skinner had told him about them.  What had he said?  Had he told of her pregnancy?  Mulder's disappearance?  His name, even?  Surely he must not have told him his name for him to just call him "the guy."  How could anyone refer to Mulder so inconsequentially?  Especially when his name was on the door, on the table, on the report she was reading, on the walls, filling her mind...

     She realized she had missed some of what he had said.

     "...though I don't think all that 'paranormal phenomenon' is at all possible.  Especially if you look at the scientific research..."

     "Yes, I know all about that."  He was annoying her already.  "I'm a scientist myself -- I was a doctor before joining the Bureau.  You'd be surprised, though, at how being assigned down here can make you question and even sometimes abandon your beliefs."

     Doggett laughed.  It wasn't an attractive laugh -- it was an unbelieving little snorting, snickering laugh.  As if he were making fun of her.  The sound of it grated down her spine like fingernails on a blackboard.  She narrowed her eyes.

     "I think I'm steadfast enough in my beliefs to know what's real and what's not.  I may not be a seasoned agent like some around here, but I've had a high success rate so far and I could really shape up this section, take up the case resolition rate--"

     "Listen."  She interrupted him with a cold, quiet, harsh voice.  "I don't care about what you did before.  I don't want to hear it, I don't want you to ever even mention it.  It doesn't matter anymore.  Beliefs don't count -- you'll see things you don't believe.  You can try to write them off as something else, but they're not.  I don't ever want you to assume that you're better than anyone, because you're not.  Better people than you have died for this work.  As far as this work is concerned, scientific research can all go to--"

     The door opened.  Skinner walked in and smiled at the agents.  Scully smiled back.  Doggett looked constipated.

     "Hello, agents.  Getting aquainted?"

     "Yes, I've been briefing Agent Doggett as to the manner of our work.  He doesn't seem to understand some of it.  Telling him how best to go about it and all."

     "Oh, sounds good.  If you have any trouble, just consult me."

     "We will."  Dana kept up her upbeat, unencumbered attitude until Skinner was gone.  Then she turned back to Doggett.  "I do hope we're clear on everything."

     "Crystal."  He said grimly.  He looked around.  "Where do I sit?"

     Scully looked around.  "You don't have a desk.  There's no room for another.  This is my desk.  You're not to touch it.  That is your area."  She gestured over towards a small lone chair in the far corner of the room.

     "We couldn't, say, rearrange the furniture, move the desk over--"

     "There is no room for another desk."  She said it through her teeth, angrily, this time.  "That is your area.  Got it?  Good.  Now, don't you have something to do?"

     "No, I haven't been given--"

     She turned around, picked up a few large folders filled with papers, and dumped them into his arms.  "Here.  Copies.  Ten of each.  Double-check them for any mistakes or glitches in the copier that may mess up the type.  They're due for review at 7:00, so hurry."  She waited until after he left, listened fo the elevator doors, and then finally cracked the door to make sure he was gone.  Then she took off to Skinner's office.

     "He's probably one of those people who thinks Elvis is dead."

     "Good afternoon, Agent Scully."  Skinner's secretary smiled at Scully as she walked through the door.

     "Hi.  Is he in?"

     "Yes, but I think he's going over some reports..."

     Dana walked right in without so much as pausing.  They were used to this by now -- she often just walked into his office. Skinner was sitting at his desk, flipping listlessly through a few papers. He looked up at Dana.

"Agent Scully, may I help you?"

"Yeah..." She pushed the heavy door closed and sighed. "What's up with this new guy?"

"Agent Doggett? What do you mean?"

"He's just so..." She made a frustrated motion with her hands. "He's annoying, he doesn't believe in anything, he's too fresh, by-the-book, he's got his head up his rear end..."

"He's the best we had. The truth is, people don't want to be assigned down there. They've heard the rumors about the strange cases. While he wasn't exactly eager to be assigned down there, he didn't fight it. He's a good agent. You'd prefer I assigned someone who believed in everything, agreed with your every word? A trained monkey could do that."

"I'd rather you didn't assign anyone period. I know, you had to. It wasn't your choice. But it just seems like I could have been consulted about it first, at the very least. Mulder worked alone before I was assigned down there. I just... I feel like I need to get out, get away, change everything... it all seems to be going wrong."

"It's probably just stress... coming back to work, hormones... it'll all be fine. And I'm sure Doggett will be all right, once you get settled in. I know it's a big change for you, but I have faith that you can do it. You've got to get over the fact that Mulder is gone, and get back to work. He didn't stop when you disappeared. It's what helped him find you."

"But I can't... I can't give up faith that he's out there. That I can find him. That I can bring him home."

"I know, and I'm not asking you to. All I want is for you to accept his absence so you can go on."

"I have. I do. He's not here. That gets more apparent with every minute. It doesn't mean that he dominates my every thought, it just means that... I think about him. When you see someone almost every day for seven years of your life, when they leave, it leaves an impression. A big impression. And this impression is carved in for good."

"I know you've lost people before..."

"Yes, and almost all of them were tied into our work. My father came to me... Luther Boggs channeled him. My sister was shot because they thought she was me. That was very hard -- she was my only sister, and my closest sibling. And Mulder was unique, too, in his own way. And that can never be replaced by sending in some little rat weasel to take his place. Truth is, no one will ever or could ever take his place."

At this point, Dana was breaking. She hadn't told anyone how she really felt about all of it -- even she hadn't known how fiery her feelings were. She turned and stormed out of the office. Skinner's secretary watched her as she walked quickly down the hall, finally breaking into a run as she shot through the door going downstairs to the main floor.

"Life is just a path. Follow your heart, and it'll take you where you want to go."

Scully awoke to the sound of banging on her apartment door. It was still dark outside. She grabbed her robe and angrily sprinted to the door. She jerked it open, expecting to find the paper man. Instead, she found three very surprised Lone Gunmen.

"Morning, Agent Scully." Frohike was polite, as always. "Looking quite scrumptious, as usual."

She glanced at herself in a mirror next to the door. Eyes red and puffy, hair tangled and dishevelled hair; clothes in disarray. "What time is it, you guys?"

Langly looked at his watch. "Precisely 5:42 AM."

"What are you doing here? You know, normal people are asleep right now."

"Who says we're normal?"

Frohike shot him a look that clearly said Shut up. "It's a matter of importance. May we come in?"

Scully sighed, slightly annoyed. She looked up at their expectant faces. "Sure, come on in." They pushed past her into the living room, which was littered with tissues, clothes strewn about, everything in complete disarray.

"Whoa, rough night?"

Scully placed her hand gently over her brow as she thought. She had such a headache.

After leaving Skinner's office, she had run. All the way home. She hadn't run that much in a long time, and certainly not in her work clothes. But she hadn't noticed it much. She focused on the pain; pain in her legs, in her muscles, in her lungs as they tried to draw in air, in her feet as they protested loudly against the high-heeled dress shoes she always wore. People had stared after her, but she had been too preoccupied to care. She couldn't remember much of after that -- coming home, crying. She had been doing a lot of that lately. She had tried to start unpacking, but then she started thinking about it. It occurred to her that that was all she had ever seemed to do, her entire life. Packing, unpacking, moving, traveling, never staying still long enough to get used to a place before you were on the move again. With her father's navy job, they had moved constantly and now, she was always traveling. It seemed so futile. So, in her desperation, she picked up all the clothes from the suitcase and thrown them across the room. Many other things followed, and eventually, she just got in the shower. She was in there for two hours. Finally, she had gone to bed.

"Now, tell me, what are you doing here?" She completely ignored their curiosity as to the state of her apartment.

"We have some leads. As to Mulder's whereabouts and who took him," Byers answered.

She had figured. "And those would be...?" She knew she was acting mean. That's just how she felt. She knew she would regret it soon, but she also knew they would forgive her.

Of course, they went into the usual rigamarole -- government conspiracies, military involvement, human\alien hybrids. She hardly paid any attention, no more than was needed than to make them think she was listening, but she knew everything they were saying anyway. She had heard the exact same thing a million times, from them and from Mulder. Of course, she was half listening: she did care about them. Though she treated them like they hardly mattered, she thought of them as good friends. She had so few friends, nowadays.

"...so, are you game?"

Langly did talk a lot. But now, she realized she had phased them out completely.

"Man, Scully, are you paying attention at all?"

"Yes." She lied almost bold-faced. "I just missed the last part of what you said."

"I said, we're taking a trip: Tucson, Arizona. It's been rumored that there are clues there as to the whereabouts of certain abductees -- namely Mulder. We think it'd be best if you accompanied us. We promise, not another Las Vegas."

She smiled at the obvious attempt at a joke, trying to make them feel more comfortable. She could feel their tension -- they wanted to keep a light air about them, but they were also worried, for her and for Mulder.

"I'd have to arrange to take a few days off work..."

"Done. We talked to Skinner last night. Figured he'd be less appreciative than you at being woken up so early."

"When would we go?"

Frohike pulled out four plane tickets. "Leaves early tomorrow. We're already packed--"

"Always keeps our bags packed, just in case." Langly interrupted.

"--but that should give you plenty of time to get your stuff together. Oh..." he looked around. "And you might want to straighten up the place some. You won't be able to tell if someone comes and searches your apartment."

"Mulder, I feel you close, though I know you are pursuing your own path. For that I am grateful -- more than I could ever express. I need to know you're out there, if I am ever to see through this."

It was, as always, a long and boring plane ride. She had never travelled with the Gunmen before, but nothing too exciting happened, other that Langly getting airsick and Frohike accidentally pouring his drink down the flight attendant's blouse. Byers was quiet and studious, as usual -- though he did fall asleep once and murmered something about "finding Suzanne." Dana just sat listlessly, glancing occasionally between the in-flight movie, "Home Fries," and a book, Jose Chung's "Millenial Prophecies." It was the last book he had written before his death. He had been murdered by working on a case with, of all people, Frank Black, who she and Mulder had worked with not long before. She decided it was high time she did some reading about the millennium, seeing that it was coming so soon. She was actually comforted, though, in reading the last words in the book:

"I humbly add my own prophecy of what the dawn of the new millennium shall bring forth: one thousand years of the same... old... crap."

She smiled lightly in spite of herself. She had always loved Chung's work, and part of her had loved the mischevious little old man. She had been flattered when he had written "From Outer Space" about a case she had worked on. It was such a shame that he hadn't lived to see the success of his final work.

The first few days in Tucson were rather uneventful -- she mostly sat around the hotel room, watched movies, lounged in the hotel pool. It was almost more like a vacation than a trip with a purpose. If Mulder had been there, he would have been ordering her around, arranging autopsies, setting up stakeouts, et cetera. She reprimanded herself at the thought that it might actually be a better trip without him.

And there it is -- another horribly abrupt ending.

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