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greekowl87 · 7 years ago

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Fic: False Flags Redux 13/14

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Near the end. I’m still writing the last chapter but I finally got this one all edited. As always, a massive thanks to @mulders-boyish-enthousiasm (thanks for talking this chapter out with me) and @scully-loves-ruthie for the encouragement for making this possible.

Tagging @today-in-fic

13/13

Holiday Inn By The Airport

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Scully could not sleep. Nothing in the world could let her sleep. There were too many thoughts swimming through her head, too many memories, past and present, hopes for the future, trying to stay grounded in the moment. Halfway through the night, Mulder started twisting and turning beside her in the midst of a nightmare and that had woken her up. Unknowing what to do (or maybe it was a past life) she tried to comfort him. Pulling his head into her lap, she ran her hands up and down his chest soothingly, not know what else what to do.

“Ssshhh,” she soothed, “it’s just a dream.”

Her fingers raked through his hair as she bent over and peppered him with soft kisses.

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

February 7, 1865

Scully was pregnant. Very pregnant. By her calculations, she was easily six or seven months along. Her petite frame made it difficult not to notice. It made it difficult to do anything. But at night’s, although rare, there were moments where she still could do something, especially when he had nightmares at night. But the nightmares were not a new thing, just rare. She remembered him having them the first time they left Norfolk. It was a battle he could not remember. But now, it was something else. He kept muttering her name, his voice growing in panic. The last thing she wanted was to be disturbed. He was thrashing now and uncertainty, she placed her hands on either side of his face on his cheeks, whispering his name. His eyes fluttered open at the mere mention of her voice. His eyes had tears in them when they opened and he just held her tightly.

. . . .

Holiday Inn at the Airport

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

“Mulder!” His hazel eyes were wild as they focused on her face. He tentatively reached out, as if unsure, as she leaned over him caressing his cheek. He closed his eyes in relief, her soft hands cradling his face and stroking his cheek soothingly. She bowed and rested her head gently against his. “Are you okay? You were having a nightmare.”

He let a breath out he had been holding unknowingly. She caressed his face tenderly, emotions from the past raged with the current ones. Hesitantly, she kissed her brow, then his cheeks. He blinked with uncertainty. “Is this a dream?”

“No.”

“What year is it, Scully?”

Scully continued to stroke his cheek as he tried to focus his eyes just on her. He flinched unconsciously but then relaxed as she kissed his cheeks gingerly, her soft touch grounding him into the present moment. “What year do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. I just dreamed--” Mulder winced, cringing, and curled around Scully’s body. “I can’t remember. The Civil War? Now? Earlier? I don’t know, Scully.”

“It’s 1998.”

He was shaking and Scully instantly lay down to let Mulder tangle himself about her, using her as an anchor to the present, as something physical and corporeal to hold onto. He clung to her desperately as if time itself was threatening to split them apart. Scully turned to face him in his web of limbs and continued to stroke his face soothingly. “Look at me,” she urged in a whisper. “Mulder, look at me.”

Hazy hazel eyes tracked her soulful blue ones. “I can’t--I don’t know what time it is. I can’t protect you. I always failed you. In every life, Scully. You’re always taken from me,” he sobbed into her chest. “I can never save you.”

“You have,” she whispered urgently into his hair. “This life. Now. You never gave up hope after my abduction. You found me in Antarctica.”

“I wanted too. I wanted too so badly, Scully.”

“But you didn’t. My cancer. You were the only who fought for my cure. Even after everyone gave up on me, you never did. Last summer. Antarctica. Who else would have dropped everything to travel to the ends of the world with an iffy vaccine? You’ve saved me, Mulder, more times than I can count. In this life. Right now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “I dreamed I held you in my arms dying,” he murmured. “It wasn't the Civil War like the most recent memories have been.” He took a deep breath, trying to center himself and focus on Scully. His hands traced her body reverently, trying to memorize every curve. “We were speaking French I think.” He sighed, lingering around the joint where her shoulder met her arm. “There was something. Here. ”

Scully sighed softly, peppering him with kisses. “The Black Death,” she murmured, recognizing the description.

He nodded. “We've been connected together for centuries, Scully. You and me. Two souls.” He took a deep breath and turned into her. “Love you,” he breathed. “Love you, Scully.”

Scully did not know what to do with herself. All she could remember was the Civil War. Was he remembering other times? Why couldn’t she? There was so much emotion running through her. It was not lust. No. It was born out of centuries of coexistence. Neither existed without the other. She sighed and rubbed his arm and pulled him into her lap. “Love you too. Yin and yang.”

“Didn't think you would go all Eastern Mystic on me, Scully,” he chuckled. “I'm sorry to wake you up. What time is it?”

“Only two a.m,” she murmured. “It's okay.”

“You can only remember the Civil War.”

She nodded.

“I keep--” Mulder sighed, relaxing against her. “I keep getting flashbacks. I don't know what to believe anymore, Scully. It's like a million different images running through my head.”

“I know what you mean. Do you know what helped me during this past week?”

He shook his head against her. “It was you,” she murmured, raking her fingers through his short hair. “It was always you, Mulder. My constant. My one in five billion. My touchstone.”

“Where have I heard you say that before?”

“Maybe in another life,” she teased.

“I like it.” He smiled and reached out to caress her cheek lovingly. “I can’t get over it,” he began. He reached his hand up to rest of on the back of her neck. He could feel the chip under the slightly raised skin. She got the hint and bent forward to kiss him soundly. “How we arrived at this point. You.”

“Well, you can look at it one of two ways,” she said. “Either we’re soulmates or I have been eternally damned to keep your ass out of trouble.”

“I think a bit of both.” He chuckled softly. “How have I managed so long without you,” he teased. “Then you walk into the basement all proud and stubborn, and now…”

“Must have been luck.” She chuckled.

“Must have been fate,” he correctly softly as his fingers caressed the back of her neck affectionately. “Or we are just really lucky.”

“After all this, Mulder,” she spoke softly, her blue eyes never leaving him, “I want to go somewhere just for the weekend.”

“And do what?”

“I have memories of us being happy, Mulder. Of us together and we were going to be a family,” Scully mused. “Last year back in San Diego, when we found Emily...I was so hopeful, Mulder. I know I pinned all my hopes on hat adoption and I know she was not meant to be. But it was like to imagine it, you know?” She smiled as she let her fingers linger in his spiky hair. “Can I tell you a little confession, Mulder? When I first saw you with Emily, making the potato head face, I let myself indulge in the thought, that if somehow, by some miracle the adoption was to going through--” Her voice was caught and Mulder could sense her hesitation.

“Go ahead, Scully.”

She smiled to herself. “It seems silly and not at the same time,” she murmured, her eyes focusing on a part of his chest before gathering her thoughts. “When I saw you with Emily, and call me selfish, but I thought the three of us could be a little family. I, uh, toyed with the idea. I mean, we’re practically inseparable.”

“We almost were,” he murmured. “Are. Come lay back down.”

“No, no. I’m okay, Mulder. I like this actually.” She lazily played with hair and gave him a light kiss. “Like I said, I’ve also wanted to just play with your hair. I like the shorter, spiky hair you have been favoring recently.”

“If only we had realized it sooner, huh,” he teased. “Think of all the late night calls that could have been avoided if you sat like this with me on my couch.”

Scully smiled. “But like I said, we were happy in that life. I want to be happy in this life, even with my infertility. I have you. Do you feel any different?”

“Like you told me that night, I’m myself all at once.”

“After this,” she murmured, “I want to go somewhere with you, where we can fully explore this new thing between us and never let you go.” She grinned and kissed him again. “Or maybe now.”

“We still have time.”

“I still hate you want me to stay behind on this, Mulder.”

She was already in the process of flipping him on his back and straddling his hips. He slowed her as he placed his hands confidently on her hips and rubbed them affectionately. “Ever since that night, Scully, I can recall it just like you can,” he told her softly.

“Like your own memories.”

“They are our memories.” He nodded. “It kind of takes the fun of out exploring this new dynamic of our relationship though.” His hands palmed under her shirt grazing the smoothness of her warm skin. “I mean I know you love it when I do this.”

He lurched forward and kissed her solar plexus sensually and trailed it up her sternum. Scully gripped his shoulders tightly in response, digging her nails into his skin. For some reason, she never experienced kisses in that particular spot so extensively. Mulder’s hands took off her pajama top and smiled lustfully. “How the hell did you know how to do that?”

He smiled, tapping his temple. “I just do, Scully. That’s what I mean, I know how to elicit certain reactions from you as you can with me. The first time certainly showed that.”

“So where’s the fun in that,” she murmured, kissing him again.

“We can cut right to the chase.”

Scully grinned and raked her hands through his hair and arched her neck backward as Mulder trailed a series of sensual kisses down her neck and to her sternum. She opened her eyes and in a moment, caught the yellow envelope with the rings. She wondered, at that moment, whose life she was living? Was she caught in the past? Where had her present sense of self-done with their sense of professionalism and propriety? Or maybe, just for once, she truly was all of her self and this was how it was supposed to be.

“Scully, you still with me,” he asked, breaking away. She looked down at the man she held in her arms. She nodded shortly. “We’ll figure out something.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“We can stop if you want.” Scully paused and looked down at him. “Scully, talk to me.”

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead gently against his. “What if this really isn’t me, Mulder? I mean, it’s me but not. I mean--” She sighed, exasperated. “I just don’t know, Mulder.” He kissed her gently and detangled her from his lap. Scully gazed at him forlornly and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, Mulder. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“Talk to me.”

He sat next to her on the edge of the bed and hesitated to do anything else. Reluctantly, he summoned up the courage to gently grasp her hand, giving it a light squeeze. Scully picked up the envelope and held it between them. “What are we, Mulder?”

“What do you mean what are we?”

She dropped the rings back into her hand and showed it to him. “We remember another life, Mulder. We were married. We were happy.”

“We were,” he echoed.

“And in this life...everything changed in a week because we let it. What about the work?”

“Our work.” She was silent, unsure how to reply to that correction. “I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing,” he hesitated. What was she saying? “Scully, what are you not telling me?”

“What if we are only acting this way because it is...imposed on us? Like our past selves are controlling our present bodies. What if you only feel like this because of the memories? What happens if it isn’t us?”

“Scully,” he murmured, taking a deep breath. “Last summer in the hallway, before the bee, everything I said...it was me. It was all me and I meant every word. You make me whole, Scully. And it’s not just your science, it’s you, all of you.” He framed her face in his hands and took a deep breath. “And I never had a chance to finish what I started.”

Her breath was caught in her chest as she recalled the tense atmosphere from last summer and then he kissed her, properly, like he should have had the first time. But it was so much more. So much more. He was the first to break away reluctantly. She closed her eyes and rested his head against hers.

“Everything we have, we created,” he said, his voice becoming lost in memories of past and present. “And we have a future.” He took a deep breath. “Promise me you stay here this morning while I go in with the task force.” She broke away, a protest about to rise upon her lips. “Scully, please, just for once, please, I’m begging you to do this for me. I can’t risk… I can’t…I can’t relieve that again.”

Scully sighed and closed her eyes, sighing. He knew how she felt about this but they both knew how each other felt it. Silently, just this once, she consented. “Okay, okay,” she conceded, nodding slightly. “Just this once. But know, I am not very happy about this.”

“I know. I’ll think of something to tell Benson but I will feel better knowing your here and Buckley won’t be able to get to you. We both know what he wants, Scully.”

Sighing, she nodded. “I know.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

She smiled. “I’m planning on it.”

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

February 23, 1865

Scully awoke to the chilly morning air alone in her bed with an achy back and a pillow between her legs. She groggily spied a folded piece of paper on her nightstand. Risking the chilly morning air and grabbed the note and brought it to her face while she still stayed in her warm cocoon of blankets.

‘S.- Happy birthday, my love and I guess happy three year anniversary too. Had to run with Walter up to the market concerning new wheels for the wagon. Be home before noon. Sharon is already expecting you to sleep in late. Take advantage of it. See you when I get back. All my love. -M.’

She folded the note to her chest and gazed sleepily out the window seeing the morning’s first light break. She smiled to herself and felt the unborn baby kick. She closed her eyes, shushing her baby, and dreamed of a bright future full of New England summers, her, Mulder, and a happy little girl (or boy!) dangling in between their hands.

. . . .

Walter glanced at Mulder as he carefully maneuvered the wagon through the muddy road. He could not help but notice how Mulder just kept smiling in the cold morning air and even as it began to flurry. “What are you smiling about, William?” Skinner asked.

“I, uh,” he smiled, despite himself, “it’s Scully...Katherine’s birthday today and it also marks three years since we’ve, uh, met.”

“Became engaged you mean,” Skinner corrected, trying to keep Mulder’s story straight.

“Uh, yeah. But three years and it’s her birthday.”

Walter smiled. “Are you getting excited about the baby, William?”

“Truth is,” Mulder murmured, smiling and gazing down at his feet briefly in embarrassment, “the prospect is a little terrifying.”

“Well, one’s first child is always a little daunting.”

“This isn’t the first time, I uh, been through this. I was married before. Before Scully--I mean Katherine and I met, I was a widower. My wife has passed some seven years back in childbirth, along with the child. I fear for her. She is so small and I’ve heard things...how horrible things can go wrong.”

Skinner nodded in understanding. “Sharon and I, we’ve tried for years but we were never able to fully conceive,” Walter began. “Each miscarriage and stillbirth that she had, it should have killed her,

but she didn’t die. I am blessed every single day with her.”

Mulder nodded empathetically. Over the past few years, his view on the world had changed and he had developed a more positive outlook about life and even let himself dream about the future with his wife and soon to be child. He smiled in agreement. “I wanted to get her something special for today,” he said, “I’m just not sure what I can do.”

“I know just the shop,” Walter smiled. “We can get it while the wagon is getting repaired.”

. . . .

Virginia Beach, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Scully lips still tingled from their kiss earlier that morning as she changed into her jeans and one of her tee shirts and jackets to run down to the local 7-11 to grab her and Mulder coffee that morning before he left to join the rest of the task force at the branch office. Her mind kept replaying her conversation with Mulder over and over again, her mind flashing back and forth between past and present. Getting out of the car, she rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the lack of sleep and the doubt she had resting on the back of her mind. Unbeknownst to her there was someone watching her.

. . . .

I’m baaack. That’s my best Jack Nicholson impression. I suppose I could add that to my repertoire.

I disappeared for awhile and decided to let the work speak for itself. I wonder if they got my message. Hopefully, you did. When the FBI decided to let my profile go public. That made things harder but not impossible. I am always up for a challenge. The information age makes it more challenging. The FBI hunted me back in the 1920s, I even got a mugshot and everything. I looked myself up once I realized who I was. I was an old ugly bastard. I was a fat chubby son of a bitch who liked to strangle people. Still, like the strangling but ain't fat. Now I’m I look like everyone else and that has been to my advantage. But I still can’t get past it. How the fuck do they look the same? Even have the same names?

I tried looking it up once. I read things about people changing sexes, looks, complete personalities. Hell, I’m living proof of it. Except when you begin to remember, you change out your personalities, your traits, while all at the same time still being you. I used to be a good guy in one life then I shot my cheating wife. I was upset sure but the bitch deserved it. Then the roaring 1920s. Then I learned to murder. Funny thing was I have enjoyed it. More so. I loved it. I’m sure I’ve told you that already. Or you could have it guessed it.

But I’ve been biding my time and waiting, underground, watching from the shadows. With help. There was a woman who came to me after I was first arrested, gave me a letter and that is what sparked all the memories and I was able to be me, all of me. She is still feeding me information, helping me stay off the FBI’s radar but I have my moment and I see it. Now it’s my time.

. . . .

Holiday Inn by the Airport

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Mulder yawned and checked his black Omega watch, checking the time. It was near six a.m. and Scully should have been back by now. A growing concern was gnawing at the back of his mind. Something was wrong, something was wrong with Scully. He pulled on a quick pair of jeans, his jacket, badge, and service weapon. He hurried downstairs to the front desk. The attendant forced a tired smile. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted, “how can I help you?”

Panic was racing through his mind. “Did you see the red-hair woman that I have been with come back this morning?” he stammered.

The other man shook his head. “No, sir but she asked about where to get some coffee. I directed her to a 7-11 next door.”

Mulder’s photographic memory was already formulating a route and was trying to remember if she had taken the car. No. No. Their rental keys had been in her room. She walked. Without another word, he jogged the short distance to the convenience store and on the ground, he saw the spilled coffee cups, stains of struggle, and glittering on the concrete from the artificial light of the store, was a small golden cross on a broken chain.

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

Memories danced before her eyes. She could see Mulder’s smiling face as her skin recalled his tantalizing touches and her heart tried to continue to beat with dreams of their future. But as her eyes opened, she was greeted to darkness and the familiar sensation of being bound with ropes tightly binding her wrists against something, a pipe may be, and familiar stiff stickiness of duct tape placed across her mouth. What a sad and pathetic thought she knew the sensation of being bound and gagged by a crazed madman. As she opened her eyes to be greeted by darkness.

Okay, Dana, first things first, Scully thought, observe, record, hypothesize, execute. The scientific method had served her well in the past.

She forced herself to sit upright. The first thing she was bound at the wrists but not to any pipes or furniture but they were tied behind her back.Progress. Could she stand? Her legs hurt but she shuffled them against the concrete floor. Okay. She could move, hands were bound, and concrete floor. A factory of some kind? A basement? Scully rolled awkwardly to the wall and somehow sat herself up. Getting to her feet would be more difficult. Besides, without any light, she was blind.

Then she heard someone whistling. The tune was familiar. She had heard it such a long time again. “Come where my love lies dreaming,” Scully mumbled, surprised. She knew that song. How--didn't matter. She knew that whistling. “Shit.”

The door unlocked and she squinted her eyes at the sudden blinding light. “Dana, dear, my darling wife. I’m so glad you’re awake.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Over a century and I see your manners have not improved.” She tried to get up. “And we aren’t married. Till death do us part. We died. We’re not married.”

“We are two souls reborn, Dana.” Buckley smiled indulgently and walked into her cell. “I see you're just as saucy as ever.”

“What do you want?”

“What I wanted last time,” he shrugged. “I want what’s mine. I want my wife. The Lieutenant broke his word to me. I gave him one job, one job, Dana and that was to make sure you stay out of trouble. But you had to run off, with him no less.”

Scully found it weird that she was conversing with him as if it was 1865 again but she was still herself, all at once. She was Dana Scully, the woman who had lived two lifetimes (that she was aware of) and her soul was still the same. But she also had the knowledge of a doctor and an FBI agent at her disposal as well. “What did you expect me to do? The city was going to be invaded. I had to run.”

“Don’t think I didn’t know about your little spying you did with the Lieutenant, Dana,” he continued, oblivious to her reply. “I caught your correspondence.”

“Then why didn’t you kill me then?”

“I hoped you would come to your senses but I see you lost them. But now, things are different.” He tapped his head. “See, I didn’t remember you until I saw you last year. Not fully. I dreamed of you, of our wedding.” He smiled. “You were so beautiful that day.”

“Shut up,” she snapped.

“I’m a bit younger and better looking back then, don’t you think?” Buckley kneeled down and front of her, grabbed her shirt, and forced her into a violent kiss. Scully kept her self from gagging and bit his lower lip, hard, drawing blood and Buckley threw her back against the concrete wall. He laughed mockingly and rubbed his bloody lip. “Seems like you’ve only gotten more feisty with age. Oh, what fun we’ll have my beautiful, Dana, what fun.”

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

March 18, 1865

The early spring day was warm as they walked along the sandy banks of the York River, Mulder lagging behind slightly to watch his wife waddle as she kept her hands on either side of her enlarged abdomen for balance. He smiled. “Any day now, right?”

“About a month, give or take? You ready to meet your little girl?”

“So the little one is a girl today?”

“For the time being,” she teased. “How did you convince Walter to let you have the day off?”

“My pregnant wife needed some pampering,” he replied, “and I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

That was another thing she loved about Mulder. He loved her for just being her. He encouraged her to read and stretch her intellectual muscles. He talked about when they did reach Martha’s Vineyard, that if she wanted, they could move inland and find a place where she could attend university if she desired it. Whatever she wanted. To him, she was his equal, and he treated her as such. She just loved him even more.

“You truly are something else, Mulder.” She looked about the area. “How is this?”

“Whatever is my queen’s command.”

“Here.”

Her smiled made him feel as if he could fly. Mulder unrolled the blanket that they had brought with him and laid it over the sand. He unslung the sack of their lunch and anchored it to the top of the blanket. There was no wind. It was warm. The sun was shining with no clouds in the sky. There was still a light Union army presence but more than anything, was a comfort, knowing that despite the war, the victor’s presence ensured peace.

Mulder set the blanket out and sat on top of it. Scully smiled indulgently at her husband held out her hand. “Oh, my apologies, my queen.”

He grasped her hand warmly and guided her to his lap. She cried out in surprise and her hand immediately went to her stomach. “Oh!”

“What?” he asked in alarm. “Is it the baby?”

“Yes, it’s the baby, but I’m just surprised,” she told him.

Quickly she grabbed his other hand and held it over her stomach. He felt their unborn baby kicking against her. She smiled at Mulder as he smiled at her adoringly. “Not much longer now, huh?”

“Pretty soon, you’re gonna be a daddy.”

“I still can’t believe it.”

He arched his head up to kiss her soundly. Scully hugged him to her breast and reflected lazily, that three years ago, she would have never imagined this. Happy, genuinely happy

. . . .

Scully pressed her face into Mulder’s chest as he tried to sooth her despite their restraints. “We’re going to be okay. We’ll be fine.” He took a moment to look up and saw his old captain, Franklin Buchan, gaunt, pale, and struggling with a cane, but looking pissed off as hell with that old service revolver hanging off his side. Somehow, he also saw the man that had supposedly been tracking them since they left Norfolk, Alex Krycek. Scully wasn’t crying; she would never let them see her weakness but she was scared. Her hands kept going to their unborn child as much as she could.

Scully had tears in her eyes as she closed her eyes and murmured in a weak voice, “I’m scared, Mulder.”

His heart pulled in his chest. “I know, Scully,” he whispered, just for her. “I know, angel but now is it not the time.” He nuzzled her forehead. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know,” she murmured. Her heart was hammering in her chest. “He’s going to kill us.”

“Don’t say that, Scully.”

“I know him, Mulder.” He took a deep breath and sighed as she closed her eyes. “Mulder?”

“Hmmm?”

She looked at him questioningly and he pulled her close to his chest as much as he could with their bindings. She closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. “Mulder, pray with me,” she murmured just for him. “Please.”

Mulder nodded softly and bowed his head. She did the same, resting her head against his. “Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum,” she began softly.

. . . .

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

This can’t be happening. Not again. Not like this. Not this time. How come Scully always got the short end of things?

Mulder stood against the wall outside of the convenience store watching a combination of feds and local police rove the crime scene. The good news is that they had positively identified Buckley as the one who had kidnapped Scully, but that where the trail ran cold. After all, aside from the bodies, there had been no sign of Buckley since his escape and none of this helped Mulder’s racing fear. He remembered the helplessness he felt with her abduction, how late he had been. If only he could have gotten there a few seconds earlier. Then Scully could have had her life back. She would have never had to experience cancer. She would still be able to have children. Maybe Emily would have lived a happier life instead of dying as a hybrid, a fate no little girl deserved. He could have saved her.

Mulder was going to find Scully. He was not going to let anything happen to her again. Not in this life.

From the distance, Agent Fowley noticed the deep frown settled across Mulder’s brow. She looked at ASAC Benson, who was distracted and currently talking to some of the forensic techs at the moment. Taking this moment, she walked towards Mulder, catching him off guard. “Fox,” she started softly, “are you okay?”

Mulder blinked, coming out of his thoughts and the thick fog of his insecurities. “How do you think I am, Diana?” he growled. Sighed, he caught himself, curbed his anger, took a deep breath, and answered. “I don’t know how I should feel. I can’t...I can’t let my mind go there. After seeing those bodies over the past week, his work, I hope…” He swallowed. “I know we’ll find her.”

“Why do you think he took her?” Mulder was silent. Why had Diana said he? Why did she automatically assume it was Buckley but she pushed further. “Fox, I know you better than you think I do. I know it has to do with past lives and I know you believe it.”

“He’s just crazy and delusional,” he muttered in a vain attempt to dismiss her. Where was Diana going with this? What was she implying? “Why do you say that?”

“I’m not dumb. All the victims have some similarity to Agent Scully. Everyone sees it except you, or at least you’re misleading Benson. I know you, Fox.”

He scoffed angrily. Of course, he saw it. Mulder remembered it. He knew. But Diana mistook it for disbelief, but she was right. It was because of a past life he shared too. But he was not about to let Diana know that. His loyalty was to Scully and Scully alone. What changed in Mulder? It was not so long ago he was accused Scully of jealousy when it came to Diana. But now, a part of him knew that Diana should not be trusted. Why? What caused it? The past week’s astounding revelations of him and Scully, because they were actually soulmates? He had to play it safe and push his theories aside.

“When we met with him after his sentencing,” Mulder began carefully, “he called Scully ‘Dana.’”

“His journals mention a woman, a wife that was taken. It started right after he was arrested.”

He had read that too.

“By a man.”

“I’ve read his journals,” he snapped angrily. “I know what he thinks and I’ve seen what he is capable of. You constant pandering is not going to help me find her!”

Mulder pushed off the wall to make his way towards the ASAC as he chatted with the local detectives. Diana would not be so easily dismissed. She grabbed Mulder’s forearm like a claw. Mulder’s hazel eyes narrowed dangerously. “Think about what you’re about to do, Fox,” she purred menacingly.

All of Scully’s warnings came back in an instant. It had almost destroyed their partnership. Even then, ever since they were reassigned to the bullpen, their partnership was fraught with difficulty. He had dismissed her but in the past week, everything had changed. Diana was no friend to him or Scully.

Everything had changed in the past week. A whole lifetime of change.

Scully. His partner. His wife? His friend. His lover? The mother of his child? His partner. His soulmate. Things were complicated between them, they had always been difficult. Extremely complicated. But he loved Scully. He did not know when he fell in love with her, at this point, he felt he was repeating myself, but he loved Scully. Diana had nothing on her but a passing fix during the dark time of his life, in both lives. Scully changed that; she’d changed everything. And now, Mulder could not let anything happen to her. Not after all this. Not after what they had just rediscovered between them.

“I know what I am about to do,” he hissed, his voice talking on a coldness honed from centuries’ worth of love. “I’m going to get Scully back.”

Mulder pushed past his ex-wife, feeling liberated and empowered at the same time. He strove towards the ASAC with a plan already forming in his mind.

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

It was a waiting game. Scully was still discreetly trying to find any weaknesses in her restraints but so far, no avail, but she still kept Buckley talking, which was a good thing. At the very least, she could get some answers. The past blended with the present as the mannerisms of the old sea captain she had called her husband in the 19th century made itself known. Buckley paced a lot, often limping and favoring the leg which he had been shot in back in 1862. He kept swirling a glass of something, whiskey from the smell of it. He looked unstable and his voice kept slipping in between a New Yorker, a slight southern accent, and the neutral American accent he had when she and Mulder first arrested him. But it was like multiple personalities were battling it out for dominance.

“How did you realize who I was, Franklin,” Scully began, adjust her arms.

Buckley smiled. “Franklin. Are you having trouble keeping everything straight too, Dana? I always had trouble. Ever since the dreams began when the woman brought me the letter and then I remembered. I remember agreeing to marry you with your father, and our wedding. Wasn’t that such a grand day?” Scully did not answer and Buckley continued without a second thought to her. “Then I remembered the dinner party and the Lieutenant.”

“It was my birthday and you left me there, ignored.”

“Not like you didn’t deserve it, Dana,” Buckley dismissed with a wave of his hand. “You ran off like a whore and gave him a child! Not me but him!”

“You had nine children already! You made my life miserable!”

“You’re place was in the house! It still is. You weren’t supposed to have your own thoughts or dreams. You belonged to me!” he screamed. “You always belonged to me!”

Scully quieted, her thoughts retreating to a different time very much like this one.

. . . .

Yorktown, Virginia

March 18, 1865

Mulder had long ago managed to rid them of their restraints but they could not free themselves from the locked shed that they now found themselves in. It must have been the evening because the air had grown colder. He had taken off his jacket and given it to Scully and had pulled her close in a weak effort to keep her warm. In a rare moment of weakness, she cried, doing her best to silence her weak sobs into Mulder’s chest as he held them. He tried to find his voice to bring some comfort to his wife, the woman that had brought him to life again but he couldn’t. He could not bring Scully any hope when he did not have any himself. In the distance, he could hear them, the captain and Krychek. There was another voice too that he did not recognize but he could also smell the stench of cigarettes. She groaned in surprise before hushing their unborn child softly as felt strong kicking against her stomach. Mulder felt her choke a sob and whisper, “We’re not going to get away, are we?”

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

Scully had been freed from her restraints hours ago and placed in a locked room of some kind. She took stock of her scenery. A small bathroom with a sink and toilet, a small cot in the corner with a pillow and a scratchy wool blanket, bland walls and small bookcase full of old books. That could come in handy later on. Even then, it was clear that Buckley planned to keep her alive for the moment. But the entire situation mirrored her predicament back in 1865. But this time, she was going to make it. She was determined too. He had not beaten her or harmed her in any way beyond the rope burns from her initial restraint. Clearly, he was laying a trap to trap to try and draw Mulder out but would he even know where to start? Would Mulder realize that it was a trap to begin with?

“Dana,” he crooned from beyond the locked door, knocking on it lightly. “Dana, dear, can I get you anything?”

“A gun so I can blow out your brains,” she hissed, kicking the heavy door. “Fucking bastard. You weren’t content killing me the first time around so you are trying to do it again?”

“I didn’t mean to kill you last time, Dana!” Buckley’s voice weighed heavily with desperation. She heard him shuffled on the other side of the door. “I meant only to scare you. I wanted to kill the Lieutenant. Never you, my sweet angel. I don’t know how my pistol went off. It was an accident. ” Scully shivered as he called her that. “You and the babe, I would have taken back without a moment’s hesitation. It is not your fault you had such grandiose ideas. Hysteria was and still is a common ailment many women suffer. You still do.” He guffawed, sounding strange. “And you a doctor now! Graduated the University of Maryland and became a doctor at John Hopkins! My Dana! But you’re head’s still in the clouds. I can still make a proper wife out of you, Dana.”

Scully’s mind was racing. There were so many things that her mind was racing and connecting that her logic could not keep up. How did he know she was a doctor? He would’ve known she had performed the autopsies. That would have come up at the trial. But how did he know personal information where she received her degrees from? That didn’t make sense. But something else stuck out like a heavy blow to her gut.

“What do you mean that you would welcome me and my child with open arms?” she hissed. She withdrew suddenly from the door in disgust, feeling her body was suddenly being invaded again just like when she had been abducted. Emily flashed before her eyes, the daughter she never knew. Mulder. Mulder smiling at her in bed just less than a few nights ago after their first coupling in this life. “You killed Mulder, me, and my child!”

“It was an accident,” he cried in a hoarse whisper. “I...I...I didn’t mean for my sidearm to go off. You have to believe me. All I wanted was a family with you.”

“Your nine children weren’t enough?” she spat.

“I just wanted a family with you too. For seven years, I thought there was something wrong with you. I thought that was why you couldn’t have children and then I find you pregnant with the Lieutenant’s child.”

“Do you ever consider you could have been impenitent?” She closed her eyes, her mind flashing between present and past, past and present. Mulder, she thought dizzyingly. “So you kidnap me in this life? How did you even know where to find me?”

“Didn’t you appreciate my art, Dana? I did all that for you. You marvel at the mysteries of the dead now, don’t you? I’m an artist who created for my muse, my beautiful wife! I did it all for you. Could you not tell the symbolism of each body? I knew you were reclaiming your memory over the past week. I knew it the moment you screamed at me in the jail cell. I just spurned it along.”

Scully felt bile rising up in her throat angrily and she bawled her fists.“I am not your wife,” she spat. She kicked the door. “Not in that life and certainly not in this life.”

She watched the heavy door wearily, her body tensing, waiting for him to come through the door and attack. But all she saw was the door shake violently that she felt reverberate through her spine. “Fine! If I have to kill the Lieutenant again, I will. You will be my wife, Dana and we’ll finally have that family which I promised you all those years ago!” he screamed. The voice of a madman.

Scully lowered her gaze to the concrete ground, hearing his heavy footfalls stalk away, and closed her eyes. Her index finger and thumb tightly squeezed the tiny golden cross against her throat as she began to pray. “Pater Noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum,” she began softly.

. . . .

FBI Field Office

Norfolk, Virginia

December 22, 1998

Mulder was tense, feeling like he was crawling out of his skin. A churning storm of emotions was raging in him. The same anger and felt the first time Scully was taken from him. Scully being in danger. His partner is in danger. His soulmate needing him. They had not crossed a century and a half to lose each once again at the hands of some madman. No. No. No. But no one would let near the task force. He was too wild, too much of a risk. ASAC Benson tried to calm Mulder and failed miserably so now they just tolerated his presence as he stalked around the field office like some caged animal ready to strike. No one was doing anything useful anyway.

Ah, fuck. Think, Mulder, think!

His mind raked through memories, years and years of memory from the 19th and 20th centuries, all of which he had lived. He suddenly remembered her blue eyes shining in the lamplight, the blue rosary...the barracks. Porst moth. The navy yard. It was a long shot but the profiler side of his brain knew where it was.

Mulder had left the crime scene quickly, opting to go start to the field office then back to the hotel room. He was dressed in jeans, a black tee shirt, and his leather jacket. All he could do was remember his phone, badge, and gun. He padded his pocket, trying to remember where he stuck his phone he felt something else. He reached into the pocket and felt the rough texture of the yellow envelope that he knew the rings were in. Discreetly he dropped the heavy, worn silver rings into his hand. The cool metal was heavy and comforting in his palm. His memories were wisps caught in the wind as he heard her laughter and their wedding kiss. He placed the larger of the two bands on his ring finger, feeling a small little piece restored to him.

Hold on, Scully, he thought grimly, hold on.

. . . .

A flashback. A memory.

“Being pregnant becomes you, Scully.”

“Are you saying I look good fat, Mulder?”

“I just want to have a lot of babies with my beautiful wife.” He kissed her softly, his lips lingering on her shoulder. “I love you.”

She chuckled. “Three years,” she whispered lovingly, “ and I wouldn’t change a thing. Nothing, Mulder. I love you too.”

. . . .

Mulder knew where Scully was, he was sure of it, but the question was how to convince everyone else. Quietly he pocketed the silver rings, padding the pocket of his jeans to make sure he knew they were still there. The beauty of new memories he mused. Buckley had been playing with them the entire time, he was certain.The bodies and lastly, the location. Discreetly he walked to a large map sitting on the wall to the surrounding area of Hampton Roads. His finger traced from Lambert’s Point in Norfolk and south down the Elizabeth River, his mind’s eye recalling the 19th century map he remembered seeing when he was stationed on the CSS Virginia, finally stopping in between the South Norfolk and Portsmouth, and to the left of his index finger was a small print of Norfolk Naval Shipyard, which, once upon time, was the Gosport Navy Yard. Back to where it would all begin.

Mulder’s mind was already working overtime. A navy yard would be perfect. Warehouses, those empty shipping containers, construction areas, ships being outfitted...it was all the perfect place to hide but how to pursue it? What to do? He had nothing else to go on other than his gut instinct. There had been very little clues to Buckley’s actual whereabouts. But, he had nothing else to go on. Scully did not have time.

“Sir,” Mulder called, “have you considered the shipyards?” ASAC Benson wearily looked up at Mulder standing by the map as his finger incessantly on the map. “In Portsmouth?”

“He’s not there, Mulder,” Benson recalled. “All the evidence we have points to the peninsula. We might check Newport News Shipbuilding but finding Agent Scully is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.” Mulder grew visibly angry and he held up his hand. “Want don’t go back to your hotel and try and get some sleep, Mulder. There is nothing you can do.”

Mulder’s shoulders crumpled in frustration and he grew silent. Diana noticed Mulder and came to his side in a weak attempt at comfort. “I’ll walk you to your car, Fox,” she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Come on, I’ll drive you back.”

He jerked his shoulder away as if her touch had burned him. “Get away from me,” he seethed. “I’ll take care of this myself.”

“Fox,” Diana called weakly.

“Agent Fowley, let him go,” Benson said. He sighed, watching the angry profiler stalk off. “Let him go. I need your attention elsewhere. Have you ever had something to your partner? It’s the most devasting thing in the world. Let the man go.”

Diana’s bird like face scrunched in frustration. If only he cared about her like that, like he used to. She had hoped that her plan would bring them back together like it was meant to be, and Agent Scully would only be shaken up, but her plan was crumbling before her eyes.

“Agent Fowley,” Benson barked. “Attention here! I need you to start coordinating with the local PD.”

Diana sighed curtly and cast her attention back to her work detail.

. . . .

Unknown Location

December 22, 1998

Scully had no clue what time it was but it probably been hours. During this time, she had inspected every inch of her concrete cell and could not find a single weakness. But during her captivity, Buckley left her alone physically but she kept hearing him on the other side of the heavy door. So far, he seemed on keeping her safe and trying to draw Mulder out.

“How did you find me, Franklin?” she asked, eyeing the corner of the cot.

“I’d help, Dana. Someone who’d you least suspect.”

“Help?”

“I don’t know her name but she came shortly after you and the Lieutenant arrested me.”

. . . .

Here I am, spilling my life story to my wife. Again. Honestly. Whatever keeps her happy for the time being. If only she would shut up.

. . . .

“You said she, Franklin.” Scully’s mind was racing. No. Who else could it have been? She heard him moan something in a low voice. “Did someone help you escape?”

“Stop it, Dana. I only ever had eyes for you.”

“I know that.” She knew when she was onto something; Scully would have picked up something about profiling after hanging around Mulder for so long. “Just tell me, Franklin,” she encouraged. “I’m not upset with you.”

“I know what you are trying to do. It won’t work.”

“Franklin,” she begged, trying to sound convincing.

“This life we are meant to be,” he began. “There was a woman who came to visit me, right after my trail. She said she could help me, knew the Lieutenant and you, Dana.” He chuckled. “Our personal little matchmaker.”

“A woman?”

“I don’t know who she was except a first name. Diana. The goddess of the moon helped us find our way through the darkness.” Diana. Could it be the same one? Special Agent Diana Fowley of the FBI? Could it? How? In her heart, she knew it was true but that did not explain how. “But that doesn’t matter anymore, Dana. We have a life together. We can have a family. I’m younger this time around.” He chuckled. “A bit more handsome. I had some help on that one back in the 1920s. Made a deal with the devil. But you, my dear, must have been blessed by an angel because you’re just as beautiful as the first day I saw you when I asked your father for your hand.”

She felt herself grimace and shudder in memory. God, how old he had been.

“I remember,” she muttered grimly.

The door opened slightly and a tray of scrambled eggs and red solo cup with red wine. “It isn’t the Ritz but so we’ll have the Riviera. I love you, my darling wife.”

Scully can't bring herself to answer as her hand went to her cross and she silently began to recite the Lord’s prayer wordlessly in Latin to herself, praying Mulder would come and soon.

#xfiles #xf fic #false flags redux #txf #txf fic #mulder #scully #mulder and scully #my fic #msr #msr fic

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